Page 40 of Royal Fake


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“I see you’ve made it home safely,” my father started.

“Father,” I gave a curt bow. “This is Avery Johnson, my fiancé.”

“Your Majesty,” Avery offered the perfect combination of curtsey and demure head bow to flare anyone’s interest.

“Ms. Johnson,” was my father’s cold reply. “Liam, I want you to meet with me and the counsel after lunch. Go freshen up and I’ll see you and Ms. Johnson—”

“Avery,” I interrupted him.

“In the dining hall.” With that, he turned heel and went inside the castle as the wordless mass of mindless council members followed him in.

The whole show was incredibly pointless. I held Avery back for a moment to let my father pass. We then cut across the driveway and back behind the castle. Despite still being on the property the cottage was about a quarter of a mile away from the main entrance, which was also an entrance we never used. We only stopped there because it was more imposing to meet the king on the front steps.

While the walk was more than I had planned for us, I was really pissed that my father was being such a dick from the get-go. I needed to walk off my anger. He knew what he was doing, the bastard. He was alienating Avery before he even got a chance to know her. Likely, we’d discover at our meeting with him that we’d be hosting a ball or some kind of occasion where he could torment me with Lucy. I had asked for a celebration to announce my engagement to Avery, but I didn’t want it to be a means of mental torture for either Lucy or me. I walked with determination as Avery sprint-walked to keep up.

“Is there something the matter?” she asked with a spike of irritation in her voice.

“Sometimes he’s such a fucking bastard!” I said mostly under my breath.

“He is the king of Ireland, it’s his right.” What? She was defending my father’s narcissism.

“He wasn’t holding court; he was meeting my fiancé. He knew exactly what he was doing meeting us at the front of the castle. He didn’t say more than two words. The whole purpose of that ridiculous spectacle was so that he could show you he was the king and try to intimidate you.” I turned back to her and slowed down for a moment so she could catch up.

In my vexation, I was actually doing her more harm than my father had.

“Right, well…” She sucked in big gulps of air. “He is the king and I don’t get intimidated by much. I’ll admit this is all a little overwhelming. I know, though, I can hop back on a plane and go home, you can’t. So, I’m good. Don’t worry about me.” She gave me a feeble thumbs up.

“See, that’s the problem. I absolutely don’t want you going anywhere, pretty soon this will be your home too.” The look on her face didn’t express the joy I was hoping for.

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe we shouldn’t go there right now.”

“To be sure,” I answered. “However, I’m looking forward to showing you around the property that might possibly become your home one day.”

She laughed, that was encouraging.

“There are some beautiful things here I’m sure you will love. The cottage is just ahead on the right. James is having our luggage brought in and I think Georg is already there waiting to dress you in the tea dress I’ve selected. I promise not to constantly buy you clothes and dress you up because you are not a doll and I’m sure you’re much better at it than I am being a fashion designer, however, our time is so limited. I needed to make sure you wear something proper for lunch. My father will expect you to start adhering to the rules of the monarchy. After lunch, we will have a protocol meeting to go over the rules and expectations for you when we are in the public’s eye. Don’t worry it’s nothing too extreme just some simple regulations that all monarchs follow.” Her face turned a putrid shade of green.

Luckily, we had arrived at the cottage and for some reason being home made me feel better about everything.

She gave me a glaring side-eye as she stated, “This is not a cottage!”

“Well, we Irish men don’t like to boast.” I flashed her a smarmy grin and as soon as we approached the front door.

The truth was my cottage was not a cottage at all but rather a fifteen-bedroom estate located a quarter-mile off the main castle. It was much too large for me to live in by myself but as I was the heir to the throne I needed to live in a stately place that reflected my role in the monarchy. I hated living in such a large drafty home and I usually kept to the second level leaving the first floor to my servants and as a place to conduct business. I left the third and fourth floors abandoned to the maids who cleaned them.

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