Prince With Benefits: A Billionaire Royal Romance (21 page)

This is my man with his shields down. The man I want to marry behind the magnificent tattooed body and the king-sized cock. The hero, the veteran, the worldly gentleman with the filthiest mouth I've ever imagined.

This is Prince Charming, the war hero, incarnate.

I wait patiently, until he's finally done. A few of the families below us whisper about me and my entourage. I try to shrink down, not wanting to take the moment away from them.

When the ceremony is finished, and the captain is leading his men off the runway with their wives and kids, Silas sees me.

Surprise. He doubles his speed, walking through the small gate held open by the guards.

I climb halfway down the metal seats to meet him. He grabs me, holds me in those tender, powerful arms, and banishes my woes in a single kiss.

If only they'd stay gone.

“What're you doing here, love? I would've been home in another hour or two.”

“Serena.”

One single word, and his face tightens knowingly. “What did the bitch do now?”

“She insulted me, insulted you, and I'm not going to take it anymore. I'm afraid she's never going to let it go. Whatever she thinks the two of you had. She won't stop being a bitch to me, every time I'm supposed to meet her for those briefings.”

“She won't be easy to replace, Erin.” He frowns, thinking it all over. “I'll probably have to get grandmom's approval, simply because she's been a favorite for several years. Shame, really. Old Henry, her predecessor, never would've treated you like trash. I
knew
I made a mistake with her. Whatever, I'll do what it takes to sort this out.”

“That's all I'm asking,” I tell him, squeezing both his hands. “I don't need her fired if you think there's some way to make her shut up and show some respect. This isn't an ego clash. I just can't wait and wonder if she'll ever stop questioning us with every other sentence that comes out of her mouth. It's not her place, and it's rude as hell.”

“Forget it,” he growls, sliding one hand down to the small of my back, pushing me against his chest. “She's gone. I'll get Her Majesty on board, one way or another. I've got to be careful not to stress her too much, seeing how she's in recovery. Still, I'll find a way.”

“Oh.” I look down, suddenly embarrassed. I hadn't thought of that. “Well, if you think you can do something.”

“Babe, don't even ask again. I'll put the bitch in the dungeon and give her a talking to myself, if that's what it takes to shut her yap.”

I'm laughing. “You're joking, right? You don't really have a...dungeon?”

He smiles. Yes, that familiar, slightly wicked, damnably handsome curl of the lips.

“Hasn't been used since the eighteenth century, love. I think it's time we made an exception.”

“Don't!” I slap playfully against his chest. “Seriously. She's a bitch, but she isn't a criminal.”

“She's a demon in my book,” Silas growls. “
Nobody
fucks with my princess.”

He brings his face closer, gently grabs my face, and tips my lips to his. I can feel his breath on my skin, and I'm already getting wet.

“Don't worry, I won't torture her. I won't even scare her unless she really lays it on thick. I'm not letting this go until the palace has a new press secretary. Anyone who insults my wife, my Princess, isn't fit to clean the fucking stables.”

“Wait, stables? You have horses?”

He laughs. A deep, baritone, belly busting sound that's like music to my ears.

“What's a Prince without his white horse? After the wedding's over, I'll take you on a trip to Saxon castle in the south. You can meet Eddy, the stud I used to ride when I was a boy. Only animal on this island who's more hung than me.”

He's insane. I'm slapping his chest again and trying to wiggle away, laughing, but nothing could ever escape these arms. Silas' lips take mine, harder than before.

It's a kiss that tells me I'm going to be reminded just how big the favorite part of his anatomy is tonight. Maybe reminded at least five times.

God, yes.

* * *

H
e talks to Serena
, but he doesn't tell me what he's said. It's morning, several days later, less than an hour before we're due to arrive for tea with Her Majesty.

“You've got nothing to worry about anymore, love. She's been taken care of. Gently, I assure you.”

“So, she's not in irons over in Grace tower?” I nod my head out the window toward the high spire across town, supposedly attached to Silas' castle by a secret passage.

“I wish.” He shakes his head. “I do have principles, whether you want to believe it or not. There's only one woman I want to see writhing in restraints, and she sure as hell isn't Serena.”

He steps up, cups my chin, and silences my next round of sass in a powerful kiss. “Mmm. Now, you're making me wonder who.”

“Bullshit.” His hand glides down my back, lifts off, and smacks my ass. “You know.”

I do.
I'm reminded every single day how much he wants me.

We're about to kiss again when Silas' phone goes off. “Yeah?”

I watch his face go dark and tense. He swears under his breath, turns around, and whispers a few more words into the phone. I don't move until he ends the call and stuffs the leather and gold clad unit back in his pocket.

“What's wrong?” I ask, hoping it isn't the Queen's health.

“Fucking protesters. Again.” He paces around me angrily, moving to the window, staring out across the city.

I join him. The streets are teeming with little crowds, tourists and pedestrians, mostly people milling around the palace so they can catch the royals setting off for tea. It's been all over the morning news, Her Majesty's first public event since coming home to the palace.

“I don't understand. What is it they want, Silas?” My hand squeezes his shoulder, trying to be reassuring.

He's bristling with so much rage he won't relax. “They'd hack off our heads if they could. Fucking maniacs, all of them. I'm sure half the bastards are hoping they cause grandmom to have another stroke so the crown falls to me, and they can have their damned referendum.”

He isn't just speaking anymore. He's growling, each word more angry than the last, sending chills up my spine.

“I'm sure it'll be all right. It seems like there's nothing but sympathy for the royal family. If they do anything crazy, the public will turn on them.”

I'm trying to talk with confidence. But truth be told, I know very little about the emotions wrapped up in the political situation here.

That has to change, and soon. Everything's becoming less theoretical by the day with our wedding approaching.

Silas looks at me, his eyes full of flickering blue fire. “I'll tell you something, love. These shit-stirrers are lucky we're not the monsters they claim. If we had the rights and powers we enjoyed five hundred years ago, they'd be rotting away with rats and moldy bread crusts by now.”

Silas' phone chirps again before I can respond. “Shit, time to get downstairs. They want us to leave early, considering the situation. The biggest idiots have been cleared away from the palace grounds, at least.”

I nod, grateful for the small progress. When he takes my hand to lead me out, his grip is tight, almost as intense as the day our first press conference turned into disaster.

“Sire!” A soldier in camo fatigues salutes the Prince when we're outside, heading for our big white limo. We have a military escort, more than just the usual security services, as I can see from the Humvees with heavy guns mounted to the sides.

Silas nods, helps me into the car, looking around him the entire time. My instinct makes me want to run my eyes over the people gathered just outside the gate as well, in case I see any impending violence.

I'm stopped in my tracks, though, because suddenly I'm face-to-face with Queen Marina.

“How are you, dear?” she asks, sitting across from me with Patricia and several bodyguards I don't recognize.

“Perfectly well, Your Majesty!”

Yeah, if perfectly well means stressed as hell.

“You look much better. I'm pleased to hear you're on the mend,” I say, while Silas climbs in next to me.

Is there anything worse than trying to make small talk with a Queen?

“I still have a few good days in me to serve this kingdom,” she says, twirling the platinum and gold tipped cane in her hand. “Silas, what's eating you, boy?”

“The protests,” he growls, as if it isn't obvious. “Can't stay off our damned backs for a single minute.”

I lay my hand on his. Patricia gives us both a sour look. Next to me on the other side, Victor clears his throat uncomfortably.

“They're entitled to their opinions. They certainly won't be allowed to stomp their feet or smash up my property. However, what kind of kingdom do you think we'd have if we didn't allow a place where people are free to express the unthinkable?”

“Yeah, maybe you're right,” he says, clenching my hand tighter. It doesn't sound like he's being honest. “I've been worried about you lately, Your Majesty. That's all.”

“Take your minds off me today, please.” She pauses, looking around at each of us. “That goes for everyone in this car. Today, we have a chance to show our people that we're peaceful and united. I trust no one here wants to screw that up, and too much thought my way isn't helping the situation.”

It's hard not to laugh. I wonder if she knows she's riding on a powder keg.

Peaceful? United? It won't take much to blow it all sky high.

“We'll be at Milton's in five minutes, Your Majesty,” Patricia says. She snidely one-ups Victor, who'd been pulling out his phone to check the time.

“Wonderful. Miss Warwick, you'll be pleased to taste the finest tea in Europe at our traditional spot today,” Her Majesty says.

“Oh, yes!” I clap my hands together, praying it won't ignite the tension in the air. The grin on my face feels crazy. “I love, love,
love
a good cup of tea.”

I'm trying harder than I ever had in my life to diffuse the invisible rage.

For a minute, nobody says anything. Then Silas relaxes his grip on my hand and starts to laugh, shaking his head.

“Yeah, tea. I'm going to tell them to make mine so damned strong I go blind.”

* * *

I
think things are going
...well.

Unbelievably well, perhaps. We've just sat down at a private table reserved for the Queen. The media bombards us with camera flashes of our first orders before they're shuffled out the door, leaving us alone.

They won't see us again until we head back to our car, all smiles, Silas gently helping his grandmother down the steps. It's going to be a picture perfect end to a picture perfect photo op with so little drama people will fall asleep when it rolls across their newsfeed.

That's what I'm hoping for, anyway.

Our tea shows up in no time while the royals talk about Silas' dealings with diplomats in Her Majesty's absence. Mine is black, velvety, sweet and citrusy. It's heaven in a cup, a million times more soothing than the shot of something stronger I'm sure Silas is craving.

“Erin helped with the trade ministers from the EU,” he says, eyeballing me while he sips from his cup. “They were very impressed with her candor and beauty when we rolled in to meet them at the foot of the bridge.”

Oh, God.
He's referring back to the day I came in front of half the capital, clenching his hand, squirming in my seat.

I smile delicately at Queen Marina, trying to pretend nothing unusual happened. I can't believe he's teasing me like this. If he's hoping I won't go anywhere near his dick tonight, he's doing a great job.

“Yes, I believe the media is taking a slow, but steady liking to our new lady,” she says, looking at me. “Of course, she won't be fully in their eye until the wedding and the ceremony where she's crowned. We're moving to the right place for this kingdom and our family. It just takes time.”

I watch her too perfect false teeth take a huge bite from a flaky croissant. My stomach growls, and I'm mustering up the courage to eat in front of the Queen when the door behind us flies open.

My appetite goes completely cold when I turn around and see who's there. Silas bolts from his chair, whipping around so hard it tips over, hitting the floor.