Rock & Royalty

Chapter 3

She was in his bed again.

Liam was at his wits' end and had no clue how to get it through her thick, perfectly-coiffed, golden-haired skull that he was not interested, that he would never be interested – no matter how many times she slithered into his bedroom and lay naked in his bed.

"Gemma," he said by way of greeting, massaging his temples, "how did you get in?"

There were guards posted outside Liam's room, even when he wasn't around. After the assassination attempt on his father, Ted Pryce, head of security, wasn't taking any chances. Besides that, Liam recalled informing Marcus, his most trusted bodyguard and friend, that Gemma Kensington was persona non grata in the vicinity of his room. This was after her third attempt at seducing him so boldly.

The woman in question scoffed, swathing herself in his covers when it became clear that he wasn't just going to jump into bed with her. "How long are you going to pretend that I'm not for you, Liam?" she wanted to know, sitting up.

"I'm with Ophelia. What do I have to do to make you understand that?" Despite his obvious exasperation, Liam didn't raise his voice. He'd worked hard at that, if he was being honest. "Tell me, and I'll do it, Gemma. This can't go on."

Gemma looked away, holding the sheets to her chest. She was gorgeous – with her fluffy blonde hair and petite frame that she draped in the latest fashion – but she wasn't Ophelia. No, in many ways, Gemma was like him. Born into royalty – albeit a different one – and forced to do her duty. The only difference was that Gemma gladly embraced being an heiress to a diamond cartel while Liam had to admit he struggled with the impending weight of the crown on his head.

"I'm the Queen's lady-in-waiting. My room is only a few doors down," Gemma said softly, rising to her feet. "For when you change your mind."

Liam averted his eyes as she slowly got dressed. "Why are you doing this?"

"I've told you, Liam," she replied. "I love you. I understand you. I understand this life. We're a better match than you and...Ophelia, is it?"

"You know perfectly well what her name is."

"Your...fascination with that girl will fade, and when it does, I'll be here."

"Leave."

"I'll wait for you," she continued. "Mark my words – you'll come to realize that I'm right."

Gemma left in a cloud of perfume and Liam went to the door shortly after. "Under no circumstances do you allow Gemma Kensington into my bedroom again," he told the guards, imagining that he sounded like a broken record. "Understood?"

With that, he headed for his sister's room and only when he had knocked and entered did he remember that he'd gone to his room to fetch his phone. A naked Gemma in his bed had been enough to make him forget his agenda.

Oh, well.

Eleanor was the only person he knew who could light up a bong at any hour of the day and, like always, he joined her in one of their weekly mellowing-down sessions. She shifted on the velvet divan to make space for him and, without a word, passed him the bong.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," said Liam, before putting his lips to the mouthpiece.

Eleanor leaned back, kicking her bare feet up onto the cluttered coffee table. "Is the future king allowed to get high?"

"They don't call me His Royal Highness for nothing," Liam quipped on an exhale.

Eleanor let out a laugh, wiggling her toes. They were painted black. "He's a witty one, my brother. His Majesty."