Rock & Royalty

Chapter 5

Eleanor cracked one eye open, which was enough to determine that hell had frozen over... because Queen Helena was hovering over her with a glass of the royal family's mystery hangover cure in hand.

"Come to kill me in my sleep, Mum?" she mumbled, pulling herself upright in her bed.

The covers fell, revealing the red bra she was wearing and pink marks all the way up her neck.

God, the smell of angry sex lingered in the air and Eleanor was positive that her mother could sniff it out, too. She was a regal bloodhound, her mum.

"If I wanted to kill you," Helena scoffed, holding out the glass of red liquid, "I'd do it while you were awake and fully aware that your mother brought you into this world and took you out of it."

"Unless, of course, you can get someone else to do it. Why dirty your perfect dainty hands?"

Eleanor accepted the glass, allowing her mother to crack an egg into it before she took a big gulp. She never bothered to ask what was in the remedy, but the kitchen staff knew to make it for her like clockwork after a wild night out. She was predictable that way.

"Honestly, Eleanor. This is a peace offering," Helena snapped, before quickly regaining her composure. "I wanted us to do brunch, but Beck – dear Beck – informed me that over the course of the last few days, you've been ignoring him and choosing to waste your nights drinking and drugging it up as usual. Fortunately, you've managed to stay under the radar with your monotonous routine – this time."

Eleanor looked away. "And isn't that a good thing for Liam," she remarked dryly, smacking her dry lips together. They felt bruised. Jasper's doing, no doubt.

Helena's peach-coated lips curved up into a phony smile. Her smile was phony but the purple Chanel she wore was more than authentic. As was the gold choker – always with the jewelry, Mum – around her neck. Her hair fell in a cascade of brown waves around her made-up face and there definitely seemed to be something pushing up her tits. Everything about her was effortless perfection and Eleanor vaguely realized that she'd never seen her mother look anything but regal. Beautiful. Intimidating.

Until Eleanor had mentioned the mysterious Alistair...and then Helena's face had drained of all its color. She had filed that bit of information away, content in holding it over Helena's head much like Jasper had held the fake sex tape over hers.

"No, Eleanor, sweetheart," said Helena, lowering her head until she was eye-level with the seated princess. "It's a good thing for you. If the family's public opinion suffers any further because you're too busy shagging your way through the phone book, I'll do exactly what Robert had suggested and throw you into a faraway rehab in which you'll get the help you so desperately need."

The glass fell from Eleanor's unsteady grip and soiled the sheets red. Eleanor's heart was beating erratically at her mother's careless mention of her late brother. And the lies.

"Robert would never have talked to you about –"

"Robert was worried about you, and with good reason," Helena interjected. "Worried that you'd end up dead, pregnant or sick. Of course, the last two are a strong possibility. Tell me, daughter of mine, when was your last period, and are you experiencing any itching in your illustrious vagina?"

Eleanor should have been used to these precisely aimed barbs by now but they stung all the same. "Go to hell," she managed to get past her clenched teeth.

"I'm already in it, little girl." Helena's eyes narrowed. "While you lie in bed here, sleeping off whatever drugs you took, your father lies in a coma he may never come out of. While you waste the privilege you were born into, your brother is currently on his way to becoming the acting king of England. You've seen nothing, accomplished nothing, and will continue to be nothing if you don't pull yourself together and act like the princess I aspired for you to be. I mean it, Eleanor – consider this your final warning."