London Royal

  Chapter 1

  Lex…

  "To my prince of a brother, while it may not yet be our twenty-fifth birthday, we’re going to celebrate all bloody year. You are a little prince amongst men, and I couldn't have a better brother."

  I laughed at Xander even as I raised my glass. "Thank you for the toast, Xan. Except, I'm not a prince."

  He chuckled then. "Oh, we both are. Just, you know, we don't actually have the country or the crowns to go with it, but I lay claim it all the time. Particularly with the fairer sex."

  I rolled my eyes as our friends guffawed around us. We were at yet another nameless club. The latest hotspot. For us the booze flowed freely, and the women came easy. I love my brother and my mates. But lately when we went out I wondered exactly what the purpose was? Maybe I’d enjoyed more than was my possible fair share of the parties and I was bored stiff.

  All around us, there were girls. Tall ones, short ones, beautiful ones. Everyone was stunning in their own way. Wearing next to nothing and offering to blow us for access to VIP. They knew who we were, and we preferred not to know who they were.

  If you're so bored, why do you keep coming out?

  That was a good question. The number of nights that I'd been tempted to just beg off and stay home was plenty. But still, the truth of it was, it was better to be with people than alone in my own box. That wasn't ideal. So, I came out.

  All around me, my friends were drinking, having a good time. At one point, Jasper crash-landed on my lap. "Come on give us a kiss, birthday boy."

  The scent oozed out of his pored and I shoved his face away. "No. God, how much have you had, mate?"

  Jasper chuckled then, splashing whatever clear liquid was in his glass onto his hand. "Why are you asking such questions? We were pre-gaming for your birthday party."

  "Jas, it's not my birthday yet. I've got over a month left."

  "Yeah mate, I know. But luckily your brother is a party connoisseur like myself and believes that we should party at least three months in advance. Which I can get behind."

  "Of course, you can. You realize, we basically do this every weekend anyway?"

  He sloppily grinned at me then. "Did you have a point, mate?"

  I shook my head. "No. No point. Having fun?"

  He grinned and slapped me on the chest several times. "Yup. Having a blast. I'm going to go find a very pretty blonde and have her sit on my lap instead of me sitting on yours. You're not as pretty, sorry."

  Bullshit. I was fucking pretty. "No offense taken."

  He tried to climb up and eventually, I just had to shove him up off of me. My brother leaned over at the back of the couch, I was sat on. "Are you having fun, baby brother?"

  "Yeah, are you?" I tried not to slide my gaze to his drink. But it was difficult.

  You don't have to take care of him anymore.

  It's not like it would help. But, Xander was different now. No longer trying to numb his pain with pills and booze. A year ago, I had been chasing after him, worrying about him, trying to get the booze out of his hands and keep the drugs out of his nose.

  But he'd gotten a handle on things. He’d stopped with the drugs. And seriously pulled back on the alcohol. I didn't even think he liked the drugs. They’d just been something to do. Then eventually something he needed to do to function. But when I’d managed a camera back into his hands. He’d quit.

  The drinking now was more of the social variety. But still, the memory of that time with him, trying to keep him from killing himself, that, was stamped fresh on my frontal lobe, and I couldn't shake it.

  He caught my gaze then lifted his glass towards me. "Just the one. It's your birthday. You get to celebrate."

  I shook my head. "Nah, mate. I'm just not in a celebratory mood yet. Got a lot on my mind."

  He nodded. "Dear old dad?"

  "Ah, it's like you met him. He's a right downer, isn't he?"

  "Yeah. That's his job. Be a total arse. But try and enjoy this. Birthday’s are only once a year."

  "This coming from the bloke who insists I celebrate all year? Who celebrates their birthday like that?"

  "We do. We're the Chase brothers, and we can do whatever the fuck we want. So if you want to celebrate your birthday, all God damn year, we can. After all, we are royalty, aren't we?"

  I snorted. "Forgotten princes of a forgotten land."

  He clinked his glass with mine, "Uh, don't forget, exiled, and forgotten princes. Ahh, imagine what would happen if dear old ancestors weren't ousted. How different you think shit would be?"

  I laughed. "Not much different. Except probably more people telling us what to do."

  He wrinkled his nose then. "Ugh! Never mind all that then. As you know, I can't stand to be told what to do. I like my freedom."

  We clinked glasses again. "Me too, brother, me too."

  Sure, I like money. I like making it. I just didn’t want to make it for the old man. Nor did I want to get into royal politics. Unlike others in my family, I wasn't obsessed with getting our crowns back.

  Let other men fight for the crown. I didn't want it. Hell, I wasn't even the oldest brother. The crown or the lack thereof was of no consequence to me. No, I need something else to fill this hole in my chest. I don't know what the hell was wrong with me tonight. I need some air, some space, something. I pushed out of my seat and tapped Xander on the shoulder. "Mate, I think I'm done."

  My brother frowned. "What? We just got here. It's only been a few hours."

  I laughed. "Yeah, I know. I'm done. Tell Nick, for me, would you?"

  He studied me. "Something's up with you Lex. You're not talking to me."

  "Nah, I'm good."

  He went serious then. And I knew he could sense it. I was off. He and I had always been thick as thieves. We weren't twins, but that sense, when the other was in trouble, we both felt it. That's what happens when you share the darkness. You knew when the other one was going under.

  "I'll come with you."

  I shook my head. "Nah, stay. Have fun."

  Xander chuckled and then he shrugged. "You know, fun for me is waking up at 5:30 in the morning and chasing the sunlight. This is not conducive to that."

  I rolled my eyes. "Don't you have classes starting soon?"

  He nodded. "I had to teach a bunch of runs how to do what I do. But chances are, none of them will be extraordinary. And if there are, it'll only be one."

  "Ah, cynical."

  "No, realist."

  "I hear you. Look, let me find Nick. I'll say goodbye and then we're just going to head home."

  He gave me a nod. "Fine. Call me in the morning, yeah? I'll pick you up and we'll go for a run."

  I grinned at him. "You're going to let me kick your ass again?"

  "You never kick my ass."

  He gave me his trademark smirk. "Oh, yes, I do."

  "In that case, you're on. I should probably stop drinking then."

  "You realize I can still kick your ass, hung over, right?"

  The raised brow, the self-important smirk. Yeah, Xander was okay. We clasped palms and gave each other a half hug and then I wound my way to the VIP, looking for Nick. I headed through the back hallway towards the patio where they let everyone smoke, without actually having to leave the club. There was no one on the patio, but when I turned, something caught my gaze. Suddenly, the hairs at the back of my neck stood at attention and I frowned. What the hell?

  Someone was up here. I narrowed my gaze. And then I felt it, the shadow behind me, and I whirled on the balls in my feet, hands up, ready to defend, or attack.

  Unfortunately, when I moved, whoever was behind me, moved too. So I only caught a brief glimpse before the attack happened.

  A fis
t, straight to my kidneys, and I howled.

  I whipped around, fired off an elbow in the general vicinity.

  The guy oophed and I was able to fully turn semi-assailant. But once I was facing him, ready to go in for the attack, I heard the footsteps behind me.

  Multiple attackers. Fucking fantastic.

  The guy in front of me swept out a leg, trying to sweep me off of mine, but my stance was strong. With a couple of quick jabs, I snapped his head back and moved in for the quick kill. Forearm on his neck, my other arm blocking his free one and attacking. I delivered a couple of knees and then turned his whole body around, so I could see my other attacker. Striking him like this, I could deliver all the blows I needed. Another knee, pressing hard on his trachea.

  He was my height. Over six feet, dark hair, thicker build though. My mother used to tell me I was whipcord lean. Yeah, I might not be as big, but I've learned a long time ago I needed to be deadly.

  When he refused to go down, I adjusted my hold and grabbed his face with both hands, pressing my thumbs into his eye sockets. When he leaned back, trying to save his sight, exposing his throat, I punched him, and down he went.

  His partner was going after me. He was also quick on his feet.

  I was weaving. I'd had too much to drink for this. But like hell, I was going down that easy. I know what it was like to be helpless. I knew what it was like to be alone. It wasn't going to happen today. "Hey arsehole, you know, you don't have to do this. You can take your girlfriend here, and go. I don't want to hurt you."

  He smirked and came full-on attack.

  With his frame, he preferred the use of his legs. Taekwondo training was evident. I took some knees. Okay, I'm not going to lie, I took a few punches too. But I gave as good I got.

  I saw someone else coming to the door. Fuck. I was losing steam. This needed to end quickly.

  "What's the matter? Little Prince is tired? We're just going to help you rest. Come with us, you can rest as long as you like."

  We're these my cousin's men? My second cousin, who is the current king of Nomea, his family had ousted mine from the throne, a couple of generations ago.

  Why would he be coming after us now? Xander and I hadn't done anything. Just the thought of my brother had me wincing. Shit. Xander.

  I had to stay alert. What if Xander needed me?

  My opening came when the guy delivered a kick to my midsection. I took the brunt of the force, but I also grabbed his leg.

  The cocky smirk disappeared quick as I pulled him off his feet and then launched myself at him. Good old fashioned ground and pound. Elbows. Punches. I grabbed him by the shirt, and I laid into him. I let the rage take over, the anger, all of it poured out.

  Behind me, someone tried to pull me off. And then I could see it. The black bag sliding from my field of vision. I released the guy in front of me and he sagged down. But I twisted around, determined to avoid the fucking black bagging.

  What the hell was wrong with these people? With my position on the ground, I had nowhere else to go. I didn't really want to punch the guy in the nuts, but it was my best line of defence. Elbow backward first, and then I twisted, and that punched. It didn't take much, he went down.

  Then I was on my feet. The kick I landed sent him several feet back. "Tell my cousin if he wants to come for me, he's going to need more men."

  And then I heard the voice from behind me. "Well done, but you really shouldn't play with your food, Alexi."

  I released the one on the floor and I turned slowly. "Jean Claude?"

  My mother’s long time advisor stepped out from the shadows. "You were slow. Lethargic. In the field, that could be dangerous. But you ah," he glanced around. "Recovered quickly. What was this? I taught you a million times when your cousin comes for you, or anyone for that matter, looking for ransom, be efficient. Unemotional is what you have to be. This, this is nothing but emotion."

  I glowered at my childhood mentor. "This was another test?"

  "Of course it was a test. It's all a test, Alexi. At some point, your cousin is going to come for you. He has no children. He can do anything to hold on to power. You threaten that power, so these scenarios are meant to keep you strong and alive."

  I stood and staggered over the nearest wall, breathing heavily and deep. As my three assailants groaned and tried to stand. One of them wasn't moving at all. And I dragged in deep heavy breaths, I watched as his partners went over to him and tried to wake him up. When he finally rolled over, I breathed an extra sigh of relief. I hadn't killed him. "This was for what? All for a training exercise?"

  "Yes," Jean Claude said as he stopped over me. "And I'm disappointed in how you performed."

  I shrugged. "Well, I'm alive. That should be a lesson to you. If you send more assholes after me, I won't be responsible if I kill them. I'm done with your tests. Not long from now, I'll be 25, and you will no longer be my adviser. My father will no longer be in-charge of my money and I don't have to worry about any of this royal bullshit. You've been feeding the same shit to my mom for years that she's going to sit on a throne someday. Don't you get tired of the false hope? Nomea has a king. And it's never been destined to be me."

  "Let's face it. Your brother is unfit. You're the hope. You're the next generation."

  I shook him off and headed for the exit. No way was I going to let him see me limp, or that his men had landed one too many good punches. He was trying to prepare me for a future I was never going to have. A future I didn't want. All I wanted was my freedom, and soon it would be mine.

  And neither he nor the stupid tests are going to keep me from that.

  ***

  Abbie…

  Where the hell was it?

  I frantically checked the pile of mail. Bill, bill, advertisement. Nothing from University of West London. Worry knotted my stomach. All my other graduate school acceptance and rejection letters had come by now. I’d expected to hear word from them over three weeks ago.

  “Hey, Evan, was this all the mail? Was there anything with the packages?” A part of my held on to that last thread of hope.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. This is all of it.”

  My boyfriend, Evan Peters, leaned against the doorjamb between the hallway and the dining room, still dripping from his run, creating little puddles of sweat on the floor. “You have some perfectly good schools to choose from. I don’t know why this one is so important to you.”

  I clenched my teeth and tried not to focus on the fact that, as usual, he didn’t support my choice. I also tried not to focus on the tiny puddles. Puddles I’d be expected to clean.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  Instead, I focused on his face. Evan covered in a sheen of sweat, he was still handsome. Perfect, smooth, bronze skin, strong jaw, whiskey-brown eyes. A body that made women salivate. Not to mention his family was also wealthy enough to sway political turnouts.

  My friends liked to remind my how lucky I was to have him.

  If only they knew.

  “I know. I need to make a decision, especially if I want to start in January, but I really wanted this program.” I inhaled sharply the moment I caught the look of displeasure in his eyes. “But you’re right.” No, he’s not. “I’ll pick one. If London comes through, I can always pull my acceptance or something.”

  He frowned, and I braced herself. Stupid.

  Why did I say that. At best I had a lecture coming. At worst…something else.

  Frown lines creased his perfect brow. “Abena, it’s bad form to rescind an acceptance. Especially if it’s at a school where I pulled strings for you, like Georgetown or George Washington.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting at the pulled strings. It wasn’t worth the fight. Keep your cool. Breathe. Don't say anything. “Of course,” I muttered. Ever dutiful. Sometimes I just wanted to scream at myself. Or him…

  “Some dreams aren’t meant to come true. I mean, let’s face it, your photos are okay, b
ut you’re not exactly doing gallery openings, are you?”

  I bit my tongue. As if I wouldn’t have been able to get into those schools on my own. As if his talking to a couple of professors had been the thing that made the admissions boards sit up and take notice. He’d only just graduated from law school himself and was an associate with Walters and Logan, a big law firm in town. His family name might have pull, but he, himself, did not. I’d gotten in on my own merit.

  But with practiced ease, I kept my thoughts to herself. “I know. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want to do that. I’ll think about it carefully.”

  He snatched up the hem of his sweat-sodden T-shirt and used the material to wipe his brow. The view of his six-pack and strong chest muscles should have had me salivating, should have had me begging to join him in the shower.

  Too bad I knew what was under the perfect façade. And it wasn’t pretty.

  I wanted him to be supportive. I wanted him to believe in me. I wanted him to be who he pretended to be. But right now, mostly, I wanted him to get into the shower so he would stop dripping on my floor.

  “I’m getting in the shower. What’s for lunch?”

  I swallowed. “I’m making chicken salad.”

  He sighed, clearly unenthused, but headed off toward the shower anyway.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I was deliberately pushing the dates for accepting an offer. Letters of acceptance into law programs from Georgetown, George Washington, John’s Hopkins, American University, and University of Maryland all beckoned to me in a neat stack.

  But I didn’t want to have to think about them. Evan had left them there purposefully, so that every time I walked through our dining room, I’d have to see them. The spiteful part of me yearned to disorder the tiny pile. But I restrained herself.

  Petty isn’t a good look.

  No. It wasn’t. And it certainly wasn’t becoming of the perfect girlfriend of Evan Peters.

  Problem was, I didn’t want to be a lawyer. Sure, it was the natural choice in a family full of them. Both my parents were. Even my oldest sister Akosua was. My middle sister, Ama, had broken the mold to go to medical school, but still it was a profession the whole family approved of. Not like my passion, photography.