Page 3 of Royally Matched
Chapter One
Present day
The yacht was rocking more than normal, causing Max’s stomach to tighten with nausea. As he moved his head to the side, the pounding increased to a rapidly painful tempo. It felt like Triola’s annual Independence Day fireworks show was going off in his head.
When he cracked his eyes open, the sunshine made him wince. He quickly retracted his eyelids, regretting his decision to have a third bottle of champagne the previous night.
Max reached out his hand towards the nightstand, scrounging around for the button to summon Patrick. He needed a Bloody Mary, an I.V. bag, and sunglasses immediately.
A few moments later, he heard the calm, formal tone of his royal valet from the double doors to the royal suite. “Good morning, Master Beaumont. Are you requiring your usual this afternoon?”
The barely veiled disapproving tone wasn’t lost on Max. The only reason Patrick got away with it was because he had been assigned as Max’s personal valet since Max was a child. Patrick was more like family than a servant. Even upon Max’s insistence Patrickcall him by his first name, the valet refused. He only relented to switching from “your royal highness” to “Master Beaumont” after years of hounding—and only when in private. In public, Patrick still insisted on using the insufferable royal title.
Ignoring the judgment and formality, Max said, “Yes, Patrick, and you better make the Bloody Mary a double. Last night was a doozy. What time is it anyway?”
“Three o’clock, Master Beaumont,” Patrick replied. “You’ve missed four calls from the king today. His Majesty demands you call him at once.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“He did not,” Patrick said, hesitating before he added, “but his tone showed it was not good. I wouldn’t keep him waiting any further.”
Patrick entered the room and placed Max’s cell phone on the nightstand.
Max slung his legs over the side of the bed, stretched out and grabbed his phone. Remembering the night before, he glanced next to him. The bed was empty. “Where’s Starla?” Max asked with confusion.
“She’s sunbathing on the upper deck,” Patrick paused as he tried to mask a look of irritation, “in the nude. I tried to explain to her it was improper to have her do so on the royal yacht, but she informed me you told her to make herself at home.”
Max let out a chuckle. “What can I say, Starla is a free spirit.”
The sexy pop singer, Starla Stone, was known to be splashy. She loved making a scene and being the center of attention. This appealed to Max as he was in full swing of doing the same. When she had set her eyes on him at a nightclub in Monaco, he decided he could use the new distraction.
“Indeed,” Patrick stated with an equally disapproving tone. “I will go get your usual while you call His Majesty. Will there be anything further, Master Beaumont?”
“No, that will be all Patrick,” Max stated as he touched the screen of his cell phone, causing it to light up. Sure enough, there were four logged calls from his father. Whatever was going on was important, or he wouldn’t have made such a rapid string of calls.
Max tookin a deep breath, then clicked the top button. One ring later, his father’s royal secretary answered the phone. “Good afternoon. This is Sir Ronald Humphrey, secretary to his Royal Majesty, King Gerard James Beaumont. May I ask who is calling and in what regard.”
Just by being on the phone with Ronald, Max could feel the tightening of the royal court around him. He had taken the royal yacht thousands of miles away and still couldn’t escape his family’s stifling legacy.
“Hello, Ronald, this is Max. I’m calling to talk with my father.”
There was a long pause on the other end before Ronald said, “Good afternoon, your Royal Highness. I will inform his Majesty you are ready to speak with him.”
The phone clicked and there was symphony music that played in the background until two minutes later, Max’s father’s irritated voice took over the line. “I see you finally called me back.”
“Patrick told me you were trying to reach me.”
“I have been—unsuccessfully I might add. You realize that part of your responsibilities as the Crown Prince is to be available when I need to get a hold of you.”
“I never agreed to that, Father,” Max countered. “It’s something you thrust upon me whenever you get the chance.”
“We don’t get to choose what we are born into, Maxwell. You were born to privilege, and with it comes certain expectations and duties. You would do well to accept that rather than run from it.”
“I’m not running from anything,” Max stated defensively, knowingdenying it didn’t make it any less true.
“If that was the case, you wouldn’t spend all your time hundreds of miles away partying on the family’s private island and yacht.”
“Excuse me if I would rather enjoy my life than be forced to live it for others,” Max stated with resentment. “Everyone else gets to live their lives as they want. I only wish to do the same.”
