Naive

Luke

“What is it, Maddox?” I shouted, more from him startling me than actual anger. “I told you, I’m not—”

The door crashed open, and it was definitely not Maddox.

“Father,” I said, straightening my spine. Tensing all of my muscles was a reflex whenever I was in his presence. Years of living in the palace with dignitaries and other royalty visiting our home had drilled the mannerisms into me so hard that they transformed my body within seconds.

King Erol Shamon walked into my office as if he owned the place. Technically, he did but he rarely came to England unless something was wrong. He didn’t need to check up on me, though. So, why was he here?

He glanced over my desk and then narrowed his eyes at the closed curtains. He untucked his hands from the folds of his bisht and strode to the windows to pull the curtains open.

“What has brought you here?” I asked, annoyed at my formal tone. I was the boss of the company, and I had earned respect from my employees. But in the face of my fath