Royally Screwed (Royally, #1)

by Emma Chase

Infamy is temporary, celebrity is fleeting, but royalty…royalty is forever.

Every stereotype starts somewhere, with some vague but lingering grain of truth.

Choosing between dull and dishonest is like being asked whether you want to be shot or stabbed.

I grin, flashing a hint of dimple—women fall all over themselves for dimples. “Well, most nights I like to read.” I like to fuck.

I lean in, keeping my eyes open the whole time, memorizing every angle of that face, feeling his warm breath against my cheek. This close, I can see the shadow of stubble on his chin and for just a second, I let myself wonder what it would feel like scratching against my stomach, my thighs—everywhere. Then in one move, I pick up his plate—and smash the apple pie in his stupid, handsome face. “Kiss this, asshole.”

If Helen launched a thousand ships, this girl could raise a thousand hard-ons.

But the barking has to go. I make contact with its beady little eyes and snap my fingers, ordering, “Shh!” And blessed silence fills the air. Olivia looks from me to the animal. “How—how did you do that?” “Dogs are pack animals; they defer to the leader. This one is smart enough to recognize that that’s me.” I step closer to her, detecting a clean, lovely scent—like fresh honey. “Let’s see if it works with you.” I snap my fingers. “Dinner.”

“He won’t come back if you post that, Ellie.” “Did he say he was going to? That he’s coming back?” This possibility seems to excite her more than a million social media likes. “I…I think he will.” And electricity races up my spine, because I want him to.

Nicholas Pembrook hadn’t been so different that day. Not so different from me. Just a kid, trying his hardest to keep the family he had left from falling apart.

“That’s what you’re going to do all morning? Stay here?” “That’s the plan, yes.” “Don’t you have…stuff to do? Important stuff?” “Probably.” “Then why aren’t you doing it?” He searches my face, those eyes falling to my mouth like he can’t tear his eyes away. “I like looking at you.”

I want Olivia. In my bed, on my cock, over my face. And I want her to know it.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I gesture to the young man beside me. “Olivia, this is Freddie—Freddie, meet Olivia.” “’S’up?” She smiles so sweetly. “Good to meet you, Freddie.” Out of the side of his mouth he says in a hushed tone, “You were right—she’s really pretty.” “I told you so,” I hush back.

“Ask me again, Nicholas.” It’s a bit frightening how much I like the sound of my name on her lips. It could easily become my favorite word. Which is damn arrogant, even for me. “I want to take you out, Olivia. Tonight. What do you say?” Then she gives me a word I like hearing from her even more. “Yes.”

if she feels like running, I’ll certainly chase.

“But…in the immortal words of Kanye, that which don’t kill me only makes me stronger.” She laughs, and like everything about her, it’s delightful. “I didn’t think a guy like you listened to Kanye.” I wink. “I’m full of surprises.”

Shyness has no place in my plans for this girl. I want her bold, wild, and reckless.

Two points for me, because all I really want to do is rest my nose in the fragrant groove of her cleavage before sliding down, lifting her dress, and sinking my face between her smooth, creamy thighs. And that’s where I’d stay, all fucking night.

“I’m sorry, Olivia, what was that?” “Why didn’t you kiss the Pope’s ring?” I’ve got a raging hard-on and we’re talking about the Holy See. One-way ticket to hell? Purchased.

“Do you really believe that?” “That I’m descended from The Almighty?” I grin devilishly. “I’ve been told my cock is a gift from God. You should test that opinion tonight. You know…for religion.”

But Olivia wants those answers—I can see it in the soft curves of her face as she waits patiently. She wants to know me. And my chest tightens desperately—because I suddenly want the exact same thing.

“When can I see you again?” he asks. “Say tomorrow.” I laugh. “God, you’re bossy. Okay, tomorrow.”

“This is crazy,” I whisper against him. “It’s crazy, right? It’s not just me?” Nicholas shakes his head. “Bloody insane.” His hands are on my ass again—a final quick grab. “And fucking fantastic.”

“So,” she starts, leaning back. “What are your intentions with my sister, Prince Nicholas?” If she only knew. “I want to spend time with Olivia. Get to know her.” Intimately. “My intentions are all good ones, I promise.” Very good. Orgasmic. The XXX-rated kind.

“I want you,” I rasp. Just in case that isn’t clear. Her eyes are bright and manic—caught up in the same tsunami of sensation that grips me. She tears the gray flannel from her arms. “Have me.” Christ, this bold, daring girl—I adore her.

“Oh my gawd, do you know who you look like?” Nicholas’s hand goes rigid in my mine, but I squeeze it because…I got this. “Prince Nicholas, right?” I tell the aviator-glasses-wearing blond, letting my New York accent come through. “Totally! You know, I heard he’s in town—” she points to Nicholas “—and you could so be him!” “I know! I keep telling him we should move to Vegas—he could get work as an impersonator—but he doesn’t listen to me.” I jiggle Nicholas’s hand. “Do the accent, baby.” With a soft look in his eyes, he speaks in his normal voice. “I don’t have an accent…baby.”

“Fuck, yes,” I hiss, feeling crazier with each word. Note to self—cheap beer makes Olivia wild. Stock up on the stuff.

I hold his strong, handsome face in my hands. “I think I’m only just really starting to get it. It’s like Logan said—you’re important. And I knew that, but…I don’t think of you as Prince of Pembrook, heir to blah-blah-blah…” My eyes touch every inch of his face. “To me, you’re just Nicholas. This amazing, sexy, sweet, funny guy…who I really care about.”

“Oh my God, you’re Prince Henry.” “I am, pet. But the more important question is, who are you?” “I’m Ellie.” My brother smiles salaciously. “Hel-lo, Ellie.” “She’s a minor,” I tell him. And the smile drops. He pats her head. “Good-bye, Ellie.”

“Forgive me,” he whispers, harsh and sad. “I was trying to protect you, I swear. Keep you…safe.” I do forgive him. It’s just that easy. Because I understand now. And because I love him.

I close my eyes and press my forehead against her temple, breathing her in, holding her too tight but too desperate to loosen my grip. “I love you, Olivia. I love you. And I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let you go.”

As I take her in my arms and lead her, Olivia whispers nervously, “Everyone’s looking at us.” People have looked at me my entire life. It’s something I’ve endured begrudgingly, accepted no matter how much it chafed. Except for now. “Good.”

“Ask me again, Nicholas.” Hope whispers. Blessed, beautiful, thrilling hope. “Stay.” Her soft lips smile. “For how long?” My voice is hushed and rough with pleading. “For always.” Olivia looks deep into my eyes and her smile grows, her head bobbing in the tiniest of nods. “Yes.”

I just want to be alone. I want to crawl into a corner where no one can see me or hear me, so I can breathe…and cry my fucking eyes out.

You will be a king. And what will Olivia be then?” “Mine,” I growl. “She’ll be mine.”

Knowing her…changed everything. And loving her…brought me to life.”

“What I can tell you, what I swear to you today, is this: I will marry Olivia Hammond or I will never marry at all.” And the crowd goes berserk. Holy shit.

Then Nicholas holds up his hands. “No more questions—I have a lot to do. Thank you for your time.” He turns to go, but then has second thoughts and comes back to the podium. “One last thing.” He looks directly into the camera, and I feel his eyes like a touch to my skin. “You asked for a warning, Olivia, so here it is. I’m coming for you, love.” And the son of a bitch winks.

I turn to Logan. “Did that just happen?” Logan nods. “It did, lass.” “I can’t believe…What did he just do?” “He gave up a kingdom for you.”

“He’s coming.” “That’s what he said,” Logan agrees. “He’s coming here…for me.” “Heard that part, too.” There’s so much to do…but…priorities. “He’s coming here for me and I haven’t shaved my legs in three days!”

because I can’t wait to see Olivia. To hold her and kiss her until she can’t stand. To make it all right again. To begin this new, different life. A life with her.

My voice is a raw whisper. “Olivia, about the things I said, the night you left. I’m—” “Forgiven.” Tears well in her eyes. “You’re completely forgiven. You had me at ‘horse’s ass.’” And she throws herself into my arms.

“Ready, love?” “As I’ll ever be.” Her gloved hand slips into mine as our names are announced. “Prince Nicholas and Princess Olivia, the Duke and Duchess of Fairstone!”

Emotion hits me hard, making my heart feel too large for my chest. I stroke her cheek, because she’s so lovely—and because she’s mine. Then I whisper, “Well, you’d better. We’re royalty. That means…we’re forever.”