Page 5 of Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire 3)
“I wouldn’t say he’s the right one. He is so wrong, so full of himself, you couldn’t imagine a person less right for me. I have no plans to talk to him again, but he’s gorgeous and a prince, so I suppose imagining us starring in a porn together is natural.”
Alisha burst out laughing. “I can see the title now: The Prince in Me.”
Only Alisha could take Rachelle from near tears to laughing until her sides hurt in the span of a few minutes. “That is so tacky I love it. How about Royally Screwed?”
“Or better than that: The Prince’s Virgin Bride. You could pretend.”
“Yes. That’s me. A twenty-nine-year-old virgin.”
There were some words a man could hear no matter how loud the competing noise was, and virgin was one of them.
Prince Magnus had been in a foul mood. He’d spoken at length with Westerly’s producer and learned that neither promise of money nor threats had ever resulted in convincing Westerly to make a public appearance outside of a premiere. Westerly didn’t even attend award ceremonies. He didn’t seem to have a goal he was reaching for or an enemy he was fending off. So far, Prince Magnus had learned nothing that would be of use when it came to convincing the actor to visit Vandorra.
When the lights had flickered, announcing it was time for everyone to head into the theater for the viewing of Westerly’s latest film, Prince Magnus had scanned the room for the woman he’d told himself he’d be better off avoiding. He’d felt an unsettling amount of disappointment at her absence, so he’d headed in the last direction he’d seen her.
He’d noticed an exit door propped open with a woman’s high-heeled shoe. He didn’t know any women who would hide out in an alley during a movie premiere, but she was American, and it was often difficult to predict what any of them would do.
Before he even reached the door, he recognized her voice. He listened for a moment to ensure that she was not in distress and then stayed because he had never heard himself described in such detail or with such candor.
His chest puffed with male pride at the knowledge that she found him physically pleasing, until he winced at her description of his personality. She deepened her voice in a mockery of their earlier conversation that was not flattering in the least.
The idea of the two of them starring in a private home video—which he would allow her to call porn if it pleased her—had him sporting a royal erection.
It was that last comment about being a twenty-nine-year-old virgin that confused him. She might have been joking. What he was conflicted about was what he’d prefer the truth to be. On one hand, the idea of being the first man to be with her was captivating. On the other, sex was a whole lot less complicated with an experienced woman who didn’t confuse intimacy with emotion.
He was lost in that lusty quagmire when the door opened, and she hopped through it while putting her shoe back on, essentially tumbling into his arms. He helped her back to her feet, still holding her against him, not at all embarrassed by how prominently his excitement pressed against her. After all, she found him wet-panties attractive. Had they not been in public, he would have run a hand up her thigh to her sex to confirm the accuracy of her claim.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, referring to how she’d crashed into him.
“My pleasure,” he said with a wicked smile.
She stayed there, resting against his throbbing cock for long enough to drive him nearly mad. Her chest rose and fell against his, another excruciatingly erotic tease. He groaned. This wasn’t the place for what he wanted, and no matter how good this felt, he had no intention of leaving without speaking to her brother.
She glanced back at the door, then up to him again. “You—you didn’t . . . How long have you been standing here?”
“Not long. The movie is about to start, and since neither of us appears to have a date, I hoped you would sit with me.” Prince Magnus could have said the truth, but a gentleman never embarrassed a lady. Plus, he now had the upper hand in a game he’d ensure they both enjoyed.
As far as her potential virginity? Since either possibility was acceptable, the fun would be in discovering the truth.
“Sit with you?” The breathless way she asked it rocketed through him.
Eavesdropping might not be a practice he normally condoned, but that day it had paid off in spades. He loved knowing where her naughty little mind took her when she looked at him.
It made the fact that his went the same places that much more exciting.
Royally screwed? You definitely will be. Later.
First I must convince your brother that he’s not too big of a douche to visit a children’s hospital. Then we’ll fuck.
Confident that the evening would work out the way he planned, Prince Magnus stepped back and offered Rachelle his arm. It’s time to show her my charming side. “Yes. We started off on the wrong foot, but perhaps we could start over. My name is Magnus Gustavus Valentine de Bartelebon, crown prince of Vandorra. You may call me Magnus.”
She searched his face before answering. “You know my name. Rachelle. I’m a first-grade teacher. Nothing fancy. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. The reason I was upset had nothing to do with you. This week has been an emotional roller coaster. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” She smiled, and his heart did a funny little flip. “If I actually were a prostitute, what you said to me could have changed my life. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. Shall we?”
She nodded and tucked her arm through his. He stole a sideways glance at her. A teacher? Westerly’s sister had a job? The dress she wore looked inexpensive. Her shoes were scuffed from wear. All implied she was on a limited budget. Fascinating.
Just as she’d said about him earlier, Prince Magnus could not imagine a woman who would be more wrong for him, but even the purely innocent way they were touching was enough to keep him interested.
But there was more.
Why was she there? Why didn’t she think her brother cared about her? Considering Westerly’s level of fame, why was she acting as if this was her first premiere?
He wasn’t accustomed to feeling this level of curiosity about someone. Who had she called in the alley to spill her thoughts and desires to? A beautiful puzzle. It was a struggle to join the crowd heading into the theater rather than haul her off somewhere private.
From the other side of the room, surrounded by his entourage, Westerly watched them enter the theater. He didn’t look happy.
Good. Anger was easier to redirect than indifference.
An usher led them to seats in an overflow section. He turned and saw that Westerly had entered the theater himself, still watching them from near the doorway. Although the seating was insulting, Magnus cared more about what it said about Westerly than appearances.
What a prick.
This is how you treat your sister?
Finn, I said I would bring you Water Bear Man. Does he have to be alive?
Chapter Four
Prior to that evening, Rachelle would have described her love life as perfectly average. Not bad. Not anything to brag about.
Yet here I am sitting next to a prince.
Right next to him.
A drop-dead-gorgeous hunk of a prince.
If I shifted my arm just a little, we’d be touching. But I don’t want to give him the wrong impression. Sitting with him at the premiere is probably no big deal, but that’s as far as this can go. I’m here for Eric, not some X-rated royal romp.
Hey, I need to remember that one to te
ll Alisha. She’d get a kick out of it.
Although she felt a little guilty about not watching the movie, her mind was racing with questions about the man next to her. One was persistent enough that she whispered, “Magnus?”
He bent his face toward hers. “Yes?”
For just a second, she forgot what she’d wanted to say and fantasized about how he might kiss. Would his touch be tender? Or forceful? He wouldn’t be a sloppy kisser. No, a man like him would have polished his technique.
Or, even in bed, would he consider himself so important that he wouldn’t bother to take the needs of his partner into consideration? The second man she’d slept with had been like that. Nothing more disappointing than a man who thought his orgasm was the only one that mattered.
Which kind of lover was Magnus?
He bent closer. “You were about to ask me a question.”
“I was,” she answered automatically, unable to tear her eyes from him long enough to collect her thoughts.
He smiled. “Ask me anything.”
I can’t. I can’t ask you what I’m thinking. But—oh yes. “What did you want to speak to Eric about? It sounded important.”
His smile faded somewhat. “It is. Very important, but it’s not something you need to concern yourself with. I’ll make it happen.”
There was a determination in his voice that wasn’t a surprise, but then there was something else. Whatever he wanted to ask Eric about mattered to him on a personal level. “Is that a nice way of saying I should mind my own business?”
He brought a hand to her face and gently ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’m not that nice.”
She shivered, because he was serious. “And you’re proud of that?”
He lowered his hand. “No, but I am the man I have to be. I was born with certain responsibilities that must supersede pride or regret. Both are luxuries I cannot afford.”
His words reminded her of something Eric had said about paying for his fame with his privacy and dignity. Perhaps her mother had been right about some things. Wealth and power didn’t necessarily make people happier. “I should warn you that, although Eric doesn’t talk about his family in public, he is far from alone. If whatever you’re looking for from him isn’t to his benefit, you would be bringing the wrath of some very powerful people to your door.”
