Royally Screwed: A Reverse-Harem Royal Romance (Quick & Dirty Book 3) Page 3

“I suppose you could do better if you were queen.”

  I lift my chin higher up in the air. “If I were queen, which I’d never want to be, by the way,” he flinches at this for some reason, “I’d do a hell of a lot better than those self-important, stuffed shirts who have no idea what it’s like to have real problems in the real world.”

  “You…” He shakes his hands about my head as if he’s about to grab my neck and choke me. “You are so damn frustrating, you know that?”

  Before I can reply, his hands have come around my jaw and his mouth crushes onto mine.

  Oh. My. God.

  My mind short-circuits for a split second. Then everything goes into overdrive.

  He tastes like mint and of the sea. His lips are firm, demanding, smoldering. His arms close around me, his palms feeling huge across my back as he slides them around me. His hands are almost big enough to span around my waist. I feel so small in his grip.

  He lets out a small growl and yanks me flush against him. I can’t help but melt against his hardness, groaning at the fireworks ricocheting throughout my body from where he touches me.

  My hands come up to tangle through his damp hair. It’s softer than I thought it’d be. He wears no product, which I like. The sexy windswept look he carries must be natural.

  When he pushes his tongue into my mouth, I lose my mind. That’s my defense. That’s why I let myself kiss a sweaty guest, the bodyguard to the VIP in the Royal Suite.

  It has nothing to do with the fact that his kiss makes my body burn. That it makes me feel drunk. High. Spinning.

  Nothing to do with the fact that no man’s kiss has ever made me feel this way before.

  A clanking noise, just outside the doors, breaks into my lust-bubble. The elevator technician. I shove Grayson back. He stares at me as I stare at him, his hair even messier from my greedy fingers. He looks as much in shock as I am.

  I brush down my skirt suit just as the elevator doors crank open. A man in an elevator security uniform is standing there beside Christina, the other assistant manager.

  By the look on her face when Christina spots me, she’s been told about my temporary promotion over her. She’s not happy. Her face puckers up like she’s sucked on a lemon.

  She frowns, her eyes darting from me to Grayson, who is still staring at me. I can feel the weight of his stare.

  I feel like our clandestine kiss is splashed all over my face.

  Dear God. If Christina even got an inkling that I’d had my tongue down the throat of a guest, she’d be in George’s ear so fast, angling for my dismissal, it’d make my head spin.

  I force a smile, profusely thank the elevator company officer, and hustle the hell out of there without even a glance back at Grayson.

  I chalk up that kiss as a momentary lapse in sanity. No distractions, I remind myself. No more kissing hotel guests, no matter how sexy and muscly they are.

  Grayson

  I stare at Sophia’s ass, perfectly round in that fitted skirt suit she wears, tanned, defined calves ending in a pair of black stilettos.

  Infuriating. Frustrating. Sexy as hell.

  And I’d kissed her. She’d kissed me back.

  Had I completely lost my senses?

  I hadn’t meant to go anywhere near Sophia. I told myself not to go near her. I didn’t foresee the elevator breaking down with only the two of us in it, did I?

  I wave aside the apologies of the other hotel employee and take the fire exit up to the top floor where the Royal Suite is. I need another workout to release all this pent-up energy that Sophia’s kiss ignited in me.

  That kiss was…dynamite.

  It burned through me like wildfire.

  Enough, I command myself. I am here on royal business, not to wet my whistle with the local delights. I get an image of Sophia naked and writhing under me, my hands on her curves, my mouth on her—

  Fucking hell.

  I shove this thought aside, growling at myself. I take a few deep breaths, composing myself before I re-enter the Royal Suite.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Nicolai yells before I’ve even closed the door.

  Chase looks up from his chair. “See. I told you he’d be back.”

  “Relax,” I say. “I just went to the hotel gym.”

  Nicolai yanks at his hair. “How are we supposed to guard you if you don’t fucking tell us where you go.”

  “If I told you I wanted to go work out, you’d want to come with me. Sometimes a man needs to be alone. Besides, nobody knows who I am.” Yet.

  How will Sophia react when she realises I am the very royalty she disdains? Superfluous. Self-important. Not enough. I bristle. Who the hell does she think she is? And why do I care so much what this woman thinks?

  “It’s only a matter of time before someone recognises you,” Nicolai grinds out, snapping me back to the present. “We have protocols, sir.”

  A grin spreads across Chase’s face as he stares at me. He waggles a finger as if I’ve just been caught doing something naughty. “You needed to get your frustration out over that sexy-as-fuck hotel manager.”

  “Sophia,” I bark before I know what I’m saying. “Her name is Sophia.”

  Nicolai stiffens, his eyes narrowing at me.

  Chase nods. “Sophia. Exactly.”

  Fuck.

  “You gonna do something about…Sophia?” Chase asks, a wicked glint in his eye. He knows what it means if I seduce her.

  And I want to seduce her. Lord fucking knows how much I want to. If that damned elevator door hadn’t opened I would have torn her clothes off right then and there.

  But it would not be a good idea to get close to her. That is not what I am here for.

  “Soft curves and those plump red lips…” Chase’s eyes go all soft. “They would feel so good wrapped around your d—”

  “Enough,” I say, my cock stiffening at his suggestion. “I’m not doing anything about her. We’re here for business.” For me to secure a queen. “I’m going for a shower. I trust,” I glare at Nicolai when I say this, “you don’t need to follow me in.”

  “Don’t lock the door,” Nicolai yells after me.

  I growl under my breath. Sometimes the crown upon my head feels more like chains.

  I walk into the massive luxury en suite of the master bedroom, stripping my sweaty clothes off as I go, a certain dark-haired, red-lipped vixen on my mind. I lock the door behind me, fuck what Nicolai says. I’m the crown fucking prince and I’ll do what I want.

  “…stuck-up, all-important, royal brats.”

  Sophia’s words echo in my head, infuriating me and turning me on at the same time. How dare she say that about me and my family.

  Deep down, her words strike a chord.

  I step into the shower, steam rising above me. My dick’s been in this semi-hard state since I laid eyes on her at that reception desk, painful since she walked away from me at the elevator.

  I palm my aching cock and imagine plump red lips around it, a set of dark eyes staring up at me. I come, hard, and embarrassingly quick.

  Sophia

  “How is your first day as acting hotel manager going?” George asks as I sit opposite him in his office later that day.

  Well, I managed to kiss the hell out of one of our guests while being stuck in the elevator, bringing new meaning to the term guest satisfaction. I think that qualifies for a raise, don’t you?

  I clear my throat. “So far so good. We had a minor problem with one of the elevators,” I shove aside the memory of Grayson’s lips on mine, “but that’s been fixed. All guest check-ins have gone through smoothly, including the VIP in the Royal Suite. He arrived with his two bodyguards a few hours ago.”

  George nods. “The VIP is actually the reason I called you in. He has a few security stipulations.”

  The entire hotel staff have already signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement. The security at the entrance has been beefed up. What else does he want? I sit up straight, just as there’s a knock on the do
or.

  “Perfect timing,” George says as he stands.

  I stand and spin as the door opens. In walks Grayson himself, followed by the VIP Chase and the dark-skinned bodyguard.

  Grayson catches my eye and heat flares in me. Suddenly, I’m back in the elevator and clothes are tearing off us because no one is coming to get us. His eyes flash with hunger as if he can read the desires across my face. I have to repress a gasp and force my eyes away from him.

  The dark-skinned man is watching me with suspicion in his eyes. He is the tallest and broadest of the three. By the darkness in his deep-set eyes, I can tell he is by far the most dangerous. I hope I’m never cornered by him alone. I imagine his hands closing around my mouth and his accented voice in my ear telling me “screaming is useless”. For some strange reason, this thought sends a strange heated shiver down my spine. I avert my eyes before he can read my thoughts.

  My gaze settles on Chase next. He’s looking at me with this cheeky grin that borders on a smirk. I can’t help but smile back. Of the three, he’s the joker, I bet. The fun one. He shoots me a wink and I blush.

  “Gentlemen,” George says, “it’s an honour to have you staying with us. I hope your stay has been pleasant thus far.”

  “It has,” Grayson says, “thank you.”

  “May I introduce our acting hotel manager, Sophia Lauren.”

  “We’ve met,” Grayson says as he extends his hand to me.

  I can’t very well refuse to shake his hand. His hand swallows mine as I take it, making me feel delicate and…safe. At the same time, desire courses up my arm and spreads through my body. I can’t help but remember how this large hand was splayed across my back not two hours ago, crushing me against his body.

  “Sophia,” George says, “I’d like you to meet British Crown Prince Grayson Windsor.”

  What???

  Sophia

  British Crown Prince Grayson Windsor.

  My mind blanks. Surely…surely there is some mistake. I frown and glance over to Chase. But he was the VIP. Not Grayson.

  Chase shoots me an apologetic look and I realise my mistake. I had assumed because Grayson had been driving and that Chase had been in the backseat of the car that Chase had been the VIP.

  I stare back at Grayson. He still hasn’t let go of my hand. We’re not even shaking hands anymore, we’re just standing here in front of my boss, in front of his two bodyguards—oh my God, those other two men are his bodyguards—holding hands. I’m holding hands with the future King of England.

  He didn’t tell me who he was. He didn’t say a fucking word. He let me rant and rave about his family, about him, and he said nothing.

  “…stuck-up, all-important, royal brats.”

  Shame and horror floods my body. I yank my hand out of Grayson’s.

  God. Help. Me.

  This is what the meeting is about. Grayson is going to tell George everything I said in the elevator. I’m going to be fired. Kicked out on the street.

  I am so screwed.

  Grayson

  Sophia avoids my gaze as the owner of the hotel, George Kane, discusses security measures for the duration of my stay and the Non-Disclosure Agreements that the entire staff have signed.

  She looks so damn good in that tailored skirt suit of hers. It follows her curves perfectly. I know just how small that waist is under that jacket.

  Her hair that was loose earlier has been combed back into a low ponytail. It makes her look so demure, hiding the fire inside her that I know is in there. The fire that I felt combusting in my arms. It makes me want to yank out the hair tie and mess her silky strands up, just like I had in the elevator. I want to crease her suit. Ruin her panties. Feel the tips of her stilettos digging into my back.

  Fuck. Just standing here is a test of my willpower not to reach for her. All I want to do is to yell at everyone to get the fuck out of this room so I can bend her over his desk and—

  I shift my weight, glad that my suit jacket hides the growing evidence of my arousal.

  Despite my insistence to myself to leave Sophia alone, I don’t think I can.

  Just one last fling, I tell myself. One last passionate affair before I have to settle into my royal duties and marry a princess I don’t love.

  “I want Ms Lauren to attend me personally,” I say, interrupting whatever Nicolai is saying to George.

  All eyes snap towards me, but I only care about Sophia’s. She’s staring at me wide-eyed, a mixture of surprise and worry on her face.

  The silence is sharp as I continue, “If I order room service, I want Sophia to deliver it. If I need something, I want her to attend to it. No one else in this hotel is allowed on my floor or near my suite. Security procedures, I’m sure you understand.”

  I spot Chase lifting an eyebrow behind his shades from across the room. I sense Nicolai tensing behind me. They both know that this is not about “security procedures”. Not at all.

  Sophia reacts first. “I’m flattered, Prince Grayson. But I’m not sure my duties here at work will allow me to extend so much personal time to y—"

  “Of course it will,” her boss interrupts her. Sophia remains quiet as George turns to me. “Sophia will do everything in her power to make sure your stay is immensely pleasurable.”

  Immensely pleasurable.

  I certainly hope so.

  After the meeting concludes, Sophia slips out of the office first. Nicolai tries to grab my arm to stop me from striding after her, his grip around my bicep firmer than necessary.

  “Sir,” he whispers in my ear, “you can’t honestly think this is a good idea.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” I growl at him, shrugging his hand off me. Neither he nor Chase better get in my way. “Stay.”

  I stride down the corridor after Sophia.

  Sophia

  What the hell just happened?

  How the hell did I just get roped into being Prince Grayson’s personal slave? After what I said to him, why would he even want me to—

  Realisation hits me like a punch to the chest. He’s doing this as a form of punishment. To torture me. He’s going to make this next week—the most important week in my career so far—a living hell.

  On top of that, it is clear that my body is a traitorous, mutinous creature who can’t stop wanting to throw herself at him.

  Dear God. Let me survive this week. Let me survive him.

  “Sophia!”

  Fuck me.

  That’s his voice calling from behind me as I stride down the hallway going… I don’t know where, just away from the source of my anxiety and confusion. I’ve known Grayson—Prince Grayson, God help me—for less than twelve hours, and yet I think I know that voice as well as my own. It plucks at something inside me deep in the root of my belly.

  I want to break into a run. But I can’t. This man has my future in his privileged, blue-blooded hands. The best thing I can do is try to apologise. Placate him. To grovel at his feet. Convince him that someone else would be better as his personal concierge.

  I halt and turn to face him. He stops before me a mere foot away. Dear God, he is handsome. He’s wearing pressed navy slacks teamed with a crisp white button-up shirt under his dark grey polo jumper, like something out of a Ralph Lauren catalog. He’s the epitome of sophistication and class. Everything I am not. Not really.

  He’s too close. But I don’t dare step back and risk offending him. Further.

  I have to grovel. I have to put aside all my natural instincts to yell at him for making a fool out of me and shove my pride down. I have to make this the best damn apology the world has ever known.

  “Before you say anything,” I start, “I want to apologise for the things I said in the elevator. I was wrong and rude and totally out of line. I am deeply sorry.”

  “No one has ever dared to take such liberties in speaking to me,” he says, but he sounds amused instead of being angry.

  Amused? He should be furious.

  “I didn’t know I
was talking about you. I didn’t mean a single word of—”

  He holds up a hand to cut me off. “You don’t have to apologise.”

  “I do.”

  “No, you don’t. Besides, you weren’t completely wrong.”

  I open my mouth, then shut it. He has floored me.

  “I’m not sure what to say,” I begin. “I thought you’d be mad.”

  “I was. But then I realised I had no right to be angry. In my public position, I should be open to whatever criticism anyone has of me. Truthfully, it’s…refreshing to hear what someone actually thinks of me. Every day I’m surrounded by people who just tell me what they think I want to hear.”

  “It sounds…empty.”

  “It is,” he admits.

  “So…you won’t tell anyone about how I embarrassed myself in front of you?”

  “What happened in the elevator, it can be our little secret.”

  His eyes flash with hunger—raw and intense, the air crackling around us like a live wire—and I know he’s not just talking about my harsh criticisms of the royal family. My body responds by growing hot, wetness pooling between my thighs.

  “In fact,” he continues, “I want to talk to you about what happened in the elevator.”

  “Oh?” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

  “About the thing that happened…after you insulted me and my family.”

  I wince and open my mouth to apologise yet again, but he holds up a hand to stop me.

  “It’s clear that you and I have an incredible chemistry,” he says. “With your consent, I’d like to…explore it.”

  I blink. What?

  “I don’t understand,” I say weakly.

  He lowers his voice. “One week. No strings. Just…passion. Pleasure. Mine and yours.”

  Oh my God.

  The crown prince is propositioning me.

  He steps closer, so close we are almost touching but not quite. Still, the heat radiating from his body soaks into mine.