The Sinful King (Naughty Royals 1)

When I finished my rant, I slapped a hand over my mouth, wishing I’d done so before I started talking. Oh my God. Had I just . . . why, why, why had I opened my mouth to respond? Prince Elias was no longer watching me with interest. He was shooting daggers at me. I lowered my hand from my mouth.

“I’m so sorry. That was . . . That was not what I intended. I just—”

“I believe you’ve said enough, Miss Adeline. I will not be needing your services tomorrow evening.” He turned around, but looked over his shoulder one last time to add, “Have fun on your date.”

He said the word date with such disdain, I was sure he absolutely hated me. I just couldn’t figure out why I cared so much.

Chapter 6

At seven o’clock the following evening, I walked up to the prince’s villa and sat the wicker basket down in front of the door. Unlike yesterday, Pierre wasn’t standing beside it. Tonight, there was security everywhere, though. I’d overheard two of them saying they were expecting a lot of people at the party tonight. A lot of ruckus and nudity the other added. I’d just placed the basket down, when, like clockwork, the front door opened. Prince Elias was standing on the other side of it, with a short glass in his hand. His white shirt was unbuttoned up top and his sleeves were rolled up as if he’d just gotten home from work, but I knew better. The man didn’t work. I hadn’t seen him leave the premises the entire week.

“Are you ready for your date?” he asked, disapproval dripping from his voice.

“I am. Are you ready for your party?”

“I am.” He took a large gulp, draining the glass of alcohol. His dark, mysterious eyes never left mine. “Do you drink, Miss Adeline?”

“Occasionally.”

“Come in. Share a drink with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Because of your uncle?” His head tilted slightly as he looked at me. “I heard he doesn’t want any of his female employees talking to me.”

“I’m not his employee,” I said, though my uncle had warned me to stay away from the prince. “I have a date and I don’t want to be late.”

“You’re nervous,” he said. “Do I make you nervous?”

“A little.” There was no point in lying to him.

“That’s interesting.” He let go of the door and took a step toward me. “I’m sure your date can wait a few minutes.”

I stared at his chest, at the button that was undone and the golden skin that peeked from underneath. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face directly. Not when he was standing dangerously close to me. Not when the scent of his cologne made it nearly impossible not to feel as though he was completely taking control of my body.

“Come on, Adeline,” he said, his voice low, sexy. “One drink.”

The way he said my name made me instantly transport back to our night together and the way he chanted my name as he came. It took everything in me to clear that thought away and shake my head no.

“I can’t.”

“Are you afraid you’ll enjoy my company?”

“No.” I met his gaze. “I know I wouldn’t.”

He chuckled darkly. “You know, not once since I’ve been here have you curtsied to me.”

“Am I supposed to curtsy to you?”

“Am I not your future king?”

“You’re not king yet.” I matched his cold stare. “Besides, I live in London. Your Crown doesn’t extend that far.”

“It extends this far though.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m just a passerby.”

His eyes narrowed and after a few seconds of a staring contest I wasn’t prepared to engage in, I turned and walked away, heart beating frantically. As I reached the last step, I glanced over my shoulder to see that he was still standing in the same spot I’d left him, staring after me. “Have fun at your party.”

“You seem preoccupied,” Pierre said across from me.

We were at a pub in town having fish and chips and beer and so far, everything was going well. It was all easy conversation and not much flirting at all, which oddly, I appreciated.

“I was just thinking about what an asshole the prince is.”

Pierre coughed, patting his chest as he set his beer down. “He’s going through a lot.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes, lifting my own beer to my lips. “He doesn’t even leave his villa. It’s not like he’s working.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Well.” I set my beer down. “It’s all the same to me. I still don’t like him.”

“A lot of people have issues with the royal family. Your father is always criticizing them publicly.”

“My father works with them. He only criticizes certain aspects of what they’re doing that he doesn’t agree with.”

“Do you agree with him on the matter?”

“I don’t have to. I no longer live here. I bow to the Queen of England.”