Royally Mine: 22 All-New Bad Boy Romance Novellas Read online

  I was lounging with a comfortable ease, some confident “I just had sex” energy. But Nell… she had the feral look of a stray cat who could bolt at any second. “Go on,” I said gently, folding my hands on the beige placemat. “Ask whatever you want to ask me.”

  She wasted no time going for my throat. “Why the hell does a guy like you need a baby? You're so young! And you don't seem the… fatherly type.”

  Chuckling dryly, I tilted my head. “Ouch. Fact is, I actually love kids. I didn't want one so soon, or so I thought. But imagining one with you is stirring something in me. You—”

  I couldn't finish; she was laughing so obnoxiously it drowned me out. Ignoring the glares from nearby customers, she wiped at her eyes. “Bullshit.”

  She was sharp. Though, it wasn't all bullshit. Nell was curling herself around an ancient, throbbing part of me that craved the idea of knocking her up. “Alright. Fine. But the truth is a lot less exciting.”

  “Try me.”

  I almost made a flirty joke. Catching myself, I said, “How does a bunch of lineage paperwork and one cantankerous old man with a chip on his soldier about his legacy strike you?”

  Nell blinked once, twice, then she put her chin on her fist. “Actually, that sounds interesting. I wanted to know about how you're a prince and that seems related. The old guy is your dad, yeah?”

  “Bingo fucking bango.” Gripping my coffee, I took a deep swig, holding it in my mouth until the bitter flavor overpowered my similarly tasting mood. “Good ol' dad was born, raised, and to this day refuses to leave Caluvan—it's near Saudi Arabia. He's kind of a big deal, oil empire and all.” I could see the gears working behind her eyes. “Mom met him on a trip. He sent her back here after they married, poor woman was homesick. He promised he'd come soon. She's still waiting for him to buy that ticket.”

  Her skin went pale. “You mean… your mom hasn't seen her husband since she came back here?”

  “No, no. He funds every flight back to his palace that she wants.”

  “And you? Do you ever visit him?”

  “Nah.” I went to take another drink—when had I finished my coffee? Frowning at the mug, I turned it in my hands. “We Skype, but I like it here better. It's where I grew up.”

  She watched me too closely. I didn't like this feeling… like she pitied me. “It sounds so lonely. For all of you. I mean, he's your dad.”

  Clearing my throat, I pushed the mug away. “He's not lonely. He's got business partners sucking at his teat, not to mention a whole other second family to keep him company.” There; her shock was much more welcome. “Yeah… dear dad couldn't keep it in his pants.”

  “But… your mom…”

  “Didn't divorce him. It happened soon after I was born. According to him, it wasn't a problem.” I dropped my voice to imitate his gruff baritone. “'Relax, Cathleen. We can fix this. You and Bishop matter the world to me. This other woman and her baby are nothing.'” I leaned back in my chair so hard it was amazing it didn't tip over. “He's changed his tune these days. That nothing is now being hung over my head. Dad wants an heir, and my illegitimate half-brother might beat me to it.”

  Nell was even whiter now. “Your dad is forcing you to get married and have a baby?”

  “He'd never say it that way. But fact is, if I don't do it first, my mom will be…” My smile took on a plastic look. Did she sense I was putting on a show, that this situation actually upset me more than I let on? “Put it this way. I create a kid, or we lose all of our wealth and power. Our home. Everything.”

  “That's so sad. What kind of dad would force his sons to hurry up and have a family? Where does love factor in?”

  Shifting in my chair, I caught the waitress's eye. “Business trumps all.” She refilled my mug with coffee, and with her gone, I aimed my smile back at Nell. “Anyway, this doesn't have to be a big deal. It could even be fun.” Casually, I rubbed her knee under the table. Her face warmed, turning a lovely pink that was beyond gratifying.

  “What about the others? The women your mom is trying to set you up with?”

  I shrugged. “I'm the one who chooses who I ultimately propose to.”

  “No, I meant, those other women were amazing… so pretty and refined and important. Why the heck would you choose me over them?”

  Several reasons flashed through my head. I said none of them, and instead, I squeezed her knee again. “I can remind you why.” Abruptly she jumped to her feet. Nell didn't behave like any of the girls I'd been around before. No one turned me down, especially not multiple times. Intrigued, I leaned back and considered her tight jaw. “You okay?”

  She smoothed her shirt and breathed in. “I really have to sleep on this, maybe for a few days, even weeks. What you're asking is—it's not normal.”

  “Fair warning; I'm not a normal guy.” The bridge of her nose crinkled; I wanted to rub it away with a kiss. She tossed some money on the table. “Hey, whoa, this breakfast is on me.”

  Stuffing her wallet into her back pocket, she said, “I don't want your generosity until I know it doesn't come with a price.”

  The heat in her eyes was meant to scald me, but it just warmed me up from the inside out. Grabbing her hand, I held her in place. “Think about my offer as long as you need to. I'm on a timeline, but I'm not going to try and force you. The fact is… I want you, Nell. I crave you. So if you insist on working for my mother, seeing me every day, you need to realize I'll never stop throbbing with a need to fill you with my seed. It's more than just my duty… I've felt your pussy, how close to your womb I could get, and anything less than pouring myself into you until I'm a dry husk won't satisfy me.”

  Her lips parted. “Bishop…”

  I watched as her chest rose and fell, and my voice dropped even lower. “As long as you're in my life, I'll never stop trying to be with you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Nellie

  “Connor, no!”

  As I entered my apartment, something launched itself at me from the corner of my eye. Twisting so fast my spine cracked, I barely caught the pint-sized kid before he slammed into my face. “Whoa!” I laughed, holding him up by his armpits. “Hello there!”

  He was pretty cute, considering he'd just tried to kill me.

  “I'm so sorry,” Gigi said, rushing over to take him. “This is Connor, my sister's son. He's… a bit crazy.”

  “Crazy!” he giggled, grinning to show off his teeth and the gaps between.

  Gigi pouted dramatically. “I turned away for a second to make him a snack.”

  Shutting the door, I said, “No worries, it's fine.” My roommate set the kid down, and he promptly hugged my legs. “You're a little daredevil, huh?”

  His laughter was loud and clean and real. It melted my heart. After how my day had been, seeing a child was strange. The world is trying to tell me something. But was it that kids were cute, or that they wanted to murder me, or maybe both?

  Handing Connor half of a sandwich, Gigi pulled out her phone, typing a message. Then, sensing my mood like some powerful empath from a super hero movie, she squinted at me. “Uh oh. Something's wrong with you.”

  I dropped into one of the two chairs by the door. Our table was small, and it worked better as a launching pad for children than a place for meals. “I wouldn't know where to begin.”

  “Boy trouble?”

  I laughed sharply. “That's putting it mildly.”

  She sat across from me, one eye on Connor as he ran in circles around the room. “I thought you were done with men. I think that's what you said to me the first night you moved in.” She threw her arms up, voice rising, “'Gigi! Guys suck!'”

  “That's not how I sound! Plus, can you say suck in front of him?” I jerked my thumb at Connor.

  Gigi made a face. “He's fine. Tell me more about your dating problems.”

  “It's not dating. I… don't know what it is.”

  “Now I'm extra curious.”

  Sighing, I ran my hands over my eyes. �
�Bishop, the guy I'm dog walking for, is being very forward.”

  “Mnhm. Go on.”

  Eyeballing Connor, I dropped my voice to a hush. “He sort of wants me to be his baby mama.”

  Gigi startled so fast that she dropped her phone to the floor. Connor squeaked, jumping in place. “Fall down!” he giggled.

  “He wants you to what?”

  Burning with shame from my toes to my scalp, I imagined my shower encounter. “Let me back up. Bishop is kind of a prince—”

  “Are you for fudging real?”

  “—And I guess he's in a competition with his half-brother to produce an heir first. He made me an offer to be the one to do this with him, and I'm not seriously considering it… I'd have to be nuts to do that. I don't know why he even picked me.” Briefly, I wondered if he'd made the offer to other people. Was I really the first? Impossible.

  Gigi looked at the ceiling. “This is way too weird.”

  “I know,” I agreed, drawing a circle on the table with my finger. “I'm nothing special, why would a rich guy go for me?”

  She slammed her hands onto the table. “Shut up! You're a great catch. I'm saying it's crazy for anyone to want a baby so quickly with a stranger. He must really be desperate to make his dad happy. That, or he's super into you. You could be soulmates.”

  I was laughing, but her serious face took me down a peg. “That's not a real thing.”

  “Sure it is.” She leaned towards me. “Hm. How do you feel about him? Any sparks, any sense he's your one true love?”

  I wanted to chuck something at her, but the only things nearby were her phone—expensive—and Connor—illegal child abuse. Helplessly, I thought about how good it had felt when Bishop held my tummy possessively. How natural it felt to kiss him.

  But soulmates? Wanting a baby with a stranger…

  She’d called it earlier; I'd have to be crazy.

  I kept that in mind when Connor changed the subject for us by dumping an entire bottle of mayonnaise I didn't know we even had onto the floor. Gigi sobbed, hurrying to clean after him as I watched with reserved amusement.

  Each time that little kid flashed me a smile, it opened up a place in my heart for more love to fill. I told myself, again, that soulmates weren't real. That one true loves were make believe. And that even if those things did exist…

  Bishop Callehurst wasn't any of them.

  Not for me.

  Chapter Eight

  Nellie

  Bishop was avoiding me.

  There was no mistaking it; I'd catch glimpses of him before or after walking the dogs, but that was all. He was acting like he hadn't offered to let me be his baby-making-dog-walker. I was oddly irritated by that. So irritated, in fact, that I was starting to WANT to talk to him.

  By the time I'd worked up the determination to confront him, he was nowhere to be found. His presence was absent in the house that morning, and he remained a ghost when I returned with the two exhausted dogs.

  Washing my hands in the kitchen sink, I perked up at the sound of footsteps. The sight of Bishop's mother and not the man himself deflated me. She was holding a gold paper bag in one hand, looped as if it was an expensive Gucci purse. “You're back,” she said. “Good. How were they?”

  “Fine. I'm worried about the heat, though. I might have to take them out even earlier until it cools down.” I wiped my palms on my jeans; she squinted, like I'd offended her. Should've used a towel like a properly fancy person. “Hey,” I began, before I could stop myself, “Is Bishop distracted lately?”

  She adjusted her thin shawl while scrutinizing me. “My son has a large amount of responsibilities to attend to. It’s a wonder I can get him to do half of what he should, especially when he keeps adding in new obstacles. Did you know it was HIS idea that we get those dogs?”

  Blinking, I looked down at the fluffy puppers. “I didn’t, no.” He did say he'd named them, though, so maybe it shouldn't be so surprising.

  “He was supposed to take them on his morning jogs, but I guess he's never been the type to keep his promises.” Flinching at the rush of coolness that attacked my heart, I started for the door. “Wait. Nell, do me a favor.” She offered me the paper bag; inside was a wooden box wrapped in a silver ribbon. “It's a gift for the diplomat Bishop is entertaining. They’re having lunch at the Elephant Room.”

  Clutching the thin, rough handles, I swallowed. “You want me to bring this to him—er, to them?”

  “It should be on your way home. I hate to ask, but I've got my own things to get to.”

  I couldn't say no. Or that's what I told myself, because deep down, I knew I was using this as an excuse to corner Bishop. “I'll do it, sure.”

  “You're a life saver.” Her thin lips slipped into a smile that was almost appreciative. It was the face of someone who was happy they were getting their way. But that was fine, because I knew how she felt.

  I was getting my way, too.

  ***

  The Elephant room was gold and silver, like someone had melted a giant Christmas ornament all over the walls. Every person who wasn't sitting at a table was rushing around in a pale gray suit or skirt, trays balanced on their palms; thick, black folders stuffed with thicker credit cards under their arms.

  I dodged the servers, winding my way through the tables and trying not to gawk at the ceiling. Gold-dusted tusks—that I sure hoped were fake—jutted down to create a breathtaking sculpture of an elephant's head.

  This place was expensive.

  This place wasn't meant for me.

  “Nell!” It was Bishop who called my name, waving at me from a long, dark table set against the back wall. The men sitting with him looked as expensive as the Lamborghinis outside. I wondered why they didn't have a private room, until I understood that being seen was the whole point.

  Approaching with the paper bag at my side, I wished I'd changed into something nicer. Jeans and a washed-too-many-times blue racerback stood out among all this glamour. But the way Bishop's eyes hung on me, as if I were more stunning than the architecture above, said otherwise. He appreciated what he saw. So did I.

  Like the time I'd seen him surrounded by women who wanted his surname, he was wearing a fine suit jacket and dark pants that glided over his strong thighs and firm ass. We both knew I was staring, but he wasn't expecting me to hold his gaze, making a face as if to say, Yeah, you're hot, but what happens next?

  Holding out the bag to him, I said, “Your mom asked me to bring this to you.”

  “She sent me a text or twenty about how I'd forgotten it.”

  He reached for the bag. I let him take it, clinging to it a second longer. “You do seem like you're forgetful lately.”

  His face went rigid—so did his grip. “Maybe. Or maybe I'm just putting my energy into something very important.”

  Was that a jab at how I wasn't important? Studying his hard-set jaw, I watched it relax, saw how his fingers loosened at his sides. He wasn't upset with me… he was stressed. Following where his eyes flicked to, I saw the man sitting at the other end of the table.

  He was staring at us.

  No… at me.

  His skin was caramel brown, only a bit lighter than his hair. He was dressed in just a loose white shirt, but somehow, he seemed more opulent than everyone else. I spotted his Apple watch, the newest smart phone, the cocky, inquisitive smile as he looked me over.

  I didn't know him, but I knew men like him.

  “Bishop,” he called, motioning with two fingers. “Who is this lovely woman who's joined us?”

  Lines passed across Bishop's forehead. Then they were gone and he was taking me by the elbow towards the other man. His grip was firm—welcome. It sparked the too-real memory of our shower encounter, reminding my body how talented his fingers could be when they tried.

  Everyone else had quieted, watching curiously, listening in. They, too, wanted to learn who I was. This attention was new for me. It made my skin sticky, my mouth so dry I was tempted to snatch an
unfinished drink off the table and chug it.

  Letting me go, Bishop folded his arms. “This is Nellie Pinewood. Nell, this is Corriane Flemish, a diplomat from Jordan and the biggest cheat in Blackjack that I know.”

  “Tsk, flattery,” Corriane said, looking too amused. He reached out for me and, compelled by all the movies I'd seen, I offered him my hand. He kissed it; his lips were much scratchier than Bishop's. “It's a pleasure to meet the woman who's managed to steal the fickle heart of Bishop Callehurst.”

  “Oh, no, that's not…” I almost said I'm just the dog walker! Before I could, Bishop wrapped his arms around my middle from behind, his chin settling on my head. I was blushing and I could do nothing to fix it.

  “I'm not fickle,” Bishop said into my hair. “I'm just picky.”

  Not so picky. He chose me after one quick fuck.

  My own callous thoughts burned me like acid.

  Corriane was still smiling. I could see the shape of it behind the tall glass he'd picked up to sip. “I'd love to learn more about such a special woman. Join us for lunch, Nellie. Please.”

  ***

  Day became night, and not once did the restaurant try to usher us out. How could they? The bill this group of men was racking up was immense. They ordered bottles of scotch older than me, demanding that the waitresses join in for a sip or four.

  Somehow, the fun winded down until it was only me, Bishop, Corriane and the two men I learned were his bodyguards. They weren't impressing me—both were red faced and drunk.

  “Now that it's quieter,” Corriane said, leaning forward to speak to us privately, “I suggest we go have some real fun.”

  Bishop eyed me with something dark and wary. It was a look that didn't fit him, like a coat two sizes too small. “Not tonight.”

  Both men shared a look, then Corriane smiled sweetly at me. “Could I have a moment with my friend?”