Prince Albert: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance Read online

  “Yes, King Leopold,” I say. “Although I’m afraid I may not be able to stay for as long as I’d like.”

  “Oh,” he says, and the expression of disappointment that crosses his face is so genuine-looking that for a moment I feel badly even considering leaving. “Your mother and I were hoping you’d be staying the entire summer. I know that I’d like the opportunity to get to know you. As would Alexandra and Albert.”

  “Yes,” Albie says. “I’d personally enjoy getting the opportunity to welcome you to the family.”

  I can’t believe his brazenness, and I pointedly try to ignore him, focusing on my mother and the king.

  “Yes, well,” Sofia says. “We’ll have to discuss the specifics of her summer plans in more detail another time. I’m sure that Isabella intends to stay for quite a while.”

  “I’m considering it,” I say, irritated with my mother for speaking for me.

  “Isabella mentioned she’d misplaced her passport,” Albie says. “I asked Ben to see if the household staff were able to find it.”

  “Oh?” my mother asks innocently. “Well, how dreadful. We’ll have to make sure that’s remedied. And in the meantime, I’m sure we’ll be happy to show you why we all love Protrovia. Maybe Alexandra or Albert would take you on a tour of the palace and the castle grounds.”

  “I know I’d be delighted to show her everything,” Albie says, raising a tumbler of amber-colored liquid to his lips.

  The edges of his lips curl up, his expression a promise of the things he wants to show me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Albie

  Belle excused herself from dinner early, feigning a headache and jet lag, obviously lying her sweet little ass off and trying to avoid a personal tour of the palace by yours truly.

  I’ll give credit where credit is due – she made it nearly ninety minutes in the middle of the cousins and my grandmother Margaret, who’s still mentally stuck someplace around the turn of the century.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I slide open the screen to reveal a message.

  You can’t keep avoiding me, Albie. I gave you enough time to play around after you got back. Call me.

  I’m about to text back reflexively, a message to tell Erika to go fuck herself, just like the two other times I’d told her before. Erika is an ex-girlfriend, a friend of the family and a reminder that several years ago, for a couple of months, I was stupid enough to actually try out the whole having-a-relationship bullshit. The only reason Erika was with me was because of my position, the proximity to the throne.

  Instead, I hit the delete button, and block her number.

  I need to get laid, but not by Erika.

  And not by Belle either, not if I know what’s good for me.

  Of course, when have I ever done what’s good for me?

  I’m in the middle of texting a friend who’s always up for a night of partying and hitting on women, when she knocks on the door.

  I know it’s her by the knock. It’s tentative and hesitating, not like Ben the valet or my sister Alex, who would already be in the middle of yelling, “Albie, you disgusting pig, open up!” before she even finished knocking.

  No, it’s definitely Belle.

  So that’s why I don’t bother to put on a shirt.

  I pull open the door and revel in the fact that her eyes immediately focus on my chest. And I try to hide my smile as she unsuccessfully attempts to look anywhere else.

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  “I – um – can come back later,” she says. “You’re obviously in the middle of getting changed.”

  “I’d could make you come now,” I whisper, leaning forward conspiratorially.

  “I stopped by because I wanted to tell you that I’m not interested,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “Oh?” I ask, leaning against the frame of the door. “You’re not interested in what, exactly, luv?”

  “In a tour of the palace,” she says. “In case you were getting any ideas.”

  “Oh, I have lots of ideas.”

  “Not those kinds of ideas,” she whispers, her hushed tone making her words sound illicit.

  “Don’t act all shy now,” I say, my voice low. “We both know why you were late for dinner.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, her jaw clenched. But her eyes are wide, and she takes in a short breath. The thought of her reaching between her legs and touching herself, being wet because of me, is enough to make my damn cock explode.

  “So you weren’t late because you were busy thinking about my cock inside you?” I ask.

  She laughs, but it’s forced. “Maybe that’s the only thing other women can think about when they’re around you, but not me,” she says. “Anyway, I came here because I wanted to ask about getting to the embassy to get a new passport.”

  “Sure that’s the only reason you came here?” I ask. The way she’s looking at me, the way her eyes drop down to my chest, makes me wonder why the hell she’s even keeping up the pretense of not being attracted to me, when we both know it's not true.

  “That’s the only reason,” she says. "I'm quite positive."

  “My eyes are up here, luv,” I tease.

  “I’m not even looking anywhere else,” she protests, her face coloring. “And you should…put on a shirt or something. Why are you answering your door like that, anyway?”

  “Well, if I’d have known it was you at the door, I’d have answered without any pants,” I tell her.

  "That would have only been embarrassing for you," she says. "It's quite chilly in here, with the air conditioning, you know."

  "Don't worry, luv," I say. "The royal scepter has no issue with shrinkage."

  Her eyes go wider and she shakes her head. "Did you seriously just refer to your dick as the royal scepter?"

  I don't bother to hide my grin. Little Miss Do-Gooder acts like she's offended, but she totally wants me. "Do you want to touch the royal staff?" I ask. "Give the crown jewels a little polish?"

  She wrinkles her face up in disgust. "Ugh. Anyone ever tell you that you have a twelve-year-old boy’s sense of humor?"

  "Usually I'm accused of having the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old boy. So I'll take the sense of humor bit as a compliment."

  "You would," she says. "And for the record, I came here on business. Not to talk about your little Prince Albert."

  "Oh, there's nothing little about it, luv," I say, reaching for the button on my pants. "Here. Take a look."

  She puts her hand up. "Oh my God. Seriously. Are you that hard up for female attention?" she asks. "We're right in the middle of your doorway, in case you've forgotten."

  "You're going to need to find your sense of humor," I say. "I think you might have forgotten it somewhere in Vegas."

  Her face colors. "I have a sense of humor," she says. "Just not…your kind of humor."

  "Joking about my cock isn't your style?" I ask. "Well, I'm glad you take my dick seriously."

  Belle rolls her eyes. "You're so not my style."

  "Well, I've got news for you, luv," I say. "Girls like you aren't my style, either." That part is definitely true. No matter how fucking hot this chick is, uptight women aren't exactly my type.

  “Then why do you keep hitting on me?” she hisses.

  “I’m just having a little fun, that’s all. If I were hitting on you, you’d know it. Trust me.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement has the effect of pressing her breasts together, putting her cleavage so directly in my line of sight that I can’t possibly look away. I can’t decide if she’s doing it naively or if she wants to get a rise out of me. In a literal sense.

  “Like I said, you’ll beg me to hit on you.”

  Belle rolls her eyes. “I’ll do no such thing,” she says. “Just because we had one kiss doesn’t mean that anything else is going to happen between us.”

  “Whatever you need to tell yo