Page 5 of Twisted Royals

“Come on, Damaris. You know you wanna.”

I laughed helplessly at the American idiom spoken in her faint Scandinavian accent, then sobered. “What if I lose them?”

“They’re insured. Besides, if you’ve managed to keep a pair of pearl earrings for almost a decade, I daresay they’ll be safe with you.”

I was too dazed by the number of zeros I was sure was on the price tag of the pearls hanging around my neck to protest when Val led me to a three-way mirror.

“Open your eyes and look at how pretty you are,” she murmured.

I blinked a few times and smiled reluctantly. “Wow. I clean up good.”

“Tati, we should have her show this beautiful tattoo on her arm to Savva. They clearly have something in common.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Will you tell me about it?” Val asked, thankfully letting me focus on something other than comparing ink with Savva. It was the last thing I wanted to do.

“It’s the brand from my family’s ranch. Except for the bulls and the quarter horses Mama used to breed, we don’t brand our stock anymore, but?—”

A low, male chuckle sounded behind me. I flinched, then spun, nearly tripping on my own feet at the sight of Prince Savva leaning against the door frame, his muscular arms crossed over his chest.

He wore a charcoal suit that fit like he’d been sewn into it and a white dress shirt without a tie. As good as he looked in a bespoke suit, he looked better naked. Too bad he was such an ass.

Oh, and a prince stepping out on a pedigreed princess until the very last minute. I sent up a silent prayer for the poor woman as a footman carried my luggage from the suite.

“If I may say so, you clean up more than good, Ms. Lawton. Shall we go? The helicopter is waiting.”

SAVVA

The black pearls coiled around Damaris’s slim neck were part of the crown jewels and were priceless. My father had given them to my mother as part of her wedding gifts and she treasured them.

Hearing Damaris try to refuse them was almost as inexplicable as my mother giving them to her in the first place. Of course, they’d belong to Damaris eventually, but God willing, not for a very long time.

What was she thinking to decline such a gift? The surprise almost made me lose focus on how truly stunning she was. My mother had obviously cleaned out her closets for Damaris and set her personal stylist loose on her. She’d been gorgeous before, but now…

Now, she looked like the princess she’d soon be. The only things left to remind me of her past as a rancher’s daughter were her callused hands decorated with more than a few scars, and the tattooed brand on her upper arm. It was beautifully done, and if I hadn’t known better, looked exactly like someone had set an iron to her flesh.

Soon enough, I’d learn how those work-roughened hands felt on my skin, and I couldn’t wait.

“Now, there are two rules, Damaris,” my mother said.

“Um… okay. First rule is don’t lose these pearls and return them the minute I get back. What’s the second?”

My mother gave her a smile of true amusement—the first I’d seen on her in years. “Not quite. I want you to first, have fun, and second, do something you’ve never done before.”

“Like what?”

“There are many possibilities.” She hooked her arm through Damaris’s and led her toward me. “Perhaps you could go to Vasamuseet and dream of Vikings, or take a boat tour around the city, but spend at least one day exploring and take many photographs to share with your family.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She glanced at me, then took a cream cashmere shawl and an elegant handbag from Tati. “I’ll have to check the meeting schedule and see when I can sneak away.”

Judging by the look on her face, it would be the instant I turned my back on her. I resisted the urge to bind her to me with fleece-lined leather restraints.

Or better, I’d bind her to my bed. I wouldn’t let her free until she was safely pregnant, had a ring on her finger, and a tiara nestled in her honey-blonde waves. Once I had her moved into my suite, I’d fuck her while she wore nothing but the crown jewels.

My mind wandered to all the filthy things I planned to do to my new bride. There would be spankings, of course. Such a perfect ass needed to be reddened thoroughly and often. It would also be necessary—and very enjoyable—to train her bottom to accept my cock.

I envisioned her wearing a plug to formal suppers. Perhaps I’d buy one that vibrated to keep her attention focused solely on me.

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