Page 2 of Royal Hottie
“So everyone knew about this but me?” I bark. And why the hell didn’t my brothers tell me? They’re still in residence at the palace. Most of my siblings are, though we’re all full-grown. It’s such a large place we have the privacy of our own suites, and the jet takes us off island whenever we want. I bet they’ve been laughing their asses off at my expense for weeks.
Anna rushes on. “I’ve just been so busy, and I happened to run across Lucas, who told Oscar, who told Adrian. Honestly, they’re just there as fillers, even though they’re just as hot as—ah!Gabriel!”He probably pinched her to remind her to look his way for hotness. “Seriously, you’re all my guests can talk about.”
I am not participating in your damn auction!I clench my jaw to keep from biting her head off. She is, after all, on her honeymoon. She is my beloved sister-in-law. She is the queen.
“No,” I say firmly and as politely as possible.
“What? Hello? Phillip, are you still there? Can you hear me?”
I lean toward the phone. “Yes, I can hear you.”
“HELLO?Ffffff…we’re going…tunnel.Fffff. I can’t hear you!” My brother’s deep chuckle carries through the phone loud and clear. “I’ll talk to you when I get back.” She hangs up.
I jab the button to end the call and finish the scotch in one long swallow. She could definitely hear me. Well, hear this, Anna, queen of Villroy, I refuse to be auctioned off like a piece of meat!
~ ~ ~
It’s been twenty-four hours since Anna informed me of the bachelor auction, and I remain firm in my refusal despite my brothers’ attempts to convince me to join them, saying it’ll be a blast just like everything with Anna. I shouldn’t feel guilty for letting her down. This whole auction business is frigging ridiculous.
I stride to the east wing to take a look at the royal fantasy suite Anna created for her guests, even stepping in with her own tool belt. She was not only a beautician back in the US, but also a handywoman for her apartment building. Is there nothing she can’t do? My respect for her won’t change my mind about the auction. I understand why she’s doing this, but there have got to be better options. I’m hoping visiting the royal fantasy suite will jog my brain into finding that option.
The island is my legacy, after all, where my family has ruled for centuries, our bloodlines dating back to the original tribe of Vikings known as the Wild Ones. My brothers and I loved playing Viking battle when we were kids. Those original Vikings sailed here from an early settlement on the Irish islands, bringing their Irish wives with them. These are my people, this is my island, and—before Anna arrived with her (mostly) fantastic ideas—we were all at a loss as to how to save the economy.
We were once a major seafood supplier, but the fish populations are on the decline and the fishermen have to sail farther out to sea for less catch. Anna’s plan involves using the fishing industry to produce cosmetic ingredients—fish oil, sponges, sea salt scrubs, mud, and I don’t even know what else. She’s preserving our traditional way of life while bringing us into the next century. The woman is brilliant.
My idea to boost the economy—turning Villroy into a destination-wedding venue—didn’t go so well. I try not to think about it. Needless to say, the two prestigious magazines in attendance for the inaugural wedding had a field day with the double-booked weddings, one of which consisted of furries. Yes, people who enjoy wearing stuffed animal suits. It was a disastrous event from start to finish, and I’ll never live it down. Luckily, Gabriel now sees it as amusing. At the time I thought he might rip my head off with his bare hands.
I stop in front of the royal fantasy suite, surprised to find the door open. The fact that Anna neglected to have her friends sign nondisclosures and they’re here early sets off alarm bells. Maybe they’ve leaked the news already. Maybe the adjoining rooms are filled to the gills with women who can’t wait to shout from the rooftops they’ve been with the royal hottie.
It’s quiet. I step inside the living room of the master suite with a balcony that offers a view of the sea. The suite appears to be empty. Maybe a servant was tidying up in here and forgot to close the door. I continue on, stepping into the master bedroom with a four-poster mahogany bed with a sheer white canopy. The furniture in the suite is all antique mahogany with royal blue accents in the upholstery. Local art hangs on the walls, all of it for sale with a discreet brochure for more art available at the Saturday market by the port. Anna has included as many of the islanders as possible in this new venture.
I jam a hand through my hair. How can we help the guests feel invested in this project while maintaining the dignity of the princely title? At least my dignity. My brothers are beyond hope.
“You’re Prince Phillip, the royal hottie!” a woman shrieks, startling me. Her accent is American. Definitely one of Anna’s friends. She must’ve been so eager to meet me she arrived a week ahead of schedule. Anna did say I’m all her friends can talk about. I suppress a groan as she steps out of the en suite bathroom, her green eyes huge.
I study her, looking for flaws in the man-hungry woman who wants to bid on me. She’s in her twenties, her dirty blond hair up in a ponytail, her skin creamy with a pink flush to her cheeks, pink lips too. She’s petite but curvy, maybe five feet, wearing a light blue bohemian-looking embroidered blouse with tight faded jeans and flats. Damn, not a single flaw. She’s beautiful. With her hair down, she would probably look even sexier. Still, she has ill intentions, and I must nip this in the bud.
She offers a small wave and flashes a smile that lights up her face. “Hi!”
I frown. “You’re early.”
“Anna told me to go straight to the royal fantasy suite as soon as I arrived.” She shakes her head with a smile. “Sorry I went all fangirl when I first saw you. It’s just so weird to see you in real life after seeing so many pictures of you online. You’re even better looking in person.”
“Thank you,” I bite out.
“Something wrong?”
Everything about this situation rubs me the wrong way. I will not be treated like a piece of meat, even by a beautiful woman who thinks I’m better looking in person. Drawing on every ounce of my royal training, I inform her, “The proper address for a woman meeting a prince for the first time is Your Highness, along with a head bow and curtsy.”
Her green eyes widen, her jaw slack.
Normally I wouldn’t pull rank, but I can’t let her get too familiar, thinking I’m for sale. “You can forget whatever you’ve been imagining will happen between us. I won’t go on a date with you for any price.”
Her head jerks back, her brows shooting up. “Excuse me?”
I cross my arms. “You heard me. I am not for sale.” I jerk my chin toward the door. “Maybe you should just leave if that’s your expectation.”
Her eyes narrow, and she doesn’t make a single move to leave.
