Page 67 of A Royal Disaster
“Did you ever have a dream?” Charlotte continued, unfazed by Lena’s comment. “An important one you worked toward your whole life? One that meant everything to you?” She looked down her pert nose at Lena, as if she didn’t believe for a second that a poor girl from New York could possibly have dreams as lofty or meaningful as her own. “I’ve dreamed of marrying Prince William since I was a little girl, and I will not let some American trollop come between me and my crown. I will do whatever it takes to become queen. Do you understand?”
Lena clenched her fists. “Oh, I understand perfectly. You think you can come into my shop and intimidate me with your fancy clothes and your perfect hair and your inbred noble ancestry.” Anger stirred in Lena’s belly and she could feel her temper rising like the temperature gauge on the kiln. Who the hell did this woman think she was, coming at her like this in her own studio? And the way she talked about Liam? Like he was a trophy to be won and not an actual person? Oh, hell no. “You can sit around dreaming about crowns for another thirty years for all I care, but it won’t do any good, because unlike you, Liam doesn’t give a damn about some outdated notion of pedigree.”
“Is that what he said?” Charlotte’s nostrils flared and her eyes flashed with something akin to outrage, but she quickly smoothed her face back to bored disinterest. “Well, men say a lot of things, don’t they? It’s what they actually do that matters.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Lena lifted her chin. “Which is why I’m certain that even if things between Liam and I don’t work out, he’d never choose a conniving viper like you.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped, proving she wasn’t accustomed to her victims striking back. “You’re deluding yourself if you think you have any chance at a future with Prince William. He’s going to be king of Valeria. He needs a queen by his side, not some commoner from America with dirt under her nails and a pencil in her hair,” Charlotte said, looking pointedly at Lena. “Their Majesties would never allow it. The people would never accept it.” She straightened her spine. “Enjoy your little fantasy while it lasts, Elena, because I can assure you your reign will be a short one. If you don’t believe me, just ask him.”
“Feel free to show yourself out,” Lena said, jerking her chin toward the door. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but I’m not in the habit of telling lies.”
The other woman smoothed her jacket and turned to leave. Lena watched her retreat, determined not to let Charlotte’s ugly words get in her head. So what if she and Liam came from different worlds? He didn’t care that she wreaked havoc wherever she went, and he’d embraced her friends and family as if they were his own, even managing to sweet talk Tía Rosa out of her pernil recipe, though she swore the palace chefs would never get it right.
And unlike Charlotte, Lena didn’t give a damn about his royal titles. It was the man behind the crown that captivated her with his wit and charm and irritating need to outdo her at every turn. They were good together, and she wasn’t going to let some spoiled blue-blood princess wannabe come between them. Not when things were going so well. She’d seen this scenario played out in a hundred books and movies. It didn’t matter if it was interfering parents or jealous exes or conniving royal hopefuls, in the end, love conquered all.
Not that she was in love with Liam. Or dreaming of being a princess. She was just—
Lena froze as the realization hit her right in the feels.
Ay bendito.
She was falling head over heels for the charming crown prince, and only one thing was certain—she was royally screwed.
…
The door to the suite clicked open, and Liam closed his laptop. He’d been trying to tie up some loose ends while he waited for Elena, but his heart wasn’t in it. It was rare he had difficulty focusing on his duties, but when it came to Elena, all bets were off. He was too distracted by the prospect of her company, of another quiet night with the only woman who’d managed to slip past his defenses or taken more than a superficial interest in the man behind the crown. The only woman he needed in his life.
He stood and poured two glasses of merlot from the open bottle of wine on the bar as Ethan carried her bag to the bedroom. Elena wore a simple white sundress, but she looked radiant, her skin glowing and her dark hair tumbling over her bare shoulders in waves. Without a word, she approached the bar and took the wineglass he offered. Then she raised it to her lips and took a long sip, nearly draining it before setting it back down.
“Hello, love.” He cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers, twisting his fingers in her hair as the citrusy scent of her shampoo washed over him. Her mouth moved hungrily over his as she deepened the kiss, and he could taste the wine on her lips as her tongue slid against his own with quick, sure strokes.
Bloody hell.
The woman was going to kill him. And still, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. If that wasn’t a sign he was in deep, he didn’t know what was. Her presence alone was enough to rouse his cock, but when her tongue was in his mouth and she pressed her tits against him like that?
Instant hard-on.
Elena slipped her hands under his jacket and then her nails were cutting a path down his back. He was so damn hard, it was a wonder there was any blood left circulating to his brain. It had been too long since he’d buried himself between her thighs, and he needed to feel her pussy welcome him home.
The door to the suite opened and closed, and he knew without looking that Ethan had joined Jack in the hall, giving them more privacy.
“Room service won’t be here for a while,” he said, kissing his way across her chin and down her throat. “What do you say we get started with a pre-supper orgasm?”
“Is that even a question?” She tipped her head back to give him better access as he slipped the strap of her dress down and trailed open-mouthed kisses over her shoulder. She was burning up, her skin hot to the touch. “In case you’ve forgotten, I expect it to be the first of many. Twenty-four, to be exact.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” he said, leading her toward the couch. “In fact, I’ve spent the last hour and a half fantasizing about all the ways I can make you come on my cock.”
“Sounds very productive,” she teased, stripping off his jacket and loosening his tie.
“Quite the opposite actually, since I have several pieces of legislation to review.” He gestured for Elena to turn around and she complied, lifting the hair from her neck and draping it over her shoulder. He reached for her zipper, pulling it down slowly, inch by painstaking inch to—
Bloody hell.
She was naked beneath the little white dress.
Her shoulders shook, and he was certain the little vixen was laughing.
“See something you like?” she asked, turning her head to look over her shoulder at him. She looked up at him from under her lashes, eyes wide and innocent.
