Dirty Rogue: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

“Like what, Marcus?” I shout back, standing up and stretching to my full height, thrusting my face so it’s only a couple inches from his. “Like a goddamn grown man who can make my own decisions about where I go and when? I’m only sorry I can’t be more of a groveling kiss-ass like you.” A fleck of my saliva lands on Marcus’s cheek.

“Both of you, silence!” my father booms, bringing both hands down on the surface of his desk like a goddamned tyrant. “Marcus, back away.” My brother obeys instantly, his jaw working furiously, his grimacing face changing from purple to red. “Alexander, the important thing ahead of you now is to find a way to get that girl back to the United States without setting off another incident like the one with Emmaline.”

“And what was the problem with Emmaline? She wanted a second date and then an engagement ring?” I’m sickened by the thought that I had to play a role in this at all.

“Your abrupt departure caused some significant offense on the part of the French.”

“The French don’t need an excuse to be offended.”

“That may be the case,” my father says, a warning tone evident in his voice, “but it is exactly the kind of upset we must avoid if Saintland is to remain a functioning nation. You have a role to play, Alexander, and you cannot continue to shirk it.”

“Shirk it? I’ve been on as many public appearances as the both of you, if not more. It’s not my fault you don’t include me in state meetings.”

“Your talents are needed elsewhere.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, on the dating scene. I understand.”

My father ignores this comment. “You need to get her back to the United States, and you need to do it quietly. Bringing this woman to Saintland—it was a mistake, and one you need to rectify as soon as possible.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” I say, my tone coldly laced with acid. “I beg your leave, your majesty.”

My father shakes his head and waves me away, already turning his attention back toward Marcus.

They may think the issue is resolved, but my heart pounds harshly against my chest as I stride hastily from the room.

Jessica isn’t going anywhere.





Chapter 15

Jessica





Waking up in my suite at the Northern Crown was both thrilling and disorienting. Thrilling because the suite is the biggest, most opulent hotel room I’ve ever stayed in, and that says a lot considering that once or twice Christian has hosted private gatherings in the suites at the Purple Swan; disorienting because, for at least a full minute, I cannot figure out where I am.

Then it comes flooding back to me: the last-minute rushed flight across the Atlantic, the fairy-tale drive across the rolling hillsides between the airport and the sparkling capitol city of Sainthall, Alec leading me by the hand up to the Royal Suite on the top floor of the Northern Crown.

“It’s not royal property,” he explained, as he swiped the key card into the reader on the door. “In the U.S., this would be the presidential suite.” I nodded as he spoke, taking it all in.

This trip is my first time outside the continental United States, and everything seems so fresh and new that I am overflowing with excitement. Even the food Alec had sent up so we could enjoy a lunch together before he made his way back to the palace seemed twice as delicious as anything I’ve ever tasted.

Maybe it was just the exhaustion from twelve hours of travel combined with the exhilaration of being with a prince that made everything seem so damned other-worldly.

I thought we might go directly from the dinner table to the king-size bed in the suite, but instead Alec thrust me up against the wall, running his hands seductively from my shoulders to my wrists. Pinning my hands together high above my head next to the doorframe, he kissed me so deep and thirstily with longing that it took my breath away.

When he finally broke the kiss, my body arced toward him all on its own.

“I’d fuck you right now,” he whispered huskily, “but there are a few things I have to sort out. I’ll be back this evening.”

After the door closed behind him, I spread myself out on the bed and slid my hand down the front of my yoga pants, under my panties. “Fuck.” I mouthed the word like a plea for him to come back. When my hips finished rocking from the throes of orgasm, I fell hard asleep to dreams of Alec…and didn’t wake up until the morning. If he did come back, I don’t remember him being here.

It takes me a while to realize that I woke up because I heard soft knocking on the door. When my mind registers the sound, I leap out of bed, still wearing my traveling clothes, completely bewildered.

I open the door still half-asleep to see a tiny blonde woman with huge blue eyes looking up at me with an incandescent smile.

“Jessica Reeves?” she asks, her voice brighter than the flavor of ten cups of rich, dark coffee hitting my taste buds in the morning.