Free Prince Albert: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance by Sabrina Paige

background in her room is suddenly filled with conversation.  "Go have a fling.  It'll be good for you. When is the last time you had casual sex?"
    The phone cuts off before I can answer.  Never, I think.  I've never ever had a fling.
    But that doesn't mean I'm going to start by screwing the biggest manwhore in Europe.
    "Knock knock."
    I whirl around to see Albie pushing open the wall panel in my room.  "Are you kidding me with this popping-out-of-secret-passageways bullshit?" I ask.  "You have no right to push your way into my room like this.  I should scream for security."
    Albie raises his hands in mock surrender.  "Relax, luv," he says.  "I come in peace.  And I knocked on the wall.  Twice.  You didn't hear me?"
    "Barging into my room through the passageway?  Yeah, that's totally peaceful.  And not at all completely creepy."
    "I came in this way for a reason," he says, giving me an impish grin that immediately grates on my nerves.  He flashes that grin around like it gets him out of everything.  And the truth is, it probably does.
    But not with me.  Not even if the way he looks at me makes me want to drop my panties right this second.
    “And you’re going to head right back out the way you came in,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and giving him my best glare.
    “I come bearing a gift,” he says.  “Ben – my valet – found your passport.  The footman never unpacked it from your bag.”  He hands it to me, and I turn it over, feeling simultaneously grateful and skeptical.
    “Why didn’t he bring it to me?” I ask.
    “Because I asked him to find it, and he mentioned he did,” Albie says.  “Besides, I know that last night you said no tours, but I came to change your mind.  I’m offering you a private tour of Protrovia.”
    “Yeah, right,” I say.  “A private tour of your bedroom, you mean.”
    He raises his hands in mock surrender.  “I have no ulterior motive,” he says.  “I swear.”
    I raise an eyebrow at him.  “Somehow I doubt that.”
    “Suit yourself, then, luv,” he says.  “If you’d rather have tea with my grandmother and a bunch of her stuffy old friends this afternoon, then have at it.  I’m sure they’ll have lots of opinions about your charity work in Africa.”
    The thought of enduring tea with Albie’s grandmother makes my stomach queasy.  “You’re ditching out on the afternoon agenda?”
    “Obviously,” he says.  “But if you’d rather spend the afternoon with the old ladies, be my guest.”  He turns to push the panel on the wall again.  “Have fun, luv.”
    “Hang on,” I say.  “Let me get my bag.”
    “I knew you’d see reason.”
    “It’s not reason ,” I say, stuffing my wallet into one of the designer purses from my well-appointed closet.  “You’re just the lesser of two evils.”
    “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Albie says, grinning.  “I’m clearly growing on you.”
    I stifle my laugh as I follow him into the passageway.  “Yeah,” I say.  “Just like a fungus.”
    Outside, Alexandra and two men in suits are waiting on a launch pad beside a helicopter.  I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved that Albie and I have chaperones.
    Relieved is probably the appropriate response, I tell myself.  I should definitely be relieved.
    “A helicopter,” I yell over the roar of the rotors, unsuccessfully trying to restrain my hair as it whips around my face in the wind.  At least I’m wearing my old jeans and not one of the new dresses from my closet.  Thank goodness for small mercies, because that would be unfortunate.  I’m sure Albie would be delighted to witness me having a Marilyn Monroe moment.
    “Nothing gets by you, Princess,” Albie says.  “I told you I’d give you a tour of Protrovia.”
    Alexandra elbows Albie.  “None of your combat landing bullshit this time, either, Alb,” she yells.
    “It’s not my fault you have a sensitive stomach,” he says,