Free A Great Prince: A Royal Bad Boy Romance by Brad Vance

star. Made us look like a pair of them.
    The public story was simple, cheesy, and plausible. They’d met at Davos, and had fallen in love then and there. Nikolas had laughed so hard at that he’d nearly choked. And now their love would be a bridge across the divided nation, blah blah.
    “When’s the wedding!” someone shouted.
    Nikolas extracted his arm from Francesca’s clutch and put it around her protectively. “Well, you know women. They get more enjoyment out of planning a wedding than the actual marriage.”
    Francesca looked up at him with a smile. “And men are wise enough to stay out of the way when women make plans.”
    More laughter.
    “Give us a kiss!” “A kiss!” “Kiss her!”
    Nikolas grinned and complied, putting his hands on Francesca’s face and planting a passionate kiss on her lips.
    To his shock, he could feel her respond, the heat rising in her face, the sharp gasp of breath. And his own body feasted on the pheromones between them, his erection swelling in the tight trousers. He hoped the press could see that! Maybe she wouldn’t be such a cold fuck after all… let’s see…
    Then he pushed a bit of tongue through her lips, and felt her freeze, resist, felt her anger grow. He broke off and whispered in her ear, on the side the press couldn’t see.
    “I don’t think you’d enjoy our wedding night, princess. You can see I like being a bit forceful.”
    She smiled and put a hand over her mouth to whisper back in his ear. “I’ve broken wilder horses than you, Majesty.”
    Nikolas laughed, grateful for the Ray-Bans then, so nobody could see his eyes widen.
    “Well, you’re full of surprises.”
    “Yes, and I have another. We need to talk, in private.”
    Nikolas nodded, just grazing her neck with his nose as he put his lips to her ear again. He felt her shudder at the touch. Then he just nicked her earlobe with his tongue before whispering again.
    “Yes, we do.”
     
    They retreated inside the Palace, to be hustled to another entrance and a discreetly waiting car that would take them to the Burgenland Embassy for another social function to celebrate their engagement.
    “We need a moment,” Francesca said in that voice that had so intrigued Nikolas in Davos. The voice of command, not to be brooked. The voice of someone who’d been raised to give orders, not to take them.
    “Your Royal Highness,” protested one of the fussy little men who comprised her entourage. “We have a schedule to—”
    “In there,” she said to Nikolas, indicating a small antechamber. “Wait here,” she said to the fusspot and slammed the door in his face.
    She took off the sunglasses and handed them back to Nikolas. “If you borrowed these from one of your women, she can have them back now.”
    Nikolas’ anger flared. “So you don’t think I picked out a gift just for you? Something to help you play this game along with me, against them?”
    She blinked. “So you don’t want this, either.”
    Nikolas laughed. “Hell, no!”
    She laughed, at last. Nikolas was startled at how pretty she could be, when she let go of that tight-ass mask she called a face. Her pearly white, even teeth, the light in her eyes, the glow in her skin…
    Stop it. She’s royalty, and you’re a Pretender, and she knows it.
    “Well, you were so convincing. You seemed to… relish the idea of our marriage.”
    “I relish the spotlight. I relish playing all those fools. I’d never marry you.”
    Her shock was plain. “Oh? Well,” she said, collecting herself. “You are the Absolute Monarch of Danubia, aren’t you? Nobody tells you what to do, do they?”
    He flinched at her sarcasm. “Ouch. Yeah… as you might have figured out from… all this, even I have people to answer to.”
    She nodded. “The robbers and killers who put you on the throne.”
    “As opposed to the peasant thrashers and slaughterers who kept your ancestors on their thrones.”
    She flushed. “Yes, well, despite all that, I’m here now,