Are you sure you don’t want to show me around one of the staterooms?”

Dominic just had to go and tell everyone I’m a prince. I hate when people use me as social currency. Now, I have yet another anorexic model rubbing up against me like a drunk alley cat, waiting for me to outstretch my hand and scratch her itch or, better yet, gift her some diamond jewelry – preferably a wedding tiara.

Nearly any guy in the world would kill to be where I am now – on a huge yacht with a bunch of models dancing around in bikinis. Models who are quite literally up for anything, especially any rich man with a dick they can tempt. This is the third girl who’s tried to pull me into a conversation, and then pull me into a bed, in the last hour.

But, once again, I’m bored.

“No,” I say, when I realize she isn’t going anywhere unless I do something. I hate feeling like a piece of property someone has claimed dibs on. “But Mathias over there, I bet he’d be up for showing you around.” I try to gently push her away from me.

The model’s nostrils flare as a puffy snort comes out of them. Clearly, she’s not used to be ignored or denied.

Truth be told, I’ve never been a fan of models. Too many bones sticking out and I’d rather go out with a woman that will actually eat her food. Plus, women like Sophie just feel better when you hold them.

Sophie.

A slow smile spreads across my face and I realize I’m counting the hours until I can see her again. I know she doesn’t like me that much, but that’s part of her charm. After years of women throwing themselves at me, it’s fun and refreshing to actually have to chase a woman and win her over.

And man, her womanly curves are sexy as fuck. Now that’s a body I’d love to get lost in, for a very, very long time.

Fucking fuck fuck.

That beeping sound means it’s my father, King of Roquefleur. This is not a Skype call I can miss.

“Hello, Son.” My father’s lined face doesn’t smile as he addresses me. He’s wearing a sash over his jacket, which tells me he’s just on his way to or from an official function.

“Father.”

“I’ll get straight to the point. Are you ready for the gala?” My father’s voice is crisp and clipped, and he doesn’t even try to hide the scowl creasing his forehead. He’s long made it clear I’ve never been quite the son he wished he had, but I’m the oldest son and the rules of royalty are such that even though we don’t see eye-to-eye, I’m still the next in line for the throne.

“I am, Father, yes. I’ll be taking my girlfriend, Sophie.”

“This is news.” The sound of relief and curiosity edge into his voice. “Son, this is quite unexpected. We all know that you’re not one to keep a girl around for long. You have an actual girlfriend?”

“This one is different, father. She is truly capturing my heart.” This isn’t exactly a lie.

I pause as the thought of Sophie in my life on a more permanent basis. She’s challenging, intriguing, intelligent, and absolutely sexy. I love how she just doesn’t automatically defer to me.

“Tell me about this Sophie. What family is she from? Have we met her?”

“Actually, no. She’s someone I met here in Seattle.” I know this isn’t going to go over well. My family is all about marrying strategically and combining forces to become an unstoppable force – and he hates Americans.

A harsh bark of a laugh escapes my father’s mouth. His mouth turns into a grimace after he stops laughing.

“So she’s just another one of your playthings, is she?”

At this, a surge of indignation rises in me. “No, she’s not. I really like her,” again, not a lie, “and I feel we have a serious future together.” Okay, not sure about that last part, but the idea of someone like her, as my partner for the long haul? Oh, hell yeah.

“Gabriel. Please. You know dating commoners or Americans is never a good idea. Certainly you can do better than that.”

“Father, I will date whom I please, regardless of their family lineage or nationality.”

The more my father challenges me on Sophie, the more I want to see her. I can’t deny I’m pleased that now that I’ve found someone I really like, it goes against everything Father sees as right in our world.

I need to see Sophie. Now.

My father continues his lecture about the importance of the gala and the painting we’re lending to the Pacific Art Museum.

“Keep me posted on how things progress with the gala preparations. And find a suitable companion for the gala. None of this commoner nonsense.”

“Fa—”

With a beep, my screen goes blank. I quickly pull up Sophie’s phone number and tap the phone to call her.

“Sophie, hello.” My stomach tenses when she answers, scared she’ll say no. “Are you free this afternoon?”

“I… I guess. Yes. I’m just working on a painting, but it can wait.”

“Good. I’ll send my driver Aston to pick you up in about forty-five minutes. Can you be ready then?”

“Yes, of course.”

It takes me ten minutes to find Dominic, secreted away in the movie theater. He has one of the models on his lap and he’s removing her bikini from her surgically enhanced chest.

“Dom. I need a favor.”

“Anything. Just go ask Charles, my butler. He’ll hook you up.”

“Thanks. I’m going to borrow the helicopter. I’ll catch up with you later this week.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dominic buries his face in the model’s breasts and the model coos with delight.

I find the pilot, frantic to see Sophie again. As the helicopter takes off and heads back to shore, I hope my crazy plan will help win her over.

A quick call to my pilot ensures the private jet will be ready when I arrive at the airfield. Just one more call to make, pull a few strings, use the old royal connections, and then I’m going to do my damnedest to make Sophie happy.