It's late.

I haven't seen Silas since we returned to the palace. I've been in his chamber all day, watched around the clock by Dean and several other guards.

They've been whispering into their phones and radios all day.

I hear the same words over and over.

Her Majesty's health. Chaos. Damned rioters.

Silas. Prince. King.

Every time I hear that last one, it makes me swoon, and get so lightheaded I want to throw up. I've barely gotten a handle on this Princess thing. I never imagined I'd be a Queen in my wildest dreams – even a pretend one – and I'm scared. I'm in too deep.

The way they say King Silas makes me worry, too. It's said with tension and humor, the way a person talks about a silly hypothetical, something that won't really happen.

I'm sitting by the window, watching the capital's lights wink on below. It seems like half the windows are filled with royal purple candles lit to pray for Queen Marina's health.

Their glow splashes everything like smooth wine. I wonder if I'm watching the last time the kingdom will know peace.

I'm so lost in my thoughts, I don't hear him come in. There's a hand on my shoulder so thick, firm, and confident it can only belong to one man.

I look up, placing my hand over his. He takes my fingers like he owns them, squeezes, then lifts them to his mouth.

His lips make me feel better instantly. Whatever else is happening out there, I know where we stand in this room.

“Hey,” I whisper. “What's the latest?”

“Hell,” he says, a one word answer heavy as ice on his tongue. “Nobody knows what's going to happen. We just have to take it day by day, love. Do everything we can to settle the nerves rattling this kingdom. That's what royals do.”

I stand up, facing him, sliding my hands over his shoulders. He pulls me into his arms. I'm scanning his eyes, falling deeper into ocean blue. I want to understand how he's so calm with the weight of the world – or at least a whole kingdom – hanging around his neck.

“How can I help?” I ask, running one hand across his cheek.

God, his stubble feels good. He hasn't had time to shave all day. It's rough like rest of him. I'm still discovering what I enjoy in a man, but I love when things match, bound together in a single gorgeous package.

“You really want to know?” he asks, that sly quirk pulling at his lips.

Swallowing the expectation in my throat, I look at him, and nod.

“Don't fight me when I rip off that dress. That's going to help a lot.” It's the only warning he gives.

His hands are on me. Moving, tearing, pulling. He's quick, ferocious, a wild animal who needs to get me naked this fucking second.

When I'm down to just my panties, I turn toward the hall leading to the bedroom. Big mistake.

Silas jerks me into his arms, slamming me against his chest, resting his forehead on mine.

“No. We'll save the sheets for later. We're going to fuck in front of this glass, beautiful, where anyone can look in and see. I want transparency, love. Let the people see their future King and Queen, in lust, with nothing left to hide.”

I'm taken aback. More importantly, both my wrists are in his fists, and he guides me to the huge window pane. My back slides against it, cool as a sheet of ice.

Warmth, fire, and glacial cool collides in my bloodstream. It's strange, conflicted, and oh so wrong.

But I'm getting used to wrong feeling right – especially when he moves his head down my breasts. My nipple disappears into his mouth, and my knees start shaking.

“Oh, God!” I whimper, losing myself in the pleasure when his teeth form a tight little ring.

He eases off after several seconds, just long enough to make the wet spot on my panties three times bigger. Clenching my ass, he pulls me into him, then moves one hand around my thigh, sliding to the middle.

He slips his fingers in me hard, never taking those blue eyes off mine for a second. “Silas,” he growls.

“What?” I can barely speak when he starts to move, stroking that spot in my pussy that's going to make me see stars.

“Silas. That's the only thing on your lips when you're coming, love. That's the man who's strumming your whole body, making your wet little cunt sing. That's who wants to own you. Body, mind, and soul.”

His thumb finds my clit and brushes against it.

Oh, God. Oh, yes. Oh, Silas.

I'm trembling, putting my hands against the glass, hoping my legs don't completely buckle when he makes me come.

I can't think about the people behind the glass. Hell, I won't let myself wonder what kind of message this is sending either. This manic, animal rush to sex when a whole country is hanging by its nails...

“Move that sweet ass. Fuck my fingers,” he growls, pulling them away, making me grind down against his hand.

I'm twisting like a whore. It makes me flush, sweat, and get even wetter. Just standing in this palace, with what looks like a crystal chandelier more expensive than a house hanging over us, its edges reflecting every filthy, desperate face I'm making each time he pleasures me.

How can he stroke so deeply like this? So good? How can he know exactly what gets me off?

It's because he's slept with like half a million women, and I've only had him.

One.

For a second, through my haze of ecstasy that makes me grit my teeth, I'm jealous, and disappointed with myself for falling so hard, so quickly, to this man who's had a king's feast of pussy. It shouldn't be this hard to imagine myself in another man's arms.

But when Silas lifts his hand away, dragging my panties down my legs, there's nothing I want more than having him inside me again.

Him, and only him. My Prince with benefits that make my eyes roll wild.

“Step aside, love, so I can get these fucking things off.” I lift my leg, and he swings them around, throwing the sopping wet mess behind his shoulder.

“Turn around,” he growls, standing up, towering over me.

The hard-on raging in his pants rubs against my ass through his trousers before he even takes it out. He takes my breast again in his fingers, rolling my nipple gently, a prelude to the crisp pinch that's ten times better than the golden clamps could ever be.

“Beautiful, love. You're going to come so hard tonight. So fucking hard we both forget our own names, much less the hell going on around us.”

“Only if you make me,” I whisper, spreading my fingers high above my head, flat against the glass.

Every gesture in my body language now says one thing – please.

More thunder rumbles through his throat, and this time it doesn't form words. I hear his belt buckle coming undone.

My bottom lip catches in my teeth. My breath grows tense, ragged. My pussy pulses so hot between my legs I need to pinch my thighs together. I'm going to either come on the spot or die first, if he doesn't fucking touch me right now.

“Please, Silas. Make me come,” I whimper.

“Make you?” he growls, slipping his bare, seething cock between my ass cheeks. “Love, I thought you'd give me a challenge. Something to take my mind off the kingdom and it's damned bloody politics tonight. We both know you're going to come like mad the second this king sized dick fills your tight little pussy.”

No!

“No!” I shake my head furiously, trying to deny it. Too bad my body won't let me.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah,” he says slowly, a hot, low groan in my ear. “You're a good Princess because you're begging to be my royal whore. You'll come for me because I've got the biggest, meanest cock you've ever had. The only cock. The first, the last, the best dick. Made for fucking your pussy, love. Made for making you come when I tell you to.”

I'm burning up. Sweating, trembling, staring out the glass and trying not to pant like an animal in heat.

Jesus, I'm shaking, desperately grinding my ass on his length, bucking my hips to try to pull him inside me.

I see his reflection behind me, his face hovering over my shoulder. He smiles like a lion looking down at his dinner.

Damn him. God damn him!

He's beautiful, but he's still a royal asshole.

I hate that he's enjoying this, watching me come undone. I absolutely, positively loathe that he's making me enjoy it, too – maybe more than he is.

“You're an asshole, Silas, even when you're sexy,” I say, staring out at the city.

I've never been so vulnerable before. Anyone with the right angle or a pair of binoculars can look up here and see my naked body against the glass, my hot, desperate breath fogging it up, hiding my face.

Small consolation. So are having his hands grab my thighs. He digs his fingers into my tender skin, and of course, it heats my blood ten more degrees.

“And you're going to come for me, love. You're going to come so hard half the city thinks a fucking bomb has detonated up here.”

He shoves his cock in me.

There isn't time to protest. No time for comebacks or denials or self-conscious doubts.

He thrusts about three times, pulling my hips into his, before I'm losing it. My lips form a ring, I lean on the glass, and I'm gone.

I'm coming. His dick fucks me harder, straight through the clenching, screaming, shaking mess I've become.

My back arches so hard my spine goes stiff. Silas grabs my hair, twirls it around his fingers, and jerks me close enough to hear him growl.

That's when the screaming starts. He's fucking me, drilling me deep, pounding me until some wild, wicked instinct I don't understand rips lose.

I'm not in his palace anymore. I'm in nirvana, spasming and moaning. Slave to his cock for what feels like forever.

“Fuck,” he growls, thrusting his full length into me and holding it there when I'm coming down from it. “That's the way you'll always come on this dick, love. Every damned orgasm you have is beautiful because I made it, and you'd better believe I'm making more tonight.”

Shit! He's right. There's no stopping him.

I don't even want to. My body leans into his, knees still trembling, letting his strong, tall weight steady me. His hold on my hair tightens, pulling me in. Silas bites my shoulder, sinks his teeth in, growling until it vibrates through my entire body.

We're lost in our sex. I'm not just drowning in those royal blue eyes anymore, but sinking into him, every single inch.

It's scary. It's insane. It chains me up like I'm losing my mind and releases me again.

I've been starved for so long. And now, I'm finally allowed to feast, as long as I'm joined to his ridiculously perfect cock.

When he holds one hand up to my mouth, I bite it, getting him back for the hickeys he's no doubt left around my throat. I know it drives him wild because he fucks me harder.

Pushing me against the window, he holds me by the throat. Gently, but firmly, he starts fucking harder. Faster. Slamming his hips into mine until I go over the edge at least two more times, crazy to feel him add his heat to mind.

I don't know if he's stopped to roll on a condom. I'm way past caring.

Thinking about his seed inside me nearly makes me come again. Silas is panting, holding us both against the glass. I'm glad it's industrial strength, or else we'd have broken through it ten minutes ago.

Or is it an hour ago? Time has no more meaning, wrecked in our fucking, groaning, screaming affair.

“Please. Please, Silas,” I pant, hissing the words through my teeth. “I can't keep this up...I can't...”

Can a person die from too many orgasms? From being fucked too hard? I don't know, but I'm worried I'm about to find out.

I need a break. Just a few minutes to catch my breath, to let my body settle from its proud, mind blowing storm. My toes will lock if they curl anymore.

“Can't what? Can't wait to feel me come?” He pauses, letting the new inferno rush through my blood, setting me on fire again, when burning into a new orgasm should be impossible. I think he's going to give me a few seconds rest.

“Silas...” I moan.

Then the bastard says it. “Erin, love...I'm coming.”

It's like I've been trained. My body seizes up and my head snaps backward against his hand, loving how he makes it burn when he pulls, down to the root.

His cock moves in me like a piston now.

In and out. Deeper, deeper.

Stroking, thrusting, slamming into me until his balls swing up, slapping my clit. His free hand reaches down between my legs, pinches my nub, and frigs it until I'm coming apart.

Coming again. Coming for the King.

“Fucking hell!” Snarling, he explodes, holding his dick in me as it swells, releasing pure fire.

Yes, fucking hell. Fucking Silas. Fucking King.

I don't care that he doesn't officially have the crown. He rules every molecule in my body with an iron first.

We're coming together, harder than two people should.

My fingers scratch the glass helplessly. I'm going to need a chiropractor to unfurl my toes, my fingers. I don't know how I'm going to hide the marks he's left on my neck, my shoulders, especially when all but the most formal dresses I've seen in the wardrobe have so much room for skin.

For the next minute, the longest minute of my life, I don't fucking care.

Nothing else matters except the Prince and I. The man who's spilling every drop of himself into me, and making me feel it.

Making my pussy work for its pleasure by wringing his cock until he's spent. His knuckle slows against my clit, little by little, but he won't pull out.

We're panting, drinking precious oxygen into our lungs, when he finally softens. He slips out with a growl, backing away from me, giving me the space to turn around.

“I want you on the pill, the patch, or whatever suits you tomorrow,” he says, rolling the condom off his hardness and tying it at the end before he looks at me.

It should be a relief that he slipped one on without me knowing it. Strangely, it doesn't feel that way.

“Next time we're fucking after tonight, I want to feel what's mine, skin-on-skin. I'm coming in you, love. Spilling every goddamned drop.”

Yes. I've been wet all evening, and now I'm even wetter.

I pinch my legs together to hide it, walking over, and taking his hand. He leads me to his bedroom at last, where yet another huge bed with curtains hanging around the edges waits like something from a fairy tale.

No, forget the fairy tales. They aren't this dirty.

Cinderella never let her Prince mount her and deliver too many orgasms to count in front of an entire city.

This is for real, and I'm his.

I'm blushing, picturing how we must've looked behind the glass. I sit on the edge of the bed while he pulls a carafe of water from a small silver fridge.

“You think anybody saw us?” I ask.

“Sure hope so.”

I raise an eyebrow and love the coolness against my skin when he pushes a glass of water into my hand. “You've got to be kidding me?”

“No, love. We both know I don't do jokes. I'm dead serious.” I'm shaking my head, cursing him under my breath again, when he wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “I was afraid how we'd look in front of the kingdom before, back before the stupid press conference and the riot changed everything.”

“You? Afraid?” I can't believe it, taking a long, refreshing sip.

“There was always a risk that nobody would believe us, love. That we'd come off stiff. Unnatural.” His eyes roam my body, telling me something else will be stiff again really soon. “Far as I'm concerned, that's over. All this time getting up close and personal means we're going to make the kingdom believe we're in love.”

I reach out, resting my hands on his bare, beautiful chest. I want to tell him I'm starting to believe it, too.

But a man like this doesn't do love. One and done, wasn't that his motto in interviews with the playboy blogs? I'm feeling a lot of things, an emotional windstorm that would leave any woman dizzy.

“It's becoming very natural,” I say cautiously, refusing to let myself believe anything I know I shouldn't. “What will you do when we're at the altar? That's the kiss we have to get right to make them believe.”

My gaze drifts up his body, slowly rising from his magnificent cock to his chiseled chin, his magical eyes. The royal eagle sits in his skin, searching, ready to fly out and tear the world apart if he's ever challenged.

“Obviously,” he says, reaching behind my head and pulling my face closer. “No worries, love. We've got several weeks ahead for practice. How about I train you to come every time you touch my tongue?”

“Uh, how about you don't!” Laughing, I slap my hands against his chest. “Jesus. You're not joking about the whole kingdom seeing us, are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Princess? I –”

Rolling my eyes, I finish it for him. “Yeah, yeah. You never kid. You're the most serious man in the world. I'm so lucky.”

“Say it like you mean it. Looks like you need to be reminded why.” He takes my hand, guides it down between his legs, and wraps my fingers around his swelling cock. “I don't think enough people saw us tonight. Should've gone out on the balcony, bent you over the banister, and let your screams blow into the streets.”

“You're insane! I'm not doing anything worse than what we've already done.”

“No? Guess you'll be seeing less of this, then.” He pushes his huge, hard erection through my hand, forcing me to remember how good he feels inside me.

“No more teasing, Silas.” I let go, drop back on the bed, and spread my legs. “A Prince just takes what he wants, doesn't he?”

“A Prince takes a lot of things,” he growls, rolling on top of me, holding that angry, irresistible hard-on against my opening.

Damn! My body aches to tell him I already have an IUD – something I had put in by the college clinic about two years ago, waiting for Mister Perfect. It's been collecting rust until this past week, when I lost my sanity and my virginity to the cocky, hulking, panty ripping rogue between my legs, kissing his way between my breasts.

“This pussy, love, I'm fucking hooked.” He stops between my legs, pushing his face in, running his tongue between my folds before he pulls up. “Can't wait to pump my seed straight up you when I'm coming like no tomorrow. I want you leaking me for hours. Only improvement possible for this pussy.”

Royal. Asshole.

If he's going to keep teasing me, then I'll leave him one more thing to discover. I'm not quite ready to ride bareback with Silas unless he's going to start fucking me properly, without this torture disguised as foreplay.

Of course, that's an idle threat. I love this torture. Love it so much it's frightening.

His tongue teases my clit until my legs part. Then he holds my thighs, spreading my legs wider, placing them on his shoulders. The pompous bastard makes me bite my lip while I'm waiting for him to sink in.

He reaches behind him, producing a condom from fucking nowhere, ripping the foil with his teeth. My eyes betray me, staring as he rolls it onto his huge length, giving his cock one last pump with his fist. It throbs like mad.

I'm not going to beg, I promise myself. I don't care how good it feels, how much I want you.

I'm NOT begging, god damn it.

His eyes narrow, watching me twitch and writhe beneath him. He rubs the tip of his cock against my clit, before he lets me have an inch.

“No, no more teasing. Silas – please!”

Fuck me. I give up. My body's begging, so who cares if my mouth does, too?

“Please what?”

“I need this. I need you. Please, just fuck me.”

I need this to be more than just pretend, my racing mind reminds me. I don't dare say that part out loud.

“Why didn't you say so?” He sinks into me with a smile, and I'm clutching the sheets, desperately bucking my hips against the cock inside me. “Since you asked so nicely, we'll do it your way, love. No more teasing tonight. You'll pay me back later.”

“Later? What's later?” I ask.

He answers me with a thrust, preventing me from calling him all the names on the tip of my tongue. “You'll see, Princess. You'll find out very fucking soon.”

I've had it up to here with his strange, cryptic bullshit. But I'm also too busy having him, every glorious inch, and I can't bring myself to care.

He fucks me until I'm screaming myself breathless, slipping into the zone. Here, we're alone with our pleasure.

Our worries, our tensions, they all melt away. There's just Prince Silas Bearington the Royal Fucker and that imperial dick of his, the one that's bringing me off for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

Right before I'm about to go over, he grabs me, jerks me onto his lap, and rolls underneath me.

I'm suddenly on top, and he's moving my hips, pulling my ass up and down in his hands. He wants me to fuck him, to keep the rhythm. Whenever I slow down, he gives me a sharp swat on the butt, like he's breaking in a pet.

Or another servant.

Fuck you, I want to say.

Fuck you and your overgrown, pussy wetting dick.

Fuck you for making me your wife.

Fuck you for making me want it, and for wanting more.

I'm speechless, lost in my thoughts, and about to come.

Those explosive things I want to tell him? Too fucking bad.

There are no words when I'm riding him like this, letting his pubic bone grind against my clit. He takes my hips, pulls me against him harder. There's no hope of escaping this leverage, this manic thrusting.

Silas bares his teeth, tenses up, and I know he's about to come. “Fuck, love. You feel so goddamned good. Come for me again! Come with me.”

It's not a suggestion. It's a command, and I'm completely helpless, especially when his cock balloons and the heat surges through his condom.

“Silas!” Coming!

“Erin! Fuck!”

We cry out together. Surrendering to the sweat, the sweetness, and the lightning thrashing through our bodies.

I'm coming so hard on his cock I nearly pass out. Ecstasy blurs to bliss.

Then he's pulling me to his chest, while I gather my breath. Holding me, kissing me, showing me there's a tenderness behind all the arrogant master crap I'm becoming a sucker for.

“Seriously, what did you mean by 'paying you back later?'” I ask him again, now that I can actually think straight. “What are you planning?”

“I don't joke, and I don't ruin promises, Princess. And no, that's not more teasing. I'm a man of my word. I'm –“

“The most upright, honorable, and fucking ridiculous man in the world.” I stick my tongue out, giving him a perfect opening to kiss me again. He takes it.

“You forgot biggest dick in there, babe,” he says, stopping my little fist in mid-air when I try to punch him. “You manage to hit me, and there's going to be teasing. A fuck of a lot more.”

I let go, collapsing against his chest.

The bastard wins. There's no way I'm going to risk more delicious agony tonight, even if I'm dying to know exactly what the hell he's putting together in his devious head.

* * *

“Look, peach, I've been doing a lot of thinking,” dad says over the phone the next day. “Maybe this is good for you. God knows I've made my mistakes with women. Live and learn, I'd say, like everyone has to. Just as long as you're avoiding your old man's mistakes.”

I'm standing in the royal gardens, amazed that he's doing this strange about-face on me and Silas. It also worries me.

This better not be his way of making peace before his health takes a turn for the worse.

“It's no mistake, daddy. Silas is a wonderful man. He loves me. He cares about me.”

The last part is becoming more true by the day, at least. Too bad that makes me want to believe the big, bad L-word might not be a total lie we're fabricating to save a crown.

“I'm sure he does,” dad says grudgingly. “It's your life, Erin. If you want to hang up the journalism plan and become a Princess, who am I to say it's not the right thing? Jesus, I never thought I'd say those words.”

That makes me smile. I'm walking over a tiny bridge lined with rocks, cherry blossoms, and little stone statues of frogs and birds. It's very zen, like they had a piece of Japan airlifted halfway around the world to the palace. For all I know, that's what they actually did.

Dad isn't kidding about the strange absurdity hanging over us. Silas is a Prince – I have to keep reminding myself – part of the blue bloods with so much money nothing is off limits. Ever.

“Who says I can't do both?” I tell him. “I don't think you have to shut down and disappear as soon as there's a title in front of your name. Silas was just telling me about his cousin the other day, the Duchess of Southshore. You'd know her face if you saw her. She's been partnered up with fitness guys and New Age gurus for years, helping push health, her passion.”

“Your first responsibility is always going to be to that country,” dad says. “Don't have to tell you things work different in Europe than they do in the States, peach. Marrying that man means taking on a hell of an obligation – maybe one that prevents you from doing a lot of what you want.”

“I know exactly what I'm getting into,” I snap, forgetting the fact that I barely have a clue. “Well, the wedding's coming up in about a month. I won't be talked out of it. And, daddy, if you're feeling up to traveling, I'd really love to have you there.”

I shouldn't say it, stifling the tremor in my voice, but I do. It's official. I'm inviting my father to my fake marriage with a man who's little more than a fuck buddy with royal blood. A man who's already said he's going to let go at some point, leaving me with these insane memories, along with more money than I can imagine.

“You're right. It's not my place to tell you anything. You're a grown woman, and you can do what you want.”

“Exactly. So, maybe I won't be trotting around the globe interviewing celebrities and Presidents like you, daddy. But someday, I'm going to publish an amazing book.”

“Yeah, you will.” I can practically hear him smiling over the phone, warming my heart.

I have to know how he's really doing. This kind of surrender, acceptance, tolerance just isn't like him.

“How's the treatment, anyway?” I ask. “Have they done more tests since your last round of chemo?”

“It's...inconclusive,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “Doesn't mean anything bad. They don't have a lot of experience with what I've got. It's the Big C, yeah, but they all behave a little differently, from what I understand. I'll know more next week.”

Next week. It feels like an eternity to me, waiting to find out if he's sitting on a death sentence or not. I can't even imagine what it's like for him, and my stomach twists in knots, weighed down with guilt. I regret being so bitchy about Silas just a minute ago.

“You're going to be fine, daddy. You have to believe that. Positive thinking...”

“Peach, with you and Prince Charming pumping the finest drugs money can buy into my veins, I'm bringing the fight. I won't go down without swinging back as hard as I can. Whatever happens, it's been a good life. I'm always going to worry about you, Erin, because you're my daughter. But I'm not worried about you doing the right thing anymore. You've got your head screwed tight and your heart in the right place. I did a good job with that, whatever other mistakes I've made.”

“You did.” The way he's talking makes me want to cry.

I sit down on a small bamboo bench by the stream, staring through the dense trees, wondering how hot the sun feels on the other side of the world in Mexico.

“I've got another appointment in about ten minutes, so I'd better go. Love you, darling. Always have, always will, and always gonna be –“

“I know, I know,” I cut in, finishing the phrase he's said to me since I was a little girl for him. “My daddy.”

“Damned straight.” My phone goes quiet.

I lower it to my lap, brushing the tears from my eyes. The furious lion that's always been a fixture in the media has turned into a gentle giant. I'm touched and scared for him just the same, and I spend the next few minutes enveloped in my thoughts, a thousand chances at life and death rolling by like clouds taking shape.

“What the hell happened?” I hear Silas growl it before I look up, feeling his protective hand on my shoulder.

“It's nothing,” I lie. “Just worried about my father. We talked. He's doing okay – or so he says – but he doesn't do details. It's almost like he knows he won't be around much longer.”

Silas sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder, and pulls me in tight. “People change when they're face-to-face with death, love. He's going to make it – none of those doctors would dare to let me down after all the money they've gotten for their research.”

“I don't know that cancer cares about your generosity, Your Highness,” I say, more sarcastically than I really need to.

I hate it when I'm sad.

I'm the kind of girl who wraps herself up in barbed wire to hide the pain. Anybody coming too close will get pricked, and bleed with me.

“No, but the small army I've got working on it are better than any disease. I've always been careful with who I fund. Nobody gets a penny unless they're the best of the best. Mom taught me that lesson.”

He squeezes my hand. I look at him slowly, the bitterness fading.

Different doesn't begin to describe the worlds we're from, but here, we're a lot more alike than we should be. His mother, the kingdom's beloved Princess for twenty years, already had her fight with the same thing hammering my dad. She lost hers when he was just a boy.

“I'm sorry,” I say, lacing my fingers through his. “I forgot, you've been through all this before...”

“Not quite. Mom's fight was hopeless. The technology wasn't as good, and she held off too long on treatment. The woman stopped caring about her health after the cheating started. My goddamned father, she never got over it...losing his heart, and his loyalty. Watching him ruin himself on women half his age. Pissing away his life, until the ocean put him out of his misery for good.”

I stare at him, not saying much, dragging my heel through the gravel underneath us. “I can't imagine what it's like, losing both parents. I barely talk to mom. She hasn't wanted much to do with either of us since the divorce. She's all work, spending her days and nights at the law firm in New York. Maybe she's trying to forget the life she used to have, including me. It's like addiction comes naturally to people trying to run from something. Like your dad, maybe.”

Silas snorts, lifting my hand to his mouth. He stops to kiss the back of my hand before he says anything. Heat blooms inside me, hot and red and wanting.

I still can't figure out how this man is so damned good at turning me on with nothing more than the slightest kiss.

“My father never saw past pussy and drink. Although I've inherited his knack for getting panties wet, I'd like to think I'm more than just another player.”

Right now, he's all player, and he's won the game. I'm burning up by the time his fingers trace through my hair, and he pulls my face to his, smothering me in another fiery trademark kiss.

“Let's forget all this shit. It's too beautiful a day to dwell on it,” he says, gesturing to the green vastness on the path I haven't even explored. “You haven't seen all the gardens yet, have you?'

I shake my head. “No. I might need a tour guide for that, I'm afraid.”

“At your service,” he stands up and does an exaggerated bow.

It's so ridiculous coming from a real life Prince, especially one as arrogant as Silas, that I burst out laughing. “I don't know if I can handle more of that on the trail.”

“Deeply sorry, love, I'm afraid I'm your only choice today,” he says, doing his very best to imitate Victor's prim and proper style. “These gardens go on for at least a thousand acres, so you're not going alone. And I'm not turning you over to fuck the gardener.”

Sticking out my tongue, I slap his chest. “Like I would ever do that!”

“I don't know, love. I think I've created a monster when I took you to bed. We both know you need it morning, noon, and night.”

There's Prince Asshole again, jerking me to his chest, guiding me into his next kiss. Everything says I should fight like hell to push him away, but I don't when I feel him, taste him, lose myself in his infuriating lips.

If this thing is a fairy tale, then it's the most twisted, incredible story a girl can live.

* * *

We're deep in the gardens, talking about everything and nothing at all. I find out things about Silas I never imagined.

He got suspended from the most prestigious prep school in Europe for sneaking in his childhood bulldog. The animal went on a rampage, chewing up several priceless books in the school library after getting spooked by a violin practice next door.

He likes his coffee strong and black. The only way it should be after a late night with too many drinks.

He remembers the war. Afghanistan follows him, especially when he sneaks away to the royal military cemetery once a year. Always on some dark, cold, rainy day when people hold their umbrellas low, reducing the chances he'll ever be recognized.

He isn't shy about his big, beautiful cock. Well, I knew that before, but he's still stroking his...ego.

At least he says I'm the finest, hottest pussy he's ever had wrapped around it.

I roll my eyes and laugh at his latest crude jests. They do their job, though, making me uncomfortably hot and wet. I'm grateful for the humid, lush forest surrounding us on every side. It's the only thing that distracts me, helps me keep my hands off his big, solid body.

“Since we're playing a thousand questions, there's something I'd like to know,” I tell him, holding his hand while we go over yet another beautiful stone bridge that's at least a century old. “What happened with Serena? What's her deal?”

His face darkens. “I made a big fucking mistake with that one. Put my dick somewhere it never should've gone last summer. She hasn't gotten over it.”

“Did you lead her on?” I look at him, point blank.

“Hell no. Truthfully, the bitch is psychotic or painfully desperate. Maybe both.” He shakes his head so adamantly I have to believe him. “I never promised her a damned thing. She let her Princess fantasies get to her, like some women do. They suck me, fuck me, think it means they're going to wear the royal ring and have Sunday dinners with grandmom. The other girls were easy to brush off. Serena, not so much, because she's too good at her job. I don't want to send her packing unless she crosses the line.”

She already has with me. Several times. I keep my thoughts to myself, knowing it isn't my place to decide who he keeps as press secretary.

“You can't take back what happened. I get that.”

“Yeah, and we don't need to dwell on it, love. I've taken the liberty of chatting with the bitch myself so you don't have to. We're set for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? What's happening then?”

“Our second appearance in public.” He tightens his hold on my hand when I look at him, my eyes going huge. “We've got ourselves a royal parade scheduled. Show of power, really, to remind the Republic assholes who's still boss. We're going out for a ride with tight security. There'll also be several dignitaries present, paying their respects to Her Majesty while she's ill.”

My chest tightens. I have to hold my hand across my breast. Silas stops when I do, his head cocked, wondering what's wrong.

“You're sure it's safe? It seems so soon, riding out into crowds like that, after what happened at the palace.”

I took too many history classes for my own good at college. I'm having brutal flashes of JFK and Arch Duke Ferdinand, both cut down in their prime with their Princesses riding next to them.

“The rabble rousers don't have the balls to do anything except sneer at us from the sidelines with their signs and banners. I've been through this half a dozen times over the years, love. I promise it's safe. Trust me.”

He reaches for my hand. I hesitate for several seconds before I let my fingers wind around his. Reassured, for now.

Maybe he's right. Publicity is half of what I signed up for when I agreed to this marriage. I can't be scared.

“Okay. I'll do my best. Will they expect us to speak again?”

“A few words from me in front of the cameras, maybe,” he says. “Not like before. This isn't an announcement. We're there for eye candy, moving through the streets like living ornaments. We'll meet some dignitaries at the end of it, but whatever comes after with them will be said behind closed doors. Most of the people love us. We'll make the world see a couple thousand smiling faces, and just a few angry pricks. Believe me, if anything gets out of line, they won't get far with the extra agents stationed in the crowd.”

I hope you're right. I hold my tongue, thinking it, without saying anything.

“I haven't gotten a tour of the capital yet. Good way to do that, I suppose,” I say.

“It's gorgeous. Lucky for you, I'll also be giving you that surprise tomorrow morning.”

Oh, God. I'd almost forgotten it. Now, I can't think of anything else with the sly, mischievous glint beading in his deep blue eyes.

“Tell me, Silas. I don't like surprises.”

“You'll love this one. Small disclaimer, I'm not responsible if you accidentally come your brains out.”

I don't even have time to gasp, or hit him with a dozen questions. He takes my hand by the wrist and pulls me along, further along the path into the gardens. Deeper into this craziness and mystery, wondering how I'm going to survive.