I’ve not made it to the end of the hall before my assistant, Tom, has found me. Now he’s following along behind me, rattling off events and fundraisers I’m to attend.

Finally, I stop, lean against the wall, and look at him. “I’m not going.”

“But, Your Highness, you—”

“I have a date with a stripper.” I arch a brow at him. 

His mouth opens and closes several times like a fish gasping for water. I’m sure he doesn’t know whether to believe me or not, but with my track record, it’s safer for him to assume I’m serious. 

“Tell my mother to have Andrew fill in. Besides, he’s the well-behaved one.”

“Yes, but you’re the heir to the throne, and it’s customary for…” He drones on and on about pomp and circumstance bullshit, and I’m only halfway paying attention because that leggy blonde lawyer just stepped out of the office. And she has curves for days! I missed that when she was behind that desk. 

My dick delights in the way her hips swish from side to side. You’d think they’d know better than to put an attractive woman in that role by now. 

“Alex, are you listening?” Tom huffs.

“No.”

I push off the wall, walking after Lily as she heads through the entrance and down the concrete steps. The wind catches her hair and the soft, vanilla scent of her shampoo blows across my face. 

“Quitting already?” I ask.

She jumps, clutching at her chest before she spins around. “I’m going to lunch.”

“Okay.”

Without so much as a second glance, her heels are tapping over the pavement, and I follow along beside her. “Where are we going?”

She stops dead in her tracks and cocks one of her perfect brows at me. “Excuse me?” 

“Where are we going to eat?”

“I was going to Dave’s Pub.”

“Sounds good.”

Her brow lifts higher, creating a small wrinkle in her forehead. “I didn’t invite you.”

“I didn’t ask.” I inch toward her, placing my lips beside her ear and breathing the scent of vanilla deep into my lungs. “And don’t worry, I don’t need your permission.”

Shaking her head, she huffs before moving along the sidewalk. Much to my delight, I think this one will be all too easy to rile. 

“What are your credentials, Lily?”

“My credentials?”

“Am I going to need to repeat everything I say to you?”

Another huff, which makes me grin. “I went to law school at NYU.”

“So an American lawyer who now works as the shit-shoveler for the heir to England’s throne. Impressive.”

She turns the corner without a word.

People along the street stare. Tourists with fanny packs hold up their phones, snapping pictures. A photo of me walking beside a leggy blonde is much too tame, so I take the liberty of draping my arm around Lily’s shoulder. She yanks away from me so fast I nearly lose my balance. 

“I swear to God…” Her left eye twitches, and she points a finger at me. “Don’t touch me.”

Nodding, I pull my phone from my pocket, swipe over the screen, and quickly tap out a message. Of course, she keeps walking, and by the time I’ve slipped my cell back into my pocket, I have to jog to catch up. She reaches for the door to Dave's Pub. Like the gentleman I am, I maneuver in front of her and hold the door open. “It’s rude to leave me like that. You shouldn’t walk ahead of royalty, kitten.”

“I’m not a feline. And again, you invited yourself.” She ducks underneath my arm.

“In case you were wondering what I was doing—”

“I wasn't.”

“I was making a note that you told me not to touch you.”

A waitress in short shorts skirts by with a tray full of chips, forcing Lily to come to an abrupt halt. She glances over her shoulder at me, her brow wrinkled. “You have to make a note to remind yourself personal space is something most women appreciate?”

“Of course not. I’d simply like to have the correct date to throw in your face when you beg me to fuck you.”

Her cheeks stain the slightest shade of pink. I imagine that’s exactly how her face flushes when she comes. My cock stirs at that thought, and I make no qualms about adjusting myself.

Her attention goes straight to my crotch before she diverts her gaze with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t royals have to take etiquette classes?”

“You tell me which is more refined. Adjusting my dick or letting my semi hard-on tent my trousers.”

She doesn’t acknowledge me, just marches past all the middle-aged men ogling her curves and straight to a rickety table in the corner. With one chair.

She thinks she's slick.

I’m given nods and smiles as I weave my way through the dimly lit bar, none of which I acknowledge. When I drag a chair from another table and take a seat across from Lily, she groans, then pops open a menu.

Tilting my head to the side, I glance under the table. She’s wearing candy-apple red heels that accentuate her toned thighs. When I fuck her, she better be wearing shoes like that. 

“Are you eating?”

“No.” I look up, dropping my gaze to her lap. “At least not here.”

She scowls. “Do women really fall for that crap?”

“They just fall for me.”

“Doubtful.”

I hold up three fingers. “I’ve been voted most eligible bachelor three years in a row.”

She’s looking at the menu again, and I must say, her disinterest is more of a turn-on than I’d like to admit.

“You do realize women probably only screw you because of who you are?” Her pouty lips quirk. “You could be the most unattractive man to walk the earth, and women would line up for you just because you’re a prince. It has nothing to do with you. Everything to do with the title.”

My skin heats while I drum my fingers over the wooden tabletop. That is the thing that has always bothered me. I never know who to trust. Who likes me. Who’s only pretending to make themselves look important. 

I abruptly push up from the table and thump the back of her menu. “Get the steak and ale pie. Everything else here is shit.”

Then I walk out of Dave’s, fuming because instead of getting under her skin, she just got underneath mine.

---

The television cast a blue haze across the foot of the bed as I mindlessly flip channels. Nothing holds my attention because I keep thinking about her and those legs and how she isn’t the least bit bothered by me. She made me feel like a jerk, and as messed up as it sounds, I liked it. There’s a certain allure to a woman who will put you in your place—at least for me there is. It’s out of the norm. Makes me feel like I may actually have limits with her.

She doesn’t care that I’m a prince. Or rich. Or deemed Britain’s Most Eligible Bachelor. Why? Because based on her stunning looks, I'd bet most guys fawn all over her, try to romance her, treat her like a princess. I roll my eyes on a laugh. Being nice to a pretty girl like her gets you nowhere. But being an asshole…that will get a guy everywhere, including right between her milky-white thighs. Lucky for me, I play the asshole card with flourish few men are capable of. I have so many tricks up my sleeve that within two weeks, I’ll make her hate me to the point of wanting to fuck me. Yes, two weeks and I’ll have her in my bed and underneath me.

My dick jumps to life at that thought, and I fist it with the vision of Lily on my bed, legs spread and nothing but those red heels on. I wonder what she sounds like when she gets off; if she’s quiet or whimpers or moans like a porn star. I bet her pussy gets drenched with a mere flick to her clit…

My palm slaps against my stomach while I work myself hard and steady, pretending it’s Lily’s hand—or better yet, those pouty lips of hers wrapped around me. 

Within seconds, that hot pull forms in my balls and my toes curl just before a warm ribbon of come splatters onto my stomach. I fall back on the bed, arms and legs out like a starfish while I catch my breath, trying to plan the first move I make. Getting piss-face drunk at a strip club in the scummy part of London sounds like a good start. Smiling, I place my arm behind my head. I’m going to make Lily fall for a guy she should do nothing but hate.