“Time for you to leave, slut,” Callista sneers.

“All right. That’s enough.” I can’t believe that Stephen stuck his dick in this woman. I don’t care that it was a hate fuck. You don’t have sex with terrible people. That should be everyone’s motto. “You can leave,” I inform her.

“I’m not allowing my future husband to be closeted in some room during our engagement party,” she huffs with outrage.

“Your dad didn’t spank you enough as a kid,” Nicole mutters. She leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going, but only because I can’t stand the air in here anymore. Callista, lay off on the kale. You stink.”

I let the door shut behind Nicole before facing off with Callista again. “This isn’t an engagement party and I’m not your future husband. The marriage contract is between you and Stephen, not you and me.”

“I read the contract and it’s an agreement between the House of Sutton and the House of Silverford-Watts so, yes, it is between you and me if that’s how I want it,” she retorts.

I read the contract, too. “Your father signed it and he’s the one who gets to enforce it, not you.” There has to be something that Frederick wants more than an alliance with the crown. I haven’t figured out what that is yet, but by the end of the night I will because there is no way in hell I’m marrying this viper.

I spend the rest of the night with Frederick. I learn that he likes bourbon from a state called Kentucky. He shares that he’s schtupping some Ukrainian model on the side but that it’s okay because he gave his wife a two-million-dollar necklace, but he can’t wait to get his hands on some of the crown jewels. That will make her real happy.

He brags about closing four sweet deals for some real estate development projects that will all be called the Royal M. I make note of all four project leads. I might have to make a few phone calls to let them know that the Royal House of Matlavia will not be participating in any way. I can just see Frederick slapping our crest up on some tacky resort on the basis of this tenuous connection.

By the end of the night, I’m in a foul mood, but I’ve decided on one thing. The people of Matlavia would not be better off with Callista on the throne. Her family would rob the treasury and turn us into a low-rent title for hire.

“Draw up a severance agreement,” I order Johan as I rip off the tie that has been choking me all night.

“But sir, what about the loans? Frederick vowed he would call them in.”

“He can’t call them in until we default and we’re not going to default.” I toe off my shoes and kick them into the corner.

“We’re not?”

“No.” I don’t know how yet, but I’ll figure it out.” I unbutton my shirt and throw that on the floor, too. Johan makes a move to pick it up, but I stop him. “I’m tired. Everyone needs to leave.”

“Everyone?” Johan questions. “B-but what about the favored guests?”

There are actually people sitting outside the bed chamber having drinks like it’s some goddamned VIP lounge. No wonder Stephen ran away.

“We’re not having that anymore. You can’t buy access to the throne. That’s not how it’s going to work for me. Everyone gets the same right to see me, regardless of how thick your wallet is.” If I’m truly going to be king, then I’m making changes. Should Stephen come back in the meantime, he’ll appreciate that he doesn’t have to play bar host to a bunch of European and US social climbers who just want to fill their Instagram feeds with shots of them making pretty faces next to someone who was lucky enough to be born with the right last name.

Johan’s face shifts from surprise to something akin to respect. He probably didn’t expect this from me—the playboy prince. Well, hang on to your boxers, Johan, because I’ve got other surprises up my sleeve.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he says and bows as he backs out of the room.

Once the door is closed, I pluck a driver out of Stephen’s abandoned golf bag.

Bam!

I step back out of the way of falling glass and drop the club to my side. “Three. Two—“

The door bursts open before I can reach one.

“Your Highness!” shouts Johan.

“I bashed the security camera with the golf club.” I heft the wood and metal contraption in my hand. “One stroke only. Not bad, huh?”

Johan gapes at me like a fish. “But…security…” He’s at a loss for words.

“I know. You and Commander Brande provide top-notch security to the Royal House of Matlavia. I appreciate it immensely. No one has died in this bedchamber or even on the grounds in the past hundred years, so these are unnecessary.” I walk over to the second camera. “Besides, I plan to be making love to the future Queen of Matlavia in here and no one gets to see her naked body but me.”

I take great pleasure in whipping the wooden head of the club against the second security device and then the third. I’d rather be dead than another man look at Pen when she’s nude, flushed and riding me with complete abandon. Or when she’s on her knees taking me deep in her throat.

I toss the club aside before I smash something else. Conjuring up a smile, I turn to Johan, whose expression has shifted back to disappointment.

“I don’t think this is a wise idea,” he says stiffly.

“If you can’t keep people out of my bedchambers, the security in this place isn’t worth shit,” I reply bluntly.

I gently shove Johan out the door and close the ten-foot oak behemoth in his disapproving face. I fish my mobile out of my pocket and call Louis.

“Where are you?”

“In your chambers, Your Highness. I mean, Your Majesty. I’m in your old chambers!” Louis stumbles over his explanation.

Strangely, his breach of protocol makes me feel better. I’m not the only one finding this transition awkward and challenging.

“I need you to get up to my new digs and clean house. There are a bunch of people sitting in the antechamber and I want them gone.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Will there be anything else?”

“Yeah, I want two scoops of vanilla ice cream and some honey and whipped cream delivered in”—I check my watch—“thirty minutes.” It’s going to take me fifteen minutes to convince Pen to come up here. I think she believes she’s going to turn to ash or something like that if she crosses the king’s threshold. Apparently having a royal dick in her for the past seven years hasn’t made her realize that we all bleed red when we cut, no matter our last name or station in life.

She shows up at my door without my even picking up the phone carrying a tray with three silver-domed containers. Bless Louis. He’s definitely getting a raise.

“I was supposed to be fired ten hours ago.” She drops the dessert on the side table with a bang.

A knock on the door follows. “Your Majesty? Is everything all right in there?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Johan. Everything’s peachy. Pen delivered my after-dinner snack. You can go now.”

“But, Your Majesty—” There’s an actual fucking jiggling of the doorknob.

It’s a wonder that Stephen didn’t flee years ago if this was what he was subjected to.

“Now, Johan,” I say with steely intent. “Or are you above the king to gainsay his orders?”

There’s a moment of silence as Stephen’s personal assistant finally realizes how far over the line he’s trodden. I hear shuffling of feet and then a softly uttered, “I apologize, Your Majesty. We will be outside the antechamber should you need anything.”

I quell the urge to say I’m sorry in return. It’s not in me to make people feel bad, but I’ve caught on quick that if I don’t exert myself, I’m going to be walked all over. Stephen was too young when he came to the throne. He relied on these men heavily, and I suspect when it came time for him to wield power on behalf of Matlavia, these well-intentioned advisors were an anvil around his neck.

Johan may never love me as he loved Stephen, but he’s going to damn well respect me.

I turn to Pen, who is leaning against a side table, watching me with an indecipherable expression in her eyes.

“Should I feel bad?” I ask as she’s the only one whose opinion matters.

“Nope. This is a new side of you, though.”

I walk over and pull her off the side table and into my arms. “A good side?”

“A hot side,” she concedes, plump lips curving up at the corner. “But then, when aren’t you hot? That’s never been one of your problems.”

“What are my problems then?”

“So many,” she sighs dramatically. She runs a finger down the button placket of my black shirt. “Too many to list. It would take a lifetime.”

“Good thing we’re going to be together that long.” I lift her into my arms. “You can tell me one each day.”

She laughs and winds her arms around my neck. “Like a tattletale Scheherazade? That’s a bad fantasy, Thom.”

“Hey, I thought our bedroom was a no judgment zone.” I toss her onto the bed. I don’t know why she’s being so amiable. I figured I’d have to fight tooth and nail to get her to come to my room, yet here she is, beaming like a ray of sunshine in my very dark world.

I’m not one to question my good fortune. There’s no point. Just enjoy the world as it comes at you.