The Hot King and I: A Royal Bad Boys Romance

by Seyna Rytes

  He shakes his head.

  "We were clear from the getgo. And we don't owe anyone anything. The parliament runs the country, we run our family's businesses. The people love us. We're fully dedicated to our duties. We deserve to live our lives the way we see fit, brother."

  I ponder on his words. Alex and I grew up under the scrutiny of the media. The Mediterranean Princes. Two cousins from neighboring countries. His mom married my dad's brother. We went to the same private schools, took a liking to each other and became closer than with our own siblings. Then, we started partying together and realized we enjoyed sharing women every now and again… This was our little secret, our escape from all the pressure and responsibilities weighing on our shoulders. A young King of thirty years old, taking over the crown after his father retired early, and his trusted advisor and first cousin.

  "Let's have fun. It's only ten days." Alex adds, bringing me back to the here and now. Asshole knows he already got me.

  Oh, the multitude of ways we could have fun with Ms. Camara… my mind conjures the image of her glossy lips forming a perfect 'O' in shock. My dick twitches at the fantasy of sliding through that circle…

  * * *

  INA

  "You didn't know who they were? Never saw their picture? No clue, nada?" Vanessa insists, as we're sipping on our drinks after a nice lunch at a taqueria next to the hotel.

  "No, I did not. Enough now: not everyone watches those crazy celebrity shows or reads the magazines!"

  I try defending myself while she studies me with curiosity. Apparently, the entire world's female population knows of King Magnus and Prince Alessandro. This is just another reminder that I've been living under a rock.

  "Ina, you need to open up, girl. Life is not all work."

  "I know that. I'm not all about work. I… I read, I go to the movies. I sometimes go out with you, girls. Spend time with my family." I finish in a mumble, ashamed to admit that's all my life has been about for a long time now.

  She shakes her head.

  "That's boring as hell, girl. When was the last time you saw a dick before today?"

  "I… I don't know. I don't keep track."

  Vanessa raises a challenging eyebrow.

  "Really? There have been so many that you're not sure?"

  "No," I admit in defeat. "The last time was with my ex, over a year ago."

  She shakes her head again.

  "No wonder you ran away from King Magnum and Prince Ax."

  I can't help but snicker.

  "Stop calling them that."

  She smiles back, wickedly. Vanessa told me the scandal press's naughty nicknames for The Mediterranean Royals: King Magnum and Prince Ax, because their multiple conquests have confessed they're very generously endowed. Which I can definitely second, from feeling one of them and ogling the other!

  "Believe me, these guys are reputed to give women a run for their money. You don't have anything to sweat about."

  "Well, that's a relief." I respond with sarcasm.

  "But, you could always go back for a closer look..."

  She winks and we giggle like a pair of high-schoolers.

  I needed this: to step out of The Clemence, talk about my crazy encounter with King Magnus and Alex Bertolucci, and put things in perspective with a somewhat sane person.

  * * *

  When we make it back to the hotel, our office door is encumbered by a gigantic vase, stuffed with an overflowing flower bouquet. Next to it rests a box of fine chocolates and a gift package. Vanessa and I exchange curious looks. I pull the card with my name on it, stuffed between the flowers and Vanessa comes closer to read over my shoulder:

  * * *

  Dear Ms. Camara,

  We're afraid we have to insist on presenting our apologies in person, over a meal.

  Please name a place and time.

  Yours,

  Mag & Lex

  * * *

  "What the hell?..."

  Vanessa burst with laughter.

  "You have to go! This is the most exciting thing that's happened to any of us…" she thinks for a bit, "...ever!"

  She might be right about that: two hunky European royalties hitting on a plain Jane like me! I bite on my nail.

  "I can't… it's indecent."

  She pushes me and opens the office door, bringing in the gifts.

  "We only live once, girlfriend."

  I just stand there hesitant, dumbfounded at the crazy turn my life is taking. Vanessa places the bouquet on my desk, opens the chocolates and starts sampling unashamedly, then hands me the still sealed gift. I take it with trembling fingers, undo the ribbon, tear through the wrapping and uncover... a jewelry box! I look up and our rounded gazes collide. She stuffs a piece of chocolate in her mouth and nods for me to proceed. I slowly open the velvety box, as if something is about to jump out of it and bite me! On a silky bed, lays an exquisite gold chain, embedded with dozens of shiny diamond-like rocks. I pull it out, hands still shaking: it's too long to be a necklace. I look up at Vanessa and we gasp in unison: it's a waist chain! How sensual and improper! Who gifts a gold waist chain with embedded diamonds to a quasi-stranger?! How rude: I'm nobody's whore!

  I close back the box, fingers unsteady with rage now.

  "Ina… calm down, honey. This might not be what you think. Just return it and…"

  "Oh I'm gonna return it alright."

  I try gathering the vase, the opened box of chocolates and the jewelry box in my arms, but Vanessa rubs my upper arm gently. Soothing me with a: "calm down. Let me help, please."

  I give her the vase and we make our way to the Presidential Suite!

  * * *

  ALESSANDRO

  I stay seated on the entrance sofa, watching the drama playing out before my eyes. Ina is magnificent in her outraged fury, yelling and gesticulating. Her heavy breaths make her chest heave, close to popping the buttons of her blouse. Her hands at her generous hips accentuating her marked waist and round ass. Her curly hair escaping from its bun. It's too bad the gloss on her full lips is gone, but they're still plump and enticing. Her eyes shine with fury. She's a tiny thing next to my cousin. He's standing way too close, not caring how mad she is and I can tell fucker's about to kiss her… Now, fully dressed in a stylish button down and linen pants. Magnus stands tall, blond and massive. With a conquering glint that reminds of his Viking ancestors.

  I'm very much interested in their little show, but my attention is also pulled in another direction: the woman standing behind Ina. She's as fair as Ms. Camara is dark. They offer a beautiful contrast. Almost reminiscent of my cousin and I: the dark haired and the blond. Except it's their skins that clash the most. She's tall, almost my height in her heels. Also full-figured, but with smaller breasts. Her ass though, is just as juicy. She has big green eyes, a creamy complexion smothered with freckles, and looks good enough to be my meal for the next ten days. Mag can keep Ina to himself for all I care. I have no inclination to share this beauty!

  As if the telepathic connection our mothers always complained about was true, he turns around, looks me straight in the eye and nods towards the blond beauty. Yep, we have a clear understanding of the situation...

  * * *

  VANESSA

  I came here in support of Ina, nothing else. At least that's what I keep repeating to myself. But, as soon as the door to the suite opens, I let go of all illusion of altruism. King Magnus stands there, in all his splendor: golden locks framing a face made for Hollywood. Casually fashionable, in a linen outfit. Body built to stage in an arena.

  The smirk pulling at the side of his sensual lips, makes me realize they were expecting Ina: it was all a trap and she fell into it head first! She didn't want to see The Royals again and they probably read her attraction to them, so these assholes baited her with an insulting gift… Cocky bastards! I don't know if I'm more amused or pissed at their audacity.

  Thank God, I'm here to offer Ina moral support! Well, that's till my eyes land on The Ax. I had
seen him far and between in trashy magazines, next to his cousin. But, he was lucky to not be the main target of the paparazzi. So, I really had no clue how freaking gorgeous he actually is! Principe Alessandro Bertolucci is a dark knight. A magnificent raven-haired, light-blue-eyed, tall, muscular jerk. While my friend yells her head off and his giant of a cousin gets dangerously close to her agitated petite frame, he's just sitting there. Watching the whole thing play out with an air of bored indifference. Every now and again, his gaze wanders away from their spectacle and lands on me, making me feel awfully self-conscious.

  I have no idea how to help Ina in this situation: she's already standing her ground and I can tell things are eventually going to turn for the better between King Magnum and her. So, I feel kind of useless right now. And, this pretty asshole is just sitting there staring at the three of us, like we're performing for his entertainment!

  When I can't stand his attitude anymore, I throw him a dirty look and ask:

  "You're just gonna sit there?"

  Yeah, the words kinda escape my mouth before I fully think things through…

  Bertolucci raises a sarcastic eyebrow and retorts: "Excuse me?" In his crisp mix of British and Italian accents.

  "You're just gonna sit there and watch things play out? Like you were not involved to begin with?"

  He cocks his head, as his long frame stretches out of the sofa. Fuck, he's tall! What do they feed these guys?! At five feet eight, I'm not a short woman and I'm currently wearing heels. Now fully erect, this motherfucker towers a good head above mine.

  "I beg your pardon?" He asks, with all his aristocratic cockiness.

  "Yeah, that's exactly what you should be doing, but instead you were glued to the couch, watching them like all this is for fun."

  I push back my long blond hair, in a sassy gesture and put my hand to my hip. Bertolucci's eyes follow my gesture, seeming as interested as a scientist observing a newly discovered species. I cock back my own eyebrow and we silently squint at each other.

  That's when I realize Ina has stopped yelling. I turn her way and find her in a tight lip-lock with King Magnum! So much for coming to her rescue…

  I clear my throat in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.

  "Well, looks like they came to an understanding…"

  I haven't completely finished my sentence, when Ina knees the king in the balls and stomps out of the suite, slamming the door!

  I stand there frozen for a few seconds… King Magnus holding his crotch, face contorted in pain. Even making this face, the asshole is gorgeous, argh! When Bertolucci bursts with laughter, I do the only decent thing: walk right up to him and give him a resonant slap, before swirling in my heels. I don't make it to the door, before he's caught me by the wrist, turns me around in his arms, crashes my chest into his and takes my mouth! In the most, magnificent, hot, wet, hungry and punishing kiss I've ever exchanged. His full lips drag over mine, taking, giving, caressing. His tongue plunges into my mouth, licking, dipping, teasing… I moan, hold on to his shoulders, my legs starting to give in. And, he holds me. His big hands just like Ina described them: strong, warm, efficient. When he's thoroughly made love to my mouth, Alessandro sets me back on my wobbly feet, brushes a lock of hair away from my face and says sardonically:

  "I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm Prince Alessandro Bertolucci."

  Chapter One

  MAGNUS

  I wheeze out through the pain: “I call dibs on Ina.”

  Absentmindedly rubbing his reddened cheek, Lex throws me a disgusted look.

  "Go lay down and put some ice on that."

  He gestures in the general direction of my crotch.

  "You look pathetic. And you know I don't want her."

  I painfully make my way to the lounge, to get an ice pack from the fridge.

  My cousin yells from the sitting room: "hurry, we need to strategize!"

  Motherfucker's not wrong: these crazy American women will require more than our usual wine and dine!

  * * *

  INA

  I wring my hands, nervously pacing my office. Vanessa sits at my desk, head between her hands, muttering variants of the same sentence like a maniac: "we're fucked, we're so fucking fucked..."

  A dozen scary thoughts battle in my head: getting fired, The Royals pressing charges against us or even blackmailing us for sex! I don't see any way this mess could end well...

  My office line rings and we exchange panicked looks before staring at the phone, none of us making a move to pick it up. After the tenth ring, I gather whatever threads of courage I have left and respond.

  "This is Ina."

  "Ms. Camara, Garcia here. Great job with the VIPs: the King called and said you introduced yourself. He seemed pleased."

  What?!... I'm speechless.

  "Hello? Ina, are you still there?"

  "Hmm… yes, sir."

  "OK, King Magnus wants to go over the program you put together for them."

  "Uh… sure."

  "Excellent, I asked Chef Sonja to reserve you two her best table, for tomorrow at noon. Keep up the good work!"

  "Will do, sir. Thank you."

  Vanessa looks at me expectantly.

  "He told Garcia I went to introduce myself. And that he wants to go over their activities. I'm meeting him for lunch tomorrow."

  She gets up from my desk and gives me a pat on the back, shaking her head.

  "You're fucked."

  * * *

  The following day at noon sharp, I'm standing at the hotel restaurant's reception desk. Donning another one of my knee-length, fitted skirts, silk blouse and sensible heels. Hair straightened into a smooth bun and face made-up to perfection. I need to look and feel my best before I can face this man again. I'm chatting away with the hostess, while awaiting my "guest".

  Before even feeling the heat of his warm hand land at the small of my back, I sense King Magnus's presence. As if the air itself starts crackling. He whispers a low: "Afternoon, Ina," right next to my ear, as he drops a soft kiss on my cheek. And I know I'm in so much more trouble than I can handle with this man! The feel of his mouth on my skin is burning. His subtle, woodsy cologne tickles my nostrils. His heat makes my body vibrate. The palm he has splayed out on my lower back makes it impossible to form a coherent thought, but I forge through the mist of lust and croak out: "Your Majesty."

  Looking good enough to eat in a pair of perfectly fitted blue jeans and a plain white cotton t-shirt that hugs his wide chest, he shakes his head, giving me his thousand watts smile.

  "Magnus will do, darling. Or Mag', if you prefer. Remember: we're trying to not garner attention."

  "Of course, Your Maj… uh…nus."

  He chuckles, eyebrows raised teasingly.

  I quickly turn to the hostess, who's staring at Magnus with a gaping mouth. Oh Lord…

  "Linda? Our table, please," I call to her attention.

  Completely dazed by the pure masculine vision standing beside us, she jumps at my words. But quickly regains some semblance of professionalism:

  "Yes, of course. This way, please."

  Thanks to the Hollywood stars we host on a regular basis, we've learned to function around impossibly attractive human beings. Although none of them has the charisma and presence of King Magnus.

  Once we're settled at a booth at the back of the restaurant, I turn to the King and state, looking him dead in the eye:

  "I'm not sleeping with you."

  He throws his head back and bursts with laughter. A beautiful, warm, heartfelt sound that hits me straight in the gut and brings a smile to my lips. I shake my head, rolling my eyes and ask:

  "What's so funny?"

  "I don't remember asking."

  I feel my cheeks heat up, grateful for my dark complexion that won't betray my embarrassment. My upper teeth bite into my lower lip and Magnus's eyes flash, his gaze turning intense.

  "Don't. Do. That." He enunciates.

  I shake my head wit
h incomprehension.

  "Don't bite your lip. Unless you want to be kissed again… publicly this time."

  I gasp.

  "That's what I thought." He growls darkly, his light mood completely gone.

  "This is my place of employment, sir. You cannot say such things to me."

  "Then be a good girl and don't tempt me." He retorts, voice still strained.

  I look into his beautiful eyes, more navy than sky blue at the moment, trying to read him. His jaw is flexed. He's as affected by me physically as I'm by his mere presence. This is ridiculous! I've never in my life felt such a strong, inexplicable pull towards a man. He's incredibly handsome, but I've seen guys with finer features and more perfect bodies. What is it about this asshole that turns me into goo?! What is it about me that makes him go all caveman?... From the little Vanessa has told, and the results of my internet stalking, King Magnus is a smooth operator. This Neanderthal behavior doesn't make sense…

  "I came here to talk about the program of activities we have scheduled for Mr. Bertolucci and yourself. Nothing else. This is a professional lunch."

  He breathes deep, nostrils flaring. The heat receding from his pupils, his features smoothing back into a mostly civilized expression. Fascinating…

  "I don't give a fuck about the activities. And Alessandro has nothing to do with you and I."

  I ignore the first part of his response and ask: "really? That's not what it seemed like, yesterday morning."

  "Yesterday morning, we thought we were up for playing an old game of ours. Turns out you're not a toy I'm willing to share. You're not a toy, period."

  He puts his large, warm hand on top of mine, resting on the table.

  "I know you feel this thing between us. I'm only here for ten days. Let me show you a good time."