Princely Passions: A Royal Romance

by Alexis Angel

  “It was an honor,” Derrick says, but then squeezes my hand and turns to me. “Although I don’t think I could have done it alone. That’s why they split the award with Alicia, since she’s the head of the foundation.”

  “You two make quite the husband and wife pairing,” Taylor Smith says.

  I smile. It’s not my time just yet to steal the show.

  “And that was quite a career jump, Princess Blaine,” Taylor says, referring to my new title after marrying Derrick. “To go from News of the Times to the New York Sun as well as running a foundation. You must be all kinds of busy. How do you do it?”

  “Well, a good night’s rest usually helps,” I say, smiling sweetly. Then I look at Derrick and give the camera a naughty smile. “I guess we can say I don’t take my own advice, huh?”

  There are cheers and loud laughter from the hosts and audience.

  “You two have had quite the relationship with this show as well,” Robin is saying. “It’s almost as if we saw your relationship start and blossom through the eyes of the show.”

  “There’s a few people who didn’t make the journey,” Derrick says, and the hosts and me nod.

  I mean, he has a point. Jake, for instance. I barely remember him, but the last thing I think I heard about him is that he had to move to the Far East to finally get some type of employment in the banking industry. Jenna still keeps tabs on him and she says that his life has definitely gone downhill.

  I look over at Jenna who’s sitting in the audience. She gives me a thumbs up and smiles. I smile, thinking about how a year and half ago I would have never predicted that she’d become one of my best friends. She was my maid of honor at our wedding.

  Then there’s Samantha Scar. She’s not here anymore either.

  In a remarkable twist of ironic karma, the United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement division determined that based on her repeated attempts to harass both myself and Derrick, they were revoking her Green Card, and deported her out of the country.

  I remember reading the papers and I was stunned when Mike told me. It was insane. But she couldn’t go back to St. Penares. So she ended up in Australia, doing something I can’t remember. I wonder to myself what it’s like being barred from entering two countries on the planet. It must not feel very good. Maybe she should be a nicer person.

  “Yes,” Robin agrees with Derrick’ comment, “But overall, it seems that it’s been a stellar year for the two of you.”

  Derrick shrugs, and takes my hand in his and kisses it on camera. “I married the woman I’ve always loved,” he says. There are a chorus of “aww” that goes through the audience as he continues, “We do what we love – helping others. And we have wonderful family.”

  “Right, that reminds me, the King, your father is in the audience today, no?” Taylor asks.

  “And his fiancée,” Derrick replies. “Who just happens to be Alicia’s mother.”

  There’s clapping and cheering in the studio audience as the camera zooms in on King Leopold and Mom.

  I smile at the two of them. They seem really happy. Derrick and I getting married must have been the impetus to take the plunge for them as well.

  My mind goes back to our wedding, nearly nine months ago. It was held in St. Livy and then there was a reception in both St. Livy as well as New York City when we got back. The wedding itself was magical. We had a guest list of nearly 2,000 people. Derrick had Silas D’Avington – the Prince of St. Penares come over as his best man. Jenna was my Maid of Honor. It was the social event of the year. Even President Austin Bain attended as a groomsman. Derrick credits him to being the one that handed him my article that made him jump off the plane.

  “Well, it seems that everything is going fantastic for you two,” Robin Lefler comments. “And Alicia, we all remember your days as the most entertaining gossip columnist that the city has ever seen. Care to give us any new scoops?”

  I smile sweetly at the camera. It’s show time.

  Looking at Derrick for a moment, I turn to the hosts and say, “Derrick and I have been the two happiest people in the world for so long.” Everyone is smiling as I continue. “But soon, we’re going to be the three happiest people in the world.”

  There are gasps as Derrick caresses my tummy. I just found out maybe a month ago, but I’m not showing yet.

  “Congratulations,” Robin says, completely surprised about the scoop that her show is getting. Derrick didn’t want to announce on television, but I convinced him after all the fines and heartache he had put CBC through, it was the least we could do.

  The audience is clapping as I smile and say, “You heard it here first, America.”

  This brings out a round of laughter and I sit back, content. I’m happy to let Derrick answer the remaining questions. There’s nothing more I need to do to.

  I told you my time would come, didn’t I?

  The End.

  Alexis

  I hope you liked Prince Pleasure!

  Recently, the Mona Cox line was unpublished. It’s time was over. But I’ve included several stories here as a thank you to the readers who have been with me this far.

  What’s included is the following:

  Daphne Vs. Daddy by Mona Cox

  Carla Vs. Cowboy by Mona Cox

  Lisa Vs. Outlaw by Mona Cox

  Brittney Vs. Billionaire by Mona Cox

  Gisele Vs. Guitar Hero by Mona Cox

  Ashley Vs. Boss by Mona Cox

  Alicia Vs. Billionaire by Mona Cox

  Christine Vs. Professor by Mona Cox

  All of these books are unpublished. You won’t get them anywhere else. They were unpublished specifically to provide a thank you to readers.

  So, uhh, thank you. LOL!

  Daphne Vs. Daddy

  Hey Mom. I’m going on a date. With Dad.

  OMG! How am I even going to have a convo like that with my mom?

  I mean I don’t even think they have rules for dating your ex-stepdad.

  Like what do we even celebrate first?

  Our anniversary? Or Father’s Day?

  Don’t get me wrong. This guy is so totally worth it.

  Bad boy billionaire…with the 8 pack abs and Greek god body. And 12 inches of thick, swinging…ego.

  But if he thinks I’m just gonna roll over and be a good lil’ docile girlfriend, he’s got another thing coming.

  Because the only way I’m getting on my knees is if I’m getting ready to sit on his face.

  And if he gets mad at that?

  Then only two questions remain.

  How badly will he punish me?

  And how much am I gonna like it? ;)

  *** It's the cute single girl versus the Big Bad Daddy in this first novel from Mona Cox. Guaranteed to be sweet, sassy, and fun. No cheating or cliffhangers. Happy Ending? Always, babe ***

  33

  Daphne

  With butterflies in my stomach, I waltz out of the bathroom of our hotel room at the Carlyle, smoothing down my black lace teddy over my stomach. Do I have a pooch? Maybe I’m getting fat. I should probably go on a diet tomorrow. I suck my stomach in a little further.

  I look over at the two men on the bed—one is my long-time boyfriend Roger, and the other guy is Carl, some random dude Roger brought to our hotel room to make my birthday wish come true—and I try to act as if this is normal. This is everyday shit for me, right?

  Right.

  I shoot them a confident smile, hiding my nerves under my exaggerated walk to the bed. My momma always told me to fake it ‘till I make it, and although I doubt she thought that I’d use her advice in my very first ménage, I still go with it anyway.

  Except, when I snuggle up in the bed between them and we get down to doing boom chica bow wow, it’s …

  Well, literally yawn-inducing. There’s Roger, sucking on my pinky toe and there’s Carl, going to town on my pussy, making all the right noises, and the only noise I can manage is a big ol’ yawn.

  Roger flips me over
onto my stomach and smacks me on the ass. Hard.

  “Owwwwwwwww!” I holler just as he says, “You naughty girl, wanting two dicks at the same time.”

  Except, I can only barely hear him over my own yelling. Dammit, that hurt! I rub my ass, trying to smooth the sting out, and Carl, bereft of my pussy since Roger had flipped me over onto my stomach, decides to start kissing his way up my leg.

  Which just makes me laugh.

  “Ohhh, stop!” I say between gasps of laughter. “That tick—” which is when my leg spasms and whacks him in the face. He jolts upright, holding a hand gingerly to his nose, and I say, unrepentantly, “I told you to stop.”

  Okay, so that was a kind of bitchy comment to make, but shit, I could’ve told him the back of my legs were ticklish, if he’d just bothered to ask.

  He mumbles something around his hand, which I ignore. I instead roll over, out of the grasp of Roger, who is trying to nibble on my neck and just seems to be getting drool everywhere instead, and I grab my phone. What time is it? We’d booked Carl for a whole hour, but I’m not sure I can last that long.

  I click my phone on.

  Twelve minutes? We’ve only been here for twelve fucking minutes?

  Holy shit. I'm for sure not going to last an hour at this rate.

  I go to click my phone back off so we can give this another shot, when I notice the battery warning. Only 14% left. I really should go plug it in. My phone has one of those retarded batteries, where the last 20% lasts all of four minutes. I’d hate to end the evening with a dead battery. It would be bad enough to end it sexually frustrated; let’s not add insult to injury.

  “Hold on, let me go plug this in,” I tell the guys, and scoot off the end of the bed. I plug my phone into an outlet in the bathroom, straighten my hair, give myself a pep talk about how this is exactly what I’ve wanted for years now, and it’s going to be awesome and amazing and I just need to go out there and try it again, and then march out into the hotel room to find…

  Roger being fucked by Carl.

  Yup, Roger is being fucked in the ass by Carl.

  My boyfriend is being fucked by our one-evening hook-up off Craigslist. The guy who was supposed to help me pop my ménage cherry.

  “Uhhhhhh…”

  I stagger and lean up against the open bathroom door for support.

  “Uhhhhhh…”

  Carl is just pistoning away in Roger’s ass, grunting as he goes, and Carl shoots me a “Whoops!” smile.

  “I meant … to tell … you,” he says between Carl’s thrusts. “Oh yeah, baby, harder!”

  Which is when I realize he is most definitely not talking to me anymore.

  Well, there goes my 26th birthday present.

  I do an about-face and stumble back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

  My boyfriend. My boyfriend of five years is … gay?

  My head drops to my chest, and suddenly, all I want to do is get the fuck out of here. I can still hear them going at it, grunting and talking nasty to each other. I throw my clothes on as fast as I can, hands trembling. I’m really regretting wearing stilettos to the hotel for this super-sexy ménage birthday present because they’re not exactly the most stable of shoes on the face of the planet, and oh my God, my legs are as weak as cooked spaghetti. As I slam the hotel room door closed behind me, I hear, “That’s right, I’m going to treat you like the bitch you—”

  The door is closed. I can’t hear them anymore.

  Oh, thank God.

  I head off in search of the hotel bar, because if any night is an excuse to get rip-roaring drunk, tonight is it.

  34

  Dominic

  In the dim lighting of the Bemelman’s Bar in the Carlyle Hotel, Heather looks up at me. She’s batting her eyelashes in what I’m sure she thinks is a sexy manner, although to me, it just looks like she got something stuck in her eye, and says, “So, what plans do we have for tonight?”

  I pause and take a swallow of my whiskey, trying to think of something sexy to respond with. Surely I can think of something fun to do in bed with a ditzy blonde with a bra size bigger than her IQ, right?

  “We could spend the night here,” she says in a suggestive sing-song voice.

  I stare down at her.

  Nope. I’ve got nothing.

  “I was thinking I should head home early tonight,” I say, trying to let her down easy. “I’ve got an early morning meeting with a new client tomorrow, and—”

  “No time for little ol’ me?” she asks, walking her fingers up my arm, smiling and biting her lower lip as she looks up at me. “But I have some new lingerie I wanted to show off to you.”

  “Some other time, maybe.” I pull her hand off of my arm and lay it down gently on the table.

  Which is when all hell breaks loose.

  “Some other time? Some other time?! Maybe? What the hell is your problem, Dominic?” Her nose is turning red, a sure sign she’s about to lose her shit on me.

  Okay, so it’s time to admit that I’ve tried to let her down easy, and it isn’t working. So, Plan B.

  “Listen, I haven’t been feeling this,” I gesture between us, “for a while. I always told you that I wasn’t going to be serious with you. It’s fun to fuck and let off steam, but you can’t think it was ever going to be more than—”

  “I gave up my ass for you!” Heather yells at the top of her lungs, throwing her drink in my face as she screams. “I took it up the asshole for you, you asshole!”

  The entire bar is staring at us now. Even the musicians have stopped playing their atrocious elevator music and are just staring.

  Nice.

  “I told you this was nothing but some fun fucking,” I say under my breath with a smile plastered to my face. I swear, I can feel a thousand eyeballs boring into me right now. I normally have no problems speaking in front of groups; I’ve given too many presentations to clients to have stage fright, but it’s a little different when I have gin dripping out of my hair and down my collar. Oh, and I’ve got someone screaming asshole at the top of her lungs at me. “You got so damn clingy, Heather. It’s bullshit and you know it. You’ve always known the rules between us.”

  Heather slings her knock-off Gucci purse over her shoulder and sniffs, “You’ll never have someone as good as me. You don’t deserve me.” And with that painfully cliché parting shot, she storms out of the bar, knocking people out of the way as she goes.

  Classy to the bitter end.

  I stand up as the band starts to play again and the murmurs of conversations resume, now that the show is over. I work my way over to the front bar and ask the bartender, “Towel, please.” I’ve got gin and tonic all over me. God, I smell like a fucking distillery. Anyone who gets within ten feet of me tonight is going to think I spend my nights underneath an overpass, drinking away my sorrows via a metal flask. I’m going to have to head home and take a shower to get this off me.

  “Dominic?” I hear behind me.

  Patting at my face and hair with the towel, I turn and …

  “Daphne?”

  Oh my God, it’s my stepdaughter.

  And wow, is she looking fine tonight.

  35

  Daphne

  I walk into the Bemelmans Bar, the sounds of gay naughty talk ringing in my ears as I go. Not that there’s anything wrong with gay sex; I just don’t want to witness it up front and personal, especially not with my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—as one of the stars.

  I order a cosmo from the bar and then wind my way to an open table. I’m pretty sure that Heartbreak 101 means getting shit-faced after finding out that your boyfriend of five years is gay. It’s in the manual, I’m sure of it. Chapter 3, subheading C.

  I smile to myself, amused. What could Chapter 3, subheading A - B be?

  A) Spend lots of money on new shoes that don’t go with a single item in my closet, which means …

  B) Buy all new clothes for my closet.

  These are damn good subheadings if I do say
so myself. I take another swallow of my cosmo and try to decide what to do. I don’t have to be back to the ER until tomorrow at noon, so if I stay out a little late tonight, it’ll be fine. That was the whole reason why we planned my special birthday gift for tonight.

  I take another sip of my cosmo and sigh. Maybe I should go home instead and just call it an early night.

  God, I sound so old. Maybe my age is catching up with me. Long hours in the emergency room, operating on trauma cases, doesn’t exactly help.

  Something catches my eye and I look up, trying to figure out what I should do. Maybe—

  Hold on, is that Dominic?

  I stare, open-mouthed, up at the bar, as he asks the bartender for something, and then gets handed a towel. He starts patting his head and shoulders down, and even in the dim lighting, I can see he’s wet. What the hell?

  What is my dad doing here? And why does he look like he just took a bath? I stand up and make my way over, and as I get close, I realize he smells like he just took a bath…in gin.

  Has my stepfather—well, ex-stepfather—become an alcoholic?

  “Dominic?” I say wonderingly.

  He turns to me mid-pat and his eyes get huge. “Daphne?” he breathes. We stare at each other for just a moment and then he pulls me against his hard body in a full-body hug, which feels just as sexy as it does welcoming.

  Which is…

  Wow. Let’s just say unexpected, shall we? Dominic was married to my mom for eight years, until she decided that she was lesbian and wanted a divorce. (Seriously, what is up with people in my life figuring this out waaaayyyyy too late in life?)

  I was only 18 at the time, and to have the only dad I’d ever known—I’ve never met my real dad—removed from my life like that was…