The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One)
Page 1
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Also By Lyla Payne
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteeen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Thank You!
Acknowledgements
Also By Lyla Payne
About the Author
Copyright 2016 by Lyla Payne
Cover by Lyla Payne
Copyediting: Shannon Page
Proofreading: Mary Ziegenhorn, Diane Thede
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used factiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Also by LYLA PAYNE
WHITMAN UNIVERSITY
Broken at Love
By Referral Only
Be My Downfall
Staying On Top
Living the Dream
Going for Broke (published in Fifty First Times: A New Adult Anthology)
LOWCOUNTRY MYSTERIES
Not Quite Dead
Not Quite Cold
Not Quite True
Quite Curious
Not Quite Gone
Quite Precarious
Not Quite Right
Not Quite Mine
Not Quite Alive (October 11, 2016)
THE PIACERE PRINCES
The Playboy Prince
The Dutiful Prince
The Crooked Prince
Mistletoe & Mr. Right
Sleigh Bells & Second Chances
SECRETS DON’T MAKE FRIENDS
Secrets Don’t Make Friends
Secrets Don’t Make Survivors
Secrets Don’t Make Lovers (2017)
Young Adult Novels Written as TRISHA LEIGH
THE LAST YEAR
Whispers in Autumn
Winter Omens
Betrayals in Spring
Summer Ruins
THE CAVY FILES
Gypsy
Alliance
Buried
THE HISTORIANS
Return Once More
Exist Once More (November, 2016)
With gratitude to every Cinderella story I’ve ever read or seen - there can truly never be enough. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.
Chapter One
Salvadore
Prince Salvadore Piacere groaned as he pried open an eye. The midmorning sunlight made his head throb, but the bare tits in his face pushed his blood lower, easing the pain.
Thank God for hormones.
“Mmm,” the warm body mumbled as she stirred in her sleep, pushing her nipples farther into his mouth.
She tasted like skin and sweat, like the aftermath of last night’s energetic romps. While he lazily brought her up to his speed, he surveyed the room, which also bore the scars of last night.
The credit card on file could take the strain.
The woman—for the life of him, Salvy couldn’t remember her name—roused herself, kissing and sucking her way down his chest and over his abs until her mouth closed over the throbbing ache at his crotch. A knock on the door came at the exact same moment.
Salvy closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows. He didn’t care if the King himself was banging on the door, he sure wasn’t pushing away a beautiful blonde with her lips wrapped around his—
“Sir! I’m afraid it’s urgent.” The sound of his handler’s voice made Salvy groan for a reason that was a whole lot less fun than he’d anticipated. “Sire, I’ll give you to the count of ten and then I’m using my key.”
The beauty paused, but as she was hidden by the sheets and blankets, Salvy didn’t see any reason to stop enjoying himself just because Etzio had his panties in a bunch about something. If he did that, he’d never get any.
He touched the top of her head, not with force, but enough to urge her to continue. She didn’t argue, and he gave her breast an appreciative tweak that made her hum around his dick.
The quiet beeps from the electronic lock announced Etzio’s presence, but the woman only stepped up her ministrations. Salvy couldn’t stop the wicked smile that crawled over his face—she liked that they had company. No wonder last night had been so much fun.
While Etzio picked his way through the broken glass and around the overturned coffee table, Salvy tried to piece together the events of the prior evening. He remembered getting dressed for the gala, and getting into the car downstairs….
He probably shouldn’t have mixed that pill he’d found in the bottom of his suitcase with half a bottle of bourbon. Some might say he shouldn’t have taken a mystery pill at all, but what was the fun in that?
“Sir.” Etzio picked up a foot, his lips twisted into a grimace at whatever he found on the bottom of his shoe.
Salvy couldn’t see without shifting, and that could be dangerous. The woman had skills he was quite enjoying.
“I’m afraid I need you to get dressed. The jet is being fueled as we speak and King Alfonso wants you back in Cielo immediately.”
That dragged Salvy’s attention from the pleasant storm swirling in his blood. His agenda in the States contained more items, and he was supposed to be in Las Vegas through the weekend.
His brow furrowed and he slipped a hand under the covers to cup the woman’s jaw. She paused at his touch but kept her tongue going in a lazy circle that sent a shudder up his spine.
“Why the change?”
Etzio’s right eyebrow arched slightly, the biggest reaction he ever gave. “I assume you haven’t had a moment to check your phone, since it is not quite ten.”
His handler’s gaze traveled over the bulge in the blankets and back to Salvy’s face, his expression blank. The man must hate his guts, but he remained professional, but for the occasional snarky comment.
“I’ve been busy.” Salvy smirked.
“I suggest you catch up with the rest of the world before facing your father. Your…performance at the Bellagio has racked up quite the YouTube following.”
“What else is new?”
“Your bare ass in the fountains, for one.”
Shit. That was bad. His father had grown less and less tolerant of his younger son’s partying and womanizing his way across the globe, and had sent him to Vegas in a professional capacity despite his reservations. For his part, Salvy didn’t want any royal responsibilities, but the King hadn’t given him much of a choice this time.
Salvy’s memory spit out bits and pieces of the night before—a dare, the Bellagio’s well-attended fountain show, and the flash of countless cameras. He did hope the water hadn’t been too cold. He’d hate to be shortchanged in the endowment department.
“Thank you, Etzi. I’ll be on the jet in
side the hour.” Salvy grinned, not breaking eye contact. “I have a few things I need to finish up first.”
The man, twenty years Salvy’s senior, somehow refrained from rolling his eyes. He’d handled Salvy since his sixteenth birthday, and the younger prince of Cielo often pondered what he’d done to anger the King. The job had to be a punishment; minding Salvy’s mature, responsible, dutiful older brother Niccolo would have been anyone’s first choice.
“Very good, sir. I’ll wait for you outside, as we’ll have to take care to avoid the cameras.”
Fucking America and their goddamn obsession with tabloid news. Salvy frowned, then reminded himself that their celebrity obsession was also one of the reasons a woman was licking his dick right now, and forgave the country as a whole. God bless them.
Etzio made his exit. Salvy relaxed, resting his head on his bicep like a pillow, and closed his eyes. The woman took her cue, and with an expert use of hands, tongue, and teeth, brightened his morning.
“Can I use the shower before you go?” she asked, wiping her lower lip as she looked up into his face.
Her bronze skin shone in the streaks of sunlight, her blue eyes hungry and bright as they raked his face. Her lips were plump and as fake as her tits, but Salvy felt himself stir again all the same. His hardness shifted between her boobs and she gave him a sultry smile.
“Maybe you want to come with me,” she purred.
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all morning,” he replied, already forgetting his worry over last night and his father’s reaction. The King would be disappointed, but what else was new?
The woman wriggled off him, her hips swaying suggestively as she strutted toward the luxury bathroom. The shower had six heads and two benches, and Salvy’s mind ran loose with all the ways he could take advantage of the setup. He was going to be in trouble no matter what time he arrived at the airport—it would be a damn shame to waste another twenty minutes with that kind of body.
He would have to hurry, though, because Etzi had proven more than once that he wasn’t afraid to walk back in and interrupt any sort of debauchery in the name of the crown. The man was as loyal as a damn hound.
The woman paused in the doorway to the bathroom, casting a teasing glance over her shoulder. Her blue eyes met his as her long, blond hair skimmed the top of her breast and Salvy hardened further.
“You coming?”
“No. I’m just breathing hard.”
She laughed, a slightly annoying sound that probably went with her personality, though Salvy couldn’t remember enough to say for sure. “I tell you what, Prince Salvadore. If you can tell me my name, I’ll let you put it in my ass.”
It was only then that Salvy, for the first time in his life, regretted an overindulgence.
He didn’t think on it for long, though. Instead, he took three steps and grabbed her against him, taking his time exploring her tongue with his as he backed her against the wall. Once she was breathless and, according to his fingers, soaking wet, he smiled down into her face. “You’ll let me put it wherever I want, and you’ll like it. You can tell all your friends you got fucked six different ways by a real, live prince.”
She trembled in his arms, her eyes hungry. Insatiable.
More of last night came back to him and Salvy thought he’d already fucked her six different ways. Maybe he should have threatened seven.
“Go turn on the shower,” he told her.
The woman complied, bending over and giving him a wiggle that was probably meant to tease him. Salvy grabbed her hip with one hand and reached around her with the other, letting the pounding water and his expert fingers work her into a frenzy.
“Please,” she moaned, pressing her ass into his crotch.
“Please, what?” he whispered into her ear, his tongue snaking out to catch her lobe.
“Please fuck me,” she replied, sounding almost angry with desire.
He grinned and dropped both hands to her hips, turned on by the pebbled gooseflesh on her smooth skin. “Fuck you how?”
“However you want.”
He was feeling pretty damn good after the romp in the shower, and one more in the bed before he’d left the woman—Cassie, he was almost positive—tangled up in the sheets and fast asleep. Salvy had ordered her a bottle of champagne and a breakfast of berries and cereal before closing the door quietly behind him, then paid for an extra night so the hotel staff wouldn’t hurry her out at the insultingly early checkout time.
He was most jealous of the woman’s midmorning nap, as his pounding headache had returned with the camera flashes at the hotel’s back door, and only increased on the way to the airport. Etzio seemed to understand. Or, he at least sensed that talking about last night’s incident would have no effect on his charge, and they rode to the small, private airstrip in silence.
Once they’d boarded, Salvy ordered Etzi and the rest of his security detail to give him the main cabin so that he could nurse his hangover in peace. Only then did he pull out his tablet and headphones. The plane’s wifi was excellent, which meant he had no trouble catching up on his own latest antics.
He cringed as he watched himself wade into the fountains while the security guards from the Bellagio swarmed the edges, mouths raised to their walkie-talkies. The white dress shirt went see-through immediately, outlining his abs as he peeled off every item of clothing like he was auditioning for the Chippendales and swarms of people—mostly ladies—hooted and whistled from dry land.
Salvy closed the browser as the security guards converged, wondering how Etzio had managed to get him back to the hotel instead of a jail cell. Public indecency was still a thing. Even if people appreciated it.
At least he’d looked good. The water must have been an agreeable temperature.
He set down the tablet, closing his eyes as he settled in for the long trip, but no matter his headache and fatigue, sleep wouldn’t come. This was bad, even by his standards, and his father wasn’t going to let it slide. The fact that he had two sons when he’d only needed one was lost on the old man, who believed for some reason that Salvy should take on as much of a leadership role in Cielo as his older brother.
It made no sense—Nico was the one who would get all of the glory, so Salvy had never been able to figure out why on earth he should give a shit about the crown or how his behavior affected people’s perception of it.
His mind wandered back over his childhood, to the years after his mother had died. There had been only one person back then who believed he was better than a “spare” prince, and he’d basically spit in her beautiful face.
Salvy grunted and poured himself another drink. He didn’t know what had made him think of Magdalena Rossi after all of this time.
His thoughts turned to the King, and how he would react to last night’s events. Salvy’s gut said that putting on a nude exhibition in Las Vegas while he was representing the interests of Cielo at a huge international summit would go badly for him at home. He had no way of knowing what would happen if he had finally pushed the King too far, but Salvy had a bad feeling he was about to find out.
Chapter Two
Magdalena
“I cannot believe Prince Salvadore gave the whole world a shot of his naked wanker,” Camilla snorted, pieces of pistachio shell fluttering from her fingertips.
The bar was loud, but it seemed to Magdalena Rossi that everyone was talking about the same thing, anyway. It wasn’t every day the world got a peek at a princely pecker, she supposed, although she didn’t think it could look that much different from all the others.
“Well, Salvy is a wanker, so it’s not as if we haven’t seen it before,” she said, trying not to make a face at the thought. Trying not to remember what he’d been like when they were young, before he’d started to believe he had no purpose in the world.
“Come on, Maggie,” her friend Donni said, wiping her chin after a swig of beer. “Just because you’ve seen it already, don’t begrudge the rest of us a peek.”
“Ew, come on. I haven’t seen it since we were kids. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s grown.” Her face flushed at the thought and she wanted to get up and leave.
She’d been raised around the palace and had run loose with both princes, but not as an equal. As soon as they were old enough to understand the differences between the sons of a king and the daughter of a tailor, their young friendships had diverged.
“Oh, it definitely has,” Camilla leered, and the rest of her friends cracked up.
“Well, congratulations. Only you and hundreds of women across the world have seen the thing,” Magdalena said, standing up. “I’m going to get another drink. Anyone else need one?”
They both nodded and Maggie headed to the bar, breathing a sigh of relief. She didn’t want to talk about Salvadore Piacere. Her friends might have nothing better to do than gossip about the most eligible—and careless—prince in the world, but Magdalena had no interest. She tried not to think of him at all, but the man he’d become made that awfully difficult.
“Hey, gorgeous.” A tall man leaned on the bar beside her, the lights glinting off his sandy blond hair. His teeth looked almost fluorescent and she wondered how much he paid to make that happen.
“I’ll have three more,” she told the bartender, nodding to the empty bottle in front of her.
“What, you’re just going to ignore me?”
Maggie cast a quick glance his way and found irritation swirling in his dark eyes. A shiver ran down her spine, and a voice every woman knows whispered be careful in the back of her mind.
She shifted, and smiled. “I’m not interested in chatting, that’s all. Long day at work.”
He nodded, making an attempt to look as though he gave a shit about anything but what was under her clothes. “Let me buy you a drink.”