I couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie. The cage comment. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his. The way they’d change color when he teased. When he smiled. When the blue flared to a shade darker, hungrier, as his gaze met mine and held it.
When was the last time someone had looked at me like that? Actually looked, with genuine interest? With genuine hunger to know more about me? He hadn’t tried to hide that hunger, or the flicker of appreciation I’d seen in his gaze, too, when it’d moved over my body. In fact, he’d almost flaunted that hungry appreciation. Like he wanted me to see the dirty shit that was going through his mind.
Shit that didn’t have a damn thing to do with my designation as a Royal Highness.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face—the smirk, but also the seriousness of his gaze when he’d said I don’t fuck around.
It made me want to fuck him. Quite badly.
I’d Googled Charlie in bed last night. Surprisingly, I hadn’t found much, save for his company’s website, which was currently under construction. Bloke kept a low profile. No Twitter handle, no Instagram account.
He didn’t say much publicly. And that, to me, spoke volumes.
“Who is he?” Jack drawled from his perch in an armchair, not looking up from his dog-eared copy of Pablo Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and A Song of Despair. Earlier, he’d padded up from his apartment downstairs to mine, just like he’d done every morning since Rob had moved out to live with his wife Aly. I loved having him over. It was nice having breakfast together, the two of us catching up over Jack’s cheesy scrambled eggs and my weapons-grade espresso.
“Who is who?”
“The bloke you want to shag.”
I blinked, slowing my steps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jack’s eyes flicked to meet mine. “Liar. You’re wearing a hole in the rug, pacing like that. Which means you’re hot and bothered. He’s proper fit, isn’t he?”
I blinked again. We were in my living room, the doors flung open to the gorgeous morning outside. I hadn’t realized I’d been pacing until—well, right now, when I found myself in the middle of the room, my hands shaking, the armpits of my rumpled pajama top clammy.
I had my mobile in my hand. Cash Only was in there somewhere. It made the phone feel like a weapon. Locked and loaded, waiting for me to pull the trigger. Dangerous if used incorrectly.
“Ridiculously fit,” I said, crossing my arms. “But I can’t decide if I want to call him or not.”
Jack folded the corner of his page and closed the book. “Last I checked, you were only looking for ‘fun’,”—air quotes—“So if you think he’d be decent in the sack, I say go for it.”
I chewed on my lip. I was just looking for fun—that’d been my MO since my divorce. Just casual dates. Casual sex if the dates went well.
“He’d be great in bed,” I replied. “At least I think he would be. He’s one of those guys you can just tell, you know? He’s confident. He’s gorgeous. And he’s got this mouth—these lips that are delicious.”
Jack wagged his brows. “Lips that would know exactly what to do and where to do it.”
“Yes,” I said, my eyes nearly rolling to the back of my head as I imagined Charlie’s lips on my mouth, my neck, between my legs. I shivered.
“So call him. Invite him over. You need to work off some of this caffeine anyway or you’re going to have a stroke.”
“True,” I said. “I have too much going on at The Foundation right now to die, so…”
A couple years ago, I’d become a patron of The Prince’s Foundation. My parents had started it when I was little to help serve causes and charities close to their hearts. My passions were female empowerment and education, so most of my work at The Foundation centered around raising money for grants that went toward female-led or educational startups. I did the work because I wanted to see people for who they were, for their passions and their character and their potential, not what. I wanted people to see me the same way.
I loved what I did and took a lot of pride in it, even though my ex Michael had thought the work beneath me. Without it, I would’ve totally gone off the deep end after my divorce. It had been a literal lifeline for me for years now.
I looked down at my mobile. Looked back up at Jack.
“You’re hesitating,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”
“Honestly?” I ran my sticky palm down my leg. “I don’t know. This guy, he’s…different, somehow. I can’t put my finger on it. I think I’m just really attracted to him. More than I’ve been attracted to anyone else lately, at least.”
Jack nodded. “I get it. You’ve got a brilliant little thing going on for yourself right now. You get to have your fun and your independence, too. And you don’t want to rock the boat by getting involved with a guy you might like a little too much.”
I drew a short breath. “Exactly.”
“But.” He pointed to me. “You won’t know if you like him too much unless you go out with him first. I think it’s worth the risk. Especially if his lips are as delicious as you say they are.”
I uncrossed my arms. Thought about it for half a second.
“Jack, his lips are downright suckable.”
“Then fuck it. I’m calling him for you.” Jack stood and grabbed the mobile from my hand. “What’s his name?”
I rolled my lips between my teeth, looking away. “He’s under Cash Only.”
“Cash Only? What the—”
“Inside joke.”
“You’ve got inside jokes with this bloke already?”
“Just ring him up, would you?”
Jack scrolled through my contacts. Pressed his thumb to the screen and held out the mobile to me.
“Good luck.”
I took the mobile and pressed it to my ear. Three rapid-fire heartbeats for every one ring. My hand tingled at the memory of holding Charlie’s flask. The scuffed up metal had been warm from being in his pocket. And then the brush of his blunt-tipped fingers against mine—
“Hello?”
Those phantom fingertips walked up my spine at the sound of his voice. Charlie’s voice—that particularly American combination of bright and growly, all at once.
“Hello, Charlie?” I asked, flattening my hand on my chest. “This is Jane. Jane Thorne.”
“Jane,” he replied, his tone just the tiniest bit teasing. “I have to admit I’m surprised to hear from you. I thought you were only using me for my whiskey.”
I bit my lip, not wanting to smile this early in our conversation.
“My curiosity got the better of me.” I toed at the rug. “Those cash-only places you were talking about—do they serve whiskey, too?”
Charlie laughed. A laugh that was somehow both cute and deep. Flirty. “They do. I’ll make sure they have Jameson on hand, just for you. That is, if you’d still like me to take you.”
“Do you?” I said, my voice deepening. My nipples prickling to life. “Want to take me?”
I looked up to see Jack bracketing his mouth with his first two fingers. He stuck out his tongue and wagged it.
I gave him a thumbs up.
“I do,” Charlie replied easily. “Very much so. I’m a man of my word, Jane. I meant it when I said I’d show you a good time.”
Jane. Why did my name sound so different when he said it? And it wasn’t just the American accent, either.
I was biting my lip again. Damn it, I was turning into Anastasia Steele. This wasn’t like me.
I needed to shag this guy ASAP. Get him out of my system.
“I’d like that. When are you free?”
“I’m going to risk looking overeager and ask if you’re available tonight.”
My heart did a pirouette inside my chest. “Tonight? As in twelve hours from now?”
Jack was nodding his head slowly. Oh yeah, he mouthed, humping the air.
“I told you I don’t fuck around, Jane,” Charlie said.
The not fucking around
stuff—it made me think about fucking stuff. Like how big his cock was and what his skin would taste like.
I felt a hard, hot pinch between my legs.
“I could make tonight work,” I said.
“Awesome,” he said. “Seven o’clock sound good?”
“Seven is great.”
“Am I allowed to pick you up? Or is James Bond going to shoot me if I get too close to the palace?”
It was my turn to laugh. “Lucky for you, James is on holiday this weekend.”
“The Caribbean? So he can show off those ridiculous speedo things he wears?”
“Exactly.” I turned to look out into the garden. “Admit it—you’d wear them, too, if you were 007.”
“Damn right I would. What do you need from me? I assume your security detail probably wants to know who I am.”
“I’ll just give them your name. And the name of the place we’re going—I’m afraid we aren’t allowed many surprises.”
Charlie sighed in mock disappointment. “Welp, the thought was there. You know my name. And we’ll be going to The Fox and Hen.”
“A pub?” I pursed my lips. “Not that I mind it, I just…”
“Thought I’d take you someplace a little more interesting? Don’t worry, princess. We’re going to The Fox and Hen, but not to the pub.”
I blinked. “That makes absolutely no sense. The Fox and Hen is a pub, isn’t it?”
“Yes and no. So I’ll see you at seven?”
“It’s not a strip club, is it?”
Charlie laughed. “No, it’s not a strip club.”
“Okay. Then yes. I’ll see you then. I’ll text you the directions to the back gate once my security team clears you.”
“Great,” he said.
“Great.”
“Seven o’clock,” he said. “I’ll be outside waiting on my magic carpet.”
I wished this bloke would stop making me smile so much already. “I won’t be wearing my turquoise blue MC hammer pants and matching bustier. But I will have my tiger on hand, just in case you try anything funny.”
“No funny business allowed. Noted. Anything else I should know?”
My smile was so big it was almost painful.
“I think we’re all set. See you soon.”
“See you soon, Jane. I’m looking forward to it.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. My face felt warm. As warm as the mobile in my hand.
I turned to see Jack looking at me pointedly from his chair.
“I have so many questions,” he said. “Starting with speedos and strip clubs.”
I waved him away, tucking my leg underneath me before falling onto the sofa. “Charlie’s just funny. Maybe it’s the American in him.”
Jack’s face froze. “He’s American?”
“He is. Why?”
“He’s not that guy from the Ascot yesterday—the one who followed you out onto the terrace?”
I furrowed my brow. “That’s him. Why? You didn’t talk to him, did you?”
“I didn’t.” Jack sat up. “But I watched him with you when you were introduced.”
My pulse skipped a beat. “And?”
“And he just seemed…off.” Jack’s eyes narrowed when they met mine. “Something about him seemed off to me, Jane.”
“What do you mean, ‘off’?”
“It’s hard to explain. I have a sixth sense about these things. And I thought it was sort of weird that he followed you like that.”
“I think you’re weird.” I tilted my head. “Why didn’t you stop him if you thought it was strange?”
“Because he had the Queen’s blessing to look after you.” When I speared him with a look, Jack shrugged. “What? You know I like to eavesdrop.”
“Almost as much as you like to make snap judgments.”
“True,” he said. “But still, Jane—be careful with him, okay?”
“Of course I’m going to be careful.” I stretched out on the sofa. “I hardly know the guy. I’ll also have my three man security detail in tow, so…there’s always that.”
Jack opened his book. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re protected. Both outside and inside the bedroom.”
“Don’t be jealous,” I said, grinning.
I grinned the rest of the day. Maybe it was all in my head, but there was this sense of anticipation in the air. Like the next twenty-four hours were bursting with possibility.
The possibility of good conversation and better sex.
Chapter Six
Charlie
A security team at the Primrose Palace gate searched us—and our car—with swift, unfriendly efficiency. I memorized their faces. Where they stood. Their weapons.
If this con was going to buy our freedom, I wanted to make sure we nailed every detail. There was no room for mistakes.
Once we were cleared, the gates opened. Owen guided our rented Range Rover up a winding brick drive. It led out onto the walled complex of the palace.
My head was on a swivel. I took note of the exits. Of cameras. Of distances between the gate and each building and door we passed. In my mind, I counted approximate paces—how long it would take us on foot to get from one spot to another.
The palace itself was enormous, four stories tall in some places with a pitched slate roofline. Very tidy. Very British, with ivy crawling up the walls and gas lamps flickering beside doors painted glossy black. The complex seemed to go on forever. A neatly arranged army of red brick columns and windows, some of which were opened to the pleasant summer evening. The gardens surrounding it were lush. So green and sweet smelling I felt like we’d left the grit and hustle of London for the country. For a different planet, even. It was quiet in here. The kind of quiet, the kind of pretty, that made your chest hurt.
Or maybe it was anxiety that made my heart contract. All of this—the palace and the flowers and the security team—it was a reminder that this con was the biggest we’d ever attempted.
The most dangerous, too. Especially considering I still hadn’t gotten a handle on who Jane was, exactly, and what she wanted.
Maybe that was part of the thrill. The not knowing. The challenge.
The hope that this really would be my last con.
“Ho-ly shit,” Owen breathed, ducking to get a better look.
“Watch it,” I said when he nearly plowed into a well-trimmed hedgerow. “As a chauffeur, don’t you think you would’ve seen places like this already? Stop being so impressed.”
Owen tugged at his chauffeur’s cap, setting it at a jaunty angle. His long dark hair, usually greasy and unkempt, was tucked into the hat. “As a billionaire, don’t you think you would’ve hired a better chauffeur?”
“Fair point.” I lifted my hips to slide my phone out of my pocket. “She said to take the first left, then a quick right. Hers is apartment 2A.”
Owen slowed down, taking the turn with care. “What’s she like?”
“Jane? She’s…interesting.” I blew out my cheeks.
“That why you’re wearing the blue blazer?”
I met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “What does that mean?”
His eyes danced. “C’mon, Charlie, we’ve been doing this for a long time. I know when you’re bringing out the big guns. But the blue blazer…you’ve never worn that for a job before. Only for real dates.”
I ran a hand down my face.
“You’re not gonna—”
“No.” I scratched my scruff just under my chin. “Of course not. I never do. You know that.”
Owen looked at me again in the mirror. “Famous last words.”
“Jesus, Owen, watch where you’re going!” I said, grabbing the headrest in front of me as he swerved, narrowly avoiding a humungous planter.
“Goddamn!” he said, banging the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. “Who would’ve thought Charlie Zeller from bumfuck South Carolina would be boning a princess? Globalism, man. It’s a real thing.”
“So is our freedom if we
do this job right.” I looked at him in the mirror again. “And I’m not boning her.”
“Whatever you say.”
I let out a sigh. “Don’t forget she’s a princess. Best behavior, got it?”
“Got it, sir,” Owen said, trying on his British accent. His was still better than mine. Damn him. “I think we’re here.”
He put the car in park. My stomach dipped. More nerves. More curiosity.
What else would she surprise me with tonight?
Would she be wearing that cherry chapstick?
Yesterday I’d put a call in to my friend Monica, who owned the place we were going tonight. Monica wasn’t technically a member of Jimmy’s crew, but she had helped us out on several occasions. I’d explained everything to her—the con, the date I had with Jane—and she’d been more than happy to play her part. I just hoped Jane liked the spot.
I had my fingers on the door handle when Jane’s front door opened. She stepped outside, wearing a smile and black jeans. Jeans that were molded to her legs like a second skin. That let me see just how pert and perfect her ass was.
My fingers tightened on the handle.
Her hair was loose today, blonde and brown waves that caught the sun.
She gave us a little wave, then turned back to her door to lock it. In that moment, she didn’t look like a princess. She looked like a girl going out on a Saturday night. Casual but dressed up. A little guarded. A little excited.
Cute.
Again, not what I was fucking expecting. The first time I’d picked Veronica up for a date, she’d been so high she’d literally climbed me like a tree in her skin tight leopard-print dress.
My heart thumped once. Twice.
“Ho-ly shit,” Owen said again. “Charlie, she’s—”
“I know.” I hadn’t realized I’d gritted my teeth. “Jesus Christ, I know.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he wheezed. “You could’ve warned me. I’ve seen the pictures, but in person—”
Jane was heading for the car. Taking a quick breath through my nose, I opened my door and climbed out, pasting a smile onto my face.
“Where’s the tiger?” I asked, buttoning the top button of my blazer.
Royal Rogue: A Sexy Royal Romance (Flings With Kings Book 3) Page 4
