Playboy Prince: A Royal Romance (The Brothers of Ocauria Book 1)

by Margot Winter

  I sighed and let her get back to work. Anna was a sales associate at a high-end boutique on the Upper East Side. Born and raised in Manhattan, Anna came from a moneyed family, but she still had a tough side. Cool, confident, and well-versed in men, she was the first person I always went to when I needed dating advice.

  After ushering a middle-aged woman into a fitting room, Anna returned to my side. I was idly sifting through a rack of dresses.

  “No looking at the clothes until you find a job,” she said firmly.

  “Jesus Christ, did you have to remind me that I’m unemployed?” I muttered.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. If you want, I can try to put in a good word for you here.”

  I smiled half-heartedly. “Don’t worry about it. I have a few leads…I think I’ll find something soon. Probably at a museum.” The truth was, the museums weren’t hiring. Or at least from my point of view, all the museums had stopped hiring the moment I desperately needed employment.

  “I can put in a good word for you here,” my friend said hopefully.

  “I’d appreciate that. I started applying at fast food restaurants, just in case. But even they aren’t calling me back.”

  “Don’t lower your expectations, Gwen. Focus on finding a good job, and forget about men for now,” Anna said. “Especially guys like that loser, Carter. As I was about to say before…men are Neanderthals, and they can’t pick up on nuance. In their minds, there are only two types of women in this world: sluts and relationship girls. And you, my dear, fit in the second category. You thrive in serious relationships.”

  “Anna,” I murmured, lowering my voice. “No one has ever fucked me like that. I didn’t know sex could feel that good. It made me question all of my past relationships. Isn’t it only natural for me to want to see him again?!”

  She burst out laughing. “Sure, your body wants him. But your brain knows better. He got what he wanted…you got what you wanted. As far as he’s concerned, you’re a slut. And guys don’t get into long-term relationships with ‘sluts.’” She punctuated the word with air quotes. “You and I both know that that’s not who you are, but Carter has no fucking clue. Long story short, he’s never gonna call. It’s time to move on.”

  I sucked in my breath, resisting the urge to argue with her. I would have loved to tell her that there were plenty of men who could see there was a gray area in the vast chasm between virgin and whore, and that I could put myself in that nebulous category if I wanted to.

  Fuck. Or maybe Anna was right. Carter and I had shared a night of passion, and that was it. My only options were to ignore men completely until the rest of my life was in order, or seek out another hot guy to make me forget all about the one who made me cum so hard last night.

  “I’m gonna go,” I said to Anna. “Thanks for the words of wisdom.”

  “Any time, Gwen,” she replied, squeezing my hand tightly. “Now go bask in the afterglow of that amazing sex for a few more hours before getting back to real life!”

  “Wait…are you sure Ocauria isn’t a real country?” I asked.

  She gave me a condescending look. “Um, I’m not even going to bother looking that up. If that’s where the guy said he’s from, then he’s got some imagination. That’s even better than the guy I slept with once who said he had to get back to a military base in Antarctica.” Anna gave me a quick hug. “So, like I told you, add the guy to your spank bank and move onto the next one!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her advice. That’s what I should have been doing all along: basking in the memories of my passionate night with Carter, savoring the fun we’d had and filing it away as fantasy fodder. There would be other men — that was practically guaranteed. But would another man give me the same kind of rush as Carter? Right now, I highly doubted it.

  4

  Carter

  As I boarded the plane, I started to feel uneasy. Something was wrong. Something was missing. But what? Over the last couple weeks, I had completely cleared out my luxurious apartment, selling my furniture and ensuring that the place was ready for the next occupant. I had sent most of my clothes and other belongings back to my home country and parted ways with the stuff that I would never need again. I couldn’t figure out what I had forgotten to do…but I knew that there was something missing.

  The odd sensation didn’t pass by the time we lifted off. Not even a complimentary glass of white wine could kill the feeling.

  “Are you all right, sir?” the flight attendant asked as she handed me cutlery. “And would you like steak, fish, or the vegetarian option?”

  “Steak,” I responded, ignoring her first question. “And another glass of wine, please.”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  Although I was anxious about returning home, there was some other fear lurking below the surface, something I couldn’t quite place.

  About a month ago, I received a strange and urgent message from my father, a man who was usually far too busy to get in touch with his eldest son. Carter Alliston I, the King of Ocauria, had relayed the message through one of his preferred advisors, who wrote me a letter. It seemed that these days, few people could be trusted to handle the royal family’s business.

  When I received the letter, I was taken aback. My presence at the royal court was requested because, as the eldest prince, I was heir to the throne. Apparently, my father was ill, and in case he passed away, I would have to be a resident of Ocauria in order to be crowned the new king. Otherwise, my father’s younger brother, Jasper, would take my place. He was next in line to the throne, and a less desirable option for many different reasons.

  Due to the royal family’s desire for privacy, this was the only information I had received about the situation. I had no idea if my father was on his deathbed or if the whole situation was a setup designed to trick me into leaving New York. Either way, I had no choice but to return home. Insubordination could mean getting cut off financially and losing my future inheritance.

  The thought of money made me reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet. It was then that I figured out what was missing: my royal Ocaurian identification card. This was the card that validated my identity back home, and it was also the only way I could gain access to the royal palace. Although I suspected that the palace guards would recognize me, I knew that they followed strict orders from my father to deny entry to any visitor without a valid royal ID.

  And even if the guards did let me in, I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it from my dad. The family already looked down on me for choosing to live in the United States, and they would certainly find my lifestyle shameful and unbefitting for a future king — if they knew about my hard partying ways, that is.

  Plus, if I couldn’t provide the necessary documentation, I may not be able to prove that I was the rightful heir to the throne. Uncle Jasper would succeed my father, and I would be remembered as a failure, the idiotic son who singlehandedly destroyed the line of succession by losing his royal ID card at some random midtown Manhattan bar.

  I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and began thinking about that alcohol-soaked night. I remembered seeing the card in my wallet at the first bar, and also when I paid my tab and said goodbye to my friends. And then I remembered seeing it at the second bar…

  “Dinner is served!”

  The flight attendant’s chipper voice startled me. I opened my eyes and mumbled my thanks as she placed a tray of food in front of me.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked uncertainly.

  “Positive,” I said.

  She seemed to have some sense that I was an important person, and she probably wondering if I was some actor she should recognize. That was how a lot of people responded to me. No one could figure out where all my money came from, and when they asked, I didn’t like to admit that a good chunk of it had come from my extremely wealthy father. Of course, I did do some consulting work, and I liked to think that I wasn’t some spoiled brat living off his family’s money (although that extra mone
y certainly helped me afford a lavish lifestyle).

  Once again, I took a swig of wine and shut my eyes, determined to figure out where my card had ended up.

  Then it hit me. I nearly choked on my drink.

  The card must have fallen out of my wallet when I got undressed at Gwen’s place. I vaguely recalled reaching under her bed to retrieve the wallet. The card must still be there.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit,” I muttered.

  I wasn’t supposed to talk to her again — that’s how I usually operated when it came to random hookups. But this time, it was necessary.

  I turned on my phone and started composing an email. I had no idea what the quickest method for sending the card would be. If I was counting on her to mail it to me, it could get lost or stolen en route to the royal palace. After some deliberation, I decided that buying her a last-minute plane ticket to Ocauria would ensure that I received the card quickly and safely.

  As I wrote the email, I realized how ridiculous this whole thing would sound to her. She would think I was out of my mind (which I was, at least for the moment). But I was desperate. And if, for some reason, Gwen didn’t accept the plane tickets, then I would only be out a couple thousand dollars.

  I sent the message and shoved my phone back in my pocket. Man, if she thought I was a liar before, then she’d definitely think I was a lunatic now. All I could do was wait and see if the chick would respond…

  I leaned back in my seat and anxiously awaited her response.

  5

  Gwen

  Hello Gwen,

  I know you probably didn’t expect to hear from me so soon, but I’m in a bind. I think I left my ID card somewhere in your apartment. Could you look for it? This is an EXTREMELY urgent matter.

  Ok, bear with me here…if you find it, then I would like to fly you out to Ocauria ASAP. Think of it as a free vacation on me. ;) Mailing the card could take several days, and I can’t risk losing it in transit. I’ll tell you more later. Please let me know either way.

  Carter

  My gut told me to send Carter’s bullshit email straight to the trash bin. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. But my brain, ever-logical, wondered if he really had left something behind at my apartment. And Anna had told me to listen to my brain…hadn’t she?

  I instinctively headed back to the bedroom, tearing the sheets off my bed and lifting up the mattress. I checked under my pillows and blankets. Nothing.

  Then I got down on my hands and knees and checked beneath the bed. I pushed aside my cobweb-lined boxes of winter clothes and smelly old shoes and. Then I caught a glimmer of daylight reflecting off a piece of hard plastic.

  “A-ha!” I exclaimed, pulling the card out from under the bed.

  I’d never seen an ID like this before. Its gilt edges were a beautiful detail, and the lettering on the card was embossed, not just printed. The top of the card read “Royal Identification.” There was a photo of Carter looking devilishly handsome, but in it, he was at least a few years younger than the man I’d met a couple nights ago.

  I read the words next to his face breathlessly: “Carter Alliston II, Prince of Ocauria.”

  Wait. Prince?!

  So that meant he was telling the truth about his home country. But he also happened to withhold one teensy, minor detail about himself: he was a fucking prince.

  My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone. I didn’t know whether I should respond to Carter’s email or call Anna. I decided that my friend might have a better sense of what was to come than I did. She used to date a Broadway understudy…close enough, right?

  Fortunately, she picked up immediately. “Gwen? You all right?”

  “I — I’m fine,” I stammered. “Let me read you this email Carter sent me.”

  “Carter? He actually emailed you?” She gasped audibly. “Oh my God, this is exciting!

  I squealed with joy along with her. “Yes, it’s exciting, but…I don’t know what to do. He left his ID card at my place, and now he wants to fly me out to Ocauria so I can give it back to him.”

  “Whoa, whoa…slow down,” she said. “Something sounds fishy. Fly you out to some weird country no one’s ever heard of? Is this one of those Nigerian prince scams?”

  Shit. What if he was scamming me, somehow?

  “Don’t scare me like that,” I sighed. “According to the ID he left under my bed, he’s a prince in Ocauria.”

  “Did you look for him online?” Anna asked wearily.

  I felt like an idiot. Why hadn’t I thought of that sooner?

  As if she could read my mind, she muttered, “Oh, let me do it. Hold on a sec.”

  I waited anxiously for her to do a little research. She got back on the line quickly. “All right, so there is a Prince Carter Alliston II. He’s thirty-one years old…resides in New York City…and that’s all the information I can find.” She giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” I snapped.

  “According to this article, he has three younger brothers. Mind hooking me up with one of them?”

  I rolled my eyes and grinned. “I’ll do what I can, Anna. So what do you think?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “As long as he doesn’t try to get your credit card number or bank account info, I think you should throw caution to the wind and see what happens. And you’ll get a nice little vacation out of it. It’s not like you’re going to miss work.”

  For the first time, my lack of employment was a godsend.

  “Are you sure I’m not gonna get murdered?” I asked uncertainly.

  “I hope not. Because then I’d have to go out there and get revenge. Just be careful…and by that I mean, be your normal self. You’re a rational person, when you’re not meeting strange princes in bars.”

  I laughed. “I love you, Anna!”

  “Love you, too. Be safe. Call me if you need anything.”

  There wasn’t any time to waste. I promptly wrote back to Carter, telling him that I’d found his ID card and would be more than happy to deliver it in person. Although doing so made me a little nervous, I gave him my full name as it was printed on my passport: Gwendolyn Elisabeth Beckett.

  Once again, I picked up his royal ID card, examining it carefully from every angle. The thing definitely seemed legit.

  A few minutes later, I received an email with a flight itinerary. My jaw dropped at the departure time. I only had a couple hours to pack. Carter wasn’t exaggerating when he said that this was an urgent matter.

  I grabbed my old suitcase out of the closet and began shoving my nicest clothes inside. What was I supposed to wear in the company of a prince? And how long was I going to be there?

  I double-checked the itinerary and noticed that Carter had purchased a one-way ticket. Uh-oh. Did that mean he was planning for me to pay my own way back? There was no way I could afford that!

  As if on cue, I instantly received a new message from him:

  I’ll pay for your return flight once you arrive. You can decide how long you want to stay. Although I have some important business to take care of and may not be able to stay with you for your entire visit, Ocauria is a beautiful place and I will accommodate your stay in any way I can.

  I truly look forward to your arrival. Thanks again.

  My lower lip trembled as I read and reread his words. My mind drifted back to our passionate night together. Maybe I was blinded by his good looks or the fact that he was royalty, but as I went through the online check-in for my upcoming flight, I was far more excited than afraid to see him again.

  I didn’t know what would happen once I landed in Ocauria, but I couldn’t wait to find out.

  6

  Carter

  The worst part about having a dad who happened to be a king was that I could never reach him on the phone. Instead of trying to explain my situation to a low-level administrative assistant, I decided that my best bet was to get in touch with my younger brother Blake. He was the second-oldest of the four Alliston brothers, and the one I was clos
est to.

  “Carter! Are you back home?”

  “Almost. I’m at the airport. Is Dad okay?”

  “Uh, yeah, I think he’s fine. Why?”

  While I was somewhat relieved that my father wasn’t on his deathbed, I was also peeved that he wasn’t quite as sick as he’d claimed in the letter.

  “Listen, Blake, I need you to do me a favor. Where are you?”

  “At the palace. I’m supposed to host a formal lunch for a few foreign ambassadors. Lame, I know.” He sounded so jaded. Part of me wished that I’d managed to convince Blake to come with me to New York, if only so that he could experience life as a normal human being. Instead, he’d chosen to stick around with the other royals and spend his twenties living in a gilded cage.

  “Tell Dad that I’m going to be delayed.”

  “Why?” Blake asked. “You’re already at the airport.”

  I sighed, exasperated. “I’ll tell you why, but you have to promise that you won’t share this info with anyone. Got it?”

  “Oh, I won’t tell anybody. What’s up?”

  “I left my ID card in some random chick’s apartment and she’s flying out to bring it to me. It was the quickest way to get it back from New York.”

  He snickered. “Wow, you would do that, wouldn’t you? Nice one, Carter. So, are you planning to bring her over to meet Dad?”

  “Of course not!” I cried. “I honestly didn’t think I’d be seeing her again. At least not so soon. But since she jumped on a plane for my sake, I’m going to treat her to a night out in Medralla.”

  “Ah, gotcha,” Blake said. I could almost hear him winking through the phone. “Well, have fun. And try to avoid the paps.”

  “Right. See you soon, bro.”