The Dirty Series: The Complete Bad Boy Billionaire Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

  Jessica has put herself in a vulnerable position by coming to Saintland.

  She put herself in a vulnerable position every time we’re together in bed, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

  It turns out she’s a tigress who knows when a little submission will sweeten the deal.

  As I slip out the back entrance of the Northern Crown, I catch a glimpse of Nate at the wheel of an unmarked town car, idling across the alley. He’s wearing dark glasses and clutching a paper cup from a nearby coffee shop.

  I pull open the back door and slide into the back seat.

  “Good morning, Nate,” I say jovially. He looks back at me in the rearview mirror, lifting his glasses and shooting me an irritated glance through narrowed eyes.

  “For once, couldn’t you bring Ms. Reeves back to your rooms at the palace? I wouldn’t have to be up so goddamn early.”

  “Tsk, tsk. Such language. No, not quite yet, but if you’d be so kind as to take me there…”

  Nate lets out a tired laugh and steers the car away from the curb.

  At the palace, Nate lets me out at the private entrance located on the east side of the palace. It’s still so early that the only people around are the cleaning staff, so I’m virtually unnoticed as I head up the stairs to my rooms. Even Phillip doesn’t arrive until around nine, so I have plenty of time to wash off the sweat and sex from last night.

  Not that I really want to, but it’s unseemly for a prince to go around smelling like he just rolled out of bed.

  I stand in the shower for a full thirty minutes, letting the steaming water run down over my body and thinking about Jessica.

  The bond we have, new or not, is reflected by our relationship in the bedroom. That’s not all we are together, or even all we can be together, but I know for certain that she is the only one with whom I want to explore having a future.

  What sealed the deal was hearing her confess that she loved me last night.

  When I think about it now, my heart thunders in my chest and I almost feel light-headed.

  It’s one thing to fuck a woman so well that she never wants another man.

  It’s another to know that her heart is yours and yours alone.

  No one on earth will ever lay hands on her again. Except me.

  Just as I belong to her, she belongs to me.

  The only obstacle left is straightening things out with my father and Marcus. I can’t understand why they’re so adamant about sending her back to the United States. Marcus has had more than a few relationships with women from neighboring countries. It’s not as if there’s a precedent for only dating Saintland women, and I can hardly be blamed for the fact that Marcus is a daddy’s boy who will do anything he can to please my father, up to and including becoming involved with women who can bolster the Caldwell reign.

  Well, Marcus will have to step aside on this one because I’m not backing down.

  I’m also not going to let this situation get the best of me. With things between Jessica and me on such solid ground, I finally feel able to confront them without the fear of my anger bubbling over.

  I step out of the shower feeling fresh and confident. In the walk-in closet, Phillip has already sorted out several outfit choices for the day. I roll my eyes. That man is almost too dedicated to his job. I choose a suit with a royal blue shirt and a neutral-colored tie. I won’t even antagonize my father by choosing a too-bold wardrobe. Not today.

  Next step? Breakfast.

  I order the full complement, and it arrives fifteen minutes later, piping hot on silver trays.

  I linger over the food at the breakfast table, which is conveniently located in a nook with picture windows overlooking the garden.

  Today I’m going to take my time.

  I’ll go down to my father’s council chambers first thing so that we can clear the air and decide jointly on the best way to move forward.

  No more shouting. No more accidental media sensations.

  Then, I’ll go about fulfilling my schedule for the day. When those things are completed, I’ll be able to get back to Jessica and tell her what our immediate future holds. New confidence swells in my chest. Now that my mind is completely clear, I’ll be able to deal with Marcus and my father diplomatically and maturely, in a manner that guarantees my success.

  Breakfast finished, I toss the napkin down onto the tray and stand up, brushing a few stray crumbs from my jacket.

  I’m heading toward the door, shoulders back, chin up and feeling optimistic, when there’s a frantic knocking at the door.

  My hand is almost touching the knob when it bursts open. It’s Phillip, white-faced, and he startles as he about plows into me.

  “Your highness,” he gasps, putting a hand to his chest. “I’m so sorry—.”

  “It’s all right,” I say, waving his apology away. “I’m off for a meeting with my father. When I come back, be ready to go over the day’s—.”

  For the first time I can remember, Phillip interrupts me, his voice shaking.

  “No, your highness. It’s not that. I’ve come—I’ve come to tell you—.”

  I turn to face him, irritation rising in my chest. Could he possibly waste any more of my time? This level of calm and confidence isn’t guaranteed to last forever.

  “Just tell me, Phillip,” I say, trying not to let my aggravation show as he gasps and sputters, his face still ashen. “Spit it out.”

  “There won’t be appearances today,” he stammers, the words hitching in his throat. “Your highness, it’s your brother Marcus… He’s dead.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jessica

  Waking up in someone’s arms and knowing that he’s the man for you is the most satisfying feeling on earth…well, second only to the satisfying feeling from the wild things Alec and I spent all last night doing.

  After we collapsed in exhaustion from our fucking delirious foray into ecstasy, I fell asleep in his arms, but not before we had talked for what seemed like hours. We talked about everything, all those little things that make up a person. Now I know his favorite candy is Daim, that he likes his movie popcorn buttered with extra salt, and once when he went fishing with his father and brother as a young child, he got his fishing hook caught in his brother’s ear. He laughed when he told me the story of the trip, but then his eyes saddened and he sighed.

  “Those were the days when my brother and I used to get along with one another,” he reflected. “Marcus has been a complete ass since my father was crowned king.”

  “Has he been king for a long time?”

  “Eleven years now.”

  I rolled over, pressing my back up against his front. “How does a person get to be king here in Saintland?”

  He let out a short laugh. “By being as closely blood-related as possible to the current king.”

  “Not the queen?

  “Not if she’s gone by the time he takes the throne, no.”

  I remembered suddenly that his mother died when he was ten, and I felt like a fool. Shit. “Oh, Alec…” It’s so damn sad. His voice clearly conveyed how dearly he had loved his mother.

  Alec’s voice was soft. “It’s all right. I miss her, every day, but she suffered pretty terribly in the end. Looking back, as much as I loved her and needed her, I wouldn’t have wanted her suffering to go on any longer.”

  I changed the topic.

  “Who was king before your father?”

  “My uncle,” Alec answered. “He wasn’t married and didn’t have any children. But don’t worry your pretty head about it, you and I will have a life outside all that. We’ll have appearances to make, of course, but the real governing will eventually be left to Marcus.”

  “Hey,” I said, turning back to face him and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Are you proposing?”

  His teeth flashed, lighting up the dark room, as he smiled. “That would have to be the world’s most underwhelming proposal.”

  “You’re right,” I said, and then a
yawn overtook me. “When we get to that point, you can do it in real style.”

  Alec left our bed early the next morning, the sun just beginning to peek around the edges of the curtains. After sharing a couple affectionate kisses, he closed the door quietly behind him as he left the room. I quickly fell back to sleep, slumbering so deeply it was almost like a second night’s sleep for me.

  When I finally wake up, it takes me a couple minutes to gather my bearings. Stretching out across the bed, I wonder lazily what time it is. My heart pounds a little as memories from last night flood my mind. Alec knows exactly how to push my boundaries and quash any inhibitions I may have while he drives me toward the most incredible orgasms…

  I can’t think about that now, otherwise I’ll spend the rest of the morning—afternoon?—fantasizing in bed.

  In the shower, I replay our last conversation. Proposing. God! Why would I bring that up now? Still, he didn’t shy away from it, which tells me the idea has crossed his mind, too.

  I feel so calm and relaxed as I get dressed. Alec is talking to his father today so he can figure out the next steps we have to take. Today will just be a waiting game for me, and by the time Alec returns tonight, we’ll know what the future holds for us.

  The clock on my phone screen indicates it’s just after ten in the morning, so at least I haven’t slept away the afternoon. It’s a little odd that Claire hasn’t arrived yet, though. She normally appears promptly at my door every morning at 9:30. Maybe she had to do other errands today.

  I pull aside the curtains adorning the window next to my bed. The weather looks so lovely out that I decide to head into the village for breakfast instead of ordering from room service. Claire gave me a stack of Saintlandian money for incidentals, so I grab my purse, first checking to make sure my wallet is inside, and head downstairs. On our shopping expeditions, we’ve passed by a quaint-looking little café several times at the end of the block.

  The sun is warm on my shoulders as I make the short walk to the café. The gentle heat of the sun’s rays reminds me of Alec’s hands caressing my skin, which reminds me of…other things that send a little shiver of pleasure down my spine. I can’t help grinning, even if there’s nobody around to see it. Coming to Saintland was the right choice, I tell myself.

  Within minutes, I arrive at the little restaurant. I push open the door to the café, and consumed by my thoughts, it takes me a few moments to realize that most of the tables are full, somewhat unusual for this time on a weekday morning.

  The café is strangely quiet. No one is engaged in conversation.

  That’s…odd.

  Patrons are staring down at their phones and tablets, noticeably preoccupied. Something is clearly going on. As I approach the serving counter, a woman sitting at one of the small tables bursts into tears. The man who had been sitting with her wraps his arms around her shoulders as he ushers her out the front door. The woman is now shaking as her sobs rise in volume.

  Even the barista standing behind the counter appears solemn.

  “Hello,” I say, my soft voice seeming to echo loudly in the eerie stillness of the café. I pull myself up onto the only remaining open stool next to the counter. “Could I have a bagel, toasted with butter, and a chai tea latte, please?”

  He gives me a long hard look, then nods, not saying anything.

  The sound of the bagel popping up in the café’s toaster seems uncharacteristically loud. I’m not often embarrassed in public situations—living in New York City makes one immune to that early on—but as the screech of the milk steamer fills the shop, heat rises to flush my cheeks.

  This whole thing is just too damn weird.

  The barista hands me my cup and a small paper bag containing the bagel, but when I fumble to open my wallet, he holds up his hands.

  “No need,” he says, his voice choked. “No need.”

  “Okay,” I say, my voice almost a whisper, my eyes full of confusion. “Thank you.”

  I return my wallet to my purse, and then pick up my cup and bag and head toward the door.

  Back out in the sunshine, I’m filled with a sense of dread. What the hell was all that?

  I need to get back to my room. Alec might know what this is all about. I can send him a message when I get there—why did I forget my phone back in my room?

  Someone is waiting for me when I push open the door to my suite. It’s Claire.

  She is standing in the middle of my living area, and I can see she’s been crying.

  “Ms. Reeves,” says Claire, her face serious and pale. “Jessica.”

  “Claire, what’s going on? I went to the café—.”

  She interrupts me. “Oh, it’s bad. It’s very bad. Jessica…Prince Marcus died this morning. The news has just broken.” Claire shakes her head, puts her hand to her mouth. “He died!”

  Just then, I hear my phone buzzing where I left it on a low table. I rush across the room to the table and snatch it up.

  The message appearing on the screen is from Alec.

  Jessica, very bad news about my brother. I’m sure the people at the hotel already know.

  I’m trying to decide how to reply when another message appears.

  I’ll be back with you as soon as I can. Don’t know when.

  Then a third.

  I love you.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alec

  My brother is dead.

  My brother is dead.

  What the fuck am I going to do?

  What the fuck am I going to do?

  This can’t be happening.

  Phillip stands there dumbly until I push past him, my head spinning, my thoughts wildly floundering around in my head, my pulse throbbing loudly in my ears.

  My pulse.

  I’m still alive and Marcus is not.

  I deny to myself what he told me. Phillip has to be goddamn wrong. Someone must have given him bad information, fucking wrong information.

  I move blindly, numb with disbelief and confusion, through the hallway that leads from my rooms to Marcus’s. Marcus always had the rooms located closest to my father’s royal apartment because he was the crown prince. I envied him for having those rooms, even though they were not larger or decorated any more opulently than mine. We have similar tastes, both favoring a more simple style, so the furniture is modern and wall hangings are kept to a minimum.

  We both favored a more simple style, I think to myself. If the news Phillip shared with me is right, then Marcus doesn’t favor anything anymore.

  There are people milling about in the hallway outside Marcus’s rooms, standing with bowed heads, whispering to each other.

  They must have gotten wrong information as well, or maybe they’ve heard instead that Marcus is sick, he is gravely ill, they have discovered some kind of cancer, perhaps. It’s bad news, yes, but it can’t be the news that Phillip gave me.

  Yes, that must be it. Marcus is sick, or hurt, but not dead.

  Phillip wouldn’t lie to me.

  But I can’t believe him.

  The people in the hallway turn to face me when they hear my footsteps approaching. Their eyes are filled with pity, filled with sorrow. It’s not me they should feel sorry for. They should be feeling sorry for Marcus, who may be facing some kind of terrible disease. I should reassure them. I try to give them a weak smile, but the corners of my mouth feel weighted down. Goddamn it.

  “It’ll be all right,” I say to the eight or so people hovering in the hallway. I’m sure as word gets out…about Marcus’s…illness…that there will be even more people standing vigil. People may even gather outside the palace gates to support Marcus.

  When my mother died, we were not yet living in the palace. When my mother died, people did not come to the palace gates. They came to our front door and brought food, and I watched all the trays piling up on the countertops, watched bouquet after bouquet of flowers being delivered, and wondered why people sent food and flowers when food and flowers would never bring her back
.

  The citizens of Saintland might send food to the king in his time of need, but I doubt it would be allowed to our rooms. Security wouldn’t allow it—the testing alone would take far too much time.

  There will be no need for food or flowers.

  Marcus will get through this.

  We will all get through this.

  We will all put our petty differences aside and get through this.

  I realize I haven’t moved since arriving in front of Marcus’s door. I’m standing in the same place in the hallway, hands hanging limply at my sides, when a woman approaches and puts her hand on my arm. Her face looks vaguely familiar. Perhaps she’s someone from my father’s staff, maybe, or someone who works in the palace? It’s a large household.

  “Your highness,” she says, her voice low and tremulous, “we are all so very, very sorry to hear that—.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I say, patting at her hand awkwardly. “Thank you for saying that. I’ll share your support with my brother. If you’ll excuse me—.” I incline my head toward the closed door leading to his rooms.

  The woman—is it Shondra? Yes, that sounds right—steps back from me. She presses her lips together and looks at me, tears building up in the corners of her eyes. “Of course, your highness. Of course.”

  Pulling the door open takes every ounce of my effort, but I just need to get in his room, get through the door, so I can finally see the truth for myself.

  The scene inside Marcus’s rooms causes my heart to sink right down to my toes.

  In the living area, three doctors are huddled together, heads down, speaking to one another in soft voices. The slump of their shoulders tells me this is either bad news or the worst news imaginable. If there was hope, they would be rushing back and forth with a sense of purpose. Their voices would boldly ring through the rooms.