by Kim Karr
Copyright © 2020 by Kim Karr
All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.
All characters are 18 + years of age and all sexual acts are consensual. Reader discretion advised.
www.authorkimkarr.com
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BOOK CREDITS
Cover designer: By Hang Le
Cover model: John Tagliaferro
Photographer: Wong Sim
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
EPIGRAPH
PLAY LIST
PROLOGUE 1
PROLOGUE 2
1: FIND THE DOOR
2: IT WASN’T A PROMOTION
3: STUCK IN THE MIDDLE
4: EVERYONE WANTS A BREAK
5: I WILL NOT FALL
6: FACE THE MUSIC
7: THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS
8: AT THE PODIUM
9: SOMETHING I CAN’T HAVE
10: THE OTHER HALF OF ME
11: THE LADY ISN’T A TRAMP
12: GLOVES AND GRENADES
13: ROSES ARE NOT RED
14: A FOOL
15: SOME ROADS LEAD NOWHERE
16: NOT FOR SHOW
17: GOTCHA
18: A ROYAL AFTERNOON
19: THAT KISS
20: TWO DAYS
21: LONDON BRIDGES
22: SING IT
23: OVER EASY
24: FIGHT OR FLIGHT
25: ON THE FLOOR
26: THE TIME
27: THE TIME
28: IT’S HOT
29: NO NEWS
30: A DIFFERENT ANSWER
EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE 2
THE WHO’S WHO GUIDE
THE UNKNOWN ROYAL SERIES
PREVIEW: WOULD BE KING
PREVIEW: REWINED
ALSO BY KIM KARR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS
“Chemistry between people is the strangest science of all.”
~Bridgett Devoue
Songs that inspired chapters of this book…
HOW LONG by Charlie Puth
JEALOUS by Nick Jonas
COME TOGETHER by The Beatles
I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU by Three Days Grace
LIPS OF AN ANGEL by Hinder
LET IT GO by James Bay
BLEEDING LOVE by Leona Lewis
WITHOUT ME by Halsey
IN BETWEEN by Linkin Park
US by James Bay
IF I NEVER SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN by Maroon 5
The night had finally arrived.
Nervousness wound its way around my belly like a spool of thread, tighter and tighter with each turn.
Coated with more red hair color than I’d ever used in my life, my wavy locks and overall appearance reminded me of Ariel as I smoothed the slinky, green long dress I purchased from the clearance rack at TJ Maxx down my thighs.
Getting on the show had been easy, being here—not so much. The prepping, the packing, the waiting was harder than I ever would have thought.
At least six hours had passed since I had arrived. With the grooming complete, all I had to do was wait for one of the show’s producers to show up.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
I twisted my nose ring and then stared down at my chucks. The dress was a leap for me. I couldn’t do the heels.
Finally, there came a knock. Adrenaline thundered through my veins as I swung the door open. It was Joe, one of the producers. ”Are you ready, Lia?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “I’m not sure.”
He laughed like I was joking.
I was serious.
While he ushered me out of the hotel lobby and into the waiting black limousine, I considered telling him the truth.
I didn’t.
The night sky sparkled like crushed diamonds over a sea of black, and I stared at each of them, waiting for a sign to end this.
I got none.
Joe helped me into the limo and then got in himself. He was followed by two cameramen and another person, and then, just like that, all of us were off.
One of the cameramen turned toward me. “Tell us a little about yourself.”
This was the part I hated. I had to walk outside the lines of the truth, and I broke out in a cold sweat when I told him I was a college student majoring in journalism.
Question after question, I answered with short, concise answers until Joe flipped on his phone to check his messages and then lifted his head, his bushy eyebrows raising as he spoke. “They’re ready for us. You’re first.”
Unease crawled through me because when I looked back out the window, the limousine was already pulling up the cobblestone driveway of the enormous Spanish-style mansion, and there was no turning around.
From where we parked, I could see him standing in front of a large fountain with overflowing water that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.
Suddenly, the night felt magical.
Despite the dozens of cameras that were positioned around him, I could see him as clear as day. Tall, dark, and handsome weren’t even the right words to describe him.
As the door to the limousine swung open, a war raged inside me. Should I stay or should I go? “Miss Heart, are you ready?”
I blinked once, twice, three times, and my pulse started to race at a speed I’d never encountered. Finally, I answered with, “Yes, I am.”
The walk toward him felt like miles, and then, when I was almost standing before him, I raised my eyes to meet his and let out the breath I’d been holding. “Hi, I’m Lia.”
Our gazes collided, and I studied him better.
He was Julius Monaco.
A Prince.
And talking to me.
He wore an expensive suit that fit him snuggly in all the right places. God, he was beyond extraordinary. His dark hair was styled to look messy, and his face, oh his face. His jaw was lean, his brows two dark slashes over thick lashes, covering twinkling blue eyes, and then were those lips. His lips were so sensual and he had a smile that screamed he was trouble, with a capital T.
He was sexy from head to toe.
As soon as I stopped moving, he took my hand and kissed it. I swore I could feel the energy radiating between us as his lips lingered on my skin. “I’m Julius,” he said, his voice a deep rumble and one-hundred percent pure male.
At that very moment, butterflies took flight in my belly, and I was infatuated.
And I’d made a huge mistake.
E-News
The Shocking Final Rose
By Ramona Weber
Bachelor Nation insists Prince Julius Monaco’s season is like no other, and after today’s announcement, it appears they are right. Brace yourself because, for the first time ever, the final rose ceremony will not be aired.
That’s right—the season is over, and we will never know the outcome.
Behind the scenes’ spoilers tell us that Julius chose the American college-student, Lia Heart. And that during the filming of the season finale, the Prince got down on one knee and proclaimed his everlasting love. “I didn’t think I would ever find love,” he told the woman of his dreams. “But
I found it with you.”
Everyone thought when Wimberly’s bad boy, Prince Julius Monaco, agreed to star on reality television that he had decided it was time to settle down. However, with the finale being pulled, it’s hard to believe.
The 24-year-old Harvard business graduate and, arguably, one of the most beloved male suitors on the reality show to date, appeared to be smitten with more than one girl, but it didn’t really matter. We all knew who his perfect match was. In fact, even though each of the top three candidates was right for the bachelor in their own way, everyone believed Heart had this bachelor’s heart the entire time.
If I hadn’t seen Julius and Lia’s love story unfold with my own eyes, I would have thought it was a staged meet-cute, strategically created to capture the viewers’ attention and raise ratings.
Not only was Heart adorable, but she also made one of the strongest first impressions during the premiere. Her sweet personality and cool vibe had me from the first hello. And don’t get me started on the couple’s chemistry—from the make-out scenes to the behind the door noises—everything about them was hot, hot, hot. So hot that many of the female contestants worried Heart was the Princes favorite from the start.
Favorite. Maybe.
I prefer to call it kismet.
Their incredible connection was too real to be a lie. Cupid had definitely pointed his arrow in the right direction.
Why it reversed is the big question?
Rumor has it, the finale was pulled because the couple broke up mere hours after the final rose was given. In this shocking twist, sources cite they witnessed Heart walking away from Monaco, and my heart has turned to dust from the very thought.
Still, breakup or not, why the finale has been pulled is anyone’s guess. Some believe Queen Helena was outraged at the very idea of her grandson following in his father’s footsteps and marrying on a whim. Some say Heart couldn’t take the scrutiny. Others are whispering that the rebel heir never planned to settle down, that he was simply chasing one last devious thrill before being forced to take his royal duties seriously, and that Heart discovered the truth.
These two really were the perfect match, and I don’t believe any of those theories. Neither will anyone who watched the season.
Luckily, Monaco is not interested in giving it a try with the runner-up. He was last seen boarding a private plane to the United States of all places.
So what happened?
I guess we might never know. The only thing we do know is that this couple is no longer an item and won’t be living their happily-ever-after.
Not together, anyway.
And I, for one, couldn’t be sadder about that.
FIND THE DOOR
3 Years Later
The Present
The vibrating of my phone alerts me I have a message, but I don’t bother to listen to it.
I know who it is.
Just like I damn well know that if you want something done right, you fucking do it yourself.
Determination tears at me as I make my way through the throng of media hounds who don’t seem to understand the meaning of a simple hand gesture.
How many different ways are there to tell them to fuck-off? Five, ten, fifteen? However many there are, I will use every single one of them until they understand I want them to leave me the hell alone.
My stomach rumbles, and the hunger I’ve been fending off for hours roars to life. Skipping dinner and then breakfast to figure out a way to shut this scorned woman down better pay off.
“Dammit,” I curse to myself, as I enter the building, and my bodyguards get way too close for my liking.
Thank fuck the elevator doors open quickly. I stride in and punch the button to close them before my newly designated security team can catch up. I don’t want them accompanying me to this ‘meeting.’
Threatening my grandfather’s ex is something I need to do alone. And by ex, I don’t mean my grandmother—Queen Helena.
I mean Raquel Livingston—my step-grandmother for all of forty-eight hours.
Nobody knows about her drunken, Monte Carlo marriage to Aristotle Monaco many years ago, and I want it to stay that way. Considering she only married my grandfather for his money and he didn’t realize it until it was too late, he wanted the union kept secret. To him, this ill-judgment on his part was a blemish on his legacy that he never wished to be revealed.
Having learned about his humiliation while I was in college when he was visiting me and got a call from her, I decided then I’d never let a woman do anything like that to me.
She had him by the balls, and when she said jump, he did.
Ex-husband to the Queen or not, he was still Royalty, and he didn’t want to hurt my grandmother by allowing Raquel to spill the knowledge of his stupidity.
Since my grandfather isn’t here anymore, Raquel is now trying to grab my balls.
It is not happening.
I’m over her.
Still, she has to keep her dirty little secret quiet for a bit longer. The company doesn’t need this kind of bad publicity right now, nor does my grandmother need to know about her ex-husband’s playboy ways in her fragile state.
Although my grandfather set the once weather girl up nicely to keep her quiet (with a top job at the reputable multimedia company, Sparrow, a penthouse in the most expensive high-rise, and a good amount of shares in Monaco Unlimited), she’s determined to stop me from taking the company public for fear she’ll lose her hefty yearly dividend check.
As the car begins to escalate, I feel unusually restless and on edge. Plunging my hands into my pockets, I watch the numbers rise. The pretentious witch would reside on the top floor. If she thinks she can ruin me, she has another thing coming. Little does she know; I will be the one ruining her if she doesn’t watch herself. Shares of a company mean shit when the value of it is zero.
Attempting to blackmail me by threatening to leak her decade-old scandalous story is the last straw. I’m serious; I’ll let the entire company burn to the ground if I have to.
Okay, bullshit, I won’t, but she doesn’t know that.
The upcoming IPO is crucial. I have to avoid any scandals until after the company goes public. My pending investors are very traditional and old school. Going public will allow us to expand into US markets and become the global empire my grandfather dreamed of.
Besides, I don’t have much time before I have to let someone else run Monaco Unlimited, so I need to make this happen.
Quickly.
Like now.
Right the fuck now.
Speaking of now, that phone call I let go to voicemail is no doubt the Chief Financial Officer of Monaco Unlimited, warning me against doing anything rash. He’s a decent guy and primed to take over whenever he needs to. He’s also a bit less of a wildcard than me, and the Japanese investors will more than likely enjoy working with him.
Still, you’d think after working together for a couple of years, the guy would know that telling me something won’t work only makes me want to prove him wrong.
It’s the wildcard in me.
Just as the message comes to an end, “Hey…Julius, please don’t tell me you’re headed where I think you are. Call me back,” the elevator comes to a stop a mere two floors before reaching my final destination. Pocketing my phone, I practically growl out loud at the disturbance.
Ever so slowly, the doors begin to open, despite my best attempts to stop them from doing so by punching the CLOSE button.
The woman boarding moves so fast, she nearly rams me against the back wall in her haste. The contact sends a rush of adrenaline through my body, and I don’t even need to glance down to know who it is.
Only one person has ever affected me like this.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, and her tone is just as sweet as I remember. Anger roils in my gut at the memory of her sweetness, and I glare down at her. She’s busy staring at the folder in her hand and doesn’t realize who she’s run into.
“You shou
ld be,” I snap.
Dropping the folder at the sound of my voice, she looks up, startled. “Julius?” Her quick intake of breath is enough to remind me of just how potent our chemistry had once been.
Had.
Once.
Been.
Not any longer, I remind myself. Too bad my body doesn’t get the message because it reacts in a way I despise.
In spite of this, or perhaps because of this, I stare for a beat longer than is generally considered acceptable. Not the least bit shy about the fact that I’m taking her in, I scan her from head-to-toe.
Sure, it’s intimidating—like I give a fuck.
The bewitching woman with a delicate face and porcelain-like skin hasn’t changed—looking at her still makes me weak in the knees.
Her once red-colored hair is longer, darker, straighter, but it is still just as gorgeous—it still makes me want to run my fingers through it.
My gaze shifts from a set of sparkling emerald-green eyes to lips shaped like a perfect pink heart, and I feel my own heart turning back to stone at the sight. Still, I can’t stop, and I draw my eyes down her body, over her small tits and slight curves, until they land on a pair of high heels.
High heels? Really?
Since when isn’t she in chucks?
And where the hell is her nose ring?
I practically laugh out loud when I realize she’s also wearing a skirt. And trust me, the laugh is more menacing than funny.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, and this time, she’s looking right at me.
The warning look I give her doesn’t seem to matter. “Last I checked, I live here. The real question is, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I…I…” she stammers, unable to finish a simple sentence. The look must have done something.
Good. I mean, come on, she knows perfectly well that I never wanted to see her pretty face or hear her soft voice ever again. In fact, I’m furious that we even have to share the same space, let alone air right now.
