The Reluctant Boyfriend (The Bad Boyfriend series Book 4)
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THE RELUCTANT BOYFRIEND
Erika Kelly
Contents
Praise for the Rock Star Romance series
Praise for The Bad Boyfriend series
Titles by Erika Kelly
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Excerpt from Skylar and Jinx’s story
About the Author
Praise for the Rock Star Romance series
YOU REALLY GOT ME
“Lovable characters and pulse-pounding chemistry make this one of my favorite reads of the year!”—Laura Kaye, New York Times Bestselling Author
“Sexy, lyrical and electric with hot, romantic tension.” - NYT and USA Today Bestselling author Lauren Blakely
I WANT YOU TO WANT ME
Booklist calls I WANT YOU TO WANT ME “…steamy, hot, and totally engaging. The characters are realistic, and Kelly paints a vivid picture of what happens behind the scenes in the world of rock.”
TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT
All About Romance awards TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT a Desert Isle Keeper review. “All these (characters) are so authentically human they nearly walk off the page. If you like books where real people have real problems and find real love (while having really hot sex)? Pick up Take Me Home Tonight and enjoy the ride.”
TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT “is emotional and tremendously sexy, with a large cast of characters that readers will adore -- Kelly's rendering of Calix's grieving parents is particularly well-done -- but it is Mimi's strength that will linger long after the finish.” - Sarah MacLean, Washington Post
Praise for The Bad Boyfriend series
THE WORLD’S WORST BOYFRIEND
“I adored this book! It is exactly what I love in a second-chance romance. The characters are so vibrant and real, I was rooting for them with every page.” — USA Today Bestseller Devney Perry
“The World’s Worst Boyfriend is such a fun and sexy second-chance romance that I didn’t want it to end. Their connection is a swoony blend of tender first love and sizzling heat, and Erika Kelly delivers a highly entertaining and sigh-worthy romance that shouldn’t be missed.” – Mary Dube, USA Today
THE HEARTLESS BOYFRIEND
“I loved every sweet, heart-wrenching, crazy, mixed-up minute of this book. It was an emotional journey from the first chapter to the last. This is Erika Kelly at her best, and this is a not-to-be-missed book!” – Sharon Slick Reads, Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews
“Erika Kelly damn near pulled my heart from my chest with Delilah and Will’s story. It’s so well-written that you feel everything. My heart got tugged so hard! I honestly cried at a few moments in the book. I fell all the way in love with “Wooby.” It’s hard not to, really.” – Ree Cee’s Books
THE CARELESS BOYFRIEND
“Wow, The Careless Boyfriend was simply OUTSTANDING! This second chance, friends to lovers romance is enchanting and entertaining.” – Spellbound Stories
“I just finished this story, and I want to start all over again. Or maybe at the start of series. To once again feel the events, the emotions, that brought these amazing characters together. To hear the banter and the arguments, the sorrow, the loss and the happiness that brought a family together and closer.” – Nerdy, Dirty, and Flirty
Titles by Erika Kelly
Rock Star Romance series:
YOU REALLY GOT ME
I WANT YOU TO WANT ME
TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT
MORE THAN A FEELING
Wild Love series:
MINE FOR NOW
MINE FOR THE WEEK
The Bad Boyfriend series:
THE WORLD’S WORST BOYFRIEND
THE HEARTLESS BOYFRIEND
THE CARELESS BOYFRIEND
THE RELUCTANT BOYFRIEND
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ISBN-13: 978-0-9985177-6-6
Copyright 2019 EK Publishing, LLC
All rights reserved
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously or are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design and formatting by Serendipity Formatting
This book is dedicated to Kristy deBoer….you’ve been there from the beginning, and you always make everything better.
Chapter One
I did it!
With her jar in hand, Princess Rosalina Anais Isabella Villeneuve crossed the lawn, breathing in the scents of freshly mown grass and clean, crisp June air. Sunlight glinted off a sleek blue BMW, and her heart clutched with happiness. He’s here. She’d couldn’t wait to show it to him. He’s going to love it.
Climbing the stone steps, she opened the back door of the castle to find the staff eating breakfast at the weathered table. “Something smells delicious.” On the island, she found a platter of buttery eggs, sliced bread, and strawberry jam.
Everyone looked over at her and smiled. “Morning, Miss.”
Chef started to get up, but Rosalina shook her head. Don’t bother. It was her fault she’d missed breakfast. Again. “I’ll eat later. I’d like to catch Marcel before he takes off.” She grabbed a croissant from the basket and bit into it. “Mm. So good.”
“It would’ve been warm and flaky if you’d had it fresh from the oven three hours ago.” Chef got up anyway and filled herself a mug with coffee from the French press, dropping sugar and cream into it.
“But then I wouldn’t have this.” She lifted the tiny glass bottle.
“Oh, you’ve got it, then?” Her father’s valet scraped his chair back on the stone floor and came over. Twisting off the cap, he closed his eyes and inhaled. “Ah. It’s perfect.” He broke out in a big grin. “Spot on.”
“Here.” Rosalina dipped a finger in and smeared a glob onto the back of his age-spotted hand.
The older man, in a black suit and a full head of salt and pepper hair, rubbed it in. “Rich…creamy.” With two fingers, he tipped her chin, and she caught the exotic scent of her family’s perfume. “It’s lovely. You’ve got it just right.”
“And it only took two and a half years to nail it. But, whatever, it’s done, and they can’t possibly say no this time.”
As if jerked by a string, they all looked down at their plates.
Rosalina’s stomach pinched with dread. “No, it’s different this time. You’ll see.”
Chef patted her shoulder. “We have all the faith in you, my love. It’s the tide of history you’re swimming against we’re worried about.”
She knew the challenge she faced—after ninety years of running a successful business off one product, her family wasn’t inclined to shake things up. But, this time, she’d come up with an idea that would fit seamlessly
.
Chef offered a fork and a bowl of mixed fruit, but Rosalina couldn’t eat a thing. “I’ll be back for a proper breakfast, but right now I have to catch Marcel before he heads to the airport.” At the doorway, she turned to the staff who’d loved and protected her all her life. “And then we’ll celebrate the new product line.” Taking another bite of the croissant, she waved the jar at them with a mischievous grin.
A few rallied with warm smiles, but the others focused on their breakfast.
Well, obviously, if she went straight to her parents, they’d reject it outright. That’s why I’m going through Marcel first. Her fiancé’s father was the business manager for House of Villeneuve, and he oversaw the family’s Nocturne perfume company. Once she convinced Marcel and his father of the value of her idea, she’d let them present it to her parents.
They wouldn’t ignore advice from the people running their business.
Besides, she had a different angle this time. While at school, she’d created several truly lovely perfumes, and they’d rejected all of them. They don’t fit our brand.
This time, she’d simply expanded the product line by creating bath and body products based on the same essential oil that had been in the Villeneuve family for centuries. And she’d created proprietary ingredients to make them every bit as luxurious as the perfume itself.
She was adding to what they already had. They couldn’t say no.
As she headed down the cool hallway, her ballet flats shushed on the hundred-year-old runner. On either side, her ancestors lined up as though forming a gauntlet. You’re wasting your time, their expressions said, noses in the air.
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. Anyone who bought the perfume would want the soap and body lotion to reinforce the scent.
The thick stone walls of the castle muffled sound, so she only heard the quiet conversation when she reached the grand parlor. Shoot. She didn’t want to get pulled into one of her mother’s meetings. Hanging back, she peered into the room crammed with antique furniture, the walls covered in trompe l’oeil murals.
Sitting demurely on the embroidered sofa, her mother spoke quietly to a woman in a pastel-colored skirt and beige flats. On the glass coffee table, tea service had been set with fine china and silver.
Having only just crested the corner of the parlor, Rosalina figured she could quietly step back before being noticed.
“Oh, darling, there you are.” Her mother got up, her hand gliding toward the guest. “I’d like you to meet Marguerite, the wedding planner.”
The shock hit her system like a car crash, the jolt reverberating throughout her body. Wedding planner? For one unbearably long moment, she heard the ticking grandfather clock as if it were inside her head.
But, of course, she snapped out of it and shifted into full princess mode. Flipping on her royal smile, she gave the woman a nod. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, your Highness.”
“Come.” Her mother strode purposefully out of the room. “She’s brought her portfolio and samples.”
“Unfortunately, this isn’t a good time. I’m already late for my meeting with Marcel.” If only she’d brought her phone with her, but she’d left it charging in her bedroom before heading to the lab that morning. Please don’t go until I talk to you.
“This won’t take but a moment.” Her mother’s low heels clacked across the marble foyer. “It’s just a preliminary meeting.”
Rosalina stopped just under the massive crystal chandelier. “Mother.”
Her mother slowly turned to her, one brow arched. No one used that tone to speak to Her Serene Highness the Princess of St. Christophe.
But, while her mother’s haughty expression made her cringe—she would normally never challenge her mother publicly—she truly couldn’t spare a moment. “Marguerite, I’m so sorry I don’t have time to discuss my wedding plans right now, but I do look forward to working with you.”
“Of course.” The woman reached into her tote and pulled out a thin silver case. Plucking a white card out of it, she handed it over. “Please call me at your convenience, and we can get started. I’ll leave my portfolio with you.”
“Perfect.” Rosalina tucked the card into the pocket of her capri pants. “Thank you.”
As her mother walked the wedding planner to the door, Rosalina spun back around and headed for the stairs. As excited as she was about her formula, she didn’t actually know if Marcel’s father would support her idea. He was very much of the same mind as her parents. As her American roommate’s father used to say, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
“Rosalina,” her mother called.
Crap. Her fingers itched to text Marcel and ask him to wait for her. Why didn’t you bring your phone? He might’ve left by now. “Yes?”
“Come with me.”
She recognized her mother’s tone for what it was, and so she did as she was told. At twenty-five, it was time for the Hereditary Princess of St. Christophe to step into her mother’s shoes. Get married, give birth to an heir, and devote her time to a few established charities and one of her own creation.
Yes, she knew the expectations, and she would get there. But, right now, she needed to see her project through. She had the rest of her life to be a wife and mother.
Her mother led the way into the oak-paneled library. The scents of old books, lemon furniture polish, and her father’s spicy shaving cream filled the large room.
Oh, what about shaving cream for women? She’d use synthetic materials for that, though.
As they entered, her father lowered one side of his paper, a tea cup in one hand. “Oh, dear.” He shot a look to the door, as if calculating his getaway.
“Exactly.” For a moment there, she considered showing them the lotion, just to get the conversation away from wedding plans. As the hereditary princess, it would fall on her and Marcel to keep the company running. She’d be showing them that the family legacy was in good hands.
Ha. Good one.
Let Marcel lead the charge. Her fiancé had her back.
Her mother stood beside her husband’s chair. “I don’t appreciate you sending away my guest. I invited her here to launch the wedding plans, and I found it rude and disrespectful that you asked her to leave.”
“I’m sorry. It did come across as rude, but I wish you’d have discussed it with me first. I wasn’t prepared to meet with anyone this morning. In fact, if I don’t go right now, I’ll miss Marcel. He’s leaving for Zurich in a few minutes.”
Her father set down his paper, and his tall, lanky frame rose out of the chair. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he tapped out a text. “There. Marcel will wait.”
Uh oh. Her dad had something to say. Tension pulled at her skin, and she became aware of the cool breeze sweeping through the room, riffling the pages of magazines.
Pulling an engraved handkerchief out of the pocket of his slacks, he took the croissant out of her hand and wiped the buttery remnants off her fingers. Balling it up, he dropped it on the side table that held his silver teapot. “My sweet Rosalina, I think you can agree we’ve been more than generous in supporting your choices. We assumed, once you graduated from university, you’d come home and marry Marcel, but you wanted to continue your education, and we love you very much, we want you to be happy, so we supported that decision. But it’s time, my love. It’s time for you to assume your duties here.”
“Of course. I know that, and I’m absolutely going to marry Marcel. In fact, when I go upstairs, I’ll talk to Fabiana, and she’ll set up a time for me to meet with the wedding planner.”
“This is not the first time you’ve put off this discussion,” her mother said. “Darling, this is your wedding. You must take it seriously.”
Impatience rumbled under her skin. Why would she bother thinking about the details, when they were already set in stone? “What’s to talk about? We’re marrying in the church, and the reception will be held in the grand ballroom.” She shrugged. “I’m bei
ng fitted for my dress next week.” A tiny flicker of interest teased her heart.
The designer lived in the States. An old wild west town, Calamity had cowboys and ranches, saloons and gold mining. It even had a bison preserve.
Imagine that—bison!
“There is much to discuss,” her mother said. “And the top priority is setting a date so we can send out invitations.”
“Honestly, whatever works best for your schedule. It doesn’t matter to me.” Because it would be a performance in front of the entire country.
“Your enthusiasm for this wedding is underwhelming,” her mother said.
“Well, sorry, Mama, but it’s not like I have a say in anything.” Other than the dress and cake, none of the rest reflected her personality at all.
The newspaper rustled, as her father picked it up and sat back down. “Is there something you’d prefer?”
She scanned his handsome features. Does it matter? He gave her a deep nod.
Well, then. “Actually, I’d love to get married in the meadow.” The night-blooming flower used in Nocturne only blossomed for a few weeks in June. “If we could have the service at twilight, then the lyantha would perfume the night air during my reception.”