Royally Bad (Royally Wrong Book 1)

me. I just know it. Maybe he wanted to deflect attention from you, or, I don’t know.”
I ponder this as he slides me back into his arms. “I think I know what to do about the board.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Resign.”
He stares at me.
“You don’t want to be on the board? Don’t be on the board. You still have a majority stake in the company. Your vote has weight.”
His shoulders slump. “It’s my father’s legacy. I can’t let him down.”
“Your father made himself. I bet he’d want you to be your own man. Besides, he didn’t build his company for you. He built it for her. To prove he was good enough for a princess.”
After a moment, Theo nods. “You’re right.”
“Send them a letter of resignation. Bow out quietly. Tell them you want to focus on your volunteer efforts. Which is true. If in a few years you change your mind, you can petition for reinstatement.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “You gonna solve all my life’s problems for me, smart girl?”
“Probably,” I answer. “Give me a few minutes.” We laugh.
“What about Sweden?” he asks.
“What do you want to do about Sweden?”
“You think I can get away with blowing off an audience with a queen?”
“I wouldn’t advise it. But what do you want?”
“I want to go,” he says after a pause. “It would mean a lot to my mother, if she was alive. I want to make peace with her family. For her.”
“All righty then,” I grab my phone and sit up. “Let’s go see the queen.”
On his private plane, Theo lounges beside me, worrying the long sleeves of his dress shirt. He rolled them up just enough to show the black edges of one tattoo. Miss Mavery would make him wear it properly, but I think he looks hot.
He slides down in his seat, long legs splayed. I flick his thigh.
“Ow.”
“The queen will not appreciate your man spread.”
“Fucking A.”
“Or cursing. Or slouching.”
“All right, all right,” he sits up. “Motherfucking Henry Higgins around here.”
“I know that reference. Watch it.” I waggle a finger before opening my laptop to check on things. My stomach still clenches at the thought of checking social media, so I go straight to my email. There’s one from Mina with only the message: “007 requesting contact.”
“Can I make a phone call?” I move to the seat with the phone near it. The stewardess helps me dial out. Mina answers on the first ring.
“I took the liberty of contacting some of your old friends. Well, your old clients. I don’t know if you’d call them friends.”
My stomach plummets to my knees. “You didn't.”
“Yes, and they were very interested in keeping your reputation intact. They like to keep things private, as you know.”
“You didn’t,” I repeat, feeling sick and giddy at the same time, like I’m flying through the air without the airplane.
“The story is pretty much being hushed up. It’s overshadowed by all the royal prince stuff, anyway. The spotlight won’t swing again to you, and if it does, all the press will see is a beautiful woman who worked to put herself through college. The reports of you being an escort are greatly exaggerated. I mean, smart people will know, but you’re not going to have people calling you a whore on national television. It’s all wink, wink. Nod, nod. Hush, hush.”
I clutch the edge of the seat, trying to make sense of her babbling.
“Are you okay?” Theo mouths at me.
I nod, not sure whether I should cry or whoop with triumph. Calling my old clients is a bold move, but Mina’s right. A lot of them are very powerful, and still care for me. I would never reach out to them, so Mina did it for me.
I could cry, she’s such a good friend.
I also could kill her.
Mina is still prattling on. “I'm not sure we can destigmatize sex work with one press conference, so it’s the best I could do. Honestly, V, you should be fine. You're going to Amsterdam, right?”
“Sweden.”
“Close enough. I mean all those European countries are so close together. Holland to Sweden is like me driving to New Jersey—and they don’t have a problem with sex work like we do in America. In Holland, I mean, not New Jersey. Not that you were a sex worker, but we all know what escorts really do—”
“Mina,” I cut in. “Thank you. What you did was genius. Just, please, stop trying to make me feel better.”
Mina blows into the phone as she sighs in relief. “Thank, fuck. This empathetic shit is hard.”
“I really appreciate it.”
“Let me know what else I can do. I’m on standby, ready to destroy your enemies.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Well, if it is, I’ll be all over it. I'm here for ya.” We say goodbye and she hangs up.
I set the phone down, my hand trembling a little.
“Vesper?” Theo watches me, concerned.
“It’s handled,” I whisper, and clear my throat. “My past. My reputation. We’ve done as much damage control as we can do. It’s handled.”
“Do I want to know how?”
“No.” I press my fingers to my lips, wishing I could hold everything in. “But I’ll tell you if you want.”
He slides from his seat and comes to sit beside me. “It doesn’t matter.” He takes my hand and kisses it. He’s been doing that a lot.
Maybe a playboy can turn into Prince Charming.
Theo keeps a hand on my back as we walk into the Stockholm palace. The massive building is the official royal residence.
“There are three floors and fourteen thousand and thirty rooms,” our guide intones. “Done in a Baroque style.”
As we walk through the gilded rooms, I catch a glimpse of a nymph statue, cavorting under the grim stare of some important Swedish dude’s portrait. Looks familiar.
“This place is gorgeous,” I whisper. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave.”
“Stockholm syndrome,” he says with a completely straight face.
I’d elbow him in the ribs, but I don’t want to get beheaded for assaulting a prince. Theo and I spent all