Royally Bad (Royally Wrong Book 1)

pick ‘em. So what are you going to do?”
“First I have to convince him to clean up his act. He’s not interested in being anything but a bad boy.”
“So? You like ‘em bad.”
“Not this bad.” I tell her about his asshole behavior at the pool.
“Whew,” she whistles. “He’s like a boy in grade school, throwing rocks at the girl he likes.”
“What? No.”
“I’m serious! Sounds like the playboy prince has the hots for you.”
I don’t tell her the feeling is mutual.
“Listen, Mina, I was calling to see if you could look into something for me.” Mina is a whiz on that computer of hers. Scary good. She pulls secrets for me all the time, and has helped me bury just as many.
I tell her what I need.
“I can do that. No problem. Just tell me this—”
“What?”
Mina’s voice deepens to a purr. “Is he as hot in person as he looks on the screen?”
I grimace. I can’t lie to my best friend. “Hotter.”
“Fuck. You’re totally screwed. At least, if you’re lucky.”
“Mina! I don’t screw clients.” Not anymore.
“More’s the pity.” Mina types faster on her computer, the sound like falling water. “All right. I’ll get you what you need. You get your client on board.”
“That’s just it. I don’t know how.”
“You know how. Charm him.”
“I don’t do that anymore.” I touch my glasses.
She laughs. I don’t have secrets from Mina. “Not that way. But... there’s nothing wrong with using a little bit of what God gave you to win him over to your side.”
“No,” I hiss into the phone. “No. I’m a professional. Just because I’m blonde, doesn’t mean I’m a bimbo.”
“You don’t need to prove you’ve got brains, V. You got a Bachelors and Masters from two top universities. No one is disputing that you’re smart.”
I pull off my glasses and give them a polish, waiting for a chance to interrupt.
“You’ve also got a great body,” Mina continues. “Even if you don’t flaunt it. You’re not fooling anyone, hiding it under those suits. You are hot. There’s no changing that. Why not own it?”
I drum my fingers against the windowsill. A few hundred yards away, Blondie slinks around the pool, walking like a model and a stripper combined. She’s got Theo in her sights.
“You’ve got to charm him,” Mina says. “or lose a client.”
“I don’t lose.”
“Then you know what to do.”
Once Mina hangs up, the pain in my head dulls to a resentful throb. I open the window a crack to get some air. Shouts of laughter waft up. The party is bigger. The music louder. The sun is hotter. It’s a nice day. Gorgeous, in fact.
Fuck it.
Ten minutes later, I teeter past the nymph statues in my Louboutins. Before descending to the pool, I undo the tie on my wrap dress and shrug it off. Underneath, I wear a black bikini. A little more than the pieces of string the other women are wearing, but not much. I hang the dress on a statue, and walk on with only the swimsuit and heels.
Who wears high heels with a bikini?
Me, to reel in a client.
“V-card,” Theo shouts from the diving board. The whole crowd takes up the chant, bursting into applause when Theo dives into the deep end. I grin, wave, and grab a drink.
I stalk to the end of the pool to stand next to another white marble statue. This one’s male, and well endowed. I toast him and his assets, and take a sip of liquor. When in Rome…
Two seconds later, Theo bursts from the water right in front of me. Water drips from his swarthy shoulders. His muscles bunch as he hauls himself out of the pool, and then he’s walking toward me, rivulets running down the toned contours of his stomach. The panther tattoo snarls from his hip. That panther is on the prowl.
“Looking good. Still need to lose the glasses.” He starts to reach for them and I shake my head, brushing his hand away. He gives me a panty-melting grin. “I guess the real party starts when they come off.”
He’s an asshole. He really is. But the way he says these awful things, tilting his head with just the slightest invitation in his eyes, I can’t help but feel a rush of attraction. There are layers to his playboy act, as if he’s seeing how much he can get away with. I’m just fooling around; his grin tells me. Wanna fool around with me?
Fuck, Vesper, you can pick them. I grip my glass tighter, give him a nod. “Mr. Kensington.”
“Call me Theo.”
All righty then. “Theo. Nice party you have here.”
“Glad you could join us. I see you’ve given up on me.”
“Nope,” I say, and tip back my drink. I hold his gaze as I drink. When I set down the glass, he looks at me with new respect. Finally. “We need to talk.”
“I like talking.” He leans against the statue, angling so I’m sheltered by his body. We’re in our own private world over here. My heart pitter patters. “I like doing other things, too.”
“I know. I’ve seen what you like to do.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen everything.”
“Is that so? Well, I’ve seen enough.” I morph into Miss Mavery. “There’s nothing wrong with a celebrity acting the fool. It’s allowed, almost expected. But you’re not a celebrity. You’re the heir to a fortune and the son of a princess.”
He half-sighs, half-groans, glancing back at the party behind us.
I lean into him to catch his attention.
“Your father built something from scratch and you’re throwing it away. Usually it takes three generations to go from poverty to wealth back to poverty. You’ll do it in two.”
“I’m not going to have kids.”
I take a deep breath. “Then there’s the matter of your grandmother.”
Theo’s face goes blank, cold. The boyishness disappears completely, leaving an angry, bitter man. Still beautiful, though. “What about her?”
“She’d like to reconnect. She wants to—”
“No,” he says.
“No? Let me get this straight. The queen of Sweden is summoning you for an audience, and you’re going