Royally Bad (Royally Wrong Book 1)

balances his big body with grace and ease as he executes some moves. He’s actually good.
“Won a competition when he was sixteen,” Evans tells me.
“Really? That might be useful.” I make a note to get Mina to dig on that.
Evans stands up and signals his security team. “We have visitors.”
Some scruffy kids have shown up, t-shirts untucked, jeans slouching. They hold beat up skateboards and eye the elite group who have encroached on their territory.
“Wait,” I say. “They’re like ten years old. Don’t kick them out just yet.”
A few of the boys creep towards the food table. When no one stops them, one grabs a chicken satay stick and runs back to his friends.
“Theo,” one of the girls whines. “They’re taking our food.”
“It’s all right,” Theo waves. “They can have as much as they want.”
“Stand down,” Evans says into his ear piece.
The neighborhood kids swarm the tables. The caterers rush to bring out more plates. One of boys reaches over the sea of desserts and grabs the top cupcake.
“They’re eating it all,” blondie cries.
Theo looks up for a second. His shirt is off. Again. Tattoos in glorious display. He shrugs. “Let them eat cake.”
Pouting, blondie stomps back to the car in her designer jean cutoffs and ridiculous high heels.
The kids demolish the food. Theo joins them for a mini hamburger, and then they all head over to the ramps.
I inch closer, listening to Theo rule the court, having the kids take turns on the ramps.
“Hey, can I borrow your phone?” I ask one boy. When he hands it over, I start snapping pictures. Theo crouching to examine a skateboard while three kids look over his shoulder. Theo pointing to the court, explaining the best way to hit the ramps. I take a little video and tweet it, adding Theo’s most popular hashtag.
“What’d you do?” the kid next to me asks when I hand back his phone.
“Made you famous,” I tell him. Using his phone versus mine will make the media leak look more authentic. “Some news vans are going to be here, and they’ll want to talk to you. Go ask Theo if you can get a picture with him. If you can, I’ll take it.”
“Cool!”
Sure enough, thirty minutes later, the paparazzi show. Cameras flash. Theo poses with the kids. He trades his designer t-shirt for one of the boy’s faded one. The boy glows. They all do tricks, and when one of the kids pulls off a fancy twist, Theo gives the boy his skateboard.
A few of the ladies get into it, handing out bottled water and the rest of the cupcakes. Blondie still sits glowering in the Maserati. I smirk at her before crossing to the news people to give a quote. This little detour has been quite a success.
When I return, Theo motions me over.
“Mr. Kensington?”
He pushes closer, dips his head towards mine. It’s then I realize he’s livid.
“What the fuck? You set me up.”
I blink at him.
“It’s a fucking media circus,” he says. “Did you call the press?”
“No. I took a picture and tweeted it with your hashtag. You’re hot right now.”
“I’m always hot.” Still flirty, under all his indignation.
“Hot news I mean.” I flush. My stupid body senses his anger and thinks it’s exciting. The chemistry between us cannot be denied. “You promised me a few interviews and then took off to here.”
“Thought you would get the message.”
“Did you expect me to give up so easily?”
“Yes.” He pushes closer, and his scent washes over me. A bit of sweat at his temple turns his silky hair black.
“Well, I’m not going to.” I stand my ground. “I’m going to do my job, like it or not. I’m a fixer. I’m used to difficult situations.”
“I don’t want to be fixed.” He looms over me, his body heat hitting me like a heatwave.
“Well, too bad.” My fucking pussy is dripping. We’re so close to each other, you could barely run a knife blade between us. There’s more to this fight than Theo’s distaste for the media. He’s finally met someone who will stand up to him. It doesn’t hurt that I’m someone he wants to fuck.
“You used these kids as part of my own personal photo shoot. And now I hear you told the media I come out here and skate with them regularly? A way of giving back?”
I shrug. “It’s not a bad idea? You built the park, you like to come here.”
“I’m not running a charity—”
“Actually, you are. As of three p.m. this afternoon. The lawyers are working on adding Boards for Boys and Girls to the Kensington Nonprofit Fund. You’re giving one million to start a skateboard after school program for inner city kids.” I give him a fierce smile. “I already told the kids you’d be here next week. Unless you want to back out…”
He shakes his head, but I hear his teeth grinding.
“Relax, Theo. This is good press. It’s good.”
“I didn’t fucking come out here to—”
“I know you didn’t. But, like I said, the kids showed up and you were nice to them. Because you’re a nice guy.” I poke him in the chest. It hurts my finger. His muscles are hard. Too late I realize I just poked my boss in the chest. But it’s not my fault. The force field between us is activated.
I pull my hand away. “You’re a nice guy,” I repeat.
“No, I’m not.” He backs away, shaking his head. He’s even hotter when he’s mad. I don’t tell him that. “Don’t pull this shit again.”
“Mr. Kensington!” A man in a white polo and slacks jogs up. I practically jump between him and Theo.
“No interviews,” I say, hoping Theo tones down the hostile body language before the cameras swing this way. That’s all we need—Theo throwing a punch at a reporter. “Mr. Kensington isn’t interested in giving a statement at this time.”
“I’m not with the press.” The man holds up his hands in mock defense. “I’m Roger White. I run the Kids Club over there.” He points to a