Page 1 of Royal Hottie
Chapter One
Phillip
“Prince Phillip leaves parting gift of a royal jewel after his one-night stands.” Ha! Reading the latest headline out loud makes it sound even more ridiculous. Sorry, ladies, my royal jewelsarethe gift.
I’m Prince Phillip Rourke, twenty-nine years old, and second in line to the throne. I have an online following as “the royal hottie” and way, way too many pictures of me rutting my way through Europe with glamorous women. If you read my press, you’ll learn my thick dark brown hair is always sexily rumpled, my aquamarine eyes are stunning, and my high cheekbones and strong jaw are classically handsome. Throw in my warm, naturally charming personality and it’s easy to see why I’m never lacking for female companionship. Women love me, and I love them right back. Briefly.
I take a sip of scotch, thinking about jetting over to Norway to meet up with Ingrid, a supermodel with as much discretion as skills with her tongue, when my phone rings. I check the screen. Anna, my sister-in-law, the queen of Villroy as of yesterday when she married my older brother, Gabriel, the king. Sadly, my father, the previous king, passed away six weeks before their wedding. He went peacefully in his sleep after a long painful battle with cancer. Anna was the bright spot in his life, and he grew to love her just like the rest of us.
I tap the phone, setting it on speaker on the end table before settling back into my leather club chair in my palace suite. “Anna, I can’t believe you’re calling me when you’re supposed to be on your honeymoon.”
She was very enthusiastic about seeing Paris for the first time. Despite living here on Villroy Island for the last three months, right off the coast of southwestern France, she never ventured out for a little sightseeing. She’s an American, brash and bold and fun, the near opposite of my brother, a stoic throwback to our Viking ancestors. Fun would have to bite him on the ass, which I guess Anna did. Ha!
Anna’s voice carries through the speaker, warm and happy. “We’re in the limo on the way to our hotel, and I realized I forgot to tell you something about the guests arriving next week.” She’s renovated a section of the palace to be used for “the royal experience,” either a ladies’ week or a honeymoon. It’s step one in her plan to bring new jobs and funds to Villroy. This is the first visit, a ladies’ week involving all kinds of girly beauty stuff since she’s a beautician. Eventually, she plans to build a day spa—away from the palace—featuring beauty products using native ingredients. It’s a brilliant idea that will probably save our dying fishing economy.
“What’s that?” I ask, already smiling in anticipation. She probably wants me to add something wildly inappropriate to the suite, like edible bikini underwear. Hmm, some mingling with the lady guests might be in order.
“My dearest clients are super excited for their visit, not just because I’m going to do their hair again. They’ve missed me at the salon, you know.” Her first guests are her wealthiest salon clients from the US.
“Mmm-hmmm.” I take a sip of scotch. “You’re hard to replace. One of a kind.”
“Why, thank you, Phillip. What a sweetheart you are.” There’s a muffled sound and the gruff growl of my brother Gabriel’s voice. He’s possessive of his new wife.She gets back to me a long moment later, sounding a little breathless. “What was I saying?”
“You forgot to tell me something about your guests?”
“Oh, yes, and I’m sorry to spring this on you last minute, but I was so busy preparing for my wedding, learning the royal protocol, and supervising the contractors for the guest suite…you know, it still needs a little something. I’ve got that taken care of as of this morning, so I think we’re good to go, but there’s always something when you’re renovating, especially for a place as old as Amalie Palace. What do you think about renaming it to something like Rourke Palace? It would make more sense at this point since the Rourke family has ruled for centuries, and the French who named it Amalie were from so long ago. I’ve learned quite a lot of your history—”
“Just tell me.” She’s usually very direct. The babbling means she’s stalling.
“Don’t be mad, okay?”
I shift in my seat, suddenly uneasy. “What is it?”
“I promised our guests a bachelor auction to win a date with a prince and, well, you are the royal hottie. That makes you the prime draw. The bidding is going to go sky-high—these chicks are loaded—and we’ll funnel the money into phase two, the spa.”
I jackknife upright. Knowing Anna, she’s going to style my brothers and me in some ridiculous stripper outfits. A real possibility! I put nothing past her. A terrifying vision of a horde of man-hungry women descending on me as I parade around on stage in a shiny silver and blue G-string flashes through my mind. The official royal colors, naturally. And then I’llhaveto go to the highest bidder. No choice in the matter, and I am a choosy man. I expect a certain caliber of sophistication in the women I associate with, not just any woman with a handful of cash. Suddenly, I have an inkling of what Gabriel went through with the barbaric bridal competition my parents set up to find him his bride. A twisted amusing story to those of us not tangled up in it. I laughed at him then. I’m not laughing now.
She continues cheerfully. “So you see, it’s all for a good cause.”
“Whatever you hoped to make from the bachelor auction, I’ll donate to the cause. No, I’ll double it.” The fact is, the island’s economy is one generation away from collapse. The younger generation is leaving in droves, abandoning the dying fishing industry for better opportunities. Our family is well off, mostly in jewels and some well-placed investments, but our money wouldn’t be enough to sustain the entire country. I don’t mind giving the new venture a boost to start, and so should the rest of the family. Eventually, though, Villroy’s economy needs to get there on its own power.
“Actually, it’s not the money that’s the main purpose of the auction, though, of course, your donation is greatly appreciated. I want my clients invested in their royal experience, knowing the money is going to the day spa, so they’ll return when it opens and spread the word about how awesome it is. These women are all very successful in their fields and well connected.”
She’s really quite savvy and, under any other circumstances, I might appreciate that. Not this time. And what exactly would this date with the highest bidder entail? Some kind of cringe-worthy romantic fantasy? I immediately picture the obligatory stroll on the beach, holding hands, followed by a candlelight dinner, where I’m forced to feign interest in a woman not of my choosing. She’ll be giggly over being with the royal hottie or, worse, aggressively trying to get in my bed just for the bragging rights. Not that I would sleep with a woman like that. In the end, I’d come out looking like the bad guy, being labeled as aloof or some such nonsense for having zero interest in my date. And these ladies are here for an entire week. One date may not be the end of it. There could be follow-up lovey-dovey crap.
I scrub a hand over my face. “So we’re to be the entertainment portion of the ladies’ week.”
“Think of it as using your celebrity for a good cause.”
She’s got me there because I do use my celebrity for good causes. I’m heavily involved with clean water efforts for impoverished countries.No.This is different. This is a prince as entertainment. It’s beneath me and my title.
“Anna, I’m sorry, but—”
“It will all be very discreet. Only our guests would be there. Please, Phillip, everyone loves the royal hottie. You’re famous in America, which makes you the headliner.”
I remain firm. “I’m sure when you tell my brothers, they’ll be up for it, so you won’t even need me.” My younger brothers are always up for a good time and don’t trouble themselves with princely dignities since they’re so far from the throne. “By the way, did you have your guests sign a nondisclosure?”
“Err, no. I keep forgetting that. I’ll have them sign one when they arrive. It’s possible they told their friends, but don’t worry. No one else will be admitted to the palace. This auction is invitation only. Oh, and your brothers already know.”
