Royally Bad (Royally Wrong Book 1) Read online

  “It certainly can. That’s your problem. Your dick is getting rave reviews on entertainment news shows. Apparently, it just delivered the performance of a lifetime. You’re a grown man,” I’m full on channeling Ms. Mavery here, “who got caught with his pants down and more than just your hand in the cookie jar.”

  Theo wears a half-smile. There’s a gleam of intelligence behind his model looks. Thank God. Give me something I can work with. “So I’ve got a PR problem.”

  “Mr. Kensington, you are the PR problem.” You and your harem. Besides the three women I saw climb out of the car this morning, there are four more, all in the tiniest bikinis ever invented. They might as well be wearing thick pieces of string. And high heels. Who wears high heels with a bikini?

  Theo cocks his head to his side. “What’s your name, again?”

  “Vesper Smith. Friends of your father hired me to clean up your image.”

  “I like my image just fine. You know what they call me?”

  I cross my arms, making it clear I’m not going to say it.

  “The god of fuck,” he says. The ladies titter, but he’s not playing to his audience again. I’ve riled him. This show is for me. “You know why?”

  “It’s a play on your name. ‘Theo’, is the Greek root for ‘deity.’” Thank you, Ms. Mavery.

  Theo blinks.

  The guy next to him bursts out laughing. “Theo, your new PR lady is a nerd.”

  “I’m drinking a martini,” one of the ladies holds up her glass, “can you tell me the Greek root for that?”

  I shake my head. Theo’s groupies laugh and laugh, but he just studies me silently.

  “Just how much Greek do you know?” a surfer looking dude asks me.

  “Why the fuck do you care?” a woman with fire engine red nails, hair, and a bikini to match snaps at him.

  “You know what Greek sex is, right?” He whispers in Red’s ear, and she cackles.

  I shake my head in disgust.

  “No fucking way,” Red points at me. “She’s blushing like a virgin.”

  “Fuck,” the first guy says. “A nerd and a virgin. I know someone who can help you with your V-card.” He smacks Theo on the back.

  “Lay off it, guys,” he orders, before stepping close to me. Way, way up in my space.

  My head tilts up to look him in the eye. I force myself not to back away.

  “Your friends are jerks,” I tell him.

  “Don’t listen to them. They’ve just never seen a media consultant as beautiful as you.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with you,” I tell him. “Don’t try to flatter me.”

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he says, and it’s my turn to blink. “I think you like it. I think you want me to flatter you.”

  I push my glasses up my nose, more to insert space between me and him than to adjust my glasses. My hand almost brushes his tattooed pec. I wonder if he hears my heart pounding.

  “You’re a little uptight, Vesper Smith. Maybe my friend’s right. You need a little Theo-therapy. Tell you what.” He leans close, his lips brushing my ear. “You fix my image; I’ll punch your V-card.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I snap. He bursts out laughing.

  “I’m kidding. I don’t fuck virgins.”

  Screaming, “I’m not a virgin” won’t gain me anything, so I spin on my heel and leave.

  My cheeks are hot. Never mind the teasing. There’s so much sexual attraction between Theo and me, the eye fucking alone is enough to get me pregnant.

  Gods did that, right? Poof! Pregnant. Now that would be a story to spin. Mr. Evans wouldn’t buy it, but every woman who’d been reeled in by that attraction beam would understand.

  I glare at the naked statues of Greek gods as I march past. Evans meets me at the mansion door.

  “We have a problem,” he says. “I just got off the phone with Sweden.”

  “Did the queen see the news?”

  “Yeah. She’s finally ready to recognize her grandson.”

  “It’s been almost thirty years. Why now?”

  “I think she finally wants to make amends. She lifted the ban on her deceased daughter.”

  “A little late for that.” Poor Theo, losing his mother at birth, and bearing the brunt of her sins.

  “It’s more a formality, to change the line of succession.”

  “What?”

  “Her son is ill. He and his wife have no children. When he dies...”

  “Theo is next in line,” my head spins. “That’s the real reason she’s made contact.”

  “She’s called him to an audience at her private residence. Friday.”

  “This Friday?”

  “That’s right. The queen wants to see him in four days.”

  “So how’s it going?” My friend chirps. I wince, and prop my cell phone on my other ear.

  I should be scouring my media contacts and calling in favors, and Googling what to wear to an audience with the queen of Sweden, but between Evans shouting about suing every woman his boss has ever slept with and Theo’s heavy metal rock fest in his backyard, I have a headache.

  I scowl at my suitcase. There is a bottle of aspirin in here somewhere.

  “Hello? V?”

  “One sec, Mina.”

  “You call me and then put me on hold?” She laughs.

  “No, sorry. I just needed to find something.” I pull the bottle of pain relievers from a secret pocket, and claw it open. Gulp down two, chase with water. Wish it was vodka and Valium. “Okay, ready. What was the question?”

  “First day on the job? How’s it going?”

  Mina is my best friend, and the only person I don’t lie to. “I want to quit.”

  “He’s your client, right? Just fire him.”

  “I was hired to do a job. I’m going to do it,” I say, and try not to grind my teeth. “I don’t quit.”

  “Good for you. So, who is this guy again? What’d he do?”

  “You’ve heard of the Imperial hotel chain?”

  “The fancy hotels? Like the Four Seasons?”

  “Exactly. My client’s father started with one hotel, and built it up from there. Kensington, Inc. does a lot more now, they own other hotel chains, and an airline—”

  “Bottom line, Daddy’s boy has some serious cabbage.”

  “And some serious issues.”

  “What’s his name?”

  I sigh. “Theodore Kensington.”

  “Really? I just saw something about him…” I hear her tapping on her computer. “Oh, man. Oh, man.” Laughter in her voice. I picture her scrolling through the pictures of Theo. A few photos of him with celebrity girlfriends, some on the red carpet, others taken by paparazzi stalkers. The camera loves Theo. Dazzling white smile amid the tan skin, the acres of muscles on his bare chest at the beach…

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s very photogenic.”

  “Mmmhmmm.” Wait for it.

  “Oh wow. Oh wow. Holy--”

  “Yep. That’s his dick.”

  “Looks like you have a big problem here. A really, really big… problem.” She giggles.

  “I know.” I rub my forehead, wishing the pain meds would kick in. “I’ve never had a client’s sex tape go live the day I start working for him.”

  “Aww, Vesper, you can 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 to blow her off?” I step close to him. One more step and my boobs would brush his chest. Charm him.

  He shrugs.

  “You’re not even interested in finding out why she wants to meet you?”

  He dips his head, nuzzles my shoulder. “There are other things I’m interested in.” His lips brush my skin and set my body buzzing.

  “So uptight,” he murmurs. “You need a good orgasm. I can help with that.”

  “Maybe later,” I say in a voice as brisk as I can make it, ignoring the fact that my libido has gone from zero to one hundred in three seconds.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Theo says, and the promise makes me shiver.

  I clear my throat and press on. “Your uncle is sick. He might die, and that leaves you in the line for the throne. You’ll be crown prince.”

  “I don’t want to be a prince,” he murmurs. His hot breath licks up my skin. “I’m already a god.”

  “You’re not a god.” I squeeze my arm between us, and push my glasses up my nose so I can give him a proper Mrs. Mavery glare. “You’re a male Paris Hilton.”

  “Thank you,” he smirks.

  “Cut it out,” I push at his chest. His rock hard, water slick chest that couldn’t be more perfect if it was carved by Michelangelo. “This playboy act has to get old. Even I can tell you’re smarter than this.”

  He straightens, studying me with eyes the color of espresso. “So what do you want me to do?” He sounds serious.

  “We issue a statement condemning the sex tape as an invasion of privacy. Direct the press attention to your success and achievements.”

  “I don’t have any of those.”

  “Your platform, then. You’re the son of an immigrant who worked his way into the Forbes top 100 richest people in the world. You have a good chance of becoming the heir to the throne in Sweden.” I try not to say it like I don’t believe it, but it seems crazy. This tall, dark-haired, tattooed stud standing inappropriately in my space is a prince. “You’re going to be in the news for a long time, Theo. It’s time to craft your message.”

  He blows out a breath. “All right.”

  “All right?”

  “I’ll do it. The interviews. The statement. Whatever.”

  “Really? You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. You convinced me. Does that surprise you?” He angles his head. Mine tilts opposite of his automatically. My chin goes up, raising my lips to his
. “You are,” his hot breath caresses my face, “very convincing.” I close my eyes as a thrill goes through me.

  “Theo!” One of the blondes calls, holding a margarita shaker. Somehow, she manages to simultaneously simper at Theo while giving me stink eye. “I have something for you.” She opens the shaker and pours the icy, sticky liquid down her chest. Her nipples pop like fighter pilot buttons.

  “Gotta go,” Theo says, a wicked glint in his eye. He swaggers off, leaving me swaying.

  I gotta go too, and craft a statement that will save my client’s image. The conversation we had is a huge win. But as I listen to the happy squeals of blondie getting tequila licked off her skin by Theo’s ready and willing tongue, I have to admit, it doesn’t feel like one.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Evans looks me up and down as I enter the mansion. I’m still in bikini and heels; I’d grabbed my dress but didn’t have time to put it back on.

  “My job,” I answer, shrugging on my dress on and tying it up. “I’ve already crafted Theo’s statement to the press. I just have to hit ‘send.’ My media contacts will take care of the rest.

  Evans scowls. He’s old school, hired by Theo’s dad. He probably doesn’t approve of media consultations done by the pool.

  “You hired me to do a job,” I defend myself. “I’m doing it. Theo—Mr. Kensington agreed to my course of action.”

  Evans blinks. “Really?”

  “He’s ready to clean up his image. I’m setting up a few interviews for him now. He promised he’d do them.” Right before he stuck his tongue in a woman’s cleavage.

  “Is that so?” He touches the ear piece in his ears, listens for a moment, and then strides to the door.

  “Where are you going?” I call after him.

  “Mr. Kensington just left with his entire posse. Last time he did this, they almost burned down the Hampton residence.”

  “Shit,” I breathe, and scramble to follow.

  4

  A hair-raising drive later, the orange Maserati pulls up to a curb, parking illegally. Evans motors up behind it.

  I unpeel my fingers from the dash and seat. Theo drives like he’s doing time trials for the Indie 500, and Evans stayed on his tail the whole way. The head of security must have tons of practice. And a judge in his pocket to pay off Theo’s speeding tickets.