Royal Line Carrie Ryan (best fiction books to read TXT) 📖

my dick the memo. I was rock-hard, still able to smell her all over me. Her faint hint of Chanel Chance lingered, and I could still feel her satiny skin all over my body.

Part of me wanted to go and check on her.

Because you’re a sap.

But I knew better. I should have been the one to leave after what we’d done. Last night was just one of those things. And I made a mistake of thinking that connection I’d felt was something tangible. Something real.

It had felt…real.

I forced myself into the shower, even though I was hesitant to wash off her scent. I knew it was best for me. Once I was showered and, at the very least, clearheaded, I went downstairs in the maze of a house to find Sparrow in the kitchen cooking. She was dressed in her usual attire. Black leather leggings and some kind of graphic tee that I was quite certain was flipping me the middle finger. The T-shirt was expertly cut though. It fit her frame. Sparrow liked to give the image of being no muss, no fuss, but I recognized designer details when I saw them.

“Morning, boss. Did you sleep well?”

I gave her a non-committal, “Hm.”

Her knowing smirk said she knew exactly what I’d been up to last night. I was surprised she had nothing to say about it though. It wasn’t like her to hold her tongue. “Everything checked out for security?”

She nodded. “It was all clear last night. Only a few cars on the main road, but they all went to other properties on the street. Olly added a few extra touches, additional ‘eyes in the sky’ so to speak. Just in case anyone happens to stick their noses over here, he’s got an extra layer of protection. Where’s the princess?”

I watched her warily, unsure if there had been a hint of sarcasm when she said “princess,” but there was nothing in her expression to indicate it. “I think she’s still—”

“The princess is right here.”

Every cell in my body froze. I turned slowly to look at London. “Good morning.”

Her smile was sunny but distant somehow.

This is what we were doing? Fair enough. Not like last night meant a damn thing to me either.

Liar. 

She was the first woman since Phoebe where sex hadn’t just been about a workout or getting some kinks out. She was the first connection I thought had gone beyond something physical. But it just went to show that emotions could be deceiving. “There’s coffee, you want some?”

Her gaze met mine and then skittered away. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you. Black with lots of sugar.”

“I think we can manage that.” I poured myself a cup, trying not to think about how she liked her coffee exactly like mine. I didn’t understand how people could inhale coffee like it was nectar. It tasted like ass. The only way to drink coffee was to mask the taste. I’d expected her to be some fancy froufrou French press kind of girl or an espresso drinker. But no, she drinks it just like you do. 

I handed her a steaming mug, and she took it with a soft smile on her lips. When our fingers grazed, she quickly jerked her hand back, nearly spilling the coffee all over herself. “Um… thanks.”

I lifted a brow. Last night she’d been all over me, but in the morning light, this was her game? Fair enough, two could play at this. “London, now that you’re up, we need to figure out a few things.”

She eased herself onto one of the stools at the counter.

Is she okay? 

I watched her carefully as she winced, adjusting herself on the seat. Was she sore?

None of your business, since she’s pretty much acting like nothing happened.

“Start from the beginning. I know we’ve already been through this before, but I want Sparrow to hear it firsthand.”

At that moment, Olly walked in. He nodded at the sight of me. “Boss.”

He gave Sparrow a wink as he stole one of the pieces of bacon off the plate she’d been stacking it on. She whacked his hand. And despite Olly being fast, Sparrow was faster. He winced at the contact. “Aww, I’m a growing boy.”

She eyed him up and down. “Stop whining. I’m pretty sure you’re done growing.”

He grinned then. “Well, I’m a big boy. I need to feed the beast.”

She rolled her eyes, and in turn Olly grinned at London. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

The smile he gave her was professional, but there was something a little too charming about it as far as I was concerned. I glowered at him, and he eased that fancy mouth into professional territory.

“Ah, good thanks. You’re Olly, right?”

He nodded. “Sorry, I’ve been busy setting up security. I didn’t get to introduce myself yesterday.”

“London. Nice to meet you.”

I purposely didn’t allow them to start small talk. “London, start telling your story from the beginning, please.”

She gave me a look I couldn’t figure out before speaking. “As you know, I’m Princess London Waterford of Alden. I turned twenty-nine a few days ago. That’s when my aunt let me know about a law that has been in place for, I guess, centuries, that says if there is no royal heir to our line by the time the youngest of the generation turns thirty, the monarchy will be transferred to the next eligible royal family.”

Sparrow stared at her from her place at the stove. “But that’s like some ancient misogynist bullshit. They can’t enforce that, can they?”

London shrugged, though she didn’t look too casual about it. She was worried, and hell, so was I for that matter. “That’s what my aunt says. On the night I left, she was running through options with my brothers. One was to hurry up and get me married off. An arranged marriage situation, which I was not down for. The other was to call in the Council of Lords to take a vote and have the law revoked.”

Olly frowned. “Your brother is the king.