Forbidden King
Victoria Pinder
Contents
Series information
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Also by Victoria Pinder
About the Author
Forbidden King
Copyright©2019
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
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Published in the United States of America.
Copyright © 2019 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book
All rights reserved.
This book is dedicated to my RWA group Heart of Denver who saw fit to make me their president. I’m honored and hope I’m doing a good job in helping my fellow authors.
Please check out the entire Princes of Avce Series and get caught up.
Princes of Avce
Forbidden Crown
Forbidden Prince
Forbidden Royal
Forbidden Duke
Forbidden Earl
Forbidden Monsieur
Forbidden Marquis
Forbidden Count
Forbidden King Coming Soon
Princes of Avce 1-3
Princes of Avce 4-6
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Chapter 1
Thirty Years Ago…
In the country of Avce, a noble must marry before his thirtieth birthday or lose his status. Leo, technically Leopoldo Aussa, as the crown prince and only son of the royal family, demanded that his parents change the archaic rules for him, but as the calendar counted down to doomsday, only three weeks away, they did nothing.
Leo had threatened to vacate his responsibilities, refuse the throne and leave Avce. But where could he go without wealth and privilege?
He’d traveled to the United States at eighteen, where his wallet had been stolen. Those few hours without money or identification in Los Angeles, California had scarred him.
Deep down, he knew he would accept the throne and marry, but his first law as king would be to change this ancient rule of the land. No son of his should face down a clock. Or marry a stranger just to keep his birthright.
Leo couldn’t imagine having a son, but when the time came, he hoped to have a relationship with the next heir, like some of his friends had with their fathers. They would build trust and understanding and not be ignored.
Summoned to the throne room, where he’d been kept waiting for over an hour, Leo was sure his parents were about to apply more guilt, saying that he’d ruined their chances for a shipping alliance with a northern country nowhere near Avce by not marrying the princess of said country. He had no choice but to sit straight in the high-backed wooden chairs meant to intimidate royal visitors.
The dong of the swinging clock near the door went off, signaling another half hour had passed and once again his parents paid little regard for his time or his schedule.
His pulled at his tight collar. He probably shouldn’t have slept with Francesca at the bride-finding ball his parents had thrown two nights ago, but he hadn’t wanted to be Prince Charming to some Cinderella waltzing through the palace door.
So, he’d disappeared with the pretty model who’d wanted nothing more than a one-night stand.
The infernal tick-tock of the huge gilded clock needed to be removed from this antechamber. One day, if he ever did have any power, he’d dismantle that sound so no one else had to suffer.
He’d spent too much of his life staring at that gilded clock waiting for his parents to give him a royal decree for his life rather than discuss anything, ever.
Perhaps if his parents had had more sons, then he wouldn’t carry this weight on his shoulder. His younger sister had done her duty, married and left the kingdom that Leo was supposed to inherit. If he abdicated, an odious cousin took over. He stood from the chair and paced.
If not the princess, maybe his parents planned to ream him over Francesca, and then send him on his way like he was still a boy they’d scold.
Franz, the court Marshal, opened and closed the door to the throne room, carrying a long staff. Leo crossed his hands and ignored the heat in his cheeks as the play of his life continued. Franz tapped the marble floor with his symbolic staff. Without a word, the gesture meant ‘stand and be ready to meet the king and queen.’
Even as the only son, he didn’t get a pass around traditions. Luckily his father was healthy and should rule Avce for decades more without any issues.
Now if he’d rescind the law that nobles must marry by thirty, everything would be fine. Had Leo been called to meet them because they’d finally relented?
He followed behind the servant, who stepped back when they reached the final door and Leo entered the room normally filled with royal hangers-on. Today it was just his parents, both dressed in royal blue and gold as they held court and sat on their thrones.
Their positions meant they were in charge, they set the rules and he obeyed.
Leo walked to the lowest step of the dais. His father declared, “Leopoldo Aussa, the laws cannot be changed because you want to keep flirting with models, son.”
Francesca was to be the subject then. He met his father’s gaze and squared his shoulders. “Francesca is more than just a model.”
“Model and aspiring actress?” His mother, Queen Anastasia, stood from her throne and stared down the steps as if he was a peasant. “She’s not fit to be a queen. You know that, son, which is why you haven’t considered marrying her, yet your action put all the eligible women who might be good for you on notice that you weren’t available.”
Her tone was clipped. So they knew he’d known Francesca for more than one night—they didn’t have to say. His mother’s raised eyebrow conveyed her disapproval without words. Yes, Francesca was reckless and wild. She didn’t care about anything which was the exact opposite of what everyone thought he should be.
Queen Anastasia continued in her litany, “And once again you cause your own problems and once again I find the solution. Hopefully one day you’ll
learn to take some responsibility in life and not just flit around and never think things through.”
No one had ever asked Leo to solve anything before.
It might be nice, but it wasn’t important now. Leo wanted one thing in his life… a choice. So, he took a single step up the dais like he was ascending into godliness. It was time to show them how reckless he was and force them to change the stupid law. He met the cold stare of his father. “Time is almost up for me. If you truly want me to be king, then you’ll accept Francesca.”
“She’s unacceptable and you’ll be stripped of any power if you do.” His father hadn’t budged from his throne as he decreed, “Your secretary Anna is a better choice for queen.”
Anna Camila? Leo kept her close because she did whatever he needed, without fuss; she wasn’t bad to look at with her tight bun and ever-present notepad. She anticipated his every whim, and ran his events perfectly.
But she wasn’t a noble.
Neither was Francesca.
He hadn’t once thought his parents would accept anyone that wouldn’t help grow Avce’s power. Francesca certainly didn’t but Anna Camila? “You want me to marry my secretary?”
His mother nodded her regal head. “At every event for the past year, where she has been at your side, your manner and behavior is above reproach.”
“What happened to making a match that brings a contract or treaty to Avce?”
“Your two sisters handled that for us, protecting our small nation,” his father said.
His mother folded her arms. “You’re running out of time. Ask Anna. At least I like Anna Camila.”
Interesting. This must have been his parents’ plan—they knew very well the clock was ticking. They didn’t approve of Francesca, and had offered a solution that he might not have considered.
All that was missing was Anna. Was she in on it? No. Yet for all he knew, she might have a boyfriend who ran a shipping company in Avce, or worse, a man who operated a ski chalet.
The thought of Anna with a cocky ski instructor made his body grow cold. He bowed and said, “Let’s ask her then, right now.”
His parents descended the stairs of the dais together. Once they reached the bottom, his mother cupped his face and said, “You can talk to her alone.”
Today made no sense and his parents were mistaken if they thought he and Anna would match.
Anna had a way of staring through him until he capitulated because she thought he was better than he was. A lifetime of expectation might be too hard to handle when no one, not even his parents, expected anything of him.
He kept his head high. She’d say no. And when she said no, then they needed to let him make his own mistakes. He shook his head and motioned toward the door. “No. As she was the group choice, let’s have you both there to hear her answer.”
He strode down the vaulted halls of the palace, hemmed in by portraits of his ancestors all dressed in black, each with penetrating eyes.
He turned and climbed a wide stairwell leading to his wing of the palace, the red carpet quieting their steps. Normally, his heart calmed by this point of his journey after being dismissed from the throne room, but not today. His belly burned with fire.
Perhaps Francesca wasn’t a lady like his mother, but his mistakes were supposed to be his own and not a reflection against ancestors from the Roman Empire.
In his almost thirty years, he’d never assumed once that his parents, his royal parents, would suggest a peasant. If he’d have thought they’d bend this much, he might have held out for love—or something like that.
His mind swirled as they neared his office door. Why would they approve of Anna but not Francesca?
Leo peeked into his office.
Anna’s brown eyes shone with intelligence behind her black-framed spectacles she wore to read his mail. She laughed at his dry commentary that most people didn’t get.
And unlike most women, he was easy and himself with her.
Her uniform of choice was a black knee-length pencil skirt, a button-down shirt, pearls around her neck, her hair tied up in a tight bun, and no makeup at all.
He’d never seen her in anything else. He pushed open the door fully and she was right where he’d left her, at her desk, in front of her desktop computer, typing away on a document.
He heard the shwish sound of the printer, and cleared his throat.
Her brown eyes widened and she jumped out of her seat to curtsy as his parents followed him into his office, their blue and gold attire flashing.
His father pressed his hand on his chest like this was a formal meeting and she was his equal as he said, “Anna Camila.”
She didn’t end her curtsy. “Yes, Your Highness?”
Leo tapped her shoulder to get her to straighten up and a spark rushed in his veins. He’d touched her before, but never felt this. Of course, he hadn’t considered marrying her before now. He put his arms to his side the moment she stood and glanced at him. He said, “My father believes you’ll make me an excellent queen one day. Do you want the job?”
She blinked. Anna lost all the color in her face as she raised her eyebrow and asked, “What job? I don’t understand.”
Perhaps if he’d thought Anna was a possibility in the past, he’d have at least glanced at her full lips. Would they be sweet? He’d been shocked by his father’s suggestion and still wasn’t sure so he pivoted toward his parents. “Father…”
His mother took Anna’s hands as if they were friends. “My son is asking you to marry him though he’s being extremely rude.”
And there it was. The same as always. His parents still made his choices and expected him to do as told.
No discussion allowed.
And yet, he hadn’t protested at all. Asking Anna had never been his idea. He wouldn’t have broken the class structure, but he pressed his lips when Anna’s cheeks pinkened. “Mother,” he said. “Stop.”
Anna’s lips hadn’t quite closed, but she turned toward him, fixed that infernal bun to keep it straight and asked him, “Your Highness?”
This was a shot in the dark that showed his parents’ desperation to get him married. She probably had a fiancé or a life outside the palace once she left him every day at five o’clock. At his mother’s glare, he went down on one knee, took Anna’s hand, and kissed the back of it. In the most serious tone he could muster he asked, “Will you marry me, Anna Camila?”
She clutched his hand and her entire face and neck turned bright red. Surely she was about to say no and explain a bit of her personal life.
Then she swallowed and glanced at his hand holding hers. He held his breath as he waited for her refusal, but then she tugged his arm to stand and said, “Yes. I know you have to marry soon and I’m honored, though I should discuss this with my grandmother and ask for her blessing.”
His mother clasped her hands together and acted like this last-minute union was now a royal decree. “Excellent. We’ll plan the wedding for tomorrow and send you both on an extended honeymoon to get to know each other.”
Know each other? True. Other than her dependability and timeliness where she was always where he needed her to be, he didn’t know much about Anna. He released her hand, walking to the open door where he waited by it. “I’d like to speak to Anna, alone.”
His mother wrapped her arm in the crook of his father’s and said, “I’ll begin the wedding preparations for tomorrow. Anna, don’t leave this castle without my tailor taking your measurements.”
Anna bowed as was the custom. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
His parents left in a wake of gold and blue and silence clung in the air. His office had a window that overlooked a vast green lawn and clusters of trees. A branch scraped the glass, breaking the tension.
Anna turned to the printer, gathered and stapled some papers, then handed them to him. “I finished the report on the environmental impact of deforestation of the mountains. The forestry department recommends replanting trees, Sire, before the next ski season.”
Seriously? Reports. She’d just agreed to marry him, so as of tomorrow, she’d never touch one more industry paper for him. He stood taller and noticed that the swell of her breasts in her white button-down was larger than he’d have guessed. Her shirt was big—to disguise her figure? He sat on the edge of his mahogany desk, centered in the room, to give her space. “Anna, I don’t want to talk about trees right now.”
She took a few steps closer to him and hugged the papers to her chest, keeping her gaze no higher than his chin as she disagreed. “The report sounded important.”
If she thought it was urgent, then she was probably right. He held out his hand for the report she wanted to discuss and flexed his fingers. She gave him the papers and he signed the bottom to approve the proposal. “It seems we’ll plant trees in the future queen’s honor then.”
“What do you mean?”
Business would never come between them again. He took her hand. First off, he noticed the spark again, and second, how soft her hands actually were as he tugged her closer and placed her palm on his heart, over the silk fabric of his shirt. “Anna, you just agreed to be my wife. That’s more important than trees.”
Her fingers clutched the row of buttons but then she pulled away, her face bright red. She glanced down and still acted like his secretary. “I see. Is there anything else you need from me?”
He motioned toward the cleared space on the desk. “Anna, please sit beside me.”
She squared her shoulders instead of telling him no and hopped up on the wooden desk, but lost one of her black flats. Her toes, in black hose, wiggled as she settled next to him. “Is here good?”
Forbidden King (Princes of Avce Book 9) Page 1