The King's Surprise Bride: A Royal Wedding Novella (Royal Weddings Book 2)

by Vivien Vale

  I cringe.

  We may look identical, but holy cow, we’re nothing alike in any other respect I can think of.

  The naked girl pouts and puts her hands on her hips.

  “Bend over again, and if you can’t beg for it properly, then let me get another look at your pussy.”

  Instantly, the girl obeys, no questions, no nothing.

  What the fuck?

  What possesses my brother? Is he only after a cheap strip show? Is it a matter of wielding his fucking power, trying to make up for losing most of what’s been promised with a single decision by the old man?

  Is he seriously going to pick the future mother of his child, maybe even children, this way?

  Doesn’t he find this the least bit off-putting?

  I’m nearly ready to vomit.

  Power has a strange effect on people. Those who have it abuse it, and those who don’t have it want it.

  I admit I myself feel threatened with the idea of being stripped of it—and fucking scrambling to get it back.

  But I don’t want to knock up just any woman, either. If I’ve got to have a baby with someone, she’s got to be more than perfect.

  Wondering how the fuck I’m going to leave this absurd display of human flesh, I notice the door fly open out of the corner of my eye. Instinctively, I hold my breath.

  What fresh hell has the wind blown in now?

  Then, instead of the deepening repulse I was expecting, I’m thrown way off balance.

  It’s as if a curve ball has been thrown my way. If I was ready to abandon this whole sorry debacle a few minutes ago, but suddenly, my mind’s been changed.

  For starters, the door isn’t opened gently. No, I’d describe it as being burst open with intensity.

  The heat goes up a few notches, and my mind’s made up.

  The woman that just stumbles in looks nothing like the ones I’ve just been forced to stare at in minute detail. She scans the room, and I see her eyes widen, like those of a deer caught in headlights. I can tell by the way her body suddenly tenses that she’s on the verge of following her flight instinct.

  This is the one I must have.

  For fucking sure.

  Without a word to my brother or the old man, I jump to my feet and cover the distance separating me and the future mother of my children.

  As I move with supersonic speed, my eyes appraise her, from head to toe.

  Sure, her shirt is a little crumpled, but the black pencil skirt shows off a nice bit of leg. And although I can’t exactly see her ass, I get a feeling it’s a tight one. One my hand can cover nicely and squeeze.

  I’m about to start talking to her when Lawrence materializes next to me, as if he’s just grown out of the ground by my feet.

  “Hey there, baby.” Still wearing the same shit-eating grin he has all morning.

  If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t want to frighten this girl, I’d like to wipe the lascivious look right off my brother’s face with my right fist.

  My possessive instincts are rallying together and taking charge. I don’t want Lawrence smudging this wholesome look of this latest candidate.

  As far as I’m concerned, this chick’s mine. All mine. Lawrence can choose one of the twenty-eight he’s viewed this morning.

  I remind myself I don’t have to fall in love with her—but I’ve at least got to like her.

  Being easy on the eyes doesn’t hurt, either.

  This gem ticks both those boxes. She’s the diamond I’ve been looking for among the crap my father had parade around since announcing his fucking new plan.

  “Show me your…”

  Not waiting for Lawrence to finish his sentence, I jump in.

  “I’m Carter Abraham. You are?” I hold my hand out to greet her, pushing my brother to the side in the process.

  We may be into sharing, but I’m not going to share this one with him. I need to look after my own fucking interests now.

  “June,” she stutters, her gaze shifting from the naked blonde near the boardroom table to me.

  “Well, June, why don’t you come with me so we can have an interview one-on-one.”

  There’s a tiny hesitation as I see her try and make sense of the situation.

  “Sure,” she finally says.

  Before she can change her mind, I take her by the elbow and propel her out of the room.

  “Enjoy the rest of the show,” I call over to my brother before I leave the room with the most beautiful woman I’ve seen all day.

  Once we’re in my private office, I take a seat across my desk from the woman I’m already secretly referring to as the mother of my child, the key to unlocking my father’s fortune. For the first time, I notice the slightly crumpled piece of paper she’s clutching in her hand.

  As if realizing what I’m looking at, she extends her hand.

  “My resume for the position of secretary.”

  Secretary?

  Christ. This’ll be fun.

  June

  If I ever wondered what a baby deer feels like when it’s facing down a hungry bobcat—this is it.

  “June Johnson.” Carter Abraham glances down at my resume, then tosses it on his desk like he’s never going to look at it again. “Cute resume.”

  “Thanks,” I say back, a little uncertain. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even read the freaking thing. “Actually, if you look at it, you’ll see that I’m highly qualified—”

  I feel him slide his eyes up and down my body.

  He doesn’t even try to hide it. His gaze lingers at the buttons of my button-down just over my breasts and the curves of my pencil skirt at my hips. He stares at my mouth so hard, I can’t even finish my sentence.

  I’m used to men looking at me. I mean, most women are, right?

  But I’ve never had a man look at me like that before.

  Is that the way things work here? It’s just so brazen.

  I clear my throat.

  “So, as you can see,” I continue, “my resume speaks for itself.”

  My words seem to float right through him. It’s like I didn’t say a thing.

  Honestly, I’m not too thrilled with the way they sound. They were meant to say Stop looking at me and read my resume! Or at least pretend to read it!

  However, they came out sounding…different. Not how I intended them at all.

  Either way, he didn’t take the hint. His eyes are busy taking another grand tour.

  “I’ll say,” he responds, finally.

  At least he’s listening…I think.

  “My resume’s down there,” I say, pointing to his desk, “and my eyes are up here.” I don’t bother pointing to my eyes. He’s not looking, anyway.

  “Sure,” he says, now looking off in the distance, disinterested.

  Those words didn’t seem to have the intended effect, either. He’s probably heard it all.

  Just jaded as all get out.

  I sigh.

  I’m just going to have to rely on myself to navigate this new universe. I’ve done it before—heck, I’ve made my way into what seems like a high-powered job interview. I should focus on how far I’ve come instead of dwelling on potential failure.

  Of course, it’s hard to focus on the positive when there’s a giant hole in my purse and my stomach by now is growling from hunger pain.

  Briefly, I’m reminded of those darn tampons that just robbed me of what could have been lunch.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

  It’s for a secretary position, but just getting my foot in the door of a place like this would be a solid start.

  Just take each moment as it comes, and keep relying on those instincts, I tell myself.

  “Is that resume from a template, or…”

  “A template? I typed that out myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t base it on anything.”

  “Hmm, you don’t say. It’s refreshing, seeing someone like you in here.”

  It sounds like something he’s ju
st saying, with no meaning behind it. So, I push a little.

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  Maybe he’s jaded, but this seems to give him a little jolt of genuine surprise. With slightly raised eyebrows, and some eye contact for once, he throws that challenge right back at me.

  “Do you expect me to believe that you don’t know what you have to offer?” Carter’s eyes take another quick roundtrip. “What even brought you here today?”

  “I’d like to think I know a good opportunity when I see one.”

  There are my instincts, saving my butt once again. Carter’s understanding nod, peppered with a touch of relief, confirms that that was the right thing to say.

  “As do I, Ms. Johnson.”

  He’s returning the compliment, but that seems like a strange thing to say to a job applicant. It’s like when a waitress tells you to enjoy your lunch, and you unthinkingly say you, too.

  Not that I do stuff like that. I try to choose my words carefully—although with this unexpected job interview, I’m flying by the seat of my skirt a bit more than usual.

  “It works for you,” says Carter, pointing vaguely in my direction.

  “You mean my resume?”

  “Forget the…okay, yes, your resume. It’s a bit unpolished, it could use a good ironing, but that just makes it all the sexier.”

  Using the word sexy to describe everything—that’s a city thing I’ve heard about. But, why is he talking about ironing?

  “I apologize for the creases, Mr. Abraham, but that’s my only copy, and I carry it in my purse. You’ll have to forgive me for not wanting to lug a briefcase with me everywhere.”

  A storm of confusion passes over Carter’s face. It’s clear we’re speaking two different languages, but if I’m going to be a secretary here, I’m sure I can learn.

  Oh, crap. He’s talking about my clothes, isn’t he?

  A flushing in my cheeks begins—much worse than what I felt at that weird little store across the street. It should come as no surprise, the way he’s been looking at me, but I’m not sure if this would be a good environment to work as a secretary.

  “Being my only copy,” I continue, “I would like that resume back, Mr. Abraham. Unless you have any more questions.”

  An immediate sense of regret swings through me when I invite Carter to ask more questions. However, I’m still not positive what this is all about, and I’m not ready to leave until I’m sure.

  “Please, take it back.” Carter hands me the resume. Quickly and silently, I refold the paper and put it in my purse.

  “Will that be all, then?” I ask, ready to stand up.

  Why am I not just leaving at this point?

  “I do have a couple more questions, Ms. Johnson.”

  “Okay. What?” I stop just short of telling him to make it quick.

  “What’s your cycle like?”

  “Excuse me? I’m sorry, you saw on my resume where I’m from, right? I’m not up on all the newest lingo, so if you can please be...”

  “When do you ovulate, Ms. Johnson?”

  Okay, all that weird stuff going on in the other room? And Carter’s comments?

  And now this question?

  “Mr. Abraham, this is not an interview for a secretary position, is it?”

  Now Carter’s blushing. And laughing.

  “Goddamn,” he says to himself before addressing me. “I’m almost certain that you’re serious, Ms. Johnson.”

  “I’m completely certain that I’m serious. Please, call me June, and explain to me what this is really about.”

  Carter sighs and pats his desk.

  “Alright, June. First of all, please call me Carter. Second of all, I’m looking for somebody to sign a contract…”

  “A contract position?”

  “Technically, yes. This would be a contract to be the mother of my child.”

  I blink a couple of times and suddenly feel the need for a stiff drink…even though I don’t even drink.

  “Sorry,” I mumble trying to maintain my composure. “I think I must have misheard. I thought you said something about me being the mother of your child and contract in the same sentence?”

  The smile on my face is forced. My hands clutch onto my purse. I’m desperate for him to label me as a little slow and clear up this silly misunderstanding.

  My prayers are not answered. Carter nods.

  “You did not mishear.”

  “You want me to…bear your child?”

  “If you were to sign the contract, yes. And if and when you do become pregnant, we would get married.”

  “Let me just get this straight, because I want to be sure I heard you correctly…”

  “This would only be until the death of my father,” he shrugs. “Then we would end the marriage.”

  I frown slightly and nod. A job is a job, isn’t it?

  “So…it’s for appearances.”

  “Except for the pregnancy, you could say. But yes, exactly that, Ms. Johns...June. Hence the contract. In most senses, this would be a business arrangement.”

  I mull his words over in my head. Should I be shocked? Because the only thing I’m shocked by now is how much I’m not shocked.

  Listening to Carter explain it, it makes perfect sense.

  I mean, maybe I should be a little appalled. Or, at least, I should have more questions about why he’s doing this. But then again, does it matter why he’s doing it?

  I do have one question, though.

  “What would I get out of the contract?”

  “Once fulfilled, your compensation would be ten million dollars.”

  Oh.

  Well.

  When I told Carter I know a good opportunity when I see one, I was telling the truth. My instincts have served me fairly well during this interview, and right now, my instincts are telling me—practically screaming at me—to see where this goes.

  Wait, did he say ten million dollars?

  No wonder my instincts are screaming.

  “And I’m in the running for this contract?”

  “Yes, you’re very much a contender.”

  Carter is making distinct eye contact now. The message in his eyes is also distinct: I’m not just a contender—that contract is mine if I want it. I see the leverage I have in Carter’s eyes, and I’m going to use it.

  “If I’m to sign this contract, Carter, I have a few additional conditions.”

  “Okay,” Carter says slowly. “You did hear me when I said ten million, right?”

  I’m glad to have that number repeated.

  “I heard you. I could also use a job in the meantime. Working as a secretary here would suit me, with the standard wages you’d pay for that. Additionally, I’d require an advance on my wages—enough to get me by for the time being.”

  Watching Carter carefully, I see no change in his expression. That means I still have leverage, I think.

  But he’s not saying anything. Maybe my instincts aren’t so…

  “Okay.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said okay, June. I agree to your conditions.” He shrugs again. “The contract is yours, if you want it.”

  Oh.

  That was easy.

  “Thank you, Mr. Abraham. I’ll start the secretary job today, I think.”

  I’m slipping back into calling him Mr. Abraham, but that’s at least partially out of shock.

  My instincts are doing a fine job, after all.

  “And the contract? You’ll sign it?”

  Now I don’t even have to force my smile.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Carter

  When I saw those big doe eyes staring up at me for the first time, I thought I’d finally found myself the innocent, obedient kind of woman who would be happy to follow my orders and pose next to me for the company Christmas cards.

  Obviously, I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my life.

  June Johnson. She’s too stubborn to be likable
and too headstrong for her own good. Sure, she’s gorgeous—but that just puts her in danger around a man like me.

  Being that beautiful and that willful…I don’t expect myself to fall in love with her, but I know exactly how I’d like to break her.

  We’ll see how easily she can sass me with those thick, pretty lips wrapped around my hard, fat cock.

  “June.” I stand in the doorway of my office, watching her trying to make sense of a dozen expense reports that probably look like fucking Latin to anyone without a business degree.

  “Yes, Mr. Abraham? You need me for something?” She looks up at me with those big hazel eyes again, and I feel my cock hit half-mast in an instant.

  I fucking want her. That’s undeniable. I want to bend her over my fucking desk and show her exactly how an Abraham man puts his secretary through her paces…

  But that can wait. For now, she’s just my employee—not my contracted bride.

  There are other ways I can put her through her paces first.

  “I need you to pick up the pace.” I don’t bother to hide my impatience. “I need eighty-five copies of this document,” I hold up a tick bundle of papers before pointing to a pile of unruly papers near my door. “And I need these documents sorted, paginated, and photocopied within the hour.”

  As I give my orders, my hawk eyes study her carefully. She doesn’t flinch, blink, or show any other sign of anxiousness. Instead, she leaves the expense report and comes toward me to grab the bundle of papers in my right hand.

  Instead of picking up the box full of documents, I watch her ass as she returns to her desk.

  My cock is threatening to stand at attention, answering the call of duty. When she turns back around, she barely looks at me.

  Her eyes are already fixed on the box. It’s not heavy, so I don’t feel bad for making her do the work. Besides, if she ends up carrying my baby, she’ll be working a lot harder than this.

  “Which is more urgent, the photocopies or the papers in the box?”

  Those deer eyes are trying to suck me in, but I resist. I don’t need to start caring for her. No, sir—I just need to put her through the paces and makes sure she’s up for it. Then I can have her sign the contract.

  “Both are urgent,” I reply and shut my door.

  It’s time to make a hasty retreat. Suddenly, my cock was threatening to take over my brain, and things might have gotten a touch interesting. There’s no fucking way I want to fuck her before she signs the contract.