by Thorne, Gigi
Accidental Royal
A Royal Romance
Gigi Thorne
TEACHER’S PET
Gigi Thorne
Copyright © Gigi Thorne
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Design
Editor:
First Edition
Contents
1. Charlotte
2. Charlotte
3. Wes
4. Charlotte
5. Wes
6. Charlotte
7. Wes
8. Charlotte
9. Wes
10. Charlotte
11. Wes
12. Wes
13. Charlotte
Who is Gigi
Also by Gigi
1
Charlotte
“I couldn’t bear another single second in there,” I tell my older sister, Helena, as we leave through the back entrance, surrounded by five of our royal guards.
I’m eighteen today.
It was my private birthday party.
The white party.
This was nothing like the tame, proper royal celebration held in my honor at the castle earlier this evening.
Not by a longshot.
No, this was the dirty little secret party organized at my request by Tasha Lloyd, my personal assistant. And she blew this event out of the park. Set up on the sprawling penthouse floor of the only six-star resort hotel in the kingdom, it was by invitation only, and was everything I asked for and then some. Gorgeously sculpted male dancers hanging from silk aerial ribbons. Lilac strobe lighting that danced on the elaborate chandeliers and on all the guests’ all-white attire. Loud, vibrating club music that would never be heard within the castle walls. More wine and spirits than anyone could imbibe in one night. A chocolate fondue fountain, all of my favorite appetizers, prepared exactly the way I love them. And only the tight-knit crowd of other royals and kingdom elites I’ve had in my circle for as long as I’ve known myself.
But still, just like my official birthday party earlier in the day, something was missing.
I can’t quite put my finger on exactly what that thing was, but perhaps one day I’ll know.
“I wasn’t quite ready to leave, little sis,” Helena tells me as we are helped into the first of two black Escalade SUVs parked beside the doorway, vehicles from the royal fleet. Tasha was smart to pick out this more subtle, unobtrusive SUV, which are usually occupied by our royal guards. No one would think to be on its trail if it’s not following or leading the more conspicuous town cars that the royal family almost always drive in.
“Really?” I ask. “Wow, that was wild.”
“No, you were scandalous.”
“Who? Little old me?” I joke. “Well, it’s-my-par-ty, I-can-be-as-wild-as-I-want-to,” I sing heartily to the tune of that old song, holding up my little clutch purse as an air mic for effect.
She nods, a teasing eyebrow raised in feigned disapproval as she fusses with my skirt and pulls it down my legs. “You were wilder than that, dear child. Do you even know where your panties are? Your lady bits are exposed for all and sundry.”
“Yes. They’re exposed, but remain untouched, dear big sister,” I muse with a hint of frustration. No man in this kingdom would dare touch Helena or me. Everyone in the land knows that my father would have their head if we were ruined before marriage.
“You’re such a princess whore,” she jokes.
“A princess whore in training, dear queen whore in training,” I counter lightly, then remember her mention of wanting to party a while longer. “Do you want to stay?” I ask, studying her closely for the first time all night. “Wait, why do you want to stay?” Her cheeks flush, and she smiles sheepishly, looking out through the window, but she doesn’t answer me. “Helena? You must tell me.”
My sister flashes a shy glance my way and I know right away it’s something big. Something earth-shattering and huge that she’s about to tell me. Because I know that look. My sister, three years my senior, is the girl I’ve looked up to since I knew myself. We’ve been inseparable all our lives. She’s the person I studied for cues on how to carry myself as a proper princess, and until this day, I’ve never seen such a telling expression on her face.
Which is huge.
Helena is the heir to the throne of the kingdom of Gideanor. The next Queen. If something has created a wave in her composure, it must be significant.
I wait for an answer.
And still, not a word from her.
“Sister, we don’t keep secrets from each other,” I plead. “We never have, so please don’t start now.”
“I promise I’ll tell you in the morning… when you’re more… sober,” she says to me.
“Sober? Darling, I’m fine.”
She shakes her head slowly. “No, no, my little lush. If you could hear yourself, you’d agree with me. You’re royally wasted.”
“No, I’m—” I start, but she presses her index finger over my mouth to stop me from saying another word.
“If you leave with our four main guards and swear not to say a word about my staying back here, I promise to tell you everything,” she whispers. “You must swear it.”
I nod vigorously and push her finger from my lips. “I swear… but wait. Four main guards?”
She darts a glance toward the large, broad, imposing guard standing outside her car door. “His name is Daniel,” she says hardly above a whisper, and color stains her cheeks yet again.
“Wait,” I utter, eyes widened as I stare back and forth between the two of them. Not that this Daniel would know I’m looking. The reflective tint of the SUV windows prevents anyone from seeing inside. “You and one of the royal guards?” I squeak.
“Shhhh.”
“No one can hear us,” I remind her, pointing toward the closed glass partition between us and the driver up front.
“I know. It just sounds so… so scandalous when you say it out loud.”
“And it’ll be a hell of a lot more scandalous if anyone from the court finds out.”
“Exactly… but… honestly, I almost don’t care anymore.”
“Anymore? How long has this been going on? How long have you been… fraternizing in secret with one of our royal guards? Father will kill him if he ever finds out. Hell, he’ll likely string you both up, but definitely your Daniel’s head will be on a spike for what you’re doing.”
“Not necessarily,” she whispers and pulls me into her arms for a tight hug. “I have to go now… with the man that you just pretty much condemned to losing his head.” She smiles as she pulls from our embrace, running her hand lovingly down through my thick red hair as she often does to show her affection for me. “But I’ll give you much more… tomorrow. I swear it, sister.”
“Oh, all right,” I breathe out in a fake huff. “Go on. Tell me all about it tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
She titters out a laugh as her hand grips the inside door handle. “It’s far too late for that, darling. Enjoy your beauty sleep.”
2
Charlotte
My mind won’t stop racing abou
t Helena’s news. Louis, one of the other guards, holds out his arm toward me as I climb out of the Escalade at the steps leading up to my chambers on my assigned south wing of the palace.
“Your Highness, are you certain that you want to retire in your chambers tonight?” Louis asks me in his usual formal tone.
“Yes, I want to sleep in my own bed,” I say.
“Because there’s work underway—” he starts, but I’m not interested in hearing more.
“I’m sleeping here,” I tell him, my tone final.
“Of course.” He steadies me with an arm, waiting for my feet to land on solid ground.
“Thanks,” I tell him absently, vaguely aware of his and the others’ protective presence as he and the other three guards follow at the appropriate distance on the way to my front door. They are well trained, these men. To be present without making their presence felt too strongly. To be our eyes and ears, always on the lookout for potential threats and dangers. To guard us. To risk their lives for us day in and day out with no exception.
I peel my cotton top off my shoulders, exposing my still slick, sweaty skin to the humid night air. I’m still boiling hot in just this little tube top, and knee-length flared skirt that I’m wearing. Louis and one of the newer guards whose name escape me move past me to do their usual detailed sweep of my chambers—well, it’s more like its self-contained home, to be honest. And much of it is currently under renovation by the kingdom’s top home remodeling company. They’ve been working round the clock for months, doing their best to complete it all before my big day today. From what I saw of the floor plans, all that’s left is some work in the two upstairs bathrooms attached to my sleeping quarters and some tile work on the main floor.
Now that I’m eighteen, my quarters are being redesigned and expanded to accommodate my transition into womanhood. The pinks and lilacs are to be replaced with royal reds and golds, as is customary, my single bed exchanged for the large four poster piece of furniture I like to call a monstrosity. But it’s the way it has been for generations before me. Far be it for me to buck the system or challenge the roles thrust upon us by virtue of the royal blood that flows through our veins.
This is the reason Louis wanted to be sure about whether or not I would sleep here for the night. And what he doesn’t know is that I’m making myself scarce at Helena’s quarters just in case I end up being the third wheel in her royally raucous little bombshell of a secret romance.
On my way inside, I miss a step and stumble into my chambers. Helena was right that I’m wasted, I think, giggling at how clumsy I must look to the two remaining guards who rush up behind me, ready to catch my possible fall.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I tell them, and they nod, returning to their posts.
Straightening up, I slide off my diamond encrusted Louboutins sling backs, a birthday gift from my mother, continuing barefoot. After their inspection, Louis and the new guard leave for the night. They’ll be at their posts outside, as per the usual, leaving me with the privacy I’m used to.
Perhaps there’s a silver lining to Helena’s hot little secret. Well, not little. Not by any stretch of the imagination. It’s a whopper. But maybe her significant deviation from the plan set out for her as future Queen of Gideanor will soften our parents' expectations of me, if and when the time comes for me to find a suitor.
Personally, I hope it’s not anytime soon.
I’ve only turned eighteen.
And I’m a virgin.
I’d like to see and experience more of the richness of life, frolic around the world like my sister did for an entire year, and discover who I really am.
But if plans can deviate for Helena, then I have a good shot at carving out a slice of life that suits who I am.
One day, anyway.
I jump a little when a loud thud catches my attention, pulling me from my idealistic thoughts as I reach the second floor of my chambers.
“Hello?” I call out timidly down the vast, dark hallway, puzzled by what could’ve made that noise at this hour. No one should be here. And the guards just checked the place thoroughly.
The fine short hairs that rest on the back of my neck stand on edge as I peer toward the direction of the sound. The hallway is unexpectedly dark, probably because one of the contractors may have turned the lights off before leaving for the evening. It’s happened before, but I’ve never heard any noises this late in the evening. Not unless advance notice is provided to Tasha, my personal assistant.
“Is anyone there?” I repeat just as the thud-like noise sounds out again.
This time, it’s louder and doesn’t stop. It thunders out, so loudly that it vibrates through my body. I place my shoes and clutch purse on the floor and decide to check for myself. I pad barefoot around the corner and into my bedroom, following the sound. Holding onto the wall for balance, I’m again reminded that Helena was not wrong about how much I had to drink.
The pleasing smell of freshly cut cedar and mahogany fills the air, and I inhale deeply, closing my eyes to take it in, not thinking.
As I slowly open my eyes again—all the air gets sucked out of my lungs.
I freeze in my spot at the sight of the chest of a big, broad, utterly chiseled man standing directly in front of me, filling my view with more muscles and masculine energy than I’ve ever witnessed before. I look up past the thick, bare corded pecs beaded with sweat, I notice the crown-sealed employee pass pinned onto the overall straps going over his immense shoulders. So, this is why my guards didn’t alert me to him. He’s one of our contractors. I look further skyward, past a beautifully squared and lightly stubbled jawline, gorgeous cheekbones, a prominent nose, and lock onto the more captivating sky-blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my natural born life.
The man is like no one I’ve ever laid eyes on. Like the cliché handyman that walks in to meet the desperately lonely, scantily-clad housewife on those porn flicks my sister and I watch in secret for kicks and giggles.
Except I’m not laughing now.
This big, deliciously dirty alpha-looking specimen of a man does not elicit laughter from me.
Oh no.
Not laughter at all.
More like lust.
Lust, and need, and all the vivid fantasies I’ve ever evoked in my less than innocent mind.
Because beneath this layer of pristine, virgin womanhood, is a very dirty girl, waiting for the right dominant alpha male royal to free her from her cage.
Or put her in a cage.
And maybe not a royal either, I suppose.
At the moment, my semi-inebriated, fully aroused mind can’t decide which one I want more.
But as long as it’s this man doing the freeing or capturing, I’m all in.
3
Wes
The instant I lock eyes with the young princess, I know I’m in serious fucking trouble.
My dick knows it too.
From afar, Princess Charlotte was stunning.
But here, up close, within mere feet of her beauty, she is… indescribable.
Pure, wondrous perfection.
Mesmerizing green eyes that sparkle even without a light source, creamy skin, silky auburn hair, full cupid’s bow lips, and past her graceful neck, a svelte body with the right amount of curves, softness, and contours. Sculpted shoulders that invite my eyes down to the swells of her breasts. The tops of them peek out from under the already thin stretchy tube top that leaves little to the imagination, perky nipples and all. And where her sorry excuse for a shirt stops just above her navel, a perfectly delicious narrow waistline that flares out to thick, grippable hips. There lies the waistband of an equally sheer, flowy skirt now stuck to her skin, showing off the silhouette of a V that I should never have seen at the top of her thick thighs, the kind I love to feel wrapped around my hips when I fuck.
Fuck.
That body.
That mouth.
It’s as though she was built for nothing but sin.
Built just for me
.
Except she was not put on this earth for a commoner like me.
Fuck no.
Hell, I shouldn’t even be this close to her, or casting even a passing glance her way. That ballsy, daring kind of shit tends to get shot down mighty fast around this here kingdom. And on regular occasions, I’m just as happy as the next guy to comply with the King’s demand that no one is to look upon his royal offspring.
But I was supposed to be alone here this evening.
Then she walked in.
I saw her the second she began to climb the wide marble double staircase, utterly unaware that I was watching on my way from one of the second-floor renovation areas to another, admiring her, lusting from afar.
As I looked on, I can see that deep-rooted air of royalty, a part of her as much as her physical appearance. I wonder how much of that is in her blood compared to her upbringing. The age-old question of nature versus nurture. But as it crosses my mind, a knot forms in my stomach and I try to shove other memories to the background. Like the fact that I never met my parents, never had parental figures to speak of, unless I used the term very loosely for the uptight, closed out nuns at the orphanage where I grew up.
Circumstances took something from me that tipped the scales out of my favor, created an unanswered question that I never could resolve. Unknown circumstances. Fuck, I don’t even know who my parents were. Not even a fucking name. I feel the threat of anger clench around my chest. Not knowing, well, it fucks up the best of us. Your brain starts to create a shitload of stories, both good and bad. Like, maybe they’re still alive somewhere and are coming back for you. Or they’re not. They’re never coming back because they’re six feet under and God is a wicked son of a bitch for taking them and letting you survive. Or on the flip side, that I must’ve been one worthless piece of trash in their eyes for them to leave me behind.