Royal S.O.B.
Copyright 2016 by Kaitlyn Kevette
SECOND CHANCES PUBLISHING
All Rights Reserved
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* Author's note: This is a work of FICTION. The main characters are of consenting age (18+) and related by marriage only, NOT blood.
"Maybe this was what love was all about. Even if you knew that the guy was a born bastard, you gave him a long rope. You loved him, you wanted him, you let go. Your weak heart made you do it, countering your strong mind. And in all battles between the two, it was the heart that won. Always."
~ Princess Adelaide Isabella Royce
NAVIGATION:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Epilogue
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Prologue
When history repeated this time, everything was predictable. It had captured the public imagination as always, it was splashed everywhere, it became the toast of the nation. With one notable exception.
The commoner that became princess was not suitably impressed.
It was a complete mystery to Kenrick. What ordinary mortal would not be thrilled by such an unexpected turn of events? Who would not love to live like the royalty? What kind of a person would want to stay back in the life of drudgery that middle class was known for?
That was it. This girl, Adelaide something, who turned into Princess Adelaide Royce, was a mystery. It seemed, Kenrick was convinced, that she was no ordinary mortal.
Could she be an angel? Could she be of superior intelligence to loathe royalty so much? Could she be so special that not even the most eligible bachelor in the country did not appeal to her?
The more he thought about Princess Adelaide, the more he was attracted to her. It was more than the craving for the forbidden fruit, it was a necessity for his fast beating heart. It was a no-exit situation for Kenrick; there was no option for him but to get her, by fair means or foul.
But, given their respective positions – she was also princess in her own right, now holding almost an equal rank as him – any foul method was likely to kick off a scandal. Which meant there was just one option open to him: He had to win her over.
Fair and square.
Kenrick just sat there thinking of Princess Adelaide. That was what he was doing those two full days. He would have breakfast late in the morning, not even look at his usual newspapers. He would have lunch towards evening, and he would not even watch television. He would have dinner, if at all, by midnight. His entire life had gone topsy-turvy.
This was not Kenrick. This was definitely not Prince Kenrick Royce. The royal scion who played with the lives – and bodies – of countless women, now suddenly at the mercy of just one. Doomsday was near; what was never thought possible was now coming true.
It struck him that he knew nothing about Princess Adelaide. As far as he was concerned, his new stepsister was a total stranger to him. She, on the other hand, probably knew all about him. He was this celebrity, among the most well-known faces of the times, and easily one of the top trending names on the Web.
That was it – he had to know about her. He had to get a complete lowdown on this new woman in his life; well, not yet in his life.
But soon will be, he assured himself.
"I, Prince Kenrick, have to know her," he kept repeating to himself, like a man gone crazy.
He, who had never even bothered to know the names of the women he'd bedded, now suddenly wanted to know everything about this one woman he had yet to bed – and had not much hopes of bedding.
And that woman happened to be his stepsister.
But how to know her? She was so like a wall, so impenetrable like a rock. How was he to know her? Was there a way, a shortcut, to understand this enigma called Princess Adelaide?
Chapter One
Prince Kenrick was bored to death.
He was bored of his station, he was bored of his recent retirement from the Royal Air Force, he was bored of all the women in his life. It was not the boredom of not having anything to do; it was the bored of having everything in plenty.
If only he did not have anything!
That was a luxury of the poor. That was a luxury he could never be afforded ever in his life, thanks to his position. As the next in succession for being the monarch of his country, there was nothing that would not come easily for him. If anything – and this was what he wanted badly – there was one impoverishment in his life.
The impoverishment of the unexpected.
Indeed, for Prince Kenrick, who was all of twenty-seven, things came too easily. He was born into greatness, with a nod to the great bard from Stratford-upon-Avon, and he also had greatness thrust upon him from. And to add to it, his qualities and qualifications were nothing short of great, either.
Drop dead good looks to rival the most ancient of Greek gods. A sexy baritone to let his crisp British accent ooze through. A body that had been chiseled to perfection through rigorous workouts. And the last to be mentioned but first in the pecking order – yes, a long pecker that was always never out of work. And like in any line of work, the more it was employed, the better it got.
Prince Kenrick was bored.
And yet, he knew deep inside, anyone would give their arm and leg to be in his expensive designer shoes. Not just because of the blue bloo
d in his veins; also because of what he was and who he was to become.
Everything about him was royalty personified. Kenrick Royce. The name meant royal twice over, and the prince lived up to his moniker every bit. Beyond the obvious royal lineage, he was well built, athletic, powerful, aggressive, ambitious, versatile, restless, adventurous…
That hit the nail on the head, thought Kenrick. He needed an adventure badly.
Too much had been going on too smoothly for his taste, and now the boat needed to rock a bit. After all, he was Kenrick Royce, prince among men, king among gods, Casanova among women. The great Prince Kenrick did not deserve to be sitting idle on his sexy buttocks, when he had other important assignments he could be attending to.
He was, at that moment, sitting on his handsome posterior on the lawn behind his manor, unseen by the entourage of servants waiting to attend to him, the tall blades of grass hiding his torso up to his strikingly chiseled pectorals. He stretched himself, crushing the tall grass.
For ants and little insects, these could be pine trees shooting into the sky, he thought to himself. And he would be a giant Brobdingnagian, as writer Swift would have put it.
"Indeed, I am a giant who spreads bliss among women," he said under his breath.
"I'm an orgasm donor!" he said, loudly this time.
He liked the ring of it. I must put that as a sticker on my limousine, he thought.
But no, they would never let him… all thanks to the so-called royal protocol. It stifled his free spirit, all that ceremony and all that propriety. The royals were meant to be superior to the commoners, and yet this privileged lot could not taste the freedom that even the less privileged enjoyed. Ridiculous!
Not that he resented it, not really. His royalty was his passport to practically any corner in the world, and – dare he say it – to any vagina in the world. And, truth to say, he had been a vagina hunter for all of his adult life. And adolescent life, for that matter. He even kept a pussy counter somewhere inside his head. The ticker kept ticking, and it ticked rather fast.
But, for a moment, he was sick of even that. Yes, it was great that he got it just for the asking. But what fun was it when it lacked a certain challenge? Especially the love of a woman – when she was won rather than grabbed, the pleasure was double. And when she was earned and not won, that enjoyment was something else.
Prince Kenrick, king of all that he purveyed – including the fairer sex that happened to be on the property – yearned for some unusual excitement. He craved for adventure. Enough of this pansy playfulness and pussy pursuit. Here was he, a man with more than his share of testosterone, and he now needed the challenge of the unique.
This was nothing new. As he thought back on his life he realized that, like history, such a craving repeated itself throughout. Or rather, like history again, it was cyclical. He would very easily slip into a phase of reckless womanizing until he was fed up, only to be alternated by a phase of restlessness and thirst for something different. And often, ironically, it was a woman who facilitated that as well.
It was a paradox. Women were the common thread for both the phases. In one, it was too many women inducing a sense of monotonous abundance; while in another, it was most likely one woman who inspired a feeling of unattainability.
From plenty to scarcity – that was the incredible transition.
Kenrick was familiar with this dichotomy. And he kind of knew the end result. What he was enthused about was how it would pan out each time. He was aware of the outcome; the suspense of it unfolding in ways he never expected was what caused a stir in his heart.
"Your Royal Highness! Your Royal Highness!"
Kenrick's eyes opened. He had dozed off in the warmth of the afternoon sun.
"Your Royal Highness!" The voice came nearer.
It was George, his butler. Royce sat up amidst the tall blades of grass, rubbing his eyes. George seemed to be dragging something… It was the house telephone.
"His Royal Highness, there's a call for you. It seems long distance."
"Where's my mobile, George you old bastard?"
"I… I've no idea, Sir."
Kenrick remembered: He had left it in his attaché after his trip to the manor, and it was in his wardrobe. Even if it rang, no one would have heard it.
"Okay, give it," he demanded as he snatched the receiver from George.
"Hello?"
Chapter Two
Addie stepped off the bus at the university campus and switched off her iPod.
She was your quintessential middle class student. Satchel on the shoulder, a textbook in hand (which she kept reading when on the move), ballpoint pen stuck in her hair (holding it temporarily in a makeshift bun), and mobile phone on silent mode in her pocket ("something that vibrates between my legs," she once famously said).
She was also dressed quintessentially – bright-colored tee and jeans, with an optional tweed half jacket. It was more or less the campus uniform, not just her outfit but that of most of her compatriots as well.
That morning, as she walked towards the library, her mind was in a whirl. It was the far end of the academic year, lectures were practically over, her attendance was above par, and most of her classmates were sitting at home, ostensibly 'studying'.
Then what was she doing on the campus?
By all standards, she had been an outstanding student. Pursuing her graduation in English, she was a budding litterateur of sorts; she had already got some of her poems published in leading writing magazines, and a couple of her papers were with reputable journals. She would enter her final year in a few months.
Everything about her was middle class. Her mother was a schoolteacher (also English – she had instilled a love for the subject in her daughter), and Addie lived in a middle class neighborhood. With their limited income, her upbringing was middle class. And being conservative, needless to add, her thinking was also firmly middle class.
Not that being middle class was a social slur or something. Very comfortable in her own skin, Addie was not one to brook nonsense. She inherited this outwardly haughty nature from her mother, a proud single parent. An only child, she lost her father when she was barely three. Her mother dedicated her life to bringing little Addie up – giving her the best in everything as much as she could afford. Mother and daughter shared a deep bond, almost like friends, or even siblings. There were no secrets between the two.
It was a great family ambience with just the two of them around; often, it resembled an all-girls dorm. There were no men around, and honestly, they never missed the species. Addie was fine with her mum also doubling up as her dad, and the older woman's focus was so much on her daughter to even think of men, or worry about the supposed lacuna they might have caused in her life. It was a self-contained world, a happy ecosystem, with no room for any discontent.
Why, then, was a storm raging in sweet Adelaide's head?
It was all, oddly enough, thanks to her mom. No, nothing that she did herself, but something that transpired which changed things dramatically for both of them. What some people might describe as a stroke of luck had now become a Damocles sword hanging above her head.
Call it her middle class mind refusing to accept change. Or shunning a welcome upgrade in their social status. Because, this bit of supposed good fortune was going to change her life forever...
Her mother was being considered by the king, no less, for marriage.
A man who was pushing sixty, the king had been widowed over five years ago. All he had was a son, the royal heir, who was born late and who had hardly been in the kingdom all his life. The prince had been abroad – schooling in Switzerland and studying at university in various other places across Europe – after which he enlisted in the Royal Air Force, serving his kingdom in a myriad of capacities. From all accounts, a worthy and honorable young man, and well deserving to succeed his father. On paper, anyway.
Lately the king's health had been a matter of national concern. That, and the coincidental re
turn of the prince, had necessitated a woman's presence in the royal household. Of course, there were women aplenty – by way of the king's aunts, sisters and other relations. But that one woman who would oversee the affairs of the royal family, personally look into matters concerning the king and his son, and honor a hundred other commitments falling under the protocol – that woman was not to be found. Most important of all, the kingdom's subjects needed a queen.
Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) Page 1