Royally Bad (Bad Boy Royals #1)

by Nora Flite

  ALSO BY NORA FLITE

  Big City Billionaires

  Billion Dollar Bad Boy

  Other Books

  Never Kiss a Bad Boy

  The Bad Boy Arrangement

  My Secret Master

  Last of the Bad Boys

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2017 Nora Flite

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503942790

  ISBN-10: 1503942791

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations

  To the people at the coffee shop who never got sick of me sitting there all day when my tiny kitchen table wasn’t good enough, and who never judged me—openly—for my twelfth double-espresso drink, thank you. You were almost as supportive as my husband, who always knew I needed a shoulder rub, terrible takeout food, and addictive but oh-so-bad reality TV show marathons after every writing session.

  Love ya, babe.

  CONTENTS

  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

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT: ROYALLY RUINED

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  - CHAPTER ONE -

  SAMMY

  Fingers crawled up the outside of my thigh. They might as well have been cutting through the layers of my organza dress, because my skin tingled like he was touching me directly.

  Who was he, you ask?

  Dressed in a crisp, midnight-blue suit that didn’t fit his bad boy persona—and a cocky smirk that totally did—Kain Badd was the biggest pain in my ass since I’d tried on my first thong. Sure, the guy was cut from marble, and his eyes were the kind of blue that was reserved for Photoshop magazine edits . . . but he was a dick.

  He also had a pretty nice dick. Please don’t ask me how I know.

  None of that mattered, because in just a few hours this wedding would be over with, and I wouldn’t have to see him ever again. Till then, I was stuck at Kain’s side, enduring his constant attempts to work me up until I was hot and bothered. The fucker was winning.

  Loud, echoing, bell-filled music sang through the air. Swatting Kain’s fingers away again, I shot him a pointed scowl. His smile showed off his teeth, telling me he didn’t care that I was getting mad. The bastard was getting to me, and he knew it.

  Clearing my throat, I stared down the aisle at the bride coming our way. The gown glowed on her, making me swell with pride. I’d made that dress, it was born from my sweat and tears. The clicking cameras let me know that by tomorrow people would be knocking on my door to get my business.

  This was all worth it. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

  Kain trailed a hand up my spine, whispering in my ear, “She’s stealing the show, but honestly, I can’t keep my eyes off of you.”

  Flushing, I hissed, “Shut up and focus!”

  “That’s tough when I can see your tits rising with every tiny breath.”

  Kicking him in the ankle, I put on a big smile for the bride. Glossy and golden, she met my stare with glee. The money, the fame, and the fact I’d made this young woman’s day. All of it was worth—what the hell?

  Over the heads of the crowd, I saw dark figures marching through the rosebushes. Their helmets glinted, almost as much as their guns did.

  “Get down!” someone shouted.

  Everyone came alive in a panic, running or pushing to get away. Kain’s fingers threaded with mine—then faceless men in body armor tackled him hard, tearing us apart.

  A second later, the full weight of one of the men slammed me to the ground. “Don’t move!” That command was fierce; it made my ears ring. Move? Was he joking? I couldn’t even scream, the air had burst right out of me.

  Boots stomped, people roared, and over it all I heard the distinct wail of sirens. An arm crushed across the nape of my neck, metal kissing my wrists.

  I was being arrested.

  How the hell had this happened?

  Two days earlier

  I think I might be the worst business owner in the world.

  As I packaged up the gorgeous gown crafted from ivory lace and hand-sewn crystal beads, I knew it was true. After all, the gown had cost me several hundred dollars to make, I’d been planning to sell it for a few thousand, and here I was . . .

  Giving it away for free.

  The young woman rubbed at her cheeks, failing to hide the dewy mist of tears. She’d been welling up with them ever since I’d told her that she was the lucky Platinum Bride of the Month—of which there was no such thing.

  It wasn’t my best lie, but it would work.

  Hazel had been in my store several times with her fiancé. She’d told me over and over how excited she was for this wedding. Marrying the man she’d adored since high school was her dream.

  She’d promised to pay off the dress by the end of last month. That hadn’t happened. Then she’d said she’d pay by last week, but again, nothing. I didn’t need to be a psychic to know something terrible had gone wrong. Hazel wasn’t the type to screw anyone over.

  Yesterday, driving down the highway, I’d seen her fiancé on the corner holding a sign: out of work, will do anything for money.

  Like many, he’d lost his job when the local soap factory closed last month.

  Call me weak, or frail, or just . . . stupid, but there was no way I was going to let this poor woman walk away without her dream dress.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she sniffled, laughing nervously at her own reaction.

  I shoved the package her way with my biggest grin. “Like I said, you’re the winner this month! You don’t need to thank me at all. It’s out of my hands.”

  Scrubbing at her nose, she hugged the box tight to her chest. She was red from throat to eyelid, a total mess from how happy she was. “I’ll send you some photos from the wedding,” she promised.

  “You better!” I laughed.

  Hazel didn’t take her eyes off of me until she got to the door. I was afraid she might start bowing. “Seriously,” she said, pushing at the exit and making the bell jingle. “If you hadn’t given me this, I don’t know what I would have done. Canceled the wedding, lost the deposit, I just—”

  “Shh shh shh!” I flapped my hands. “Send me those photos. I’ll hang them on our monthly winners’ board.” I didn’t have one of those, either.

  Her smile went so wide it almost touched her ears. “Thank you. You’ve got a good heart.”

  I swelled at her compliment. It was hard not to.

 
But good hearts don’t pay the bills.

  The instant she was out of sight, I slumped behind my front desk and put my face in my hands. I am such an idiot. Giving away what I needed to keep my bridal shop afloat was pure insanity. That’s what’s going on, I thought to myself. Somewhere along the way, my brain has cracked.

  I’d opened my business just three months ago. It had been a quick, messy process. Moving back to my hometown had been even messier. It wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter; what daughter wouldn’t rush back to take care of her sick mother?

  Regardless, I was here. I meant to make the best of it.

  Too bad I was also my worst enemy.

  Sighing, I slapped my cheeks to shake myself from my funk. Focus. Put on some music and make yourself useful. Cranking up my small radio, I shuffled through the songs until I found “Hide Away” by Daya. The piano began, pumping me up, guiding me out from behind my desk.

  This was what I needed. Music had a way of sinking into your bones and erasing your worries. It was magical, forcing me to swing to the fast-paced beat, demanding I forget all about my problems.

  My mistakes.

  Bouncing on my heels, I grabbed a wedding gown from the rack. It was glittery, miles of tulle. I meant to just move it to a mannequin so I could tweak the ribbons on the corset that I hadn’t finished yet. When the chorus of the song began, I swung the dress in a circle.

  My hips rocked, my hair flipped, and I jammed it out on my shop floor with that white gown in my arms. Laughing, I twirled around with the dress like it was my private lover . . .

  And found myself staring into the crisp, blue eyes of the most gorgeous man alive.

  Gasping, I curled the dress up like it was a wet washcloth I was wringing out. The stranger’s dark eyebrows crinkled, his smile hooking into my heart. I was torn between being charmed and humiliated.

  “I—um—hi!” Coughing, I hurried over to turn my radio down. “Can I help you?”

  He didn’t speak, the woman behind him did. “Oh. My. Stars.” Wheeling my way, she grabbed at my wrists with unwieldy gold nails. Her sapphire eyes were stuck on the dress I was holding. “That is the cutest fucking dress I have ever seen!”

  The guy glanced her way—had he been watching me this whole time? “Good,” he said. “If you can find a dress you like that fast, we can get this over with.”

  A flicker of disappointment made my mood settle. Of course he’s engaged to her. How could a guy as hot as him be single? In my head, I stopped living my brief, imaginary wedding to Mister Stranger, and instead I focused on the young woman. “So you’re looking for a wedding dress?”

  “More like looking for my fifth,” she laughed. Winking, she offered her hand. “Francesca Badd—with a double d.” She wiggled her chest to drive home the joke. “It’s a pleasure, doll.”

  Had I heard her right? Her last name was Badd? Smiling, I shook her hand and watched the giant gold hoops in her ears shake. I could smell a difficult bride from a mile away. Five dresses? Jeez. “I’m Sammy. I’d be happy to show you a few things, do you know what you like?”

  Francesca pointed at the gown in my arms. “That. I like that. I want that.”

  Over her head, the guy cleared his throat. “The brat is used to getting what she wants.”

  She twisted around, her piled-high hair flopping. “Please ignore my brother, he’s a little bit of a dick.”

  “Don’t use the words ‘little’ and ‘dick’ in the same sentence with me.”

  “Watch your damn mouth, Kain!” She pointed at me. “You’re being rude in front of this nice lady!”

  I was blushing, but not because of the swearing. I’d grown up here, bluntness and foul mouths had numbed my ears years ago. What I was freaking out about was one thing:

  He’s her brother? Not her fiancé?

  For the second time, I ate the man up with a casual glance. The dark-gray shirt he had on was hugging his broad chest. It vanished into his belt, highlighting his slim hips while his tight jeans showed off his muscular legs.

  His perfect skin was enhanced by the twisting tattoos that coiled along his arms. I could even see one peeking near his collarbone. I didn’t normally go for inked men, but for him, I’d make an exception.

  Feeling incredibly silly . . . and incredibly relieved, I moved toward the changing stall. “I’m glad you like this dress! Here, come try it on. It’s not finished, but it shouldn’t take me more than a week. When is your wedding?”

  Francesca slid the curtain open, taking the gown. Before she ducked inside, she gave me her sweetest smile ever and said, “It’s the day after tomorrow.”

  The curtain shut, and my stomach fell into my knees.

  The guy—Kain?—stood next to me, his hands in his pockets. “That’s how our family does things. ‘Spontaneous and messy’ should be our motto.” His chuckle warmed me, but not enough to shake off the reality of the situation.

  “Francesca,” I said carefully. “Maybe you should look at some of my finished work.”

  Spinning out of the curtain, she held the corset closed behind her with one arm. The gown sparkled in the light through my large windows. I’d designed the tulle to hang and flow like snow from a mountain, the top half extra-creamy white against her tan skin.

  Admiring herself in the mirror, she laughed. “Why bother? This is my dress! This is it right here! Kain, how does it look?” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Isn’t it beautiful? Ah! I love it!”

  Breathing faster, I struggled to keep smiling. I hated letting people down. “Francesca . . . listen. It’s gorgeous on you—”

  “I know, right?!”

  “But two days is just not enough time to finish this.”

  Picking at her teeth in the mirror, she made a low humming sound. “I don’t understand.”

  Kain put out his hand, resting it on the small of my back. His touch was scalding; I was too aware of it. “Make sure you check out the ribbons, Francesca.”

  She spun, eyeballing the corset with glee.

  Confused, I let Kain push me toward the front of the store. When he let me go, I still felt his phantom fingerprints. “Listen,” he said. “How much money do you need to make sure that dress is ready in time?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not money that’s the problem. I’d need to stay up all night and some of tomorrow to finish it. And even then I’m not sure I could do it.”

  Digging out his phone, he started tapping it. “Just tell me the magic number.”

  “There is no magic number. Are you listening to me? I’d have to kill myself to get it done!”

  His steely eyes scraped upward from my toes to my raised brows, the force of them as strong as being gripped by his thick fingers. “I haven’t stopped listening since you opened your pretty mouth, sweet thing. If you don’t want to give me a price, I’ll give you one.”

  Clenching my hands, I braced myself. I was ready to snap at him—who had the balls to talk down to me like that?

  Kain spun his phone, showing me the screen. He read the number out loud, which was good, because my vision went blurry at the sight of it. “Will twenty grand be enough?”

  My tongue was too heavy, I was slurring. “Twenty . . . grand?”

  His silent smile said he wasn’t kidding around.

  Twenty grand. With that, my money worries would be gone. I could pay off my mother’s growing medical debt and still keep my business afloat. Who are these people? I’d never heard of the Badds, but were they so rich that throwing twenty grand at their daughter’s dress was nothing?

  In the back of the store, Francesca called out, “Sammy! Do you have any veils that match this gown?”

  I leveled my eyes on Kain. He looked and smelled like a predator, all crisp pine and silky musk. This was a man who always got what he wanted. If I’d been wondering why Francesca would bring her brother along to shop for dresses, now I knew. Who could say no to her with Kain around?

  Spinning away from him, I shouted, “I ha
ve just the one!”

  I wasn’t watching Kain anymore, but his expression was imprinted in my mind. It was the strangest thing, that look he’d given me. He’d acted like we’d been facing off. More than that, he’d acted like he’d won.

  In that moment, I understood him. It didn’t matter how handsome Kain was, or how fit . . . or how he moved like water through a river; this guy was arrogant as hell, right down to his core.

  Kain was bad news.

  And believe me, I know bad news.

  My life has been full of it.

  - CHAPTER TWO -

  SAMMY

  I stayed up all night, just like I’d said I would have to.

  First I used coffee.

  Then I used energy drinks.

  Finally, when the early hours between night and day arrived, I looked at the red-lettered debt collector bills piled on my desk. It was the last push I needed to get me through my task.

  Yawning for the millionth time, I rubbed furiously at my eyes. In the sharp orange-sherbet light of sunrise, the gown shone like a bronze sea. It was some of my best work, and picturing it draped on Francesca was almost enough to shake off my weariness.

  Almost.

  Yawning, I stumbled into my shower. If there was any hope of meeting her today for her fitting, I needed to get my act together. Hanging my head under the stream of furious water, I closed my eyes and hummed.

  The last time I’d pulled an all-nighter was back in college. I’d been determined to show off a series of full-length couture gowns for my finals. It was an insane task to take on. It left me with bleeding fingers and a hatred for chicken wire.

  But that collection had gotten me my dream job in New York.

  It was a pretty good job, too, while it lasted. Laughing to myself, I flipped wet hair from my face. Stop thinking about that. It doesn’t matter now. Besides, who needed the high-paid, fast-paced lifestyle of New York City?

  I didn’t let myself answer that question.

  Wrapping a towel around my body, I stepped across the cold tile toward my bedroom. The blinds were open, pointing right at the building rubbing shoulders with mine. Not keen on giving anyone a show, I tiptoed over, tugging at the cord.