by Kim Fox
Royal didn’t care about the extra money. He just wanted to keep her safe. He wasn’t going to take it even if she insisted. He slipped his wallet back into his pocket and gulped.
“I’ll give you five million dollars if you help me out,” she said, tracing her fingertip up his forearm giving him warm shivers.
He nodded. “I’ll get you the money.” He could always get his share back from Thorn and then return it for the ranch once Elsa got her money free and she was safe from the men who were hunting her down.
“Thank you,” she said, bending down and kissing the back of his hand with her soft lips. He stiffened in his pants at the feel of her luscious lips on his skin.
“Did you hear that, Scrappy?” she asked, opening her bag and pulling out a little pup. She kissed the top of his head and the cute dog licked her chin. “This handsome man is going to rescue us.”
Royal smiled as his cheeks flushed red. She had trusted him enough to open up so he was going to do the same. He could sense that there was something between them and he was sure that he could tell her the truth without her thinking that he was making fun of her.
“There’s something that I didn’t tell you,” he said, taking a deep breath.
“What is it, my savior?” she asked, cuddling with the lucky dog who was pressed against her large breasts.
“I’m from a royal family as well.” He took another deep breath and nodded. “My full name is Ivan Maltese and I’m the true prince of Malderanian. I have noble blood. Like you.”
“Really?” she asked, turning to him with interest. She bit her bottom lip as she stared at him, looking like she was sizing him up.
Her sparkling green eyes were the color of dollar signs.
five
Camilla hugged Scrappy while she stared at her driver’s handsome face. He had a thin beard that covered the hard line of his jaw and framed his sexy mouth and he had a perfectly formed narrow nose under his deep brown eyes. A small breathless whisper escaped her lips when she glanced at his thick forearms and the rough way that his rugged, masculine hands were gripping the steering wheel. He was sexy.
And he was a prince to top it all off.
Camilla was trying to stay calm but adrenaline was flooding into her body. She couldn’t believe her luck. Angela and her had dreamed of hooking a mark like this. A real prince. He must be worth millions, billions even.
She was about to find out. She was on her way to his mansion.
Angela would be so proud of her. Camilla pulled out her cell and smiled shyly at Ivan. “I’m sorry to be rude,” she said, turning the screen so that he couldn’t see it. “I just have to check on the news sites to see if they know where I am.”
Ivan nodded and rolled his broad shoulders. “You’re with me now,” he said in a deep, sexy voice. “They won’t find you.”
“Thank you,” she said in an exaggerated gasp. She began googling his name on her phone. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. My savior. My Ivan.”
Ivan straightened up in his seat. “My friends call me Royal,” he said. “You can call me the same.”
I’m going to call you Cash Machine.
The Wikipedia page of his royal family popped up and she clenched her jaw as she stared at her phone with wide, excited eyes. Pictures of gold Ferraris, football field-sized swimming pools, and diamond encrusted helicopters filled the page. Holy shit. Jackfuckingpot!
A picture of a younger Ivan, or Royal, was also on the page with the caption: Ivan Maltese, prince of Malderanian. She flicked off her phone and tossed it back into her bag. She had seen everything that she needed to know.
This guy was rich as fuck.
This had the potential to be the biggest score that she’d ever seen. She couldn’t mess it up. So far it was going great. He seemed to be buying it hook, line, and sinker and he seemed to legitimately want to help her.
She fidgeted with the strap on her backpack as the familiar taste of guilt crept up her throat. She took a deep breath and pushed the self-loathing, guilty thoughts back down where they belonged.
This is what survivors do. You want to be a whore on the street with drug dealers and pimps forcing themselves on you?
Camilla stared out at the lonely road as they approached a solitary tree that was growing on the side of the road looking abandoned and rejected. The deserted tree had such few leaves and looked like it had been through some rough times. It was so far away from the beautiful, vibrant trees that lived in the forest at the base of the stunning mountain.
You have to do whatever you can to avoid living on the streets. This guy has gold Ferraris and diamond helicopters. He’s not going to miss a couple of bucks.
She sighed as the truck drove past the sad, outcast tree. Its roots were deep and it was destined to be on the side of the lonesome road forever while the other trees gathered and hung out together in the lush forest.
Camilla glanced in the side mirror at the solitary tree, shrinking in the mirror as they drove away. She pushed the guilt and shame back down and got back into character.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked in her little girl voice. The key to this scam was making the mark feel like a hero who was protecting a helpless damsel in distress. Her innocent little girl’s voice helped fool them into thinking that they were in control, when really, she was the one in control.
“Right here,” he said in a warm, sensual voice that made her insides stir. Camilla’s chest tightened as he pulled off the road and drove down a dirt trail. She held onto the handle over the door with one hand and Scrappy with the other as the truck bounced around on the bumpy trail.
“What…” she whispered as they pulled up to the camp. This was the opposite of what she had been expecting.
She was expecting a castle or a mansion at least, but this was just strange. There were six small log cabins, an outdoor kitchen, a fire pit and a bunch of shirtless muscular men walking around. They sure were hot, though.
“Is this some kind of gay commune?” she asked, staring out the window in shock. Great. My mark is gay. That would make her job that much harder.
“No,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “I’m not gay. I promise.”
Camilla leaned over and traced her finger up the inside of his forearm while she puckered her lips. “Good,” she said.
Royal swallowed as he stared back at her. I got him right where I want him.
“I’m in a lot of danger,” she said as she pet the squirming puppy in her lap. “I don’t think we should tell any of these guys what we talked about.”
Royal shook his head. “We can trust these guys,” he said. “I trust them with my life.”
“No,” she said with a gasp. “Please don’t. I shouldn’t have come here.” She began looking around nervously and he placed his hand on hers, trying to calm her down.
“I won’t tell,” he whispered. “I promise.”
Camilla sighed. “Thank you.” It was always best to get the marks to keep it to themselves. He was blinded by her beauty and by the sensual way that she kept touching his arms. He was putty in her hands but she didn’t want him telling someone else who could potentially see past her fake story to the scam that it really was.
She opened the door of the truck and the shirtless guy with the prosthetic leg stopped and stared as she was about to climb out, still wearing the wedding dress.
“Look what Royal picked up at the grocery store,” he said, pointing right at her. “Did they have a sale on brides or something? Are the other four in the trunk?”
“Maybe I should change,” she said, turning back to Royal. She felt ridiculous in this wedding dress.
He was gazing at her softly with his saddle brown eyes, already making her feel at home. “You can use my cabin,” he said, his voice tender and relaxed now that they were safe from her pretend threat.
“Thank you,” she whispered before placing Scrappy on the ground and stepping outside. She was glad that she packed a few extra arti
cles of clothing.
“Whoa!” another shirtless man said as he walked over. “That was fast, Royal. I thought you’d be the last to get married. I thought it would be me, then the rest of the boys, that garbage can over there, and then you.”
“Shut up, Slate,” Royal snapped as he walked to the back of the trunk. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your name is Slate?” Camilla asked with a chuckle. “Why? Because you’re as dumb as a rock?”
Slate slapped his ripped stomach. “No, because of my rock hard abs.”
“Eh,” she said, scrunching her nose up. “I’ve seen nicer six packs at the liquor store.”
Slate rubbed his stomach. “But not as tasty.”
“She’s not going to be finding that out,” Royal said with a growl. He grabbed the bags and case of beer with one hand and then slipped his free arm over her shoulder, claiming her.
“What about you, Royal?” Slate asked, rubbing his abs. “You want to be our taste tester?”
Camilla laughed as Royal guided her away, his heavy arm still draped over her protectively. She liked the feel of his muscular body pressed up against hers and the way that he was watching over her. She felt shielded and safe and it wasn’t often that she felt like that, especially since Angela went to jail.
“Whoa!” another guy said as he stepped out of a cabin in front of them. It looked exactly like Slate and Camilla had to glance back at him to make sure that he wasn’t some sort of magician or something.
“That’s Karl,” Royal explained. “Slate’s twin.”
“Oh great,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully. “There’s two of them.”
Karl stared at her with narrow eyes. “Do they have a new bride store in town?” he asked, scratching his head. “You should have picked me up a redhead.”
Camilla raised her fist and grinned. “You want a red head?” she asked with a smirk. “Come here, I’ll make your head nice and red, and then black and blue.”
She laughed as Karl winced and stepped back. “I think you better return her to the bride store,” he said. “She seems defective. Brides are supposed to be nice.”
Camilla winked at him. “I was on sale.”
“Don’t mind these guys,” Royal whispered into her ear as he guided her to his little wooden cabin. “They’re just jokers.”
Camilla didn’t mind. She loved a little witty verbal sparring. She was already having fun.
“Holy shit,” she gasped when the largest man that she had ever seen walked by, looking at her funny. His shoulders were the size of boulders and his biceps the size of soccer balls. She wondered what his cock was the size of. A baseball bat?
“Hey, Royal,” the big guy said with a grin. “Is that a-”
“Don’t even think about it,” Royal interrupted with a snarl.
The big guy shut his mouth and hurried along. Wow. A guy that size is afraid of Royal? He must be even stronger than he feels.
The last man was watching her from a distance, looking at her like she was trouble. Camilla’s stomach fluttered. I have to watch out for that guy. She always had a good sense for spotting trouble. That’s what kept her out of jail for so long.
Royal opened the door and leaned against the cabin. She hadn’t realized how tall he was in the truck. She wasn’t short and she only came up to his sexy lips.
She glanced over her shoulder, looking for Scrappy. He was peeing on one of the chairs around the firepit.
“I’ll watch the puppy if you want to get changed,” Royal said. Camilla could feel her heart pounding with the intense way that he was looking at her. A prince and hot as hell? What a lethal combination.
She was suddenly wishing that the story she concocted had been real.
“Thank you,” she said, as Scrappy ran over. She picked up the pup and handed him to Royal. Their hands touched and she suddenly became very curious as to what the sleeping arrangements would be.
Normally, on a con like this, the scam artist would get the mark to wire her the money and then ask them to wait outside while she got their cut. The mark would wait outside and then the con artist would slip out of a back door, never to be seen again. Nowhere in the playbook did it say to start building an attraction and then sleep over.
But this wasn’t a normal con. It wasn’t in the book. He was a rich prince and she had to improvise. There was a bigger score to be had. Potentially millions.
She walked up the steps of the cabin and closed the door. Camilla pulled out her clothes from the backpack and walked into the bathroom to wash her face. She couldn’t even look at the guilty reflection in the mirror.
This all felt so…wrong.
She heard a commotion outside and stopped the running water to listen.
“I call dibs on her,” a voice from outside said. It sounded like one of the twins.
“What?” Royal roared. “You can’t do that!”
“Yeah,” another voice, probably the other twin, said. “I was going to ask her to marry me. That way I don’t have to pay for a wedding dress. It comes with the package.”
Camilla walked to the window and peeked through the blinds. Royal looked furious with his chest puffed out and his nostrils flaring. Camilla bit her lip as she watched him getting all worked up over her. It was flattering. And hot.
You’re here for a job. She bit her bottom lip and quickly opened drawers and cupboards looking for banking information, money, credit cards, anything that she could use. Everything was empty. Did he just move in?
There was something strange going on here. Why was the prince of Malderanian staying on a ranch in the middle of Montana? Nothing seemed to be adding up.
Her brain was telling her to get the fuck out of there but there was a part of her that wanted to stay. A part of her that wanted to get to know the tall, mysterious prince and his friends and see where this whole thing went.
I’ll stay. She slipped off her wedding dress and grabbed her clothes.
For a bit.
six
“Fifty thousand dollars?” Thorn asked, sucking in a sharp hiss of breath. “I’m not sure about this girl.”
Royal swallowed the angry words that were rushing up his throat. He took a deep breath and tried to settle the pissed off grizzly bear who was pacing back and forth within his chest.
“She needs my help,” Royal said, glancing back at his cabin. Elsa was still inside getting dressed. He kept glancing back, excited to see what she looked like in her normal clothes.
“She needs your money,” Thorn corrected. They were talking privately, away from the rest of the boys who were still arguing over who got dibs on her. Royal was having a hard time focusing on Thorn’s words. He wanted to go over to his squad and settle the argument with his grizzly bear.
Thorn sighed. “She comes flying off the street with an insane story about royal families and millions of dollars in a closed off bank account. A princess in Montana? It sounds like a scam.”
Royal flexed his arms. His muscles were quivering as he tried to stay calm. This wasn’t a scam. This was fate.
All he wanted was a princess and the universe had delivered. Why couldn’t Thorn see that?
The door of the cabin opened and Elsa stepped out wearing tight jean shorts that hugged her round, shapely hips and stopped short on the soft skin of her supple thighs. Her baggy white tank top hung down low, showing off her voluptuous breasts making Royal’s inner bear stand at attention. Her wavy blonde hair was loose over the pale smooth skin of her bare shoulders and Royal immediately forgot what he was talking to Thorn about. He just stood there, gawking at the beauty in front of him while his heart pounded like a runaway jackhammer.
Thorn stepped up beside him. “Let’s just see what happens,” he said. “She can stay here but don’t give her any money until we get some more details from her. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Royal didn’t care how Thorn felt. She was perfect.
And she was going to be his.
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He walked up to her, feeling more lightheaded with every step that he took. “You look beautiful,” he said, feeling breathless. She looked like a princess.
Scrappy ran up to her and pounced on her feet, nipping at her bare toes in her flip-flops.
“Thank you,” she said, picking up the puppy. His little face was pressed against the side of her ample breast and Royal groaned. He would have given anything to switch places with the little pup. “So is this where you normally live?”
“I’m just staying here for a bit,” he lied as he looked around. Living on an empty ranch with a bunch of horny, half naked men wasn’t exactly fit for a princess. It was time to change the subject. “Are you hungry?”
Her lips parted in a smile, flashing her beautiful white teeth. “I’m always hungry.”
“Good,” he said, motioning for her to follow him to the campfire. The boys were huddled around it playing puppets with the lobsters while they waited for the water to boil.
“I’m the lobster king,” Karl said, thrusting the lobster in his hand into the air. “Kneel down and obey me.”
“Never,” Slate answered, raising his lobster. “I’m the true king of Crustacean Nation! Prepare to die!”
Karl’s eyes widened and he quickly hid the lobster behind his back when he saw Elsa approaching. Slate did the same.
“Oh hello, Elsa,” Karl said, trying to sound cool. “I was just testing the lobsters for…a…their meat quality.”
“By having a puppet show?” Elsa asked with a raised eyebrow.
Royal snickered. These fools wouldn’t be any competition. He had nothing to worry about.
“Maybe you should take your puppet show elsewhere,” Royal said, staring the twins down. “But leave the puppets.”
Slate and Karl grinned. “Alright,” Slate said as they placed the lobsters back in the box. “Prince prawning wants some alone time with his steak and lobsters.”
Elsa waved at them sarcastically as they left. He was liking this girl.