Forbidden Prince: A Brother's Best Friend Royal Romance

by Zoey Oliver

  “Oh my God,” Bea sighs.

  “That’s him,” is all I can say.

  “I know, sweetie,” Bea coos sympathetically, tugging me by my elbow. She leans toward the small hallway table and picks up a box. “Look! Chocolate!”

  “What?” I ask vaguely, looking at the box. Then I remember to look around. The room isn’t just a room—it’s a suite. We stand in the living room, gawking at the luxurious, oversized furnishings.

  “Well, jeez, this is way better than a queen-sized room,” I observe.

  “We have a balcony!” Bea cheers, skipping toward the wide row of windows and sliding doors.

  “And separate rooms!” I call out, happy to think there will be ample privacy between us.

  “Man, this is nice!” she yelps, hanging briefly in her bedroom’s doorway before trotting back toward me. She takes a quick detour and yanks open the honor bar door. “Look!” she squeals. “Champagne!”

  “What? Really?”

  I hear the unmistakable pop as she immediately opens the bottle, before I can even ask if we can afford it. She pours two glasses and hands me one with a wink.

  “Cheers,” she smiles, tapping her glass against mine. “You know what this means, right, Ava?”

  I take a careful sip, feeling the bubbles tickling my nose.

  “What does it mean?”

  “It’s a sign, Ava!” she chirps. “All this… it’s a sign! Great things are gonna happen to us this weekend!”

  Chapter Three

  ETHAN

  I hear the sound of the door closing and walk the other way, while little strands of their voices continue looping through my mind. There was something incredibly familiar about that woman, wasn’t there? Or are they all just a little bit the same?

  I’ve always had a thing for her type, but she really had me going. Those hips, the way she was practically spilling out of that conservative button-down top… Yes. Definitely my type of girl.

  And a little too easy in my arms, honestly. It was so simple to catch her before she hit the floor, like I’d done it a million times. I almost felt like I’ve really looked at her before. Probably just a common look. Bright blue eyes, caramel-colored hair… not an unusual sight in San Francisco, for sure.

  When I saw her coming up to the executive suite, she took me aback. No one else is supposed to be on this floor today. I’ve got a speech to prepare for. At first I was annoyed, but then sort of amused because it looked like she was going to stumble straight over the luggage in the hallway. Then when she did, I’m not really sure what came over me. Instincts took control, and I automatically reached out to retrieve her, right before she landed on the floor. She just fell right into my hands, like a bird falling out of a tree.

  But I don’t have time to think about that now. I stare at my laptop, trying to refresh my memory of the last few slides in the presentation. It’s the same old same old, but I like to keep it fresh. People expect me to say things like follow your dream. Work hard. It’ll all happen for you if you are ambitious and worthy.

  I know that it’s complete horseshit.

  The truth is, you can work the same amount and still spend your life digging ditches and flipping hamburgers. CEOs don’t work harder than bowling alley cashiers or nurses. What really separates us is luck. I just got lucky.

  Who wants to hear me give a speech about that?

  Perry comes in to the presidential suite. I hear him in the parlor, refilling the ice buckets and making himself useful.

  “Are you just about ready?”

  “Just another moment,” I say, waving him off. Then I think better of it. “Actually, Perry? Can you come here for a minute?”

  He reenters in the room, pulling the plastic sheeting from my dry-cleaned suit. This beautiful Asian girl spilled a daiquiri all down the front of me yesterday. I’m sure it was an accident.

  “I’m sure the speech is going to be another winner, sir,” he begins.

  “Perry, why are there people in the executive suite?”

  He shakes his head emphatically. “There’s no one else on this floor,” he says. “You booked the whole floor.”

  “No, there are definitely two women staying in the executive suite.”

  “I’ll have them removed immediately!” he huffs, clearly offended.

  “No… don’t do that,” I shrug. I almost still feel her weight in the palms of my hands, her smooth skin, the sweet gust of air that burst from her lips and landed at the pit of my throat. “Just give me some information. Names, backgrounds, that sort of thing.”

  “Right away, sir!”

  Perry hurries off, and I force myself to look at the slides again. Arrowing back and forth, I try to remember the last time I gave this speech. Philadelphia, I’m fairly certain. Tech conference. Now, a lot of those bastards really will get lucky. Maybe I inspired a few of them.

  I know I inspired that cosplay girl. I could see her all the way in the back of the room, so ready and willing it was like a lighthouse. Like a neon sign: fuck me. She was pretty good. Eager and big-titted, bouncy hair, and a giggling warcry when she came.

  But then I think about her again: the girl from the hallway. She went completely the opposite way, into silence. Still she had that deer-in-headlights look that women sometimes get. Maybe she recognized me. The interview in Rolling Stone really did a lot for my reputation. People believe that rock star stuff if you say it long enough.

  “Does the name Ava Harrison ring a bell? Bea Tyde?” Perry asks, reentering the room.

  I stare at him, unbelieving. “What did you say?”

  He approaches with his hands out apologetically. “It seems there was a double-booking error. Their rooms were given away, so some newbie at the front desk decided to book the executive suite on this floor. Can you believe that? The nerve of her!”

  I hold up a hand, stop. “I don’t care about that. Let them have the suite. But did you say… Ava Harrison?”

  Perry nods. “Yes… wait, isn’t she from your old neighborhood? Did you know her?”

  I swallow, hard. I knew her. My best friend… former best friend’s younger sister. I remember her in the swimming pool, stroking back and forth in a bikini that was still a little bit too big for her. She liked to pretend she didn’t know I was watching. But I was. I remember making a mental note that taking her sweet, innocent ass was at the top of my to-do list.

  And then after all the drama between our families, I guess the to-do list got scrapped.

  “I’m sure I can find them another room. I’ll have a talk with the manager.”

  “No, don’t do that,” I say, snapping my laptop closed and standing up. “It will be nice to be reacquainted, I think. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Perry scowls, but I know he’ll do as I ask. He is always the first one to defend me, to make certain my orders are carried out to the letter.

  I am supposed to have this floor to myself, but what’s the harm in sharing it? Maybe Ava could be a little bit of fun. Little taste of home, as they say. She certainly isn’t a little girl anymore. Now lush and curvaceous, she’s exactly the kind of woman that I want. Someone strong. Someone who can take anything I throw at her.

  Could she do it? Certainly worth finding out.

  Chapter Four

  AVA

  In the morning, it takes me a really long time to wake up. I come out of the dream little by little, not sure of the separation between the dream and reality, emerging as though I’m coming up from the bottom of a deep pool of water. I feel like I’m waking up, but the dream stays with me, embracing me, caressing me, making me warm everywhere.

  I’m not alone. Ethan is with me, staring so intensely that I tingle all over. Shivers race across my skin, back and forth like waves lapping at a sandy beach. He wants me. I can tell. And I know that he can see how much I want him too. It’s almost too much.

  I sigh, moaning, and the sound pulls me back to reality. My eyes open and I am fully awake, but still confused. I�
��m alone? But it felt so real… and my body is still pulsing, throbbing.

  But a bang on my bedroom door wakes me up even further.

  “Are you ready!?” Bea’s voice comes through the white lacquer door.

  “What? Ready?” I call back. My hands slide along the crisp linen comforter in my surprisingly beautiful room. “How can I be ready? I just woke up.”

  The door opens and Bea stalks in, her eyes flashing.

  “What the heck are you doing? We’re going to be late, Ava!”

  She marches over to the window and flings open the curtains. My hands automatically rise to shield my eyes.

  “It’s summer vacation, Bea,” I complain. “Maybe give it a rest?”

  “There are no more summer vacations, Ava! We graduated, remember? And the keynote speaker starts in ten minutes! We’re going to be late!”

  I pout and slide closer to the edge of the bed. “I was having the best dream,” I mumble.

  Bea slaps her thighs in frustration. She takes three steps in either direction like a caged animal.

  “You know what, Ava, just meet me down there, okay? Get your act together!”

  In a huff, she turns and rushes back out of the room. I can hear her grabbing another handful of resumes off the table as she flings open the door and leaves the suite.

  But she’s right, I really need to get going. I force myself to get in and out of the shower and slap on some eyeliner and mascara while I brush my teeth. A simple wrap dress goes on fast and, after tying my hair back, I’m out the door in seven minutes flat, presentable enough for a darkened ballroom with the keynote speaker, I assume.

  The ballroom is packed—standing room only. Even if I wanted to find Bea, I’d be afraid to draw attention to myself. The event organizer is already mumbling something into the microphone, introducing his guest. I slide along the back, looking for a place where I can at least lean against the wall, out of the way. I find a vacancy near the exit and cross my arms, stifling a yawn as I remember that I didn’t get any coffee.

  The audience breaks into applause, and I do the same thing, clapping as I crane my head to see what’s going on. A man in a charcoal-gray suit strides to the middle of the stage, his hand outstretched to shake the other man’s hand. He turns toward the crowd and claps his hands in front of his chest, bowing slightly in a humble, strong gesture. When he looks back up, those piercing blue eyes seem to find me immediately, pinning me hard to the wall where I stand.

  It’s him. It’s Ethan Mercer.

  Instantly my mind is thrown into fast-forward. I can barely make out the words that he is saying. I feel like he can see me, like he’s talking directly to me.

  I remember the dream. It was him in my dream. He was talking directly to me, just like this, with words that I could barely understand because of all the noise in my head, just like this.

  My heart racing, I try to control my breathing and shift from foot to foot, noticing how my panties are damp, my belly trembling and clenching over and over again. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Something about the way he strides across the stage, gesturing, chuckling affably, projecting his voice to the farthest corners of the room… It’s like watching a lion at the zoo. Some magnificent beast. Muscle and grace, threat and promise.

  It’s absolutely thrilling.

  Then everyone is clapping, and I clap too, hoping the lights will go on so I can duck back out of the room and disappear to somewhere else in this hotel. There has got to be another panel or speech or class on resume writing or something that I can be at. I need to get away, quickly. I feel like anyone who looks directly at me is going to know all the lusty, rushing thoughts in my head.

  But as I turn for the exit door, I feel a hand circling my elbow and a gentle tug. I turn around, immediately immobilized under his icy-blue stare.

  “Come with me,” he commands, his voice low and confident, somehow aimed directly at me though there are so many other sounds in the room.

  Helplessly I am swept along with him through the exit door, then a short work passageway, before we go through another set of doors into a private dining room. The smell of coffee washes over me like a tidal wave, and my stomach growls loudly in response.

  He quirks an eyebrow at me. Of course he heard it. Dammit!

  “Are you hungry?” he smirks.

  “Famished,” I admit.

  “Perfect timing then. Looks like brunch is ready for us.”

  Swallowing hard, I let him guide me toward a table in the center of the room, the only table here. He holds out a chair for me and I slide into it, hoping that my stomach won’t make any more embarrassing noises.

  Immediately two of the waitstaff are fussing over the table, pouring champagne and coffee simultaneously, delivering plates of fresh fruit and crepes, piles of bacon and sausage.

  “Oh my gosh,” I blurt out.

  “Help yourself,” he chuckles. “I was never going to be able to eat all this myself, but you know how the Fairmont is. They always overdo everything."

  “Oh, of course,” I stammer, trying to act as though I know anything about the Fairmont at all. Keeping my head down, I stack my plate with bacon and sausage, two crepes with a large spoonful of strawberries and blueberries, and then whipped cream on top of that.

  He is smiling at me, I know it. I try to keep my head down, but I feel it.

  “You never were shy about eating, Ava,” he says softly.

  I gasp, looking up at him in surprise. And now I kind of wish I hadn’t, because there are those sky-blue eyes again, piercing me like lasers. Looking right through to the center of me. I feel like he can read my mind, like he probably just replayed my naughty morning dream like a YouTube video.

  “Of course I remember you,” he continues. “I could never forget such a beautiful face.”

  “I didn’t think you recognized me,” I admit. I place my fork on the table and grab a coffee cup, hoping to sort of hide behind it. The coffee is rich and dark. I feel it flowing through the center of me, warming me immediately.

  “You do look different,” he smiles. I watch the tip of his tongue wet the bottom of his upper lip as he leans back in his chair. His eyes trace my outlines, as concrete as if he were touching me.

  “Different?” I repeat, setting the coffee cup back down and taking the champagne flute in my trembling fingers. It is sweet and tart, the perfect counterpoint to the coffee.

  Slowly his lips close, and he bites gently on his lower lip. He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose before answering.

  “You’re stunning now. You were just a girl then, but now you’re a breathtaking woman.”

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to make a move. Is he really talking about me?

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t get to see every step in the transformation,” he continues. “But the Marines were very good to me. Transformative, you might say. And of course, our families…”

  I nod, suddenly aware that this whole conversation could go right back down that path again, back to all that drama. The tension between him and my brother. The feud that was so tangible, it ended decades-long friendships, just like that.

  “Well, I was just a kid then. I don’t think I even remember what the feud was about,” I lie.

  He narrows his eyes, leaning forward and plucking a slice of nectarine from the bowl.

  “I don’t remember either,” he also lies.

  “Okay then,” I say, silently agreeing not to talk about it.

  “So will you spend the day with me?”

  Immediately, I’m shaking my head. “Spend the day with you? Oh, no, I couldn’t! I still have a lot to do here… I have a lot going on… and, um, well you know my friend Bea is here too…”

  His hand slides across the tablecloth, capturing my wrist between his fingers. He holds it lightly, as though he’s found a bird and simply wants to inspect it. I’m helpless.

  “You should spend the day with me,” he says confidently, giving m
e the sort of smile he’s probably given a thousand other girls. “We’ll have a lovely time. If that goes well, we can have a lovely time tomorrow. Perhaps we can spend the summer together. Having… a lovely time.”

  My heart is racing, my breath frozen in my chest. I don’t know what to say, at all, but my skin buzzes with electricity.

  “There are still other speakers…” I mumble unconvincingly.

  “They’re all terrible.”

  “And I haven’t even given away any resumes yet.”

  “Then you won’t be missing any interviews.”

  “True,” I admit.

  He leans forward, capturing my other wrist in his other hand, drawing me to face him completely. It’s gentle, but also inescapable. I couldn’t twist away if I wanted to.

  “Say yes, Ava,” he says in a low, commanding voice. “I want to hear you say yes.”

  I take a shuddering breath before speaking.

  “Yes,” I whisper, somehow fearful, or perhaps just overwhelmed and panicked.

  His smile is brilliant and sudden, cutting across his face like daylight coming through the clouds.

  “That’s settled then,” he smirks, almost gloating. Sitting back in his chair, he draws out a cellphone and begins typing with his thumbs. I get back to eating, controlling myself from devouring every morsel.

  We finish our breakfasts in silence. I sneak occasional glances at him through the fringe of my hair. He looks the same, but different. Thicker. More confident. Not just a cocky boy. A cocky man, now.

  He accompanies me to my room so that I can change clothes. In the quiet hallway I swear my heartbeat is so loud it echoes off the walls.

  My hand trembles on the doorknob for a few seconds while I try to decide what to say. Something flippant? Charming? I can’t think of a thing.

  But before I know it, his hands are under my jaw, tipping my face toward his. His lips close over mine, turning me immediately to jelly. I kiss him back, stunned and shaking as my whole body pulses like in the dream, multiplied by a million.