Royal Disaster: A Fake Fiancee Romance Read online

  Royal Disaster

  A Royal Fake Fiancée Romance

  Lara Swann

  Copyright © 2018 Lara Swann

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogue and everything else are products of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to people or events, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Table of 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

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Hanna

  “Anna!”

  I scoop my books off the desk and into my bag as everyone starts filtering out of the classroom, barely registering the loud shout behind me.

  “Hey, Anna - wait a minute!”

  I don’t realize it’s directed at me until I swing the bag onto my back and glance up - to see Derek propelling himself around one of the desks and landing lightly in front of me, a smirk lighting up his roguish features.

  Prince Derek, that is.

  The novelty of having an actual Prince in our classes hasn’t exactly worn off yet, even after two years of college. But then Derek isn’t the kind of guy who would easily fade into the background over time. That’s probably standard for royalty, I guess, but when it comes to Derek…I’m willing to bet that the attention has nothing to do with the title. Or very little, anyway.

  It’s probably more about his distinctive southern European looks - the slightly tanned complexion, sparkling bright blue eyes, and the shock of jet-black curls that sit on top of his head. They’re still bouncing from the quick movement, and they look soft enough to make a girl daydream about what it would feel like to run a hand through them.

  Another girl, that is. Not me.

  But it’s the kind of drop-dead gorgeous appeal that’s more than enough to satisfy most of the girls in my class - even without the royal title.

  Hell, from what I’ve heard - it already has.

  “I have a proposal for you.”

  “It’s Hanna.” I say, wondering whether he has any idea that he’s talked to me before. Maybe not about anything significant…but still, after two years of classes together, you’d think he could get my name right.

  “That’s what I said.” His smirk widens into an actual grin, and he leans against the desk behind him, folding his arms. “Just with a silent ‘H’.”

  “The ‘h’ isn’t silent.”

  “The one at the end is. I just moved that to the front.”

  His eyes are laughing back at me, and I clamp down on the flicker of a smile that wants to break out across my face.

  I don’t know why I was expecting an apology from him, or some sort of correction - or anything at all. Royalty or not, it’s hard to believe Derek has ever taken anything seriously. He seems to spend half his time in class playing practical jokes, teasing his friends, making suggestive comments and generally infuriating our professors - with just enough charm to make you want to laugh along, instead of smack him around the head.

  At least, most of the time.

  “H-A-N-N-A.” I spell it out for him. “There is no ‘h’ at the end of my name.”

  I’m not even sure why I’m persisting, except that my name has been confused with Anna enough times for it to annoy me…and maybe the glint in his eyes is provoking me a little more than it should.

  He blows a breath out through his lips in mock-resignation.

  “Well, you can’t blame me for not knowing all the crazy variations to your American names. Do you guys just get bored of the way you spell them every few years or something?”

  This time the corner of my mouth does twitch upwards, and I tap my fingers on the table beside me as I raise an eyebrow.

  That’s the other thing I’ve noticed him try to do - play up the differences between our countries and pretend that he doesn’t quite understand American culture. I’m pretty sure it’s all entirely exaggerated, but I guess it adds to that foreign appeal he has going on.

  “Yeah, Prince Frederick Augustus de Salducco of Aldora, our names must seem kind of complicated to you, huh?”

  He laughs, and it’s got a deep, almost melodic timbre that makes me grin back, enjoying this despite myself.

  “I didn’t think anyone knew that mouthful. Where’d you hear it?” He asks, his tone still amused.

  “The class roster. Something you’ve obviously never looked at.” I say, then reluctantly bring the conversation back around to why he’s talking to me in the first place. As fun as it is – I have places to be, people to see, all that jazz. “So what’s the proposal?”

  “Oh. Yes.” His eyes flash, and the smirk comes back. “That was the proposal. But I can do it properly if you like.”

  I frown, confused, but before I’ve quite wrapped my head around the strange comment, Derek is suddenly getting down on one knee. My eyes widen as he reaches for something in his pocket, and I look around at the classroom to see if anyone else is seeing what I am - but they must have left while we were talking.

  My heart flips in my chest.

  It’s all a prank, obviously. I know that. The Playboy Prince’s latest insane stunt.

  But even so, I still get that instinctive reaction. I mean, every girl has thought about this, right? And actually seeing it in real life…well, it has the stupid-idiot part of my brain spinning out romantic associations before I can quite come to my senses. Not to mention, Derek looks really fucking good down there like that, and if I wasn’t so stunned, that would be more than a little distracting.

  It leaves me momentarily speechless, and that’s all it takes for Derek to flick open the velvet-lined box and reveal…

  The ugliest ring I’ve ever seen.

  I mean, I’m sure it’s several million dollars worth of ugly - but it’s just awful all the same.

  The design seems to be chunky emeralds surrounded by smaller diamonds and sapphires, which would be a little over-the-top by itself, but there are three separate emerald clusters - in some gaudy display that extends out from the band and would probably reach my knuckle if I were to wear it.

  I’m so distracted by the idea that someone must have spent a literal fortune on that ring that it takes a few moments before I glance back to Derek’s grinning face.

  “A marriage proposal?”

  That sounds even more stupid when I say it out loud, but I feel like I’m just stood here waiting for the punchline - for him get up and slap me on the shoulder with a laugh before explaining the joke. And I wonder why I’m suddenly the target of his jokes.

  “Well, sort of. It’s more of a proposal to come and be assessed by my family, people and country - but that’s the closest thing we have to an engage
ment.” He says, with a tone full of wry humor.

  His eyes are still sparkling with amusement, too, but…I don’t get it. If this is a joke, it’s a bad one.

  And I’m starting to reconsider my belief that he only pretends not to understand some parts of American culture…because it definitely feels like this doesn’t make any sense to me.

  “Uhuh.” I finally say. “Well, thanks Derek. This has been fun - but I think I should get going.”

  I start walking past him, heading towards the aisle at the edge of the room, and I shake my head in bemusement as I go.

  “Hey, wait.” He rises behind me. “You get a proposal from a Prince and you’re not even going to hang around and hear him out?”

  I glance back over my shoulder and give him an attempt at an apologetic smile. “Sorry, no time for elaborate jokes right now. I’m supposed to be meeting Carly for lunch. But I’ll see you around—”

  “It’s not a joke.” He interrupts, and I stop to look at him. “Okay, maybe I thought the whole thing was ridiculous enough to have a little fun with it - but I mean it. Come back with me this summer and be my proposed-bride. My Princess-to-be.”

  “What?” I turn back towards him, just staring.

  Maybe Derek is more than just a light-hearted guy who doesn’t know when to stop fooling around. He might actually be slightly unhinged. Or downright crazy.

  “You heard me.” He shrugs, then grins at me, as if what he’s suggesting isn’t totally insane. “I might have got myself in a little trouble back home. Maybe had a little too much fun out here in America. Everyone makes mistakes, right? It’s just that when you’re royalty, the consequences are a little more…amplified. Long story short, my parents are pissed. But if I bring back a potential bride, it’ll show them that I’m starting to take my royal duties and all of that seriously - maybe enough to buy a few more years living it up out here. And you’d get to be a Princess for the summer - or near enough, anyway.”

  I lean against the table I’m stood beside, feeling like I need the support. Somehow, it sounds worse as a real idea than it did as a bad joke.

  “Ugh…what?” I repeat again, stupidly. This has to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard. “You want to take a fiancee back to your country…so that you can stay in the US? You don’t think that’s going to tie you down a little more than those royal responsibilities? I don’t think you’ve thought this through. And why would I—wait, no. Just no. I’m not even going to ask.”

  “No, no, it would only be for the summer.” He says, shaking his head like this is simple or something. “You’d never pass all the requirements for my family - or country - to accept you. Just enough for them to believe I’m getting serious about looking for someone for this oh-so-important role.”

  He’s already talking as if I’m going to do this, and I can’t help the incredulous look I give him.

  “Sure, that makes it sound so much more appealing. A summer of tests and rejection, while I pretend to be…what? A Princess?” I shake my head at him. “No way. Sorry, Derek - sounds like hell.”

  He actually seems surprised, and I wonder if he’s ever been turned down before.

  “I thought all American girls dreamed of being Princesses.”

  That makes me laugh. “Maybe some - not me. I’m definitely not Princess material. Why are you even asking me? It’s not like we know each other - and I’m sure most of the other girls in our class would be more than happy to go along with it.”

  A wry expression crosses his face and the hint of heat in his gaze has me uncomfortably reminded of all those smoldering-hot-fantasy rumors he has following him - and his next comment only confirms it.

  “I think those girls would get the wrong idea. And I’d rather take someone that I haven’t…well, you know. It needs to be at least somewhat credible for my family to take it seriously - and since you’re the responsible, top-of-the-class type—”

  “Oh wait. Really? You think I’m pure and innocent just because I haven’t slept with you?” I laugh at the way my direct tone makes him blink. And he tried so hard to be subtle about that. “Damn, Derek, you’d be disappointed. As I said - not the virtuous Princess type. Not in the slightest.”

  “Weeell.” He rolls the word, giving me a long look up and down. “Is that so?”

  His momentary surprise settles back into a simmering smile that has far too much of a suggestion about it. “I’m sure we can make that work.”

  Okay, that attempt to throw him off might have backfired. Good one, Hanna.

  “I’m just as sure that we can’t - and believe me, there’s no way I’d want to either. Seriously, I should go. I’m super late.”

  I don’t know why I haven’t left already. It was obvious five minutes ago that there’s no reason to hang around for this ridiculous conversation. But I’m beginning to see how Derek has got some of his reputation - even though I know better than to seriously consider anything he’s saying, this is still kind of fun. He’s fun - or funny, in a crazy kind of way. This might be totally stupid, but it’s the sort of thing that will make a good story to laugh about with Carly later.

  “You’re going to tell me you haven’t always dreamed of seeing Europe?” He says, seeming to realize the Princess thing isn’t selling this. “How about the thought of an all-expenses paid trip to see it all, then? The architecture and monuments and places you’ve only read about…that doesn’t appeal?”

  I narrow my gaze at him, suspicious, even as my heart skips a beat in my chest. That’s almost word-for-word…

  “What made you think that?”

  “Okay, so maybe I overheard what you were saying to your friend yesterday. It might have given me the whole idea, actually.” He spreads his hands in a gesture of innocence that he almost pulls off. “But I mean, fuck it - we’re majoring in European History. It’s not that hard to guess. And doesn’t it sound perfect? You get the trip of a lifetime, and I get a little help with my family.”

  “It sounds like I get a trip to a country I’ve never heard of - that doesn’t even feature in our history books - to spend a summer on your arm. Not exactly my idea of—”

  “Nope. It doesn’t have to be that way at all.” He’s grinning now, obviously jumping on the chance to negotiate. “As I said, you won’t get through half the requirements - it’ll take a month, tops. Give me that, and I’ll fund the rest of your trip. Wherever you want to go, whatever you want to see - five star hotels all the way, shopping trips in Milan and Paris and anywhere else you want to go, an unlimited budget. And you can take your friend for the trip, too.”

  That’s the first thing he’s said that actually makes me want to stop and listen. Not the shopping trips - he really doesn’t know me - but…everything else. As insane as the whole idea is.

  He must really fucking want this.

  Or he’s got enough money that he’s just used to buying anything he wants.

  Or both.

  For one brief moment, I actually consider it - I can almost see all the places I’ve dreamed of going. The Vatican and Colosseum in Rome. The Notre-Dame in France. Buckingham Palace in England.

  Until the reality of what it would mean to get engaged to Derek for a month comes crashing down on me.

  Lying to a country. To my family. To everyone. Having a whole royal family judging me, looking down on me, questioning everything about me.

  No. Just no.

  It would never work. It’s impossible. The kind of crazy plan that only someone who has always done exactly what he likes could imagine.

  I try not to think of Carly as I shake my head, wondering whether I’ll ever be able to tell her that I turned down a free pass for the trip of a lifetime that we’ve spent the last two years planning.

  We’ll still go, eventually.

  I draw myself up, adjusting my glasses on my face, folding my arms and gathering every ounce of incredulity as I give him a deliberately dismissive glance up and down.

  Or, at least, I try
to. Halfway down, I might get a little distracted by the perfectly built shape of his body - the abs I swear I can see outlined beneath his tight T-shirt and the chunky clasp of his belt that draws my eye to the very prominent, very impressive area just below—

  I snap my gaze back up immediately, to see the amusement on his face.

  He raises an eyebrow and gives me another cocky smile. “You can have that, too, Princess. I’ll throw it in free of charge.”

  And then he winks. He god-damn winks at me.

  And even worse - I feel myself blush under that searing-hot, knowing gaze.

  I clamp down on my errant, apparently out-of-control, hormones and shake my head decisively.

  “That’s not what I meant—” I cut myself off halfway through the attempt at an explanation. Trying to explain only makes it sound worse. “The answer is no, Derek. I’m sorry, but really - I can’t do it. Not even for that trip. I’m not lying to everyone I know, pretending to be your fiancee and acting like I want to become part of your royal family. It’s too much for me. Not even for Europe.”

  I try not to think about Europe. About how I’ve always wanted to visit.

  I try not to think about ‘you can have that too, Princess’.

  Because even as I tell him no, even as I’m explaining all the reasons I can’t do it, I’m thinking…

  How hard would it be to tell my parents that I’m staying with a friend in Europe for a month, before traveling all around with Carly? I’ve talked about it for years…and it would be true…just with a few omissions.

  How bad could meeting his royal family be, if we both want me to fail anyway?

  And couldn’t you survive the whole ‘Princess’ thing…just for a month?

  Derek gives me a long look, and it seems like he might finally be listening to what I’m saying. Which I hope to god he is, because I’m not sure how much longer I can say ‘no’.

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” He says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I nod, thinking I’m probably almost sure. “Yes, I am—”

  “Unless…” He turns back to me, drawing it out, and the arrogant smile there makes me feel like there’s a trap closing around me. “You want to make a bet? For that dream trip of yours?”