Prince's Dirty Little Secret (A Royal Secret Baby Romance)

PRINCE'S DIRTY LITTLE SECRET (A ROYAL SECRET BABY ROMANCE)

RILEY ROLLINS

DOLCH PRESS LLC

Contents

Copyright

Mailing List & Facebook

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Thank You!

Also by Riley Rollins

Copyright © 2016 by Dolch Press LLC

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental.

Cover by Kevin McGrath.

MAILING LIST & FACEBOOK

L 
ove bad boy romances? Sign up for my no-spam mailing list to receive news on
new releases, free giveaways, and more!

You can also join the advanced review team. I'm very much in need of people who are willing to read my books early and leave reviews upon release.

http://eepurl.com/bYD3Rv

Want to connect with other bad boy fans and authors? Join my Facebook group,
Begging for Bad Boys
!

https://goo.gl/Q03p8T

CHAPTER 1

W
hen I was little, I had one of those kid bedrooms that made the other little girls jealous. It was stuffed full of Disney and Lisa Frank merchandise, walls painted, a wonderland bursting with pink and purple. My bunkbed was my castle and I was the princess of my kingdom.

If you'd told me I'd be a real princess someday, I'd have been an excited bundle of pigtails and glitter.

Now I'm 24. If you told me the same thing, I'd laugh you right out the door of the tiny studio apartment I rent in smoky downtown L.A.

M
Y LITTLE RED
Miata soars down the California coastal highway, the salty night air whipping my hair back. The stereo blasts punk songs from high school. Next to me, my best friend Ashley headbangs to the guitar riffs and sings like we're seniors at a Friday night show. I grin and sing with her as I depress the clutch, downshift, and send us roaring through the night.

"Jenna," squeals Ashley, her voice cutting through the music, "Last night in the States, baby!"

"Gonna be dope," I reply.

I'm pumped. We're heading to a house party to kick off the big trip. We leave tomorrow.

But it's not a Hawaiian getaway or a European tour.

It's two months in North Molvania. The most closed-off, isolated country on Earth. The country that only lets in 100 outsiders per year.

Everyone thinks I'm crazy to go. But I'm a front-line reporter for EDGE News, the underground network that breaks all the hottest, weirdest stories. And when EDGE finally scored a couple travel permits to North Molvania, they asked me to go. Nervous or not, I couldn't refuse. Just think of all the incredible stories. They'll all go viral. This could be huge for my career.

Of course, it's all on the down-low. I've got fake papers and everything, and EDGE even got the U.S. State Department to sign off on my fake passport. 'Cause if the regime finds out who I am, it's gonna be lights out for me. I'm doing this undercover. Gathering stories and bringing them back home for an exposé. While I'm there, they can't know who I am.

Now Ashley, she's the really crazy one. My boss at EDGE thought I should travel with a friend. Someone unrelated to the job, to make things look more legit. When I asked Ashley to come, she said yes without a second thought. She's always been a travel junkie, though, and for people like her, North Molvania is basically Mecca.

Me? I just wanna blow the top off all the dirty business happening in that country.

"You're insane," I say to her, turning down the music. "Nobody normal wants to go to North Molvania."

"Come on, Jenna," she says, "I'm not letting you have all the fun. Plus," she adds, "You know you just wanna meet the Crown Prince Nikolai."

My face goes red. Thank god we're on a dark stretch of highway.

"Joke," I say, passing a car on the left. "Four years studying politics and democracy, and you think I'm crushing on a dictator?"

Nikolai is heir to the throne of North Molvania. Not much news comes out of North Molvania, but the latest reports say that his father, King Alexandr, has been grooming Nikolai to step into his role as king. But Nikolai is apparently more interested in partying and schmoozing than worrying himself about the democratic reforms that his country needs so badly.

So it doesn't matter that he's a gorgeous, chiseled six-and-a-half foot hunk of man. It doesn't matter that he makes my ladyparts tingle when I fantasize about him crushing his rock hard, muscled body against me. That's totally beside the point. How could I be attracted to a totalitarian leader with no respect for the rule of law?

Gorgeous or not, he goes against everything I believe in.

Ashley pulls her long blonde hair into a high ponytail, her wrist circling as she applies a hair tie. Her hair is thick and her skin is radiant. Can't lie, I'm a little jealous.

"I see how you drool over his pictures," she says, grinning at me.

"Uh huh," I say. "Actually, I'm trying to do a bombshell report on human rights, thanks."

"
He
is a bombshell," says Ashley. "He dates like, every princess in Europe." Then she adds, "Didn't he have a dead fiancée or something?"

Ugh. That brings up bad memories about Jason, my ex-fiancé. It was just two years ago, a month before graduation, when a drunk driver hit him on his way to my house. He was picking up a bag of steaming hot cheeseburgers for us, when boom, he got wiped off this mortal plane.

"I never heard that."

"Yeah," says Ashley. "Couple years ago she died. Rumors said that's when he started dating all these girls. Trying to replace her, I guess. He must be heartbroken." She looks like she feels sorry for him.

I wrinkle my nose. I haven't touched another man since Jason. Do I think about it? Yeah. I'm a 24-year old with a sex drive. How could I not? But I'm waiting for the right guy, and I haven't found him yet.

So I guess Nikolai is my opposite. A promiscuous, fascist, rich, annoyingly attractive prince.

Ashley studied drama, not politics, so I forgive her for not appreciating Nikolai's role in creating the country's dismal political and economic conditions. I almost lecture her but I decide to save it for another time.

"I think you want to meet him," I say, playing along instead. "Plus, if either one of us has a chance with a prince, it's you."

"Don't be silly. You're gorgeous, Jenna."

"Right," I say, snorting with tomboyish laughter. "Good one." Then I add, "Don't forget that starting tomorrow I'm not Jenna. You remember my pseudonym, right?"

"Of course. Taylor Westwood."

"Good," I say. "Don't fuck that up. It's on my papers. Mess up and we'll be in deep shit."

"Got it," she says. I trust her.

We're approaching our exit, so I move into the right lane. Soon, I take the exit ramp and the GPS says we're six minutes away.

T
HE PARTY IS
at an oceanfront beach house. Even down the street where we park, we can hear the EDM music blaring over the sandy beach, the intense sound waves crashing over the calm night water. The house is huge. More like a mansion, really. Probably belongs to some spoiled UC kids' parents.

"You're not drinking, right?" asks Ashley.

I haven't had a drop to drink since Jason died. In memorial of him, I guess.

"Yeah. Girl, you know I don't need to drink to have fun. I'm a beast."

A dude-pro in a backwards baseball cap lets us into the party. We catch up with our old college friends. Everyone's growing up so fast, it seems like. Real life is hitting us all hard.

It doesn't take long for Ashley to get pulled into a group of her old sorority sisters. That was never my scene, so I spend the night chatting with a couple girls from my old bio lab instead. I keep an eye on Ashley though, nervously watching her get drink after drink at the bar. She needs to be on point tomorrow. We can't afford to have any fuck-ups.

By two in the morning, I'm getting antsy to leave and get some sleep. But I've lost Ashley, and when I finally find her, she's sloppy drunk. And she's grinding with the bro who let us into the party.

Great.

I shoot the bro a dirty look as I grab Ashley's hand and lead her away. "Hey," he protests, his voice slurred. I cut him off.

"Do you mind?" I say. I pull Ashley aside. "You good?"

"Yeah," she drawls, "Chad invited me to his room. I think I'm gonna go up."

I frown. "No. That's not a good idea." 

"Hey," says Chad, butting into our conversation. "She can do what she wants."

I glare at him. "She's drunk."

He grabs her arms hard, and yanks her away from me.

"Ow," she yelps, "you're hurting me."

He growls, wrenching her away from me, toward the staircase.

Anger surges through me like a twister. Without thinking, I bring my fist upward, a missile that blasts into Chad's jaw with a dull crack. The vibrations travel down my arm, and I can feel his teeth smash together as my fist collides with his face. "Fucking bitch!" he shouts, releasing Ashley from his grip, his hands flying to his mouth. A stream of red pours down, staining the carpet underneath.

Nobody fucks with my friends.

For a moment, I think he's gonna hit me back. And honestly, I welcome it. I'd like to see him try.

"Oh my god," says Ashley, slurring. She rubs her arms where he grabbed her. "Are you kidding me?" she says to Chad, betrayed bewilderment on her face. "What's wrong with you?"

I cross my arms. "Get out or I'll call the cops."

Chad scoffs, bending down to wipe a bloodstain off his bright white sneakers. "You're fuckin' crazy," he says. But his face is as guilty as a pirate hanging from a gallows. He slinks out of the room without another word.