The Virgin's Playboy Prince Read online

  Ryder

  I stare at the official engagement photo of Gemma and me through sore eyes and a pounding headache. I haven’t been this hungover in years. Popping two aspirin, I swallow them dry before I take my glance down to the photo again. We’re good actors, I’ll give us that much. In the picture she stares into my eyes and smiles like she can’t wait to kiss me again. The look on her face makes me wonder if she thinks about our kiss as much as I do. She’d tasted like champagne and strawberries. Her hair was soft and her skin softer. I’d be lying if I said my cock hadn’t gotten hard as stone every time I thought of her.

  Two invitations are laid across my desk for approval. Both are identical to the ones for the wedding I was supposed to have with Charlotte as the bride. Now it’s Gemma’s name scrawled in elegant script next to mine. There’s an R & G intertwined in the center. My mother didn’t waste any time diving into changing wedding details. Father has taken a turn for the worse over the last few weeks. Things need to move quicker. Now, instead of six months, Mother has this affair scheduled as close as possible. Eight weeks. In eight weeks, I’ll be married to a woman who hates me.

  “Invitations?” Gemma’s voice catches me off guard. She comes around to stand by my side and runs her fingers over the embossed text. “Her Majesty isn’t a slouch in the party planning department, is she?

  I laugh. “She’s not a slouch in any department. In all honesty, that word is probably not in her vocabulary.”

  Gemma stands next to me, radiating frustration. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”

  “No. I imagine it has something to do with the fact that we’re planning a royal wedding in two months. You’re always here.”

  In truth, she never comes to my private office. Gemma seems to attempt to stay as far away from me as possible. Then she drops a glossy tabloid on my desk, the magazine landing on top of our wedding invitations. “This is why I’m here.”

  There I am, plain as day, splashed across the front of the magazine with my least favorite nickname in bold typeface. Engagement Doesn’t Stop Playboy Prince. I have to admit, it doesn’t look good.

  “Kingston—”

  “Don’t try to blame this on Lord Haverford. He’s not even in this photo. That woman is hanging all over you and your shirt is halfway out of your trousers.”

  Bloody hell, she’s right. But it’s not what she thinks. Certainly I’d tied one on last night. Had a bit of fun with my mates, but that woman threw herself on me as soon as she saw the cameras. “The—” I begin, but stop myself. She’s only going to see what she wants. Until she knows me. The real me.

  “This has to stop. You’re humiliating me every time you step out. I don’t know how it works here, but in my home, when a man is pictured with a woman who is absolutely not his intended…” she has to pause and take a breath. Her limbs are shaking with fury, but there are tears in her eyes too. “It’s just not done.”

  “It was innocent. I give you my word.”

  She throws her hands in the air and huffs. “Your word means little to me. You gave my sister your word but you drove her away.”

  Anger blooms in my chest. “Your sister is the one who broke her promise. Not only to me, but to your country. I’m duty bound to marry you and join our kingdoms. I’ll do it without argument. Do I wish we loved one another? Yes. I want what my parents have. But love isn’t always an option. Sometimes we have to settle for tolerance in order to serve a greater purpose.”

  There’s fire in her eyes, and she presses her lips into a tight line. “Don’t try and make me feel sorry for you. Poor prince Ryder, he has to marry a shrew he doesn’t love.”

  “If the shoe fits, princess.”

  She lets out a growl and turns on her heel, muttering, “I wonder how far I could shove that shoe up your ass.”

  This is never going to work. Perhaps there’s another option. A royal cousin to the Montblanc family? Someone who won’t frustrate me beyond reason.

  I press both palms to the cool wood surface of my desk and stare at the tabloid. I do look like the playboy they paint me as. My eyes are glazed from too much alcohol, my hair mussed, and there’s lipstick on my collar. God, no wonder she was so upset. Grabbing the magazine, I tear it to shreds, letting out a growl of my own.

  A soft knock on the door has my heart in my throat. I look up, hoping to see Gemma standing in the doorway giving me an opportunity to apologize.

  Instead I find Waverly, her dark hair pulled up into a neat bun. She’s clad in dance wear and must’ve just come from her ballet class. “What is it? Has something happened with Gemma?” The concern on her face is so intense, I worry she’s truly fallen in love with my betrothed.

  “No. She’s fine.” But after I utter the words, an idea hits me. “Actually, all this wedding preparation has run her ragged. She’s feeling a tad chilly, if you know what I mean.”

  “Cold feet? Oh no. Mum just set an appointment with a designer to discuss her gown.”

  “Well, I think we need to do whatever we can to keep her. I’d love a brief respite from all the responsibilities for both of us.”

  She cocks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “A getaway. Perhaps a precursor to the honeymoon. I’d like to take her to our chalet for the weekend. We can go skiing, spend some time, just the two of us.”

  “Ryder. There’s so much to do.”

  “Fine. Just one night. I’ll take her tomorrow and have her back Saturday.”

  “I don’t know if that’s wise.”

  “Why not? I’m about to marry her. Don’t tell me you’re worried about propriety.”

  “The thing is. Gemma is…innocent. Believe me, as your sister, I don’t ever want to know about your escapades, but I haven’t been able to escape the headlines. You have quite the reputation. Gemma is pure and precious. A rare find. I worry you expect too much from her.”

  Gemma is a virgin? That’s not entirely surprising. What is strange is how satisfied that knowledge makes me. She’s untouched. She saved herself for the man she was going to marry…for me.

  “I’ll be on my best behavior. I just don’t want her to run from this because of stress. The thing is…she kind of hates me at the moment, and I can’t spend my life married to a woman who won’t even tolerate being in the same room as me. I need you to make her think you and Alina are taking her on a girls’ weekend or something.”

  She cocks a brow. “You want me to lie to Gemma so you can get her alone? And you’re telling me you don’t have plans to add her to your list of conquests?”

  The thought of Gemma being so inconsequential makes me sick. “Waverly. I’d think you’d know me better than that. The tabloids are filled with lies and assumptions. A rakish prince sells better than the player Lord Haverford.”

  My sister nods. “All right. Make the arrangements. I’ll tell her it’s an early bachelorette party. But you owe me a favor in the future.”

  I take her hand and press a kiss between her knuckles. “Thank you, Wave.”

  “Ryder?” she says as I stand.

  I don’t answer, but I offer her a questioning brow.

  “Be kind to her. She’s better for you than you think.”

  I nod. Guilt eating at me. But the kind thing is to help both of us. Gemma wants love. I can’t give that to her. I doubt I can give it to anyone.

  When I get back to my wing of the palace, I strip and change into my running clothes. I’ll text Gemma, then get a good work out in before meeting my mates for a night on the town.

  Tasting wedding cake tomorrow.

  She doesn’t respond. So like her. Obstinate to the core. It’s obvious she likes to wind me up. I send another text.

  I’ll be round to pick you up tomorrow at 9.

  The little dots on my screen tell me she’s replying. Good girl.

  I don’t like cake.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  You don’t need to. We’ve got to serve some to the rest of our guests. Stop be
ing difficult.

  My phone stays silent for a good five minutes. Then it lights up with her response.

  Can’t. Your sisters are taking me away for the weekend. So sorry. You’ll have to taste cake without me. Do try not to choke.

  I don’t type anything back. Waverly always comes through. This time tomorrow I’ll be well on my way to winning over Gemma. I say I only want this because a life with her if she hates me will be miserable. But why does the idea of being alone with her make my heart race and desire run through me?

  Chapter 4

  Gemma

  The car pulls up to the chalet and my heart squeezes. Once upon a time we spent a week away with the royal family when I was a child. I spent most of my time nursing a twisted ankle, while Ryder skied and had fun. I would’ve resented him for it, but Waverly had stayed with me. We’d played with dolls, drank hot cocoa, and in all honesty, it is one of the best memories of my childhood.

  “Miss Montblanc,” the driver says as he opens the door of the Land Rover. I look around, but don’t see Waverly anywhere. I thought it was strange that she and Alina weren’t in the car with me, but the driver said they were already at the chalet.

  “Where’s Her Royal Highness?”

  “Change of plans, your highness. Kitchen’s fully stocked but there’s been a…delay for the rest of your party.”

  I sigh. “Delayed? So I’m meant to wait here…alone?”

  The driver’s cheeks turn pink. “I couldn’t say, my lady.”

  “Fine. That’s just fine. I could use some time alone.”

  My driver, who I’ve since learned is named Nick, hands me a key and carries my bag to the front door. When I walk inside, I immediately tug off my boots and place them in the corner.

  Disappointment curls in my belly. I didn’t come here to be alone. I was looking forward to some time with people who expected little of me. With people I could just be myself around. Removing my coat, I fling it over the back of a chair and make my way down the hall until I reach the kitchen. A chill runs over me as the temperature in the rooms seeps into my bones. I’ll have to start a fire until Waverly can show me where the thermostat is.

  Before I go back to get my coat, I make my way to the large pantry. Just like when we were kids, there’s an emergency stash of Oreos hidden in the back of the cupboard. In moments I’ve got the package open and am placing three…no, four of the perfect, beautiful cookies on a plate. I pour a glass of ice-cold milk and sit at the bar, staring down at the one thing that never disappoints me. Calories.

  A text comes through on my phone, but as soon as I see Ryder’s name, I ignore it. I don’t care what he has to say. I stick a fork between the chocolate and into the cream of my cookie, dunk the whole thing into my glass of milk and count to ten. Then I pull the whole thing free and pop it all into my mouth. I let out a groan of pleasure as soon as the sweet treat hits my tongue.

  “I’ve always wondered what might make you moan. Turns out it’s cookies.” Ryder’s voice makes me jump, and I spin round on my stool with a fork in one hand and a mouth full of cookie.

  “What are you doing here?” I say, but it’s muffled because I’ve just stuffed my face.

  He laughs and walks over to the counter, grabbing a napkin before handing the fabric to me. “You’ve got a little something…”

  I can feel my cheeks heat. The prince of Corline just saw me slumped over the kitchen counter…eating my feelings. Swallowing, I take a moment to compose myself. “Waverly didn’t tell me you were going to be here. This is supposed to be just the girls.”

  “The girls aren’t coming.”

  I roll my eyes and stand, crossing my arms over my chest. “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m not joking.” There’s frustration in his tone.

  “I’m not here for you to do with as you please. Where are your sisters?”

  “Gem—”

  “Don’t call me Gem,” I hiss. I’m quite aware of my vicious tone, but he doesn’t understand how his easy dismissal of me hurts. While I’ve never planned to be married to him, the fact that he feels the same about me stings. He doesn’t get to be familiar with me.

  “All right, Gemma. The truth is, my sisters were never coming. They helped me get you out here, so the two of us can build some kind of connection. We may not be in love, but I’d like to think we can exist as friends.”

  “That remains to be seen.” I have to fight to hold onto my anger at this point. He set all this up just to spend time with me. Never mind the fact that he and Waverly both lied through their teeth to get me here.

  He leads the way down the hall and bends down to scoop up my coat, which has fallen off the chair. I have to admit, I take a moment to appreciate the view. Then my red wool coat is flying at my head and Ryder is laughing. “Eyes forward, Gemma. Wouldn’t want to think you were ogling. Come along, lets go for a walk round the property before it gets dark.”

  My jaw clenches, but there’s a tug of a smile fighting with the need to fight him. Shrugging into my coat, I follow him “Lead the way, my prince.”

  He nods and hands me my boots. “So, you’re still not a skier?”

  “No. I nearly broke my leg the last time.” I struggle to fit my feet into the leather, and Ryder kneels, taking hold of the heel and pushing until my foot pops snugly inside.

  He chuckles and offers his hand, helping me to my feet. “After you,” he murmurs as he opens the door for me. Something about that charms me. Here he is, playing the part of gentleman.

  “Chivalry must be part of your training,” I mutter.

  “What’s that?” he asks, following behind me.

  “Nothing.”

  I glance behind me, and my breath catches at the sight of him so close. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “So, are you up for taking advantage of our extensive wine cellar and doing a whole lot of nothing until we head home?”

  “Sure.” Honestly, it sounds fun. A brief respite from wedding nonsense is welcome, soothing my wild anticipation. I know I’m not going to end up in love with Ryder, and not having to pretend sounds fantastic.

  We walk into the bitterly cold mountain air. Snow falls lightly around us, a graceful dance. Then he takes my arm and turns us to look at the beautiful home. The chalet is pretty as a picture with it’s snow capped roof and crystalline icicles. It’s all banks of windows and warm colored wood tucked into the side of a mountain. It looks like something from a fairy tale.

  “Nice as you remember?” he asks.

  “Nicer.”

  As we walk around the property, our boots crunching in the snow, I relax a little more. “Are you sure you won’t try skiing with me? It’s been years, and I’m a great teacher.”

  “I’m sure you could teach me a lot of things,” I mutter.

  He leans in close and whispers against my ear, “I’m sure you’d enjoy them.”

  I lock eyes with Ryder, embarrassment coursing through my veins. “You’re quite cocky.” But the heat in his gaze chases away everything other than arousal. “I…” I lose my train of thought as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s so close. I could kiss him right now by simply leaning forward.

  Then he smiles wide. “Oh, you want it bad. You want me to teach you everything.” His teasing tone sends a mixture of relieved disappointment through me.

  I separate myself from him, letting him take the lead as we walk toward the front door. This man has too much power over me. He’s dangerous. Maybe coming out here wasn’t such a good idea.

  Chapter 5

  Ryder

  The chalet is everything I love about being royal. It’s big enough to provide plenty of space, but small enough to make me feel almost normal. It’s easy to get lost in the cavernous palace where the ceilings are so high we get an eighteen foot tall Christmas tree each year with no trouble. Here we lived like a family of five, with five bedrooms, a kitchen, only one dining room, and a living area. Okay, so maybe we lived like a very wealthy fam
ily, but the difference between wealth and royalty is immense. In this house, we have no vast hallways, no rooms that go unused for years, filled with antique furniture. Yes, we usually bring our cook and, when we were children, our nanny, but even that is a much smaller staff than I live with.

  “It looks the same,” Gemma breathes. Her copper hair glimmers in the warm lighting of the lamps. When she turns to face me, a feeling of home, of rightness hits me.

  “It is the same. Mum doesn’t like changing things like this. She says it’s not cost-effective to remodel something we only use a few times a year.”

  She shrugs. “She’s right. As usual.” Then she wraps her arms around herself and shivers. “It’s bloody freezing in here.”

  “This was rather spur-of-the-moment. No one was sent up to prepare the place.” I gesture to the shopping bags on the side table in the entryway. “I even had to go shopping this morning.”

  Gemma’s cheeks flush pink. “Oh. Nick said the kitchen was stocked.”

  “Yes. By me. I got here about an hour before you.” I make my way to the thermostat panel in the wall and switch it on. The heat will take a little while, but it should warm up soon. “Why don’t we choose a bedroom?”

  Her eyes widen. “Each. You mean, why don’t we each choose a bedroom?”

  The thought of sharing a bed with her has definitely crossed my mind a time or two…or twenty. “Yes. If you remember, there are five. The master is separated from the rest by an entire floor. We can sleep as far away as possible from each other. No risk of you taking advantage of me.”

  A laugh falls from her perfect mouth, and I let myself wonder what those lips would look like wrapped around—

  “I think we’d both have to be very drunk for something like that to happen.”

  Would we? I’m not so sure. Grabbing both our overnight bags, I head for the stairs. “Come on, then. We’ve got twenty-four hours until Nick returns to pick us up. This is all the time we’re going to have before Mum has us saying our wedding vows, and you can’t get away from me. I’d much rather we like each other.”