Twisted Games: A Forbidden Royal Bodyguard Romance

“Five days in paradise,” I drawled. “Swimming, sunbathing, fucking—”
“Rhys.”
“What, you don’t like the itinerary?”
“Lower your voice,” she hissed, her face the color of the tomatoes on her plate. “People will hear.”
“No one’s listening.”

Jules sighed. “Tell your man he’s hot as hell but a total buzzkill.”

“He’s not my man. He’s my bodyguard.” I lowered my voice, but I thought I saw Rhys pause for a millisecond before he resumed polishing his knife.

“Even worse. He’s running your life and you’re not getting any dick from it.”

“Jules.”

I hugged Ava the hardest and longest. Between her family drama and breakup with Alex, she’d gone through hell the past few months, and she needed extra love.

“You’ll adore London,” I said. “It’ll be a fresh start, and you have the little black book of must-visit spots I gave you.”

Ava flashed a small smile. “I’m sure I will. Thanks.” She glanced around, and I wondered if she was looking for Alex. No matter what she said, she wasn’t over him, and she probably wouldn’t be for a while.

I didn’t spot him in the crowd, but I wasn’t surprised. For a supposed genius, he could be quite the idiot. He’d said and done some hurtful things, but he cared about Ava. He was just either too stubborn or too stupid to act on it.

I made a mental note to pay him a visit before I left for New York. I was tired of waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass.

It just so happened the last day of my trial period coincided with my graduation ceremony, and I couldn’t resist teasing Rhys while we waited for Ava to set up the shot on her tripod. She was our unofficial photographer for group photos today

“Come here, princess.” I opened one arm. She stepped into it and buried her face in my non-injured shoulder. It was the most vulnerable we’d been in front of the other since we met, and it chipped away at something inside me.

“When you get riled up, your face looks like a strawberry.”

Between the indoor festival setup and the words your face looks like a strawberry leaving Rhys’s mouth, I was convinced I’d woken up in an alternate dimension.

“When you get riled up, your face looks like a strawberry.”

Between the indoor festival setup and the words your face looks like a strawberry leaving Rhys’s mouth, I was convinced I’d woken up in an alternate dimension.

“Keep your underwear, gloves, and heels on,” he said, still in that deceptively soft tone. “And crawl to me.”

He walked to the bathroom, and without looking back, he added, “By the way, princess, the book is upside down.”

I slammed the hardcover shut, my skin blazing with embarrassment.

God, he was insufferable. A gentleman wouldn’t point something like that out, but Rhys Larsen was no gentleman.

“You’re a fucking queen, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Including yourself.”