Thanks to social media, beauty mogul Astoria Richards fell into a multimillion-dollar business at the age of sixteen. Unfortunately, burnout threatens to snatch the rug straight from under her. With no personal life to speak of, and competitors nipping at her heels, she jumps at a unique proposition from a king. As long as Astoria keeps her heart out this arrangement, her bottom line would benefit from this weirdness … right?
Raphael Castille needs a wife. Tasked with taking over the throne until his twin brother gets stamped with a clean bill of health, he will be required to play his royal part. A simple one-year contractual obligation to make the people of Calor Dunas believe he was capable of leading their country turned into much, much more. The second he sets eyes on Astoria Richards, all the rules went straight out of the window. No one said love was a part of the deal, but if he stayed around the gorgeous, brown-skinned beauty for much longer, he’d have to find a way to add it to the contract.
Lost didn’t cover Astoria’s dizzying confusion. Larger than the Atlantis Resort, she wandered the palace halls in need of a rescue team. For the first time since she’d dove straight into this strange odyssey, she reconsidered her role in all of it.
“Story.”
Rafe’s growly tenor, mixed with his cultivated tone, instantly stirred something in her gut.
“Thought you came to your senses and changed your mind.” He advanced from the opposite end of the hallway with his hard-to-win smile inching northward.
“Had a hiccup at the airport,” she admitted, mentally hollering at her pussy that beat boxed a mean tune at the sight of him. Swallowing the teenage giggles that begged to burst free, Astoria shared her harrowing tale about delayed planes and no available runways when a young woman stepped in front of her.
“My name is Elana and there are no words for how late you are.” She tightly clutched a clipboard to her chest, granting Astoria the sternest schoolteacher glare.
“None?” she asked. “Because the English language is vast, and right off the top of my head, I can think of several.”
“This is unacceptable and mustn’t happen again. We have a tight schedule, and tardiness will not be tolerated.”
“Where’s your detail?” Rafe asked, gracefully moving around Elana.
“Also late,” she replied, turning toward the handsome man. The slim fit of his Prada dark grey suit hugged his lean body to a tee. Not to mention his enticing smell of sweet ylang-ylang and sandalwood that helped calm her jackhammer type of nerves.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “May I ask a question?”
“Of course,” he answered, bending his head toward her in the cutest conspiratorial manner.
“What’s with the hair?” Astoria reached for the ends of his shorter jet-black strands. Still longer than the basic business style, he’d cut off his bad boy shoulder-length locks.
“Do you like?” He beamed, forcing those high cheekbones to the ceiling, igniting a spark of mischief in his eyes.
“It’s very, very royal, sir.”
“Good enough for a king?” His lowkey flirting produced a throb of wanton need to work its way into her womb.
Fuck, this man is sexy…
“Ahem,” bossy clipboard chickee interrupted, knocking her out of the Rafael Castille bubble.
While internally rounding up the rest of her horny senses, Astoria dropped her hand back to her side.
Elana speared her with a glare. “We have over sixty different news outlets waiting in the courtyard for the Q and A session.”
“Ready.” He gently nudged her toward the double doors Elana pulled open to enter the square. “Ladies first.”
“No, your majesty.” Astoria held out her hand. After a beat, his large palm dwarfed hers. If he was shocked by the physical display of intimacy, he certainly didn’t show it.
