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It’s time to teach this royal brat a lesson she’ll never forget.
I know the rules.
I know sweet, sassy little princesses like her are strictly off-limits to rough and tumble, non royals like myself. I know that even though I’ve made billions with nothing but these two strong hands and an iron will, they’ll say I’m no good for her.
They might be right, but that won’t stop me.
I’ve been watching Princess Colette for longer than she knows. The mouthy little spitfire’s been tempting me, and a man can only take so much.
I’ve waited patiently, hungering for her sweet curves. I’ve told myself that she’s too young for me, or too innocent – that she’s too untouched for me to touch.
But when I find out about this “suitor’s ball” in the next kingdom over, and about some snot-nosed little prince thinks he can marry her up instead of me, I’m not waiting any longer.
Fuck the rules, and the hell with what they’ll say. I’ve denied myself long enough, and it’s time to show this princess how a man takes what’s his.
I’ll treat her like a princess, but I’ll claim her like a queen.
*Please note that each of the Possessing Beauty books are completely standalone stories centered around one couple, with no cliffhangers.
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Where the HELL is my dress?
I muttered to myself as I stomped around my walk-in closet, my brow furrowed. This was just what I needed right now. I was already running late to the dinner I never wanted to go to in the first place, to meet the man I had no interest in meeting, and here I was strutting around my closet in just a pair of panties looking for my dress.
The princess without a gown — it was like some sort of messed up fairytale no one had ever heard of, or would ever want to.
I groaned, puffing bursts of air through my lips as I scowled at the complete disarray of my closet. I sighed heavily, pushing my hands through my hair and turning to catch sight of myself in the big floor-length mirror. There was no time for anything elaborate with my hair besides pushing it back from my face, not that I cared to do anything with it for this stupid dinner. I already knew my mother was going to make a stink — even if it was a silent one with one of her looks — about the state of it given the importance of this dinner, but I didn’t care. My hair not being up and in some elaborately “princess-y” look like she would have wanted could be my own little middle finger to this whole thing.
“This whole thing” being, the dinner where I was to meet my soon-to-be-husband. My arranged marriage.
Oh, and he was the second.
The first guy my mother auctioned me off to, Prince Scott of Kadmire, was, well, not who I’d have ever picked to marry. Or date. Or have a drink with. Actually, Prince Scott wasn’t even someone I’d choose to share any sort of proximity with at all. The prince had a horrible reputation of being smug, creepy, arrogant, womanizing, and basically all the other worst traits of a prince you could think of. But then, I was no longer marrying Prince Scott, because someone new had stepped in.
And that’s who I was meeting that night.
Yeah, welcome to my life. Nineteen, royal, and next in line to inherit the throne in the Kingdom of Cordone, and here I was about to meet a man I’d never met before who was going to be my husband. You’d have thought this was the freaking dark ages, and not modern times, but there you go.
At the heart of all this crap was my mother, who’s gold-digging ways had finally caught up with her. With us, actually. You see, when my father had been alive, our kingdom had flourished, as it had for generations. But after his passing, my mother had gone on a long streak of younger, shitty men who probably really only ever wanted her — our — money. She was older now, though, which meant the younger men had stopped coming around. Which was fine, because by then, the Kingdom of Cordone was on the verge of bankruptcy.
So my mother had decided to cash in her last chip: me.
Nineteen, groomed for a life of royalty, of pure noble blood — oh, right, and that one other tiny little detail: the fact that I’d never dated. The fact that I’d never even been on a single date with a guy. Let’s put it bluntly: my mother wasn’t just marrying me off to some rich guy to balance her failing checking accounts. She was selling my virginity to do it, and honestly, she hadn’t even hid that detail as part of the deal.
Prince Scott had been loathsome, though certainly rich. This new guy though? Ugh. He was probably worse. Richer, for sure, which is how he’d gotten my mother to go back on her deal with Prince Scott in favor of him, but I could only imagine how much of a lecherous old creep he probably was.
I mean, he wasn’t even royalty. Rich beyond belief, yes, but not a prince, or a king, or even a duke or anything like that. I mean, I didn’t care at all about that sort of thing. I didn’t give a shit about the whole who’s who of the royal world. But God did my mother, and the fact that she was selling me off to a guy who wasn’t of the world spoke loudly. I knew nothing about him. In fact, google even knew nothing about him. The man wasn’t on social media at all, which already pointed to an age north of seventy. In fact, the only thing you could find about him online was that his company, which had something to do with mining operations, was basically killing it.
My scowl deepened as I stomped into my bedroom, tossing the sheets from my bed as if my gown might be hiding there for some reason. No luck.