Virgin Bride(123)
She looks at the papers in my hand, her head cocked. “What’s all that?”
I hand them to her. She takes them, looking carefully, before opening up the Argentinian passport. “Violet Gray?”
“And I’m Arthur Gray.”
She looks at me, her eyes wide. “What is this?”
“Papers. Passports. New identities.”
“How?” she whispers.
“My friends at the company. One last favor. Cost me all of my tips from the last few months, but it’ll be worth it.”
“Logan,” she says, shaking her head. “This is crazy.”
“This is freedom. We can travel anywhere we want to now. We can even go home, if you want.”
She stares at me for a second, her eyes wide, and then she looks away. I smile, knowing what the look means. She’s trying to hide her tears from me, but I know better. I walk around the table and pull her against me, hugging her tight.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“So, where do you want to go?” I ask her.
She pulls back, eyes wet, and smiles. “Kangaroos,” she says.
I can’t help but laugh and kiss her. “Okay, Australia it is.” I let her go then drop down to one knee in front of her. “But there’s one more thing.”
She puts her hands to her mouth as I take the ring from my pocket. It’s a simple ring, bought from a local man that makes jewelry. The diamond isn’t huge, but it’s beautifully crafted.
“Marry me,” I say.
“Logan,” she whispers.
“I spoke with some friends at the tour group. They said that there’s a priest two towns over who will marry us, no questions asked. We can have the party here, invite everyone.”
She stares at me silently then nods once, clearly unable to speak. I grin huge and take her hand then slip the ring on her finger, a perfect fit.
She stares at it and then launches herself at me, knocking me over to the ground as she hugs me as hard as she can. I laugh, hugging her back, pulling her body against mine.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice muffled against my chest.
“Of course. We’re already a family, Riley, but this will make it official.”
“Violet,” she says.
“What?”
She looks up at me, grinning. “My name is Violet now.”
I laugh and kiss her gently. “Good point.”
She hugs me again and I know this is right. This is what coming home feels like.
Soon, we’ll get married. Once I save up enough money, we’ll travel to Australia. From there, maybe we’ll travel to Europe, or maybe we’ll settle down and have babies, or maybe we’ll go back to the States.
It doesn’t matter what we do. The world is infinite and the possibilities are endless. We have all the freedom we could ever possibly need, and we won’t give that up for absolutely anything.
Best of all, we have each other. It doesn’t matter where we go, because it’s always home when we’re together. I can’t get enough of her body, her voice, her mannerisms, the way she sings in the shower, the way she wrinkles her nose when coffee is too hot, everything. I love it all and need it all, always, everywhere.
I’m hers, wherever we are, whenever we are. This is all I need. I’ll never let anyone hurt her again, and we’ll always be free.
Royal Rock: A Bad Boy Royal Romance
Prologue: Bryce
I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m not great at geography.
It wasn’t my best subject when I was a kid, and as I got older there just wasn’t much use for it. I never needed to know exactly where Belarus was or if Luxembourg was landlocked or not.
So when someone told me about Starkland, it was no surprise that I had never heard of it.
I’ll never forget that morning. I came downstairs, made some coffee, and then my stepmother cleared her throat.
“Bryce,” she said, “did you know that you’re descended from royalty?”
I nearly choked on my toast.
As it turns out, my father comes from an old royal family in Starkland. Over five hundred years ago, they were kicked out of the country after another family took control, and we never looked back since. Back then we were called the Bismarck royal family, but now we just go by Koch.
My father never talked about Starkland. Apparently having royal blood never much mattered to him. Robert Koch is a practical man, an accountant, kind, and generous. Having obscure royal blood in his veins just never much mattered to him.
Until one day it mattered a lot.
I’ll never know what my father first thought when he saw that letter written on royal stationary. He probably doesn’t even remember. But it was an invitation to return to our ancestral home and to meet the current royal family. Of course, it was an all-expenses paid trip, and so we jumped at it. How could we have known what they really wanted?