Prince Albert(44)

“I took some X,” she says. “Wow. Has anyone ever told you that your hair is really brown? Like, not poop brown, either. It’s pretty brown. Do you want some X? I have some, right in my clutch.”

“I’ll pass,” I say. As if I need to take anything that would increase the sensitivity of my body in any way, shape, or form.

“Quick,” she says. “Two o’clock. Sir Richard Benton. He’s hot, right? We should talk to him.”

"What? Who?" I ask absently. I catch a glimpse of Albie across the room as the crowd parts. He's standing next to a blonde – tall, long-legged, thin, and gorgeous. She puts her hand on his forearm, the gesture at once possessive and familiar.

"Richard Benton," Alex says. "Come on. Please tell me you've heard of him, at least. He's been in movies in the States. He was knighted in England. I can't remember why. Probably for being hot as hell."

I can't think of Richard whoever-the-hell-he-is, not when I'm looking at Albie on the other side of the room, with some girl hanging all over him.

Alexandra follows my gaze. "Ugh," she says. "That bitch."

"What bitch?" I ask. I find it unreasonably difficult to pry my gaze away from the two of them. The girl laughs – I can't hear it, but I just know she has one of those perfect little musical laughs, a tinkling sound – and touches his forearm again.

"Erika. She's the worst," Alex whispers, though not quietly enough. It's more like a stage whisper, which is wholly inappropriate for this setting. If it weren't for the fact that I'm completely distracted by Albie on the other side of the room, the entire thing would be laughable. I have a princess hanging on my arm, high as a kite and airing her opinions too loudly, and a vibrator inside me, my royal stepbrother at the controls.

And all of it, at my mother's engagement party, surrounded by the crème de la crème of Protrovian society.

"Why is she the worst?" I ask absently. Albie pats the bitch on the arm, then looks up. I avert my eyes, but not quickly enough. He makes eye contact with me from across the room.

"She's terrible," Alex says. "Manipulative and shallow. They were together years ago. I don’t know what he ever saw in her. She cheated on him a lot. Albie won't ever say it, but I think he was in love with her. And she broke his heart."

I swallow hard the lump that's beginning to form in my throat. What if he still has feelings for his ex? I definitely don’t want to do to someone what Derek did to me. Suddenly, everything about what I'm doing with Albie feels even more wrong. "Excuse me," I say to Alex. "I need to run to the restroom."

But before I can make my stealthy exit, Christine catches my arm. "I'll need you to take your seat, Miss Kensington and Princess Alexandra," she says. Then, looking up, "Ah, Prince Albert, you as well. You'll join the King and Queen at the head table."

"Wait, I –" I begin to protest, but I'm ushered along. Behind me, Albie steps too close for a split second, his breath warm on my neck. I tell myself to focus on something else, anything else, because walking this way through the ballroom, with my nipples erect underneath my dress, is the worst possible thing that could happen.

"You weren't about to sneak out of here, were you?" Albie whispers, and I feel the vibrator start up again, the rumble low and steady. But instead of being turned on, the way I was before, I just find myself irritated. I'd tell him to turn it off, but I know he'll just turn it up a million times more. So I just grit my teeth and promise myself there's no way he's making me come. I won't let it happen.

Willpower, I tell myself. Think of something else. Something un-sexy.

Like the image of Albie with that blonde's hand on his arm, giggling like an idiot because he said something that was most likely inappropriate.

"No," I say curtly. "I'm headed to the table to sit with my new siblings."

He turns up the vibration higher and I involuntarily yelp, a sound I quickly cover with a cough. “Behave,” he whispers.

“Apparently that’s something you need to learn,” I say, my words coming out breathier than I intended.

“Oh, you’re jealous,” he whispers. Then he shuts off the vibrator, leaving my muscles pulsing around it.

Of course he’s seated next to me at dinner. I’m seated between Alex on my right, and Albie on my left, probably a strategic move by the public relations team to make sure everyone is reminded how integral a part of the family I am. Mercifully, Albie leaves me alone during most of dinner.

My legs crossed, sitting in a chair, I almost manage to forget the vibrator is inside me. And, deliberately ignoring Albie, I’m almost able to forget about him and the ex-girlfriend.