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I’ve done a lot of stupid shit to get in bed with a woman, but when Miss Piggy says those words, it wakes something up inside me. It’s almost a compulsion.
I’d go to the ends of the earth to get that ring back, and the strength of my reaction almost scares me.
I came to this party because partying is what I do. I’m the kingdom’s playboy prince. I’ve graced the front page of every tabloid, and I see it as the mark of a good weekend when some ripple of controversy emanates from me.
Yes, I have responsibilities—like the speech I’m supposed to make in front of a room full of French delegates tomorrow morning, for example—but I’m not exactly responsible. My sister Penelope, the Queen, keeps trying to heap more responsibility onto my shoulders. She says I need to step up. She tells me I’m a prince, and I need to do my duty.
What she doesn’t understand is I’m not like her, or our brothers, Wolfe and Jonah. I’m…defective. I wasn’t a whiz in school like they were. I could hardly fucking read. I was teased and bullied and called illiterate, so I learned to make fun of myself first.
Doing my duty is as foreign to me as Mandarin. I’m not like the other royals in my family. I don’t step up, as she calls it, because stepping up means exposing myself for what I am. Broken. Dumb. Barely literate, even as an adult.
Last week, I—ahem—improvised my speech in front of a room of scientists in Nord here to study environmental changes in the Arctic. Penelope wasn’t happy. The week before, all I did was crack jokes at a dinner party with members of Parliament. I know her patience is wearing thin, but how can she expect me to stand up in front of a room full of educated people—delegates who speak multiple languages—when I can hardly stumble my way through English?
So, instead of prepping for an important speech that my sister most definitely wants me to do properly, I’m here. Partying. Looking for someone to warm my bed, or at least enough booze to make it impossible for me to form coherent sentences come tomorrow morning. If I fail to show up because I’m drunk or hungover, at least no one will see the truth as I fail to read jumbled letters on a blurry piece of paper.
I’d planned to disappear into some hovel with a woman tonight. Any woman.
But this woman—it’s not lust drawing me to her. This feeling winding its way through my chest, it’s foreign to me. I want to help her and protect her from everything bad in the world. Pulling out my phone, I turn on the flashlight and shine it over the rushes. Shadows and grass appear—but I don’t see a ring.
“I’m so stupid. I’ve been meaning to get a chain for it. It’s too big, and…”
Something in her voice makes me glance at her, catching the tension lining her face. “You care about it?”
“It was my father’s.” Her voice trembles, and my heart clangs.
I nod. No need to say more. If I lost my father’s watch, I’d stop at nothing to find it. Putting my phone down on the railing, I start unbuttoning my jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to get your ring.”
She frowns. “You’ll freeze.”
“Maybe you can warm me up.” My lips pull into a smile, and I don’t miss the way her cheeks redden. Yes, I’m a flirt. I like seeing her eyes flash, pushing the boundaries, getting a reaction. But I also like the way her gaze drops to my lips long enough for me to notice.
She shifts her eyes away. “I’ll help.”
“You stay up here. It’s marshy, and I need someone to shine a light.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
I nod. “I know.”
“What can I give you in return?” Her eyes are so earnest it makes my heart twist.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t be a fucking sleaze.
The decent part of my brain loses the battle with the hormonal mess currently sending all the blood flowing between my legs. I lean in. “How about a kiss, beautiful?” I flash her my best, most charming smile, catching the wobble in her knees.
Her shoulders straighten, throat bobbing as she gulps. “What’s your name?”
“Kermit.”
Her laugh sounds like music. It brightens her face as her eyes crinkle. She shifts her head, and the light from the party catches her features. Her eyes are deep, dark brown. Bottomless. She shakes her head no, but I pretend not to see it.
That funny thumping hits my chest again, and I clear my throat. “You got a phone? I’ll use my flashlight down there if you shine yours from above.”
“The light isn’t that strong. Probably won’t do much from up here.”
