CHAPTER ONE

      Nikolai

      IT’S NEVER IDEAL to wake up after a one-night stand to find a European boxing champion glaring at your bare ass. It’s worse if the pissed-off guy in question happens to be a childhood best friend.

      Scratch that...former best friend.

      “Top of the morning.” I wryly yank the hotel’s satin sheet over my waist. A red thong is bunched on top of the unmade covers, right where I removed it with my teeth around midnight.

      If looks could kill, Christian Wurtzer, Baron of Rosegate, would smite me faster than a lightning bolt hurled by an avenging god.

      “You really are a first-rate bastard, aren’t you, Nikolai?” He balled his hands into meaty fists, a useless gesture, because here in the Kingdom of Edenvale, it’s illegal to strike a member of the royal family.

      And as Prince Nikolai, third of his name, Duke of Westcraven, heir to the throne of Edenvale and our country’s eminent blue-blooded bad boy, I fall square into the “no hitting allowed” category. Rules are often a nuisance in my world, but that particular clause has proved beneficial since reaching my maturity, especially in predicaments regarding the opposite sex.

      “Bastard?” I scrub the morning scruff prickling my jaw with a yawn. “But I’m the mirror image of my dear sovereign father, and don’t forget that my poor queen mother was forced to squeeze me out in front of an official court representative to ensure my legitimacy.” There is a sharp localized pain in the vicinity of my heart; the twinge always accompanies a mention of my long-dead mother. She died bringing my youngest brother, Damien, into the world, the first life that banished asshole ever took.

      “You’ve gone too far this time.” Christian’s warning growl yanks my attention