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why I’ve been annoying about talking to you.”

Olivier leaned back in his chair. “Would this have anything to do with your father’s claim to the throne?”

“You know? How? When?” My voice rose with each word. “Why the hell would you block my number with something this important to talk about!”

“I blocked your number because you wouldn’t take no for an answer. I was going to speak with you—on my own time. But I should’ve known you’d come to Salasia and spring yourself upon me. That’s more your style.”

“I mean, I prefer a quick phone call than spending money on a plane ticket.”

His lips twitched slightly. That sparkle in his eyes that had so captivated me returned, but just for a quick second. Then it was gone again.

“Your father, when I went to collect the clock, told me the great news. He showed me the family tree. I’d heard of my great aunt Mary, of course, but all I’d ever known was that she’d run off with someone unsuitable and that there was no reason to speak of her. Then she’d died fairly young. Apparently, she’d kept a low enough profile that the family hadn’t known she’d had a son.” He folded his hands. “Or perhaps she didn’t want them to know.”

“Okay, so you know. And if you’re really a bastard…”

He let the question hang in the air. Then, all he said was, “Yes, it’s true.”

“So, what happens? I mean, I know your secret, and so does my da. But my da is dying, and I know Liam won’t want anything to do with this life. So as long as no one knows, you can keep being the prince.”

I felt silly then, coming all this way to tell Olivier something he already knew. I should’ve just found his Facebook and messaged him. (Did royals have their own Facebook? Probably not.)

“I would agree with you,” said Olivier, “but your beloved father isn’t inclined to play so nicely. You see, his threats to reveal this information to the press are increasing, because my family isn’t interested in paying him the exorbitant amount of money he’s demanding. So, I suppose we’re at a bit of a stalemate.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry. But you said my da gave you the clock?”

“Yes, but he made copies of the letters, so it hardly mattered who possesses it.”

I picked at a stray thread on my jeans. Then Olivier rose from his chair and stood over me. He leaned against his desk.

“There is another solution to this problem,” he said.

With the sun shining behind him, he looked like some golden god. I felt my body heat, remembering our one night together. One side of his delicious mouth lifted, like he knew what I was thinking about.

“The only solution I can think of is breaking my da’s kneecaps,” I joked.

“Nothing that violent. No, you see, you can be the one to make this right.”

I blinked. “Me? How?”

“Although your brother, being the eldest, would be the heir, as you said, the last thing he’d want to do is uproot his family’s life to become the Sovereign Prince of Salasia one day. And I most certainly do not want to give this crown to someone who would despise it.”

“I’m still not following, sorry.”

He shook his head. Then, caging me in with his arms, his face uncomfortably close, he said, “You would be next in line to the throne if your brother were to abdicate. Which he most certainly would.”

His breath was hot against my face. I felt like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a cobra.

“So in exchange for making this right, for not completely upending your beloved brother’s life, here is the solution to both of our problems: become a princess of Salasia in both name and by blood.”

“How?” My voice was barely a whisper.

He paused then went for the kill. “By marrying me.”

The End…for now

Thank you for reading The Prince I Love to Hate! I hope you loved the first part of Niamh and Olivier’s story.

You definitely don’t want to miss the conclusion to this royal couple’s epic love story in The Princess I Hate to Love.

Our marriage is not some fairy tale.

And my new wife?

She’s not exactly a fan of the crown jewels.

And be sure to turn the page for an exclusive excerpt from The Princess I Hate to Love…

Enjoy this exclusive excerpt

From The Princess I Hate to Love

When I imagined my wedding night, I never expected that I'd be standing outside my beloved wife's bedroom door, pounding on it to let me inside.

"You can't avoid me forever!" I pounded my fist one last time against the expensive wood.

"Of course I can. Have you seen this place? It's fucking huge!"

I heard what sounded like rustling. I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the door. I'd imagined helping Niamh out of her wedding dress, but here I was, a dog barking at the door to be let in.

"Niamh," I said, forcing calm into my voice. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm tired. Go away."

I growled. I jiggled the knob, but it stayed firmly locked.

Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned to see my secretary Laurent, who was studiously avoiding looking at the locked door.

"Would you like me to procure the key from Madam LeRoux, Your Highness?" he asked in French. While I spoke English solely with my American bride, I rarely spoke it to anyone inside the Palace.

"And have the entire Palace know my wife had locked me out on our wedding night? No, thank you."

I noticed the dark circles under Laurent's eyes. Ever the professional, he'd never complained when I'd dropped the bombshell of my sudden engagement, subsequent marriage, and the creation of a new princess of Salasia into his lap. But if I hadn't slept, he hadn't, either.

"Go to bed, Laurent. I'll take care of this," I said.

Laurent leaned back on his heels. "There is a way inside."

Right then, I was glad Niamh couldn't understand our conversation.

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