Royally Rearranged (Sweet Royal RomCom #1) by Emma St. Clair EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Emma St. Clair
- Language: English
- Genre: Clean & Wholesome Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Serafina
Is duty still considered duty when it’s something you want to do?
This is the question I’m pondering as I watch Prince Callum thoroughly
trounce his opponent in tennis. Specifically, I’m watching Callum’s firm,
athletic bum as he trounces his opponent in tennis. His thighs too. Hard not to
ogle those when they look good enough to eat. Almost like two meaty
Christmas hams.
Duty looks delicious.
In case you’re the judgy sort, thinking I’m just objectifying the poor man,
he’s my fiancé. Well. Almost my fiancé. And I have waited my whole life for
this man without so much as a kiss goodnight from him, so you’ll forgive me
if my mind is a little focused on his physical attributes.
He’s also my best friend, so this isn’t a crush or just physical attraction.
I’m not that shallow! But a girl can admire her fiancé, can’t she?
“You’ve got a little drool there.”
From beside me, the incredibly irritating and decidedly devilish Duke of
Weldon swipes a fingertip across my lower lip. I swat him away, feeling my
cheeks heat. Callum may be my best friend and almost fiancé, but I don’t
want to get caught ogling him.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” I hiss to Rafe. “I don’t want to even know
where they’ve been.”
“Let me know if you change your mind about that.”
His grin is pure wickedness. It makes me shudder. Not in a good way.
I don’t miss the way my personal protection officer, a hulk of a man Kat
and I simply refer to as The Dane, gives me a look from his spot at the end of
our row. I give him a slight headshake. Rafe is an annoyance. Not an actual
threat. Unfortunately. I’d love nothing more than to watch The Dane pick
Rafe up over his head and toss him out of the match.
But I can handle Rafe. “Why don’t you crawl back under whatever rock
or woman you crawled out from under?”
His dark chuckle matches his dark eyes and even darker hair. Honestly,
Prince of Darkness would be a more fitting title for the duke. One might think
that there would be more sympathy and compassion for Rafe. After all, he
was orphaned when he was only eight, losing both his parents in a car
accident. Tragic, really. He was left in the care of his uncle, the Baron de
Silva, a smarmy snake of a man who always seems to be plotting something
with a too-wide smile. He’s never hidden his disdain for the King and Queen
of Elsinore, apparently stemming from some land dispute years before I was
born.
Rafe must have learned at his uncle’s feet. I’ve never seen him look
anything but smug. He doesn’t walk; he saunters. Every smile, every chuckle,
every comment is useful, intended toward some purpose—that purpose
usually involving a woman.
And duty? He’s allergic to the very idea.
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