Infatuated Prince Read online

  Infatuated Prince

  By Tiffany Squires

  Copyright © Tiffany Squires 2019. All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  About Tiffany Squires

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  A Quick Message from Tiffany Squires

  Other Books by Tiffany Squires

  About Tiffany Squires

  Welcome to the world according to Tiffany Squires. Where the men are hot, the ladies are willing, and the stories are very, very thrilling.

  Tiffany writes short, steamy romance for busy readers who need a little time out for themselves.

  She publishes frequently so be sure never to miss her latest release simply click here to join her reader group.

  Happy reading!

  Chapter One

  Drake

  ‘Nuver one, nuver one.’ The boys chant as they clamber all over me, fighting to gain access to the nearly empty packet of jumbo marshmallows I’m hiding behind my back.

  I freaking love my nephews. Preston and Fletcher are three and a half years old and they’re getting cuter by the damn day. I love nothing more than spoiling them rotten and earning my place in their heart as best ever uncle. This was why I jumped at the chance to take care of the little tykes when I heard their nanny was ill.

  ‘Pweese Uncle Dwake, one more.’ Preston pleads with eyes as bright as stars.

  My heart melts. ‘OK, but just one, your Mummy and Daddy will kill me if they find out I’m stuffing you with sugar before bedtime.’ I reveal the bag and they dive in like hyenas hitting a scavenger gold pot. In the blink of an eye, the rest of the marshmallows are history and I’m left amazed at how two pint-sized human beings can demolish so much sugar in less than five minutes. I’m in genuine awe.

  ‘I hope you’re not loading the boys with junk,’ Magnus says just before entering the room. Giving me enough time to stuff the empty packet in my jeans pocket.

  ‘Of course not, am I boys?’

  They shake their heads vigorously and I swell with pride. My nephews will be trouble when they’re older and I can’t wait to watch from the side-lines, or probably from the midst of it all.

  ‘Good,’ Magnus says. ‘Because Roxy will kill you if they’re ill. This is her big charity launch night. And I want it to go absolutely right for her.’

  Magnus always prioritises Roxy’s welfare above all else. My older brother and his wife are like the model couple. Totally loved up. They left the palace after getting married and moved into Thornfield Cottage. To call it a cottage is a little misleading because it’s not exactly a two up two down, but together they’ve made it a beautiful cozy family home. If you ignore the ridiculous amount of security needed to keep the royal family safe, it could almost pass as a normal household.

  ‘Your boys are safe with me.’ I declare, fighting to stop Fletcher from digging his fat little hand into my pocket and retrieving the evidence of my lie.

  Magnus scoops Preston up and flings him playfully around in the air. ‘I have no doubt,’ he says, planting a kiss on the boy's blond curls. ‘Remember, they need to go to bed early, so no later than 7.30.’ Preston pouts and Magnus screws his nose up lovingly at his son’s protestations. ‘Fine, 7.35.’ Preston cheers at winning a whole extra five minutes and Magnus swings him around once more. I almost stop him but then realise that he’ll want to know why, then and I must confess about the marshmallows, and that’ll only land me in hot water, so I keep schtum and let the two of them play.

  Roxy enters the room looking a million dollars and a far cry from the streetwise woman my brother met. Marriage and mothering have been kind to her. ‘Thanks again for this, Drake.’ She turns her back to Magnus for him to zip up her dress. ‘But I’m intrigued. Why no date? I thought your little black book was overflowing.’

  I shrug. ‘Nah, no date tonight. I was hoping to kick about with Opal, but she’s got a personal training session first thing in the morning she wants to be fresh for.’

  Magnus’s lips twitch. ‘Ah, the delightful Opal. She’s still got her claws into you then?’ He doesn’t like Opal very much. To be honest, few people do. Even I find her vacuous from time to time, but the girl can bend herself into positions which would make a pretzel weep with envy, so what’s a red-blooded male to do?

  He hands Preston to Roxy who holds him tight and ruffles his head. The boy looks a little green and I pray that whatever’s threatening to erupt holds tight until his parents have left.

  ‘So, why the dedication to her fitness regime?’ Magnus asks. ‘Is she hoping to look her best for the press when you guys announce an engagement?’

  I laugh. ‘Will you behave, she knows the score. Weddings and babies aren’t my bag. Nor hers. We’re just having fun. Lots and lots of fun.’

  Roxy and Magnus exchange glances.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Roxy asks with a furrowed brow. ‘I heard through the grapevine she thinks she’s on the verge of taking up residence in the palace.’

  ‘Absolutely sure,’ I say with a resolute nod of my head. ‘Opal’s a good-time girl. And we’re having a good time. There’s no room in my life for all that responsibility bullsh…’ I’d forgotten little ears are listening so catch my language. ‘Stuff. I’ll leave the family stuff to you two.’

  They exchange sceptical glances and it’s almost enough to make me question my own arguments. Maybe I should check in with Opal, make sure she's not reading too much into our fling.

  ‘Bro,’ Magnus says, trying not to sound like the stuffy married father he’s become. ‘Tell me if I’m speaking out of turn, but you’ve been having nothing but fun for the best part of four years. Are you sure it’s not that you never got over a certain somebody?’

  I roll my eyes. ‘I have no idea what you’re on about.’

  He arches a knowing eyebrow and I shake my head like he’s stupid for even thinking I might still be pining after the certain personal trainer of whom he speaks. The truth is though, he’s far from stupid. There is somebody that I'll never forget. But she vanished years ago. Just up and left. Apparently I was too childish or some shit. More like she was too uptight. When things started she was cool. I don’t know what went wrong, or why she changed, but she did, and that’s that. There have been plenty of others keeping my bed warm since then so she shouldn’t cross my mind anymore. But she does. All the damn time. Trust Magnus to not only know but to have the gall to bring it up without fair warning.

  ‘Jesus Christ you two,’ I laugh. ‘Will you stop grilling me about my life and go have some fun?’

  Preston chooses this very moment to gag. I recoil knowing exactly what’s happening and, like an alien being, he upchucks a bucket load of sickly sweet white and pink froth all over his mother’s designer dress. I can't help but gag myself. It stinks. And there’s so much. Surely I didn’t feed him that many sweets?

  ‘What the…’ Roxy crouches down on her haunches and holds her sickly son at arm’s length to prevent anything else the child might bring up from splattering her outfit. She turns her face to me, pausing at hip height where Fletcher has tugged the empty sweet packet from my pocket and is proudly holding it up for all to see. ‘Drake? Really?’

  Vanessa

  ‘Tira?’ I call up the stairs. They’re littered with discarded toys, folded laundry, and dressing up shoes. My house is a death-trap. I know I should clear it up but I don’t have the time. It must wait until later. Along with everything else. ‘Come on Tira,’ I call again. ‘Mummy doesn’t have time to play h
ide and seek, Sammy’s waiting for us.’

  I hear the not so delicate clomp, clomp, clomp of toddler's feet on the move and, satisfied that my playful daughter is on her way, I resume getting myself ready to leave. I scurry around searching for my trainers, which could be anywhere. Tira is always wearing them because when she grows up she wants to be a personal trainer just like her mummy. Personally, I hope she finds an occupation with much more stability and a much bigger paycheck.

  ‘Tira,’ I holler. ‘Have you seen Mummy’s trainers? She needs them for work?’ Just as the words leave my mouth, I spot them, they’re lurking in one of her dens. My momentary elation turns into despair. She’s only turned them into a makeshift home for her fairy light garden set. Plastic toys, soil, and grass all included. My heart sinks. I’ll have to wear my old pair complete with the flappy sole today. Ain’t life just grand?

  By the time we get to Sammy’s we’re 45 minutes late. I practically launch Tira at her with a barrage of information about what she’s eaten, when she’s due a nap, how much kiddie’s paracetamol I tossed down her neck last night because I can’t afford for her to be sick, again. If I cancel any more client appointments there’ll be disciplinary action at work. And I can’t afford more disciplinary action because I’m hanging on by a thread as it is. I wish more than anything that I could work for a boss who had kids, or at least recognises that they come hand in hand with germs. I dash away from Sammy’s front door at the speed of light with the sound of Tira cheerfully saying goodbye. I don’t even pause to blow her a kiss and that lack of motherly love tugs at my heart all the way to work. I make a mental note to make it up to her later. I’ll take her for a play at the park on the way home, tidying the house will have to wait until the weekend. Drat, I’m working at the weekend. Maybe I’ll get round to organising her clothes and shopping for shoes that don’t pinch her toes next week.

  I screech my car into the nearest available space at the country club where I work and run, as best as I can with a flappy sole, into the reception where my new Friday morning client is already waiting for me. ‘I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Opal,’ I apologise, tossing my keys and bag behind the reception desk where Sally’s smiling up at me with sympathetic eyes. ‘Kids, you know.’

  Opal lowers the bridal magazine she’s perusing and trails her eyes from my bedraggled hair to my worn-out trainers. I can barely make out what expression lurks beneath her eyelash extensions but I'd put money on it being a scornful one.

  ‘Not to worry,’ she says and relief washes over me.

  Opal Dorsey can be an utter bitch when she chooses to be. She’s reputed to have ruined the career of more than one member of staff at Longford House Country Club and when she opted for me as her next personal trainer I tried to back out but had no choice. Opal gets what Opal wants. Obviously, I’ve caught her on a good day. The corners of her plumped-up lips twist upwards. ‘I suppose I’ll find out soon enough what an inconvenience children truly are.’

  Oh dear god, don’t tell me somebody has actually impregnated the ice-maiden. ‘Oh?’

  She flutters her eyes and stands, stroking her lipo sucked stomach. ‘Between you and me, the man I’ve been secretly dating is on the verge of popping the question.’ She sighs theatrically. ‘And when he does I will finally have a title, can you believe it? Little old me? Mummy and Daddy are so happy. We’ll finally be recognised as an aristocratic member of society.’

  I smile as best as I can, but in my heart, I know that listening to her gloat for the next hour is likely to push me to the verge of madness. ‘That’s great news, Opal, now—’

  ‘Oh no, no, no. I’m sorry Vanessa, I can’t divulge who he is yet.’ She interrupts wagging a manicured nail under my nose. ‘It really wouldn’t be good form.’

  ‘That’s fine, Opal. I was simply going to—’

  ‘Ah, ah, ah.’ She taps the end of my nose three times. ‘Sorry, I don’t care how much you beg for the gossip these lips are sealed.’ She pulls an imaginary zipper across her mouth and just for a moment I wish it were a real one.

  Sally barely hides a snort and I swallow down my irritation. I couldn’t give two hoots about who Opal’s shagging this week. I’m only interested in providing her with the best personal training service I can before nipping into town to see if I can find some cheap and cheerful trainers to see me through the winter. And possibly next spring and summer too.

  Chapter Two

  Drake

  After Roxy’s bombshell last night about Opal thinking we’ve got a future together I figured I’d best find out for myself if that’s the truth. I hope my little fuck bunny is on the same page as me because setting her straight will be as much fun as a prostate exam from a sumo wrestler.

  I had meant to send her a quick message last night once the boys were in bed but it turned into an evening of sexting and seriously hot cybersex. After all the fun and games had finished I’d remembered why I wanted to speak to her, and despite Magnus and Roxy’s opinion of me, I’m a grown man so arranged to meet her at Longford House Country Club straight after her personal training session to talk, face to face.

  I’m a little early and it’s a glorious morning so I have a wander around the grounds while I wait. Despite my frantic five knuckle shuffle last night over Opal’s outrageous cam session I’m still horny as fuck so I cross the carpark to see if I can’t catch a sneaky peek at her working out. Just to get the juices flowing. I find her squatting with a weighted ball in her hands. Her backside may be a little on the bony side and her legs a little suctioned into shape but the site of her ass hitting the grass is still enough to make my cock twitch in my jeans. She’s dressed to the nines, head to toe in hot pink, it would be enough to give a bloke a headache if his blood wasn’t busy making its way south.

  But then I spot someone else and all the blood that was making its way to my cock bypasses my groin and shoots to my feet turning them into lead. It’s her personal trainer. My personal trainer. Well, my former personal trainer. From four mother-fucking years ago. Vanessa bloody Dean. The one that got away. She’s standing just feet away from Opal. I can’t hear what she’s saying from where I’m lurking behind a one-hundred-year-old oak tree, but the sweet tone of her voice still floods my ears. I remember it well. I remember her pushing me hard in the gym. Giggling at my jokes. Breathing sweet nothings in my ear as I fucked her in the Jacuzzi. Then, like a bubble, she up and left. With no explanation. I never clapped eyes on her again. Until now.

  The blood, which had ventured as far south as it could, springs back up my legs and pools in a much more pleasant spot on my body as I drink in her familiar curves. I adjust my painful cock as I trail my eyes down her frame. I forgot how short she is. Short and oh so damn curvy. Her hair is still long, thick, and fiery red. She still pulls it back into a simple ponytail that begs to be pulled and her understated clothes still scream fuck me hard. A simple white t-shirt stretches across her ample tits and a pair of black leggings hug every contour of her shapely ass. I loved that ass. I loved diving my face into it and sucking on her sensitive clit. I loved shoving a finger deep inside her tight hole when I lapped at her pussy and drank the nectar it willingly drenched my chin with. She loved fucking and being fucked. And I loved fucking her. Which begs the question, why did she go? I treated her like a goddamn queen. I treated her better than anybody else. And she turned her back on me with no explanation. Not even a goodbye blow job. Now is the perfect opportunity to find out what her problem was.

  There’s just one inconvenience I need to get rid of before I can get to the root of Vanessa’s issues. Preferably while her thighs are wrapped around my waist as I pummel her hard, reminding her what she left behind.

  I pull my phone from my pocket and type a message to Opal.

  Sorry, babes. Royal emergency. I need to cancel our meeting today. Laters, yeah?

  Then tuck my phone back in my pocket, take shelter, and wait for my opportunity to pounce on the delicious Vanessa Dean.

 
; Vanessa

  I don’t know why Opal pays for personal training. It’s not like she puts an ounce of effort into it and whenever she’s not happy with her figure, she simply speeds dials her surgeon and books in more surgery, all paid for by her doting parents.

  After an hour where Opal barely breaks a sweat, I send her on her way and collect my belongings from reception for my impromptu shopping trip.

  ‘I don’t mean to startle you,’ Sally says as she hands over my bag. ‘But there was a bloke watching you train Opal.’

  My heart sinks. Great, more paparazzi trying to get a shot of the billionaire tycoon’s daughter working out. The last thing I need is my face splattered all over the papers. Not for my sake, but for Tiras. ‘Did he have a camera?’

  Sally crumples her face in contemplation. ‘No, I don’t think he did. He had a baseball cap on with the peak pulled down low so I couldn’t get a good look at him either. But from what I could see, he was hot. Not afraid of lifting heavy weights and never misses leg day.’ She shrugs. ‘Probably a jilted lover of Opal’s or something.’

  I laugh, relieved that if he didn’t have a camera, then my face isn’t going to be splashed all over the tabloids in the morning. ‘Probably, she loves nothing more than to break a heart for fun.’

  Sally chuckles. ‘If she says so. Anyway. He was lurking for a minute or two but just as I was about to call the police he vanished. It was probably nothing. Just me watching too much law & order on the TV. Maybe I should consider getting a life.’

  I smile at Sally wondering if she knows how privileged she is to have time to squander on the TV. ‘Listen, Sal. I have to pop out. Can you cover for me? I’ll be back before my next client for sure.’

  Sally blows me a kiss and I scurry to my car as fast as I can. I’ve only got one hour so have no time to waste.

  ‘Still looking good, Ness.’