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The night I met my prince, he told me we could never marry, no matter how intense his desire.
Crown Jewel is a 55k+ royal whirlwind of a romance that will leave you breathless and begging for more. There’s a protective alpha male prince, a sassy American gal, a whole bunch of stuffy royals, and a few hikes in the Alps that lead to steamy summertime loving. Enjoy!
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Okay, I feel like there’s something I need to get off my chest right out of the gate here: flying on a royal family’s private jet is the most incredible experience of my life. I mean, seriously, this thing is just plain sick. I know I may sound like I’m bragging, but I’m not—I mean, it’s not my jet, I just get to be one of the few non-royals the Hoffman Family has ever invited on board their Airbus 380. I just need you to know that if you ever, for whatever reason, get invited to do the same, do it. I don’t care if you can only fly for a couple of hours and then have to parachute out of it for some reason, just do it.
I was fortunate enough to be able to fly from Scotland to Bellecoaste, since I’m the Maid of Honor in Prince Andreas’ wedding tomorrow. I’ve had three drinks so far and it’s only a two-hour flight because, when someone offers you royal quality booze, you take it.
It’s crazy to think about how much has happened in the few months since Freya and I went on that fateful trip to Ibiza. It was there that she met Prince Andreas, and even though they drunkenly got married and didn’t remember their first wedding, tomorrow they’re officially getting married, and this time it’ll be in front of the entire world. They are getting their happily ever after.
It’s the other prince I’m worried about, Crown Prince Caelan. He’s the one who could take my heart and make me forget all the reasons why we can’t be together. He’s a stuck up snob and totally full of himself, and he drives me up the wall. Except I can’t tell if it’s in a good way or a bad way. All I know is that my inner wild child has been drawn to him like a magnet to steel ever since our passionate hookup in Ibiza, and whenever I’m with him, it’s like someone has painted the world around me in more vivid colors. Everything just seems better when I’m with him.
And pretty soon, I’ll have to stand right across from him during a wedding ceremony and try to keep my head. I’m mostly worried about the recessional, where I am supposed to curtsy ever so gracefully, offer him a smile, and hook my arm with his as we exit the ceremony.
Caelan has been texting me for a while now, and I struggle so much to not text him back. Nothing has changed between us. He’s still the Crown Prince, destined to be King of Bellecoaste one day, and he’s still locked into a prearranged marriage set up years ago by his parents. And let’s not forget that those same parents, the freaking King and Queen, aren’t exactly crazy about Americans, even if they do tolerate Freya now.
So even though I want nothing more than to text him and tell him how I feel, it wouldn’t do either of us any good. His queen definitely won’t be an American girl who grew up in foster families in Queens.
Today is Freya’s wedding day—well, technically it’s her second wedding day—and we couldn’t be more excited. She’s obsessing over herself in the full-length mirror as I stand behind her and help her get into her dress. It’s a floor length gown, a mix of lace and pearl beading that was tailor-made for her by a designer who only makes one a year. Seriously. It shows off her curves subtly but is somehow still incredibly sexy. The veil is made with matching lace and cascades down to her lower back. It’s held in place with a delicate tiara—nothing too big or flashy, just something that’s fitting of who she is, not some over the top piece that’s designed to remind everyone of how much money the royal family has.
“At least you’re sober enough to remember this one,” I joke as I finish doing up the last button.
Freya laughs because she is, indeed, completely sober, and intends to stay that way for today.
“If I can’t remember tonight,” she says, “then something is seriously wrong with me.”
“And even if you can’t, there’ll be footage from the international news coverage, so you can just watch that.”
I’m dressed in a tea length dress made of fine teal silk. The hairdresser curled and pinned up my hair so perfectly that I wish I could pack her up and take her home with me to do my hair every day. Truth be told, I look pretty damn hot myself. Hot enough to snare my own prince.
Not that I’m saying I want to, of course. I’m just saying I could, if I did want to. Not that I do want to. I mean, I’d be lying if I said all this pomp and ceremony of Freya’s wedding wasn’t awakening the inner princess in me, but every girl has that fantasy, right?