Royal Affair (Last Royals Book 2)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogues, and incidents involving them are drawn from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ISBN-13: 978-1983723261
ISBN-10: 1983723266
Copyright © 2018 Between the Pages LLC
Cover by Combs © 2018 Between the Pages LLC
Contents
Acknowledgments
Praise for Cristiane Serruya
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Epilogue
A Note from the Author
Also by Cristiane Serruya
About Cristiane Serruya
Royal Affair Recipes
1. Royal Roast Pheasant
2. German Wedding Cake
Acknowledgments
Writing can be a lonely business so I am grateful for the most loyal and dedicated partners I have found in this path I am wandering, and here I thank them.
Edward M Wolfe, my amazing editor, who is always available; who chats, laughs, and cheers me; who explains all my doubts and answers asap all my emails, no matter if he has already eaten or not; during day, night, and weekends. You have a VERY special place in my heart.
Renata Fontanive and Lívia Forte, my faithful squires, erm, I mean, my cover designer and my marketing assistant; for putting up with me as I harass you—and you don’t answer—even on Sundays.
My biggest thanks go to the hearts of my heart: my broad, six-foot-six, stubborn, loving husband, Raphael, and my dear daughters, Raphaela and Giovanna, who do hate when I say I have a new idea for a book but are patient with me when I am immersed and lost in my characters’ lives. I promise to pamper you all in double…until a new idea hits me.
Praise for Cristiane Serruya
“It was like reading Jane Austen or William Shakespeare but in modern English.” ~ M. Richardson
“Cristiane Serruya is exceptionally good at what she does.” ~ Dks
“[Cristiane’s] story line: It gradually enfolds, gently enthralling the reader and touching heartstrings, captivating we romantics. Nora Roberts in her heydays.” ~ Jonhaboutime
“Cristiane Serruya is a master of characterization. The depth of her characters is incredible. The intensity of the relationships will have the reader eagerly turning the pages.” ~ Readers’ Favorite
“Truly Danielle Steele Meets Fifty Shades, except the heroine is not as naive. Strong characters, mystery barely hinted at, and international intrigue. Keeps the reader riveted and hardly able to put the book down.” ~ Pat Harmon
“Serruya took me on an emotional roller coaster, with heartbreaking and heart-aching scenes...a story that flowed beautifully.” ~ Di
“Nora Roberts meets 50 Shades of Grey” ~ Paula Penteado
“…absolutely stunningly beautiful and emotional sexy romantic story by a wonderful writer with a terrific command of our language.” ~ Charles Smith
“Just when you think you know what is going to happen next, a twist so crazy that you could have never imagined it is thrown your way.” ~ For the Luv of Sanity
“…you can expect the unexpected.” ~ Musings from an Addicted Reader
Foreword
In 1469, King Ferdinand II of Aragon married Queen Isabella I of Castile and united the Crown of Aragon with the Crown of Castile, forming the country of Spain in the process.
Located in northeastern Spain, Aragon is today an autonomous community in Spain, coexistent with the medieval Kingdom of Aragon. Its capital is Zaragoza, also called Saragossa in English (not San José), and the Palacio del Al-Andalus is the Aljafería fortress.
Since this romance is a fictional story, I allowed myself a few liberties and recreated the Kingdom of Aragon, with a fictional royal family descending from the great Catherina di Aragon for your enjoyment.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it, not only in Royal Affair, but in all other Last Royal Series standalone romances featuring the Castella y Aragon siblings.
Welcome to our Aragon.
1
Europe
In a small kingdom called Lektenstaten
Lekten, Lenox Palace
Saturday, May 7, 2016
6:30 p.m.
Love isn’t real. Or even good for a person.
Ludwig von Kröenenberg had it proved to himself many times.
At his cynical thoughts, he gave himself a silent pep talk as he pinned the white mini-rose wedding buttonière on his tuxedo lapel, getting ready to be the best man in his best friend’s wedding. Tonight, is for celebrating.
Although Angus was the wealthy king of their small country, Ludwig wasn’t worried his friend was being played. But he did worry about a man getting married based on a relationship that started with love at first sight. He was not sure there was such a thing. In fact, he wasn’t sure there was such a thing as real love at all—first sight or otherwise. And he didn’t exclude love of family in his skepticism either.
The mirror showed a mane of blond hair framing a rugged face of harsh planes where electric icy-blue eyes sparkled. His Giorgio Armani tuxedo highlighted his broad shoulders and tall, solidly built body perfectly.
He knew he was a handsome, sought-after man even without being the seventh Grand Duke of Lektenstaten or without having the immense wealth associated with his name. Women vied for his attention. As a royal billionaire, he was no stranger to women attempting to seduce him physically and emotionally. But he was immune to their ploys. He really could live without them, and it concerned him that Angus had fallen for someone so hard after just one night with her. All he could do though was hope for the best, and be there for his friend whenever he was needed.
He remembered the first time he had thought he was in love. He had just made his first billion when Ariel Macomber, a beautiful woman, a few years older than him, appeared in his life. She initiated him in the pleasures of sex and introduced him to delights he had never thought of before. But after a few months, the novelty wore off, and he realized what he felt for her was only lust.
After Ariel, the few times he had started to feel something special fo
r a woman—and he had never gone as far as branding the emotion as love, having been wrong once already—it took only a few minutes of honest and serious self-reflection to learn it wasn’t what he thought it was.
Just two months before, he’d had another tantalizing glimpse of something that could be a magical moment, which he felt could’ve held the power to convince him he was wrong about love.
He’d been seeing Diana Schonberg off and on for the past several months. That was longer than his usual affairs lasted because she genuinely interested him as a person. Or maybe it was because she had been very good at concealing her ulterior motives.
Diana had seemed different. She didn’t appear to be faking anything. She didn’t try to exaggerate things they had in common, nor did she share feelings about anything. He hadn’t suspected she was after his money because she had her own.
Amazingly, she also seemed to be fine with extended periods of time away from him, which was one of the greatest and most relieving things about her because he didn’t feel any need to have her around all the time. She had seemed his equal; confident, wealthy, attractive, and not emotionally needy. When they were apart, no matter how long, he was perfectly fine, whether or not there was someone else sharing his—or her—bed at the time. If there was, he felt no guilt. If there wasn’t, he didn’t mind. There would be someone soon; as soon as he wished. And if Diana was enjoying herself, too, so much the better.
They had open minds, therefore their open relationship worked well, which pleased him to no end. They were a good match. For the most part.
And then last month, when he and Diana were on his sailboat, there had been an odd moment. He easily could’ve missed it, such a small thing it was. They had been on the Mediterranean in the middle of a perfectly beautiful day with calm waters under a gorgeous blue sky. The boat was gently being pushed toward the horizon by a mild breeze with no one around them for miles. After they had sex on the top deck, they had gone below; Diana to refresh their drinks, and he to grab a book.
When he reached the bottom of the steps, he caught a glimpse of her gazing through the starboard port hole. As he continued into their cabin, the image stuck with him for a moment. She looked so content just being herself, unobserved as far she knew, gazing out at the blue expanses of sea and sky. Beautiful and comfortable in her own skin, standing by the bar without a stitch of clothing on.
He would’ve loved to capture that moment in a high-resolution photograph and have it framed. He would’ve titled it: the perfect woman. She had everything she wanted and didn’t need him. And that was just what he needed.
He felt something new for her creep up on him. Not just physical desire, although that was part of it despite just having had sex. A different emotion, stronger and powerful in itself. An admiration—and a need for something more. He had even stopped for a moment in his cabin to analyze the emotions he didn’t ordinarily feel with a woman. He’d almost started to question his views on love and emotional need being inextricably tied.
When he returned to the deck, she was waiting for him and handed him his drink, smiling like she had something good in mind. She reached out to run her fingers through his luxurious hair and pulled his head down kissing him ardently for a moment, before saying, “I was thinking…”
He was thinking, too. But instead of ordering her on all fours and taking her fast and hard from behind, he waited for her to continue.
“About how happy I am when we are together.” And then she added, “I feel as if I have found myself. I feel…complete.”
His erection wilted and whatever new desire he had turned sour. He had completely misunderstood what he’d seen below. She wasn’t one hundred percent happy in her own skin with who she was. She was not even whole in herself, needing him to complete her.
And that had been the end of their relationship.
Angus has found his mate and will live happily ever after. Please let it be so. He deserves it.
Ludwig left his chambers and climbed down the magnificent stairs to join the soon-to-wed couple.
He was fairly certain people deluded themselves into thinking love was happening to them. Not only that, he suspected it was a sign of emotional weakness. That wasn’t a thought he’d share with anyone though because he was certain they’d misunderstand what he meant. He didn’t mean people who fell in love were weak and that he was stronger than them, but rather, people who were missing something inside themselves and attempted to find it in others. As far as he could tell, he had never fallen in love with anyone because he was quite happy with who he was. He had no gaping hole in his heart that he felt could only be filled by the love of another.
It was just a mind trick that only the unwary fell for.
Love is just an illusion. One I’ll not fall for.
Princess Angelica de Castella y Aragon had come to hate weddings recently.
She was happy for the bride, her long-lost half-sister, Siobhan Faulkner, who was recently found by her brother, Valantín, the King of Aragon. And she was obviously glad Siobhan had found her match, but still, it didn’t warm her for the celebration.
It wasn’t just that she had yet to even become acquainted with her new sibling, but also having to be reminded of her worst humiliation by just being present at this wedding.
Or any wedding, for that matter.
Eleven months ago, it had been she who had worn a beautiful bride’s gown on her own allegedly special day. Except there had been nothing special about it. Her intended marriage to Abelardo Gutiérrez, who was not a member of royalty as she was but was sufficiently wealthy and influential to warrant marrying a princess, had not been an affair of the heart.
It had been strategic and designed to increase the crown’s favorable rating with a sector of the Aragon populace not pleased with the ruling family. Abelardo had long been a persuasive and charismatic critic of the king. Bringing him into the royal family through marriage had several benefits, all of which Angelica agreed were beneficial to the Castella y Aragon family’s desire to continue ruling. Enough so to agree to the marriage.
Besides, she was sure she didn’t have what it took to genuinely appeal to a man in such a way that he’d honestly ask for her hand in marriage. Not unless he was a shallow man, concerned only with appearances. And there were plenty of those, she knew. Angelica’s beauty was a given. She was hailed as one of the most beautiful women in Europe. Which, to her, was an odd and meaningless compliment; firstly because no one could take credit for their natural appearance; secondly because Angelica herself didn’t feel beautiful; and lastly, and even more importantly, one’s outer appearance spoke nothing of what was inside a person.
No one could tell by looking at her how intelligent or how compassionate she was. And so far, she’d succeeded in keeping anyone from discovering how utterly incompetent she was on a personal, intimate level. She was a talented diplomat, able to converse easily with heads of state, business leaders, and all manner of people. But alone with a man? She was clueless. She devoured romance novels in an attempt to learn the secret she felt all other women were born with: how to be a true woman in the most strict and natural sense of the word.
The intended marriage to Abelardo had not only been perfect for her family, it had also been perfect for her. The world would not have the opportunity to learn of her failing as a sensuous creature. They would not see her grow old, alone and unloved, because she didn’t know the first thing about loving someone romantically, or even lusting over someone carnally.
It helped that Abelardo had been handsome enough, educated, well-bred, from a good family, and would presumably make for a suitable husband and father. And marrying him would have hopefully had an impact on those who took his criticisms of the king to heart, and looked forward to each new scathing utterance of his about how poorly her brother ran the country.
At that time, she had been too concerned about not failing him in the bedroom to notice other small details. He had already hinted he found her to
be too prim and proper, and once she had overheard him saying she was frigid. Not that he used that word exactly. No, he had said something much more demeaning.
She was determined to please him, despite her insecurities, so in the spare moments between helping her brother and taking care of the social needs of her people, she had studied a few books on human sexuality she found in the palace library. She had even managed to secretly order—which was something almost impossible to do in Aragon, since her correspondence was opened by security before being handed to her—an old copy of Kama Sutra.
But the non-fiction books taught her little more than the classic romances she read. And so she clung to the hope that Abelardo would be sufficiently enamored with being a member of the royal family that her awkwardness at being a woman would not be enough for him to take lovers, since divorce was not allowed in Aragon. She was sure, with time, she would come to like his lecherous looks, sloppy kisses, and wandering hands. She had hopes that when they were alone—which had not yet occurred—he would be able to teach her what pleasure was.