I was frazzled when I arrived the following day at Da’s. I’d woken late, my phone not going off for some reason. Olivier had gone for a walk, so he hadn’t been there to wake me. I’d hurried through my shower and had almost forgotten my wallet. I had to run back inside the estate, nearly mowing over poor Cara in the process.Now sitting once again in Da’s apartment, I waited for him to make me a tepid cup of tea for a second day in a row. The clock still sat on the coffee table. I had the urge to wipe down the surface of the table. Surely the clock was too valuable to sit on a bunch of cigarette ash and wrappers.Da handed me my cup of tea that tasted like dishwater. After lighting a cigarette, he said, “Do you know who your companion is?”The question startled me so much that the tea sloshed in its mug. Luckily it wasn’t too hot, but I had to dab at my jeans with a stray fast-food napkin as my mind whirled.I decided that honesty was my best bet here. “Yes, I know
Cara met me in at the entrance to the estate before I’d even toed off my shoes. “Ma’am, Mr. Valady wants to speak with you immediately in the library.”I grimaced. “Thanks, Cara. I was going to go search for him anyway. When did he arrive back here? Do you know?”“He arrived before you left for your appointment, I believe.”So he’d made a point to avoid me. Great. “Oh, well. We must’ve missed each other.” I turned to go upstairs, but I looked over my shoulder to add, “Can you bring up coffee and snacks in, say, an hour? We’ll probably need it.”“Of course.” She bobbed a curtsy and hurried off. Despite my best efforts to tell all the employees here that they absolutely did not need to bow and curtsy, habits died hard. Olivier had seemed to instantly feel comfortable with the show of deference. He’d make a better owner of this grand estate than I would, that was for sure.I walked up the stairs slowly. My body felt heavy, like all of the revelations had physically weighed it down. M
I spent the next two weeks at the estate. I spent a lot of time in bed and the rest of the time either in the library or wandering along the beach.One day I went to the spot where I’d first met Olivier when he’d been playing gardener, but the plants in question had been moved elsewhere. It was just as well. I didn’t need any more reminders that he existed.“He sounds like a bloody idiot,” Liam had said to me multiple times now. “Not worth your time. He can go rot.”Mari, Liam’s wife, had taken a more measured approach. “It sounds like he cares for you, and he was clearly in shock. Plus, if what your dad said is true…” She’d given Liam That Look, and he’d just grunted.Liam hadn’t been overly thrilled with the news of our sharing DNA with the Salasian royal family. He’d at first said that Da had just been spinning tales to mess with everyone. But when I did some more research here at the estate, I discovered that Da hadn’t been pulling our legs at all.Da was the cousi
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 Arthur 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 rarel
The Prince I Love to HateThe Princess I Hate to LoveSay You’re MineAll I Ask of YouMake Me YoursHold Me CloseWar of the RosesPetal PluckerHe Loves Me, He Loves Me NotOopsie DaisyincludingThen Came YouTaking a Chance on LoveAll I Want Is YouMy One and OnlyThe Nearness of YouThe Very Thought of YouIf I Can’t Have YouDream a Little Dream of MeSomeone to Watch Over MeTill There Was YouI’ll Be Home for Christmas
A coffee addict and cat lover, USA Today bestselling author Iris Morland writes sparkling, swoon-worthy romances, including the Flower Shop Sisters and the Love Everlasting series.If she's not reading or writing, she enjoys binging on Netflix shows and cooking something delicious.Sign up for my newsletter to stay up-to-date with new releases, sales, and exclusive giveaways! Facebook Twitter BookBub Goodreads Instagram
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.The Prince I Love to HateCopyright © 2021 by Iris MorlandPublished by Blue Violet Press LLCSeattle, WashingtonCover design by Qamber DesignsAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said as the taxi driver stopped in front of the house.No, it wasn’t a house. It was a mansion. More accurately, it was an entire estate.The driver gave me a strange look. “You touring this place?”“Yeah, kinda.” I handed him a few Euros and opened the car door, rather wishing I could ask him to go with me. But he’d already driven off by the time I’d been tempted to turn around and ask him to tour the place with me.Okay, tour wasn’t the right word. Wrap my head around what I was seeing would be more accurate.I mean, I’d known that Grandda Gallagher had been rich—he’d left me a rather large inheritance, after all—but this rich? I’d somehow missed that memo.“He probably buried gold bars in the backyard,” my older brother Liam had said darkly before I’d flown from Seattle all the way to Ireland. “Along with all of the bodies.”As far as I knew, our grandda hadn’t been a murderer—just a judgmental arsehole, as Liam liked to call him. Or when Li