The Princess I Hate to Love: The Heir Affair Duet

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 Princess I Hate to LoveCopyright © 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.

Flashbulbs from cameras made me wince. I was standing with my arm around Niamh in front of the royal family’s villa outside the capital, Saint Henri, a group of photographers and journalists having just arrived for a brief interview. Niamh was barely smiling. I leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Look happy.” She widened her smile until she looked demonic. “How are you two enjoying married life?” a woman asked in French.I replied in English, “We’re getting to know each other even better now, which is why we chose to honeymoon here in Saint Henri.”Every time a royal family member vacationed here, the little seaside town’s economy was boosted. Niamh and I wore clothes made from a local designer, and we were scheduled to appear at a popular seafood restaurant later that week.“This place is beautiful,” said Niamh.The journalist kept the microphone near me, which irked me. Although the press was insatiably curious about my new American bride, they also disliked that I’

Present DayWhen Laurent handed me a breakfast tray himself, I said, “What happened?”“Why should anything be amiss? I’m simply serving Your Highness.”I glowered. “Either tell me what’s happened or I’ll throw you in the dungeon.”“I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for tossing me into the wine cellar.” Laurent cleared his throat then gestured at my phone. “It should be in your inbox.”He scurried off before I could open the email. When I clicked the link, it took me to a tabloid story featuring our interview yesterday. Miss Gallagher doesn’t seem to be enjoying royal life, does she? Apparently, there’s no reason to smile when you’re a princess married to the handsome prince! Perhaps the luxury isn’t up to her usual standards. What could be explained as pre-wedding jitters seems to have become acting rather high in the instep.The article, if you could even call it that, continued in a similar vein. My temples started throbbing. Once again, I’d been right: Niamh’s sarcasm wa

Present dayWhen I found my wife outside, sunbathing next to the pool, I found myself transfixed. She was topless, and my hungry gaze lapped up the sight. I felt a little like some creepy voyeur, but my brain was short-circuiting. It wasn’t capable of logic or propriety. It sure as hell wasn’t capable of self-control.Blood rushed to my cock. When I’d first seen her tits at the hotel in Paris, they’d been a glorious sight to behold. Small and pale with puffy, rosy nipples. I’d sucked on them on two occasions now. My wife squirmed and moaned when I played with her sensitive nipples. At the moment, her skin gleamed in the sunshine, and she looked warm and supple. I had the strongest urge to go over to her and, sitting on the edge of her lounge chair, lean down and dig my fingers into her hair. Then I’d kiss her until she was begging me to touch her. My thoughts were interrupted with the sound of Niamh noticing my presence. To my immense frustration, she squeaked and grabb

At breakfast three days after the artist scholarship event, I nearly choked on a bite of egg when Niamh said to me, “I need to talk to my dad first.”We’d discovered through our own contacts that Connor Gallagher was, in fact, sniffing around the press. He’d hinted that he possessed information worth its weight in gold and that he was willing to sell that information for a tidy sum. I hadn’t been surprised that Niamh’s father continued to be a conniving bastard. He wasn’t about to keep the secret that I was a bastard to himself, not when he could profit off of it.I’d informed Laurent and the palace press office immediately that Connor Gallagher claimed to have information that could damage the royal family. I’d been tempted to disclose what that information was, but I’d decided it was better that the fewer people who knew the truth, the better.“You want to talk to him first,” I repeated slowly. “Why?”“Because I want to understand why he’s doing this. And I want to see if