Fallen Crown - Bellerive Royals 4 [SAMPLE]

1. Brice

"The other team members have done an adventure race before. They understand the training required to do well. They're committed." She tucks her long dark hair behind her ears, and her blue eyes, the color of ice chips, meet mine.

"I'm a fast learner." I give her a suggestive glance meant to annoy. "I can master this. Learned all kinds of skills for all sorts of situations over the years."

"The skills you've learned have nothing to do with a ten-day adventure race." She scowls. "I guarantee it." With a huff, she gathers her papers into the folder in front of her. "You only became serious about being a real benefactor to the society when your father was diagnosed. Before that, you were an on-paper, just for show, throw money at it, guy."

Acidic. Burns right through me. She's got me wrong, but it feels right to her and maybe a bit to me too. Throughout my life, I've been the third in line to inherit the throne. Pending a large disaster, there was never any chance of me ruling, and I've been given a long, often indulgent, leash on royal matters. No one has ever had to take me seriously, and I've never cared either way. My brothers have had much different experiences. Alex has the full weight of the monarchy on his shoulders, and Nick has been suffocated by it. Me? I've enjoyed the privileges without the same heavy lifting. Being an afterthought, the punchline to a joke, just made me work harder to be liked.

There are few people who'd dare to dislike me so publicly. If anyone can get away with obvious scorn without social or political repercussions, it's Maren.

Her complete distaste for me isn't surprising, but the longevity is. We went to high school together, although she's a few years younger than me, and she couldn't stand me then either. Joke's on her because I also don't enjoy her company. Stuck up. Entitled. From one of the oldest families in Bellerive, she's a trust fund baby who parades around Bellerive. Pretty but ineffective.

"Remind me again how many boards you sit on? How many of those are you throwing money at without putting in adequate work?"

Her nostrils flare, and I wish there was a tally on the wall. Direct hit. One point for me.

"I'm on five, and I work hard for every one."

"Work hard?" I raise my eyebrows. "You flounce around the island attending cocktail parties and suggesting other people open their wallets." I'm tempted to ask her what else she opens to get their money, but I'm too well trained by the Bellerive Royals PR team to let that one fly. From what I've heard, her husband is also a waste of space, and I wouldn't be surprised if she sought fulfillment elsewhere. I might hate her, but I'm not stupid enough to comment. Too many people walking around recording private conversations anymore to give anyone but family my real opinions.

"I'm training the team." She breezes past me, and out the door. "And I won't allow the board to put you on it."

Convincing her isn't my problem. Tim can overrule her later, but I follow close on her heels anyway. "This cause means a lot to me. I'm passionate about raising money to find interventions, ways to support people with the disease."

She keeps walking, and I clench my fists while I stay beside her. My two security guards are behind us. Depending on what I'm doing, there are always one or two burly men in attendance.

"You might not understand what it means to be passionate about anything," I say, "but it means someone will go to any length to get what they want. I want on this team."

"Passion is overrated." She whirls on me with her meeting folder pressed to her chest. "Getting the job done and done right is far more important than passion." She spits out the last word like it's left a vile taste in her mouth.

"To succeed, passion and results go hand-in-hand. If you don't have them both, well, you're doing something wrong. I'm sorry that hasn't been your experience, but I promise you, it's always been mine."

"Has it?" Her shoulders relax. "In my experience, women are incredibly adept at pretending passion to stroke the ego of their partner—in any situation. Easy to make a man believe the two go together when a panting production," she gives me a coy smile, "is all that's required. Something to think about, Your Highness." She turns on her heel and sails out the front door.

Goes to show how little she knows me. Any woman faking shit is only hindering her own satisfaction. I get off either way. 

Jag, my main security detail, lets out a low whistle. "You want to work with that?"

Working with her is the price I have to pay for what I want. A spot on the team. By the time we leave for the race, it won't be me wishing I'd stayed out of the event, it'll be her.

If someone is nice to me, I'm nice in response. Be a dick to me, and the attitude I whip out will be bigger. Much bigger. Get a measuring tape. I dare you.

She wants to block me from participating, and I won't let her win. She's about to get a reminder of how influential the royal family can be.

For those of you who've read more than one of my books, if you had to pick one to three words to describe my characters or my writing to someone else, what would you say?

Updates: I'm aiming for a Monday and Thursday schedule with occassional bonus updates when I have the time/chapters.

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Buckle up. There's bound to be some turbulence. 😉

Reads: 3,620
Started posting August 2, 2021