A Player for A Princess: Dirty Players Duet #2 by Tia Louise Read Free Book Online

two!
    With a little frown, I shake my head. “Look at this place,” I mutter.
    “I’m thinking of buying it,” he says, following me. “It’s for sale, and you won’t always be in danger. At least I hope not.”
    His voice has changed, his anger diminished, and I use the one argument I think might work. “Your people won’t approve of me.”
    “I think the citizens of Monagasco will be more accepting than you believe. I’m not as much of a figurehead as Ro, and you’re actually quite charming when you’re not robbing casinos.”
    My chest burns with shame. “That’s exactly what I mean.” I walk to a wooden armchair and run my finger over the bright yellow pillow positioned on it. “I’ve met your mother. I’ve met Lara Westingroot. I’ve seen the disgusted glares from the nobility. They’ll never approve of me.”
    “They’ve never approved of me.” He walks slowly to the bed and leans against it. He’s listening to me, and I kind of love him more for it. “I’ve done things that would make your little casino heist look like catechism—and it’s all been captured on film and plastered across social media.”
    That makes me grin. “Yes, but they’re stuck with you.”
    When I look up, he’s allowed the tiniest smile. “Thanks.”
    I still need clothes, and it gives me an idea. “Tell you what. I’ll show you what my life is like, and then you can decide how it fits into your pampered existence.”
    “I’m not so pampered, but I’m not staying at that shit hole again.”
    A little eye roll, and I exhale heavily. “Other than where we stay, everything else is my call. I set the agenda, and that way you can see what I’m really like.”
    “Does it include eating pizza, drinking champagne, and criticizing bad movies?”
    I can’t help a grin. “Substitute cheap beer for champagne, and yes. That part of my life was pretty authentic. Outside of the sex marathons.”
    A naughty light is in his eyes. “Don’t peasants have sex marathons?”
    “Peasants are typically too busy trying to stay alive.” I walk past him into the hallway and down the expansive stairway.
    He’s right behind me. “I plan to correct that part of the equation.”
    Stopping in the ginormous kitchen, I examine two sets of keys waiting on the bar. “Jeep or Mercedes?” he asks.
    Shaking my head, I take the keys to the Jeep off the counter and start for the door. Looks like we’re headed to Waterfront Drive.
    I’m wearing faded cutoffs and a white shirt with navy horizontal stripes across it as I drive us to lunch at Smuggler’s Cove. I could never afford a car, but a Jeep is far closer to what I might drive than a Mercedes.
    Cal changed into longish cargo shorts and a light blue V-neck shirt. I can tell it’s designer, but I don’t say anything. As much as I can’t jump immediately into the life of a princess, I can’t expect him to embrace the life of a beach bum in one day.
    Pulling up at the surfer bar, I shove the stick into park and kill the engine. A colorful shack consisting of sand floors and a thatched roof is in front of us, and just beyond that is the sea. The water is so brilliant turquoise it actually glows.
    I lean back in the driver’s seat and exhale. “Look familiar at all?”
    His eyebrow quirks and he quickly scans the area. “Should it?”
    “They filmed the movie version of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea here.”
    He nods. “Ahh… Never saw it.” As I sit staring at paradise, he hops out, rounding the vehicle to my side.
    Taking his hand, I climb out of the Jeep. “I always hated that story. It’s depressing.”
    “It is pretty bleak,” he says in that clipped accent I love. “He catches the biggest fish of his life only to watch as the sharks eat it all the way back to shore.”
    We enter the open-air establishment where patrons sit around the bar in various states of relaxation. Some are dressed in bikinis, while some wear shorts and tees. It feels like south