Prince Next Door: A Royal Next Door Romance Read online

  Prince Next Door

  A Royal Next Door Romance

  Nicole Casey

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Casey. All Rights Reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the proper written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  1. Hannah

  2. William

  3. Hannah

  4. William

  5. Hannah

  6. William

  7. Hannah

  8. William

  9. Hannah

  10. William

  11. Hannah

  12. William

  13. Hannah

  14. William

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Firefighters Next Door

  1. Alice

  2. Max

  3. Jeremy

  Author’s Note

  Also By Nicole Casey

  About the Author

  1

  Hannah

  I know, I know. I thought I’d be a lot further along in life, too. Working as a hotel receptionist isn’t exactly where my high school counselor saw me in five years’ time, but hey.

  When life gives you lemons, get those lemons the hell away from me because I’m allergic. I wasn’t really. I just liked to use lemons as a metaphor for my life. I just wanted to experience something zesty, something bright and exciting and new. But things never turned out that way. Not for poor little me.

  By the time I turned twenty-three, I thought for sure I was going to be on the career track towards becoming something awesome. I wasn’t sure what, exactly. But my never-ending optimism gave me incredibly high hopes. When I was a little girl, I thought I could be a world-champion surfer. I didn’t know how to surf, but I told myself constantly that I was never too old to learn. Or maybe I could have been a renowned fashion designer burning up the runways in Paris, Milan, and New York. Sometimes I would even dream about becoming the first woman to ever live on Mars and meet aliens and perfect interstellar travel.

  I sometimes wondered if my younger self would be disappointed in how things worked out. Most of the time, I could drown out the feelings of bitter disappointment. But tonight was harder than usual. Probably because it was the graveyard shift. The graveyard shift was always the worst. I usually did very well in convincing my immediate supervisor to schedule me during the day. At least that way I could still enjoy the nightlife and scrounge together a half-decent get-together with friends. But poor Cathy called in sick at the last minute, and I was the only one available to cover for her.

  I supposed I should count my blessings. I was getting paid one time and a half because of the odd hours, and my wallet was never going to complain about a little extra spending money. Besides, I got to see some pretty interesting characters in the middle of the night. I liked dealing with travel-weary couples who looked like they were seconds away from having a full-on fight in the lobby. That man who came in from the hotel’s bar with a lovely young blonde at his hip? Yeah, she was as professional as they came. I never judged, just handed her the keys as she gave me a suggestive wink. Whatever paid the bills, right?

  I checked my wristwatch for what must have been the twentieth time since starting my shift. When I was behind the reception counter, I wasn’t supposed to be on my phone. My manager insisted that there was always something for me to do, things to keep me busy. There were forms that needed filing, credit cards that needed charging, wakeup calls to schedule for the morning. But I’ll be the first to admit it – I didn’t really care that much about my job. The uniforms were really cute, but that was really the only upside.

  Normally, I would be on my phone, busy texting my best friend Lara. But ever since she got engaged to her über-famous author boyfriend Chuck Hill, she’d unfortunately been too occupied to text back right away. I couldn’t blame her. I never thought Lara would be the type to attract such a wealthy, handsome future husband. Lara was living in the lap of luxury, preparing for her upcoming wedding in style. I was actually super happy for her. If she could find her happily ever after, maybe I could, too.

  Wishful thinking didn’t cost me a dime, after all.

  A well-dressed man entered through the hotel lobby’s grand automatic doors. The heels of his obviously expensive leather shoes clicked against the polished tile as he sauntered up to my counter. He had on a pair of reflective sunglasses despite the time of night. I had to stifle a laugh. I mean, seriously. Who did this guy think he was? A British earl?

  The man tapped his fingers on the counter. “I believe I have a reservation,” he said, words heavily accented. His voice reminded me of a violin, warm, if the tiniest bit strained.

  I swiveled in my little office chair to face the computer. With my hands hovering above the keyboard, I asked, “May I please grab your name?”

  “It should be under William Laurier.”

  “Um, yeah,” I muttered. “It looks like you’ve booked the executive suite. Can I just grab a piece of ID for our records?”

  William Laurier removed his glasses and raised his eyebrows at me, a cocky smile upon his lips. “Seriously? Isn’t my face enough?”

  For a moment, I was stunned into silence. He was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. His short brown hair was effortlessly brushed to the side, no doubt styled to look messy. His darling grey eyes were startling in their intensity, wiser and kinder than I ever thought possible. He had a pointed nose and a sharp jaw, as well as high cheekbones and perfectly full lips. His grin was downright maddening because it was too damn perfect. A part of me felt underdressed and outclassed just by looking at him.

  I gave him a stiff smile. It was far too late for this level of sass. Maybe he was fresh off a plane and it was technically daytime where he was from. That was the only explanation I could come up with to explain his spunky energy.

  “I’m sorry, sir. It’s hotel policy.”

  “‘Sir?’” He chuckled as he reached into the inner pocket of his navy-blue sports jacket. “You make me feel like an old man, miss.” He pulled out an expensive-looking designer wallet and slipped out an identification card.

  I took the plastic card and inspected it thoroughly. The British flag was stamped into its design, along with several printed security features. His picture on the ID definitely matched, right down to his cheeky grin. As much as I wanted to stare at his picture, and maybe even him, I didn’t want him standing at the counter for longer than necessary. The sooner I gave him his room key, the sooner I could get back to doing absolutely nothing and chilling out all evening.

  Whilst getting paid, I added mentally.

  After ticking a couple of boxes on the computer, I handed his ID back, along with an electronic key card to his room.

  “There you are, Mister Laurier,” I said. “Is there anything else that I can help you with this evening?”

  He leaned against the counter and winked at me. “Would you mind sending up twenty bottles of your hotel bar’s most expensive champagne?”

  The corner of my lip ticked upward. “Do you plan on drinking it all by yourself?”

  He laughed. My God, it was a gorgeous laugh. “No. That’d be much too sad. I’m hosting a friend’s bac
helor party tomorrow evening.”

  I nodded. “I see. In that case, I can have the refreshments chilled prior to sending it to your room.”

  “How very thoughtful. Thank you, miss…” He trailed off, sounding like he was fishing for my name.

  “Hannah,” I blurted out before I had the chance to think. “Hannah Milch.”

  He reached across the counter and took my hand. He kissed the back of it and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Hannah Milch.”

  On the outside, I was cool, calm, and collected. On the inside, I was screaming my head off because oh my shit who actually did that? Everything about the guy screamed chivalry and properness and etiquette and I just didn’t know how to deal. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t trust my voice enough to get the sounds out.

  “What are you doing tomorrow evening, Miss Milch?”

  Okay, Hannah. Calm your tits.

  All I had to do was answer his question. “Uh, um–” I stuttered.

  You go girl.

  “Nothing,” I managed. “I’m… Nothing.”

  “Would you at all be interested in joining me for the party?”

  He asked so casually it was almost startling. I got the feeling he was used to asking women out all the time.

  “You want me to… You want me to attend your friend’s bachelor party?”

  William nodded. “If you’re interested. I promise it’s not some sordid affair with strippers in cakes.”

  “See, now that you’ve said that, I’m totally expecting strippers in cakes.”

  He chuckled. “No, I promise. Nothing but cigars, good food, light music, and copious amounts of alcohol.”

  “I’ll, uh… I’ll think about it.”

  ‘I’ll think about it?’ Seriously? Live a little, Hannah. A literal supermodel just asked you to a party. This is why we can’t have nice things, woman.

  William offered a charming smile, throwing me another casual wink. “Well, I hope to see you there. You know what room I’ll be in.”

  He turned away and walked toward the elevators. The entire time, my eyes lingered on his perfect ass.

  Stop drooling, Hannah. You’re slobbering all over your paperwork.

  2

  William

  I lived in a constant state of restlessness. There was just no way I could see myself settling down. A large house, a white picket fence, a couple of kids and maybe a dog or two –it wasn’t my idea of a good time. It was also why I was having so much trouble adjusting to the fact that my best mate, Andrew McMillan, was getting hitched.

  I mean, honestly. Sometimes I wondered if this was still the same chap I attended St. Augustine’s School for Boys with. The old Andrew got into trouble every day for trying to ditch class to stare at the clouds. The old Andrew loved to chase the girls with me every Friday evening. The old Andrew could down three pints of beer and still manage to walk a straight line.

  But this Andrew was ready to settle down. With an American gal, no less. I liked Carla. She was sweet, kind. I just didn’t expect Andrew to fall so madly in love with her. He gave up his title and his land back home. All for this one woman. For the rest of his life. All Andrew wanted to do lately was drink tea and read in silence by the fire next to his darling fiancée. I would be happy for him, if that’s what he wanted. I wasn’t about to be a dick because I, personally, wasn’t on the same wavelength anymore.

  At the very least, I’d been given the opportunity to throw him one last kick-ass party.

  It was a wild affair. All of our friends began to gather in my hotel suite, bringing along gifts and booze and gorgeous women on their arms. The music was blaring over the suite’s intricate sound system. There was no doubt in my mind we were going to get a noise complaint, but I could easily handle any fees should they arise. People were dancing up a storm in the living room, grinding against one another as their drinks went straight to their heads.

  Andrew found me amidst the crowd and clapped me on the shoulder. His cheeks and nose were bright red, eyes half-hooded, the stink of beer radiating from his mouth.

  “My man!” he cheered, slinging his arm over my neck. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  I laughed. “Not nearly enough,” I yelled over the music.

  “I love you,” he slurred. “You’re the best. The greatest earl to ever live. The best!”

  “You already said that.”

  “Oh, are those hors d’oeuvres? You really thought of everything!”

  I slipped out from beneath the weight of his crushing arm and gently nudged him in the direction of the table full of little snacks. “Knock yourself out, mate.”

  I took a step back from the crowd and admired the business. The noise, the movement, the colorful lights that flashed in sync with the music. This was what I lived for. I couldn’t see myself settling down like Andrew could. I supposed there was nothing wrong with it. I was a young man in my prime, a real go-getter. Time was a finite thing for someone like me. When I returned home, it would be nothing but responsibilities and taking care of the estate. Such was the life of prince. A lesser-known prince, but still. So, while I was here, away from all the crippling expectations and pompous circumstance, I was going to enjoy every second of freedom.

  I happened to be close enough to the front door to hear someone knocking. I peered through the little peephole to find a familiar blonde waiting on the other side.

  “Miss Milch,” I cheered, answering so quickly a rush of air whipped past the both of us from the momentum of the door’s swing. “I’m glad you decided to drop–”

  All of the words in my vocabulary fell out of my head upon seeing Hannah in her tight black dress that had a plunging neckline. The fabric hugged her curves in a way that made it impossible to look away. From her voluptuous wide hips to her full breasts to the sleek curve of her back –I was amazed. When I saw her at the receptionist’s counter yesterday evening, I happened to think she was cute. But now I found myself face to face with an absolute goddess and I wasn’t too sure how long I’d been standing there in stunned silence. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was curled into an adorable messy bob, which somehow drew my attention directly to her vibrant amber eyes.

  “Are… Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” she asked sheepishly, tugging at the thin strap of her dress. She nibbled on her lower lip and I think I nearly died. How was it possible for someone to look as beautiful as she did? I knew it sounded like a cliché, but surely Hannah must have been an angel plucked straight from the heavens.

  I stepped out of the way and swept my arm out in a grand gesture. “Come on in,” I said, keeping my voice as level as possible.

  The little smile she gave me nearly fried my brain. “Thanks,” she said as one of the waiters I’d hired from the bar downstairs passed by and handed her a champagne flute.

  I placed my hand on her back. Not too low, because let’s face it. I was still a gentleman.

  Hannah looked about the space, clearly dazzled by the extravagance of the party, judging by the cute little twinkle in her eyes.

  I leaned in so she could hear me over the music. “Would you like to dance?”

  She raised her champagne flute. “I have two left feet. Maybe I’ll stick to drinking for a bit.”

  I shrugged, snapping up a fresh glass of champagne off of a passing waiter’s serving tray. “You’re about three drinks behind, then.” I tipped my head back and drained my refreshment. “Make that four.”

  Hannah smirked, her grin a little crooked. It was actually kind of charming. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that told me she was up for the challenge. She followed by example, dipping her head back to down her drink in one go.

  I clapped my hands and laughed. “This is going to be fun.”

  “Is that a promise?” she quipped without missing a beat.

  I grabbed another two glasses of champagne, handing her one. I winked at her, relishing the way her cheeks flushed bright pink. “To wilder nights,” I cheered.
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  Hannah clinked the rim of her glass against my own and nodded. “To wilder nights.”

  The party was in full swing. The room felt like it was spinning, and the flashing array of lights did little to help ground me in the moment. It was nice to let loose sometimes. Back home, I had to adhere to strict protocol. It was suffocating. All I wanted was to feel warm and tingling and enjoy delicious food, sweet drinks, and enjoy the company of fantastically entertaining people. Was it really so hard to let a man enjoy the finer things in life every now and then?

  After a drink or two or five –I didn’t keep track– I eventually found myself in the middle of the designated dance area with Hannah.

  The way she moved was downright sinful.

  I didn’t think the hotel receptionist had it in her. Our bodies moved together in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the music. Her round, perfectly shaped ass grinded against the front of my pants, practically taunting me. I had my hands on her waist, admiring how easily she was able to render me a useless, bumbling idiot. As the night dragged on, it got harder and harder to deny my attraction. Hannah was pressed up close to me, so close I could feel her warm breath and drink in the intoxicating aroma of her floral perfume. I would have been embarrassed at how hard she managed to get me, but I could tell by the way she wrapped her arms around my neck, stared at my lips like she was famished, that she wanted me, too.

  At some point, all the noise, all of the heat of neighboring bodies faded into the background. The only thing on my mind was this gorgeous woman in my arms. She made it hard to think. She left my mind in a delightful haze, and I was perfectly content to stay in it. The longer I stared at her beautiful lips, the more I wanted to know what they felt like against mine. And it definitely didn’t help when she nibbled on her bottom lip the way she did. It was downright impossible to keep a clear head.