Page 55 of A Royal Mistake

One who wouldn’t stand in front of her, but who would stand by her side.

Verdammt.

Who was he kidding? Despite all his talk of keeping things professional, there was only one man he wanted to see standing by Pippa’s side. But since that wasn’t possible, he’d honor his commitment and help her drive every last one of those preening peacocks from Valeria.

14

Pippa grinnedas she surveyed her handiwork. The palace pool had been transformed from a luxurious retreat to a delightfully scandalous singles pool party. It was quite American, if she said so herself. The music was loud, the alcohol was flowing, and the skin was on full display.

Well, the guys’ skin, anyway.

Pippa wore a modest white sundress over the teeny yellow bikini she’d had delivered just yesterday. She was still working up the nerve to take it off. The dress, not the bikini.

But first, she needed a drink.

Or five.

A server walked by with a tray of fruity cocktails and she grabbed one. She didn’t know what was in the two-tone concoction, but whatever it was, she needed it in her life. She wrapped her lips around the straw and sucked down half of it in the most unladylike fashion.

Miss Cartwright would be right horrified by her lack of decorum, but the old bird wasn’t around, and Pippa was done playing by the rules. She took another sip, if only to solidify her resolve.

Liquid courage for the win.

She’d been so engrossed in Stanley International, she’d lost focus on her number two objective: wreaking havoc on her parents’ plans to see her suitably married. But that stopped now. Her head was back in the game.

The sooner she got rid of the suitors, the sooner she could secure her trust and launch Stanley International.

She snuck one last taste of the fruity cocktail and licked her lips. It was quite good. And exactly the sort of ostentatious drink her parents forbade her from ordering, because God forbid The Princess Royal imbibe such an undignified beverage.

Pippa giggled and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.

Right. Less drinking, more socializing.

With any luck, a few of the suitors would present her with sufficient cause for elimination today. It was well past time to trim the fat. Even if she had to help the process along.

“Your Highness.”

She turned to the Prince of Asses, her gaze sliding over the oil-slick muscles of his chest and abdomen and latching onto the small, bulging, red Speedo he wore.

Bugger. His muscles weren’t the only things that were big.

He cleared his throat and heat flooded her cheeks.

Prince Gabriel gave her a knowing smirk.

Arrogant arse.

“I love a good pool party,” he said. “Sun, fun, and a chance to show off my assets. What’s not to like?”

“Your insufferable arrogance?”

And damn if he didn’t laugh good-naturedly. “I’m afraid it comes with the territory, but it’ll grow on you.”

Yeah, like mold.

“So, where’s your suit?” He looked her over from head to toe, eyes lingering on her legs. “Surely you aren’t planning to sit on the sidelines and watch all day.”

No, she wasn’t. But she also wasn’t going to let him goad her into taking off her dress before she was ready. It was his choice to go strutting around in that tiny scrap of fabric. No one had forced him, and from the looks of it, he was enjoying himself immensely.