Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
“Excellent. I heard we also recently received a hundred million dollar grant from Milo Jaye to study pollution solutions,” she said with a smile. “You can thank me for that. I gave his wife all the plans and specifications for my suspension tools. They’re all about suspension play right now.”
“As long as you didn’t give them any of our toys.” He pulled her close. It was so much easier to be himself now. Something had settled inside him and the world seemed like a different place. A softer, more welcoming place.
His wife still argued with the parliament, but he’d noticed lately that the women of his country seemed to be louder than before, more sure of themselves. They showed up regularly, standing behind their queen, standing up for their daughters.
“I never would. How else would I take care of my favorite servant?” Her voice had gone dark and deliciously deep.
He felt that tug in his groin. Somehow, even though she was almost ready to give birth to their child, she was still the sexiest thing on the planet. She could still make him want to drop to his knees and beg to worship her. “I think I’ll be the one taking care of you for a while, my Queen. You have another monarch to give birth to.”
He’d successfully argued and won his battle to abolish the antiquated rule of succession that preferred sons over daughters. His daughter, the one who slept inside her mother now, would never worry that she wasn’t enough. She would be queen unless she decided she did not want to be. As his firstborn, the choice would be hers to make.
She squeezed his hand. “I think that is going to happen sooner than we think.”
“Is she kicking a lot?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve been in labor all day,” she said, as though talking about the weather. “We should probably go back to the palace and call the doctor. I think your mother will get to meet her namesake tonight.”
Yasmine. Their daughter. Oh, god. He was about to become a father.
He was a father. He was a father and a son and a husband. He was a submissive and a king.
He could be all of those things because he was also Hers.
But first, he needed to get her home so their first child wasn’t born on his construction site. He wanted his mother there. She’d defied all the doctors and was still holding on. Though the queen mother moved more slowly these days, she seemed happier than ever, ready to welcome her granddaughter into the world.
“Rai! What are you doing allowing your queen to wander around when she’s about to give birth?” Kash asked.
His guard, his best friend, smiled as he stepped from behind the tree where he’d been discreetly waiting. Kash knew the man would never leave him alone. He would always be there, even when he acted like an ass. “Have you tried to tell the queen what to do?”
Day was shaking her head. “Walking is good for the labor. Stop being so overprotective.”
He took her hand and started for the Jeep. When she winced, he scooped her up. “There is no such thing. I am exactly the proper amount of protective.”
“Really?” she said with a grin, her arms going around his neck. “Who says that?”
“I do. And I’m the king.”
After all, the king was never wrong. Kash carried his wife back to the palace and into their future.
FINALE
A NORTH SECURITY NOVELLA
By Skye Warren
CHAPTER 1
Isabella
Most people know me as the heiress to the Bradley family hotels.
It’s both right and wrong. I’m my father’s first child. His oldest daughter. I stand to inherit most of the business, but I’ve also been running it since I turned twenty-three.
That’s the year we almost went bankrupt.
My father loves travel. He loves it enough to purchase every gorgeous, quirky boutique hotel he finds, regardless of whether it’s profitable. And my brother… well, my brother Robin loves being right. He loves it enough to fire every business analyst who disagrees with him.
Between the two of them, they ran the business into the red.
“We don’t need him,” my brother mutters. Him meaning Francisco Castille, the exiled Duke of Linares. A very rich man who we very much need.
“It’s a meeting,” I say, smoothing things over. That’s my job in the family. Smoothing things over and making the numbers add up so they turn black.
“I’m looking forward to shaking his hand,” my father says. “Those villas he built in Bali are sublime. The sheets. The views. And the food. If we could partner with him and get that chef into one of our hotels—”
My brother snorts. “He’s not going to give us his Michelin starred chef.”
Dad starts to argue. If I’m not careful he’ll trade away the entire hotel chain just to get that chef. I put up a hand to silence the argument. “We’ll keep an open mind, okay? We’ll present our proposal and see what he says.”