Rogue Prince (The Rourkes Book 7) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Rogue Prince

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Rogue Prince

  © 2019 Kylie Gilmore

  Dylan

  I’m the crown prince of Villroy, but instead of taking the king’s throne like I should have, my father got us all exiled. I’d complain, but he had good reason. Now our once royal family lives in Brooklyn, and I’m about to inherit a new kingdom: my uncle’s construction business. It’s an opportunity to build my real estate empire and make something of myself. All I need is an experienced person to help take it to the next level. And then the girl who grew up next door to me—all woman now—shows up with just the business experience I need.

  Too bad Ariana Bianchi hates me. I used to think it was undeserved—fallout from our families’ longtime feud—but there was this one time…

  Ariana

  I’m newly divorced and crashing at my parents’ house until I can get my life on track for my ultimate goal of having a baby with the help of a sperm bank. It’s the reason for my divorce—he didn’t want kids—and at thirty-one the clock is ticking. So when the gorgeous pig of a man, Dylan Rourke, shows up at my parents’ house to ask me to work as a consultant for his company, I see an opportunity. He wants something from me? Yeah, well, I want something in return, too.

  Only Dylan makes this way more complicated than it needs to be.

  NEXT FROM KYLIE GILMORE

  Don’t miss Rogue Gentleman! There’s an excerpt at the back of this book.

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  Chapter One

  A few days after Christmas…Villroy Island

  Dylan

  How the hell did I get here? I’m standing in a rented tux in a frigging palace ballroom on Villroy Island for Prince Adrian’s wedding. Me, Dylan Rourke—a construction worker from Brooklyn, New York—in a royal ballroom.

  This entire palace is a monument to wealth and status. And the people in it look just as gilded, wearing designer everything. The jewels from tiaras, necklaces, bracelets, and rings glint in the light of the chandeliers.

  “Shoulda brought our bling for this crowd,” Sean mutters under his breath. He’s my younger brother by two years, and we’re tight.

  I bite back a smile and say under my breath, “Gold dollar-sign necklaces will make us fit right in.”

  We snicker, get a few pointed looks, and get serious again. I’m pretty sure our grandparents just rolled over in their graves. See, technically, we’re princes, and Adrian is our cousin. I only recently met Adrian on account of his family exiling my family due to circumstances that happened before either of us was born. This is a peacemaking mission of sorts, and it’s going about as well as you’d expect.

  My five younger brothers and I have managed to shock an entire ballroom of people into stunned silence. We’re the elephant in the room—former exiles born from a scandalous union.

  We’re standing on one side of the room while everyone else in my estranged family is on the other side, staring at us. We’re all waiting for the bride and groom to arrive from where they’ve been getting their picture taken. The stunned silence is probably because my brothers and I didn’t RSVP to the wedding, though we were invited. No wedding crashing here. It was a last-minute decision to go, so we got here just in time for the reception. There was a brief scuffle trying to get into the palace, but I demanded they bring my cousin Silvia to the front hall to vouch for us.

  I got to know Silvia when she moved to the US for college. Your heart would have to be made of stone not to like her. She’s been on a campaign to get us to this wedding, insisting it’s up to us, the younger generation, to do the hard work of bringing the family back together again. Lotta bad blood between our families. My dad had to start with nothing in Brooklyn after being raised to be king and then exiled. It was hard for him, really hard. He’s still bitter about it.

  Sean is the one who finally convinced me we should show up here. His reasoning was sound. If we’re invited to a wedding on Villroy, then the exile is lifted. And if the exile is lifted, then maybe our business interests could align with our wealthy royal cousins’ business interests. All of their business ventures have been hugely successful, from cosmetics manufacturing to a day spa to a casino. I’m not here for a handout, but if—and that’s a big if—there’s a reconciliation, maybe King Gabriel would give us a loan so we can start flipping houses on the weekends. Real estate development is where it’s at in Brooklyn, and Sean and I want to move beyond construction. We’d pay him back with interest. It would be like a diversification for my royal cousins to have their fingers in the pie both in Villroy and Brooklyn. My dad pushed hard on the loan angle, saying it was past time our family got some of the compensation we were denied.

  Now that we’re here, I’m having serious doubts. Some of the older guests are looking down their noses at us. They probably knew my dad, who refused to step foot on Villroy under the circumstances. Some people are whispering in scandalous tones. Everyone is staring at us like an exhibit at the zoo.

  I pull at the collar of my white dress shirt, a bead of sweat running down my spine. My brothers shift uneasily next to me. No one has approached us about our right to be here, but there’s security posted around the room. Tough-looking guys with earpieces dressed all in black. Their blazers are probably concealing weapons. Will they kick us out if some of the older generation puts their foot down? I’m thinking not everyone signed off on us being here. Maybe we’ll be thrown in the dungeon. Dad mentioned they have one.

  I glance over at my brothers, who look grim. Going down the line from oldest to youngest, it’s me, Sean, Jack, Connor, Brendan, and Garrett. Most of us have dark brown hair and blue eyes, except the youngest, Garrett, who has aquamarine eyes like our dad. Supposedly, the aquamarine eyes are a sign of a true ruler of Villroy, only that didn’t work out so well for my dad.

  The bride and groom finally step inside the ballroom, breaking the tension, and a cheer goes up, everyone clapping and shouting congratulations to them.

  Adrian, who could pass as one of my brothers with his thick dark brown hair, sharp cheekbones, and square jaw, lifts a hand. “Thank you all for celebrating with us!” His gaze lands on me. “And a special thank-you to my cousins, who flew here all the way from New York.”

  I jerk my chin at him. And then Adrian surprises me, heading straight for us with his bride, Sara.

  “Dylan, so good to see you here,” he says, offering his hand. We met briefly in Brooklyn a few months back. He’s Silvia’s twin, which is why I agreed to meet him in the first place.

  I shake Adrian’s hand, keenly aware the room has gone silent again. “Sure. Thanks.” I can’t manage to say I’m glad to be here because it’s awkward as hell to be the peacemaker from a cast-out family.

  He introduces me to Sara, and I turn and introduce my brothers.

  Silvia appears at my side. “I’m so happy you’re here!” She throws her arms around me and gives me a squeeze, which is the second time she hugged me today. The first was in the front hall, where she had to get us past security. It’s impossible not to like this girl when she adores me so much.

  I hug her back. “I knew you’d never let me live it down if I missed it.”

  “And you’d be right.” She beams and turns to my brothers, hugging them each in turn. Double hugs all around. It suddenly occurs to me she’s hugging us here to show everyone we’re accepted by the royal family. Smart. “Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of our family.”

  She introduces us to our great-aunt and great-uncle first, who refuse to shake my hand.

  “Riffraff,” the not-so-great-uncle says, pursing his lips.

  My temper flares, and I clench my jaw. That’s what this side of the family has called our side since the exile—riffraff. Dad told us before, but it’s different hearing it right to my face. They think we’re beneath them.

  “I’m proud to call them family,” Silvia snaps. “I’ll be sure to let King Gabriel and Queen Anna know the reception you’ve given our honored guests.”

  They give us their backs. So do several other couples standing nearby. Old-school shunning. Fucking assholes. No wonder the old man is bitter.

  Silvia is incensed, her cheeks flushed bright pink. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the better part of the family.”

  She strides across the ballroom toward the head table. My brothers and I follow at a slow pace. Coming here was a mistake. I don’t know why Silvia thought we’d ever be accepted. And there’s King Gabriel, sitting at the head table, looking rigid and extremely proper. That could’ve been me. I’m the crown prince, firstborn son to the man who should’ve been king. I was born a year before Gabriel. By all rights, the throne is mine. I know it’s not Gabriel’s fault. This shit all went down before we were born, and I honestly can’t imagine dealing with all this pompous royal stuff day in, day out. I’m a laid-back, practical guy.

  “This ballroom is insane,” Sean says under his
breath. “I feel like we’re on a movie set. Ya know, one of those historical chick flicks. Do they actually ballroom dance in here? Cuz that is not in my repertoire.”

  “Don’t worry about it. No one wants to dance with you.”

  He smirks, looking around the room. “I’ve been getting the look from a lotta ladies here.”

  “You’ve been getting the look from the entire room because you’re an outcast.”

  His chest puffs out. “Outcast only makes me more appealing. I’m forbidden fruit. Just need to apply my signature charm, and they’ll be eating out of my hand.”

  “Keep it zipped.”

  “Mouth or trousers?” he quips.

  “Both.”

  He keeps his voice low. “Might be smart. I’m not sure who I’m related to.”

  I stifle a groan. The ballroom does look like a movie set, or maybe a museum piece. It’s a huge room with inlaid wooden floors, gold-leaf wallpaper, crystal and gold chandeliers, and frescoed ceiling paintings.

  We reach the head table lined with a row of highback red velvet chairs. The center chairs are for the bride and groom. The other seats are for the king and queen and the wedding party, which are my cousins, and a woman who resembles the bride, probably her sister.

  Silvia smiles sweetly at me, and I can’t help but relax a little seeing her warmth. She places her hand on my shoulder and goes up on tiptoe to whisper, “Address the king and queen as your majesty.”

  Seriously? I grunt in acknowledgment.

  I watch as she curtsies and bows her head in front of the king and queen. How strange that she has to do that for her own brother. “King Gabriel, Queen Anna, may I present our cousin. This is Dylan Rourke. He’s been a good friend to me during my stay in the US, going all the way back to my Yale days.” She turns to me with a bright smile. “Seven years now, right?”

  I smile back. “Right.” I turn to Gabriel and wait to see what kind of reception I’ll get. He slowly rises from his seat, and we’re eye to eye, similar height and build. His expression is hard. Maybe he realizes that with the exile lifted I have a legitimate claim to the throne. I’m a threat to him.

  I return his unblinking stare.

  His wife, Anna, stands and points at my jaw. “You remind me so much of Gabriel with your jaw tight like that.” She glances at her husband. “This is exactly how you look when you’re stressed or irritated.”

  I work on loosening my jaw because I’m not stressed or irritated. I just know better than to show weakness when facing off with another guy.

  Anna elbows him in the side. He shoots her a hard look before offering his hand to me. “Welcome to Villroy, cousin.”

  I return his firm handshake. “Thanks.” I can’t force out the your majesty. It’s just too high and mighty. He’s not above me. We’re equals. Family.

  Anna shakes my hand too. She’s young with long dark brown curly hair and sparkling brown eyes. “This reunion has been a long time coming. The Rourkes are stronger together, and it was well past time to mend the rift between the families.” She beams a smile at me and then Gabriel. He gives her an indulgent smile.

  I don’t smile because we all know who’s to blame for the rift—their family. Then I remind myself of my purpose here—peacemaker—and nod once.

  Now that I’ve seen this place, I can only imagine the culture shock my dad went through. No servants to see to his every need, no gilt and glitter. Just a working-class lifestyle trying to provide for his growing family. My uncle hired him to do the books for his construction company, and my dad worked his ass off to learn everything he could about construction. No wonder he’s bitter. They could at least have given him an allowance. Some kind of cushion.

  “We need to talk to you later,” Anna says. “After they cut the cake, come find us again.”

  I stiffen, instantly wary. Talk about what? I’m the one who has an agenda. What could they possibly want from me? Sure, Anna is all smiles, but Gabriel is not exactly warm. They’ll get me alone and eliminate the threat. It’s classic good cop/bad cop. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but these are extreme circumstances.

  I nod to Anna and shift down the line to introduce myself to the rest of my cousins. I can hear Silvia doing the big king and queen introduction behind me to my brothers. My cousins—four princes and a princess—are polite, but seem uptight. I’m sure they can’t help it, being royalty. Dad says there’s a bunch of royal protocol he used to have to follow. Silvia is the exception, probably because she’s the youngest and spent so much time in the US.

  I meet the former queen last, the woman who took my mother’s place to rule the kingdom as queen. She stands regally as though she still wears a crown, though she stepped down as queen when her husband died. She’s probably in her fifties, like my own mother, her dark brown hair in a bun, her expression pleasant. “Hello, I’m Alexandra, and I want to thank you for coming. My late husband hoped for a reconciliation.”

  I don’t know what to say. Her husband, the uncle I never met, died at only fifty-four. My dad felt terrible about ignoring his brother’s repeated invitations to visit when his brother was at the end of his life. I thought his brother could’ve mentioned he was dying and gotten different results, but apparently his disease had to be kept under wraps. What do I know about the strict code of a king?

  Finally I say, “Sorry you just got us.”

  “No need to be sorry. It was a difficult situation for all.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and she swallows visibly. “I was part of an arranged marriage to the future king of Villroy. When your father abdicated, I married his brother in his place. Please pass along a thank-you to your father for giving me my husband.” She blinks tears away. “We were very close.”

  I shift on the heels of my dress shoes, uncomfortable with her tears and also surprised she’s sending my dad a thank-you. He was forced to abdicate the throne in order to marry my mother, a commoner. It was a huge scandal at the time. Never been done in the history of the kingdom. I thought everyone here was furious that my dad abdicated. Why else would they have been so harsh in his punishment? He was exiled with nothing but the shirt on his back.

  “Sure, I’ll pass along the message,” I say.

  She smiles. “Thank you. It looks like you come from a large family like ours. Are you close?”

  “Yeah.” I look down the line at my knucklehead brothers on their best behavior in their tuxes and smile. “They turned out all right.” We all work at my uncle’s company, Byrne Construction, so we’re always in each other’s faces.

  After the introductions, a servant shows us to our table, where we have a formal dinner with fancy china bearing the royal crest—a lion wearing a crown with the sea and a fish beneath. I recognize it from online research. When I was a kid, it used to give me a lift on a crap day to know I was secretly royal. Try telling your Brooklyn pal that you’re really a prince if you’d like a punch in the mouth. My brothers and I kept it close to our chests, but we stood taller, knowing it.

  A continuous parade of servants weaves through the ballroom, bearing covered silver dishes. The food is all fancy gourmet stuff like they serve at those foodie restaurants—caviar, seared tuna with seaweed salad, lobster, truffle mashed potatoes. I only know the specifics because the servant announces each dish before he lifts the lid with a flourish. I can only imagine the exorbitant cost for this reception with all the people here. There’s gotta be at least a hundred people chowing down.

  When we finish eating, the band plays a waltz for the bride and groom. They look like something out of a movie the way they dance, gazing into each other’s eyes. Sean raises an eyebrow at me. Yeah, yeah, ballroom dance in a ballroom. I guess you get forced into dance lessons when you’re royal. Glad I got to play sports instead. More waltzes follow as the bridal party joins in and then everyone else. We just sit back and watch. I consider taking a walk outside, but it’s cold and pitch-black. It’s like they have a thing against streetlights here. With the palace being at the top of the hill in the center of the island, I could accidentally wander off a cliff or something.

  After a while, people settle back in their seats for cake. I watch the happy couple feed each other cake, and get a twinge in my chest. I don’t even know them that well, but the love between them is clear as day. I wouldn’t mind having a woman look at me like that, like I’m her hero. Most women look at me with a flirty smile, which means nothing more than they’re hoping for a good time. I want more than that, which is probably why I haven’t pursued a woman in a while. I just got tired of the emptiness of only sharing a night or two. Like I’m some hot piece of meat, which I am, but still. I want something real. I grew up in a big happy family, and I always saw that for myself down the line. My parents are a great example of when it’s right. Problem is, I never met the right woman.