The Prince I Love to Hate: A Steamy Romantic Comedy (The Heir Affair Book 1) by Iris Morland (book club recommendations txt) 📕

“What other snacks did you buy?” said Olivier suddenly.

I emptied my hoodie pocket where I’d stashed the goods. Olivier snorted when I showed him my bounty. “Did you buy everything available?”

“Pretty much. Hey, I’m hungry. I didn’t eat much last night.”

Olivier picked out a bag of camembert chips, his expression softening. “I used to eat these all the time as a kid. I haven’t had them in years.”

“Well, now I’m extra glad I bought them.”

Olivier took out a chip, and we ate in companionable silence. But I wasn’t about to let the tidbit about his father go to waste. “So what did your father have to say?”

“He wants me to return home.”

“Why?”

Olivier shook his head. “He thinks this is a fool’s errand.”

“You told him what you were doing?”

Olivier hesitated. “In a sense.”

“Okay, it sounds like you need to explain that one.”

“He knew I wanted to find Mother’s clock. He doesn’t know, though, that I was the one who sold it all those years ago. Mother didn’t want him to know, because he’d be angry with me. So he believes she was the one who sold it.”

“Was he angry at your mother for doing that?”

“My mother says he was hurt, but not as hurt as he would be if he discovered I’d sold it to pay off gambling debts I’d accrued. My father loathes gambling.” Olivier wiped his hands on a napkin, all class while I was licking my fingers like a total animal. “Apparently, Father had a close friend who became addicted to gambling, to the point that his friend stole from him.”

I winced. “Ouch. Yeah, I can see why he’d be pissed at you.”

“So he thinks this is just me wasting time instead of taking on more duties as a prince. Even worse, he’s pressuring me to marry soon.”

My eyes bugged out. “Soon? Like how soon?”

“Within the next year.”

I stopped eating at that admission. “But you’re not even thirty. What’s the rush?”

“He thinks marriage will force me to settle down into the role. A family would tie me down most effectively.”

“Well, that’s a depressing way to put it. And extremely old-fashioned. Now I’m expecting your father to withhold your inheritance until you father an heir.”

Olivier’s lips twitched. “You aren’t completely wrong.”

I scrunched up my nose. “Ugh, gross.”

At that, Olivier cocked his head to the side. “Are you objecting to marriage and children in general or the idea of marriage and children with me?”

Shit, I’d walked into that trap. “Neither. Both.” I forced my brain to stop freaking out. “I mean, I’m objecting to the idea that you’re just some means to an end. That what you want doesn’t matter.”

“What I want doesn’t matter.” There was no bitterness to the words. Simply a statement of fact. “When you’re born into such great privilege, you’re also tasked with the responsibility attached to it. What I want isn’t nearly as important as continuing the Valady line.”

I felt like I was in some nineteenth-century novel, hearing Olivier speak of heirs and lineage.

“So what happens if you decide to go AWOL?” I asked. “Does your father lock you in the dungeon and throw away the key?”

“That’s what marriage is for.”

That was a depressing statement. Feeling frustrated on his behalf, I pressed, “But what if you go off and do what you want? Is that against the law?”

“Of course not, but that would mean disappointing and hurting my family. My father would be devastated.” Olivier looked stricken and even angry. “He already expects me to fail. I’m not going to try to fulfill his low expectations of me.”

The words were surprisingly bitter. Leaning forward, I said, “I can’t imagine he thinks badly of you.”

“How would you know?” The words were harsh, making me rear back. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I scowled at him and crossed my arms. “Geez, sorry I said anything,” I said sarcastically. “Return to your scheduled moping and I’ll just eat my snacks.”

It took a few minutes, but Olivier finally said softly, “Apologies. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustration on you.”

I was still offended, but I could accept a sincere apology when I heard one. “You’re forgiven, but only if you go buy me more of these cookies. That’s my demand.”

Rising from his seat before bowing, he said, “My lady’s wish is my command.”

Chapter Fourteen

My head rested against the warm grass. I groaned, stretching, feeling the rays of the sun on my face. I didn’t want to wake up. It smelled so good, and it was so deliciously warm.

Then I heard someone call my name. “Niamh,” the voice said. It repeated my name, more forcefully this time. “Niamh.”

I opened my eyes. Olivier was lightly shaking me awake, and I realized in a flash that I’d fallen asleep with my head against his shoulder. And to make things even worse, I’d proceeded to drool all over his sleeve.

“We’re arriving in Frankfurt,” said Olivier. “Wake up.”

“I’m awake, I’m awake.” I grimaced at the wet spot on his jacket, but he hadn’t yet noticed it. I wiped my mouth of any remaining drool. Geez, could I be any less sexy?

Olivier pulled at the arm of his jacket. Then he raised an eyebrow at me. “Left me a gift, did you?”

I sank down into my seat. “Sorry. I don’t usually drool.”

He took off his jacket and stuffed it into his bag. “That jacket cost me over a thousand euro, you know.”

I blanched. “Are you serious? Shit, I’ll pay for dry cleaning—”

When he began to laugh, I realized he’d been messing with me. “The look on your face…” He kept laughing.

I wished I’d punched him in my sleep. What an asshole. “Why are you the worst person ever? Ugh, why did I agree to this stupid trip to begin with?”

“Because you can’t speak French and you needed my money?”

“Okay, nobody needed you to answer.”

He just chuckled. When we arrived in Frankfurt, we got off the train and boarded the one to Berlin while saying very little to each other