Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
DADDY’S PRINCESS: The Horsemen MC copyright 2017 by Sophia Gray. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
***
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Contents
DADDY’S PRINCESS: The Horsemen MC
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
[Bonus Novel] BOUNTY: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Giustini Family Mafia)
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Also by Sophia Gray
FILLED: Berserkers MC
BOUNTY: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Giustini Family Mafia)
Prize: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance
MINE: Fury Riders MC
SINS: Devil’s Horns MC
OBEY: A Dark Romance
DENY: A Dark Romance
HEAT: A Dark Romance
DADDY’S PRINCESS: The Horsemen MC
By Sophia Gray
The princess has my c*ck in her mouth and my baby in her belly.
I’d had hundreds of girls before her.
But she’d never had a man – until I came along.
She’s never had a lot of things, in fact: no pleasure, no pain…and no baby.
Looks like I’m going to change all that.
I was a walking mistake for a girl like her.
She should have stayed the hell away.
But how could she?
I’m six and a half feet of muscle and steel.
Inky tattoos crawl over my skin like snakes – beckoning, teasing, seducing.
She never had a f*cking choice.
The minute she stepped into that bar, she was mine.
She stuck out like a sore thumb.
A princess in a biker bar?
Sounds like the start of a bad joke.
But this was more like the start of a wicked night.
I took her home, stripped her bare, made her beg for my taste and my seed.
And when she’d said “please” enough, I let her have it.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
When it was done, I expected never to see her again.
Turns out, that was dead wrong.
Victoria wasn’t just any girl.
She was royalty – true royalty.
And now she’s got a biker’s baby in her stomach.
Chapter 1
The room is small and dark, with fading paint on the walls and dying petunias in a vase on the desk. By some miracle, Victoria has been able to convince her mother and father to let her stay the night in a room of her own. They're right across from Victoria, of course, but this is still far better than trying to sleep with their gazes always on her.
A fresh set of sheets has just been put on the bed. They smell like detergent, chemical and floral. When she sits, the springs creak in protest. It's disturbing because she's far from overweight. In fact, even by her standards, she could put on a few more pounds.
It's the stress that's done it, Victoria's certain.
Her appetite has all but vanished. It's almost impossible to get herself to eat right now, no matter how lavish the meals the chefs prepare may be.
Someone knocks on the door. It's her mother, no doubt—the main source of her current stress. A quick glance around proves that the room is in no worse a state of disarray than when Victoria first walked in, not that it's been very long. They've only just finished checking in about ten minutes ago. All the same, she puts on her best painted smile and says, “Come in, Mother. What can I get for you?”
Queen Gabriella Moreau is an imposing figure, even while clad only in her dressing gown. The dark green fabric makes her hair stand out much more than usual, thi
s coifed-up thing that always seems to be in a state of perfection. “There you are,” she says, like Victoria might have been somewhere else. “I was hoping you would still be awake. Victoria, why haven't you changed yet?”
“I'm going to get a shower.”
“Here?”
“Yes, Mother. I'm certain the showers aren't going to kill me.” Victoria rolls her eyes, hoping the smile on her lips lessens the comment.
Gabriella shakes her head. “It's risky business, Victoria. You know that. Traveling—”
“Is a privilege, not a gift.” The quote rolls easily off of her tongue. Victoria has heard her mother say it often enough in the last few months, since they started this strange tour through the United States.
“Mother. I'm not having this conversation with you right now!”
“Now is the perfect time! With the flight delayed, we have no place to be. Victoria, you need to listen to me. This is important. It's not just your future, Victoria. It's about the future of Vertsea as a whole! This isn't something to play with. It's not just a game!”
She stands up quickly. The hem of her pale blue skirt flutters around her ankles. Victoria folds her arms over her chest and glowers at Gabriella. “We're not having this conversation right now!”
“If not now, when?” Gabriella sighs. “You never sit down and listen to me, Victoria! I'm not doing this to upset you. I just need you to understand!”
“You need me to understand? Listen to yourself, Mother! I'm not going to marry Gaspard!”
“He's a good man!”
“I wouldn't know! I've never met him before,” Victoria counters viciously. The words fall from her mouth like dripping venom, like something she's never wanted to admit before. “I refuse to be like you and Father! I'm not going to fall into a loveless marriage!”
Flesh strikes flesh. Gabriella looks livid. Her palm leaves a bright red smear on Victoria’s burning cheek.
Victoria's hand flies up, pressing against the stinging flesh. “You...hit me.”
“Stay your tongue,” hisses Gabriella. “You shall not speak to me like that. Is that understood? Whatever thought you have in your mind, get rid of it. I married your father for the good of our people, and you're going to do the same. It isn't fun, Victoria, but it's our duty.”
The slap wasn't particularly hard, but it still leaves Victoria's entire body burning. She shakes her head and draws in a deep breath. “Get out.”
Her words strike something deep inside of Victoria. Fear isn't foreign to the young woman. She's a princess—a ruler—the daughter of Vertsea's royal family. Victoria lives each day worrying about the next; there's no way to take a step without being watched, no way to live without being guided.
Gabriella shakes her head. “You need to get your head on straight, Victoria. When we return home, you will accept Gaspard's proposal.”
I won't.
The words don't actually leave Victoria's mouth, but she thinks them viciously. They stare each other down for a few more moments, but finally Gabriella turns away. “Goodnight, Victoria.”
Victoria stays quiet. Then, when she's sure her mother isn't about to come back, she turns around and grabs her purse. “I'll show her. No one is going to be dictating my life. I'm not going to marry him!”
She doesn't know what she's going to do, but she knows she cannot stay here any longer. Tonight, Victoria is going to turn around and take her life into her own hands.
# # #
“Another round, Meg!”
Meg, the bartender, snorts. “Get your head on straight, Matthew. You've been here less than an hour. Do you really want to get that pissed?”
“Just get me another beer,” grumbles Matthew impatiently. “I already told you, it's been a rough day.”
“It's three in the morning,” warns Meg, even as she pulls another lukewarm beer out from behind the counter. “I'm going to have to give last call soon.”
“I'll leave when you do.”
“Home?”
Matthew shrugs. He cracks open the beer and takes a swig. “Or the Blank Tile. They have a later final call.”
Meg gives him a disapproving look. They've been friends since childhood. It's hard not to keep an eye on each other, especially on days like this. “You should go home, Matt.”
“I don't want to go home,” snaps Matt. “I want to get so drunk that I don't remember anything that has happened in the last five years.”
Meg sighs. The bar is almost completely empty. She drapes herself over the counter, next to Matthew's drink. “Hun, it's time you got over them.”
“I did! I thought I was!” Matt rakes a hand through his messy black hair. “But seeing them today...Seeing her, in that dress…”
“Did she say anything?”
“She didn't have to. I could see it in Emily's face. She and Killian, they're in it for the long haul.” Matthew shakes his head. “I just...it still hurts. When Emily cheated on me, when she got with Killian, I thought my whole world was about to break.”
“You still think that?”
“I do now. I can’t believe they're getting married!”
The bell above the front door chimes. Meg glances that way, then does a double-take. The woman that just entered the bar is nothing like her usual customers, with their leather-clad thighs and windswept hair. This woman looks like she just stepped out of a taxi and into a different world, with pale skin that looks almost sickly in the yellow bar light and blonde hair so pale it appears almost white.
Heels clack against the ground every time she takes a step. A pale blue skirt hangs about her legs, riddled with intricate stitching, these strange loops that never seem to end. A pale cream jacket has been shrugged over her shoulders, and she clutches tight to a designer handbag.
“Okay, Matt. You do what you need to do. It's not like anything I'm going to say will change your mind.” Meg sighs and pushes herself up off the counter. She taps her friend on the shoulder. “But maybe something she says will?”
Matt blinks and turns on his stool so he can watch the newcomer. She sways her way through the bar, exuding the air of someone that doesn't belong here. “Take your bets. Is she really lost or really drunk?”
“Maybe she's like you,” says Meg. “Maybe she's out here to get real drunk. Hey, sweetheart! Go on and tell me what you want. I'll be right over with it.”
The woman looks startled, like she wasn't expecting to be addressed. Before she can answer, one of the regulars, Richy, says, “Give her something good. It can go on my tab!”
Chapter 2
The bar is small and dark, but this is exactly what Victoria is looking for right now. Her mother would simply die to know she is out here, drinking with strangers, eating grease-laden fries that someone prepared in a backroom kitchen. Someone has just turned on the jukebox. The song is loud, upbeat, and almost blaring.
Love is a burnin' thing,
And it makes a fiery ring
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire.
The drink is strong and bitter, but she's determined to ignore the woes. It's just one night, after all. One night and then she's back to the humdrum woes of her regular schedule. Someone left a pen laying on the floor. Victoria swipes it and is idly scratching the design for a high couture gown onto a crumpled-up napkin.
It's a pretty design, something she's drawn again and again.
Victoria is certain, if she only had the right credentials, she could get someone to buy the design. Of course, that's just another source of her distress. The thought of her mother and their many arguments never fails to sour her stomach.
She ignores the fries in favor of downing another one of the small glasses. It makes her head spin, makes her tongue feel heavy.
Suddenly, a broad-shouldered man sits down across from her. Victoria blinks and gives him a foggy smile. “Hello
. Can I help you?”
“I think that you can,” says the man. He has a heavy Irish brogue. A thick, red beard hangs from his chin. When he leans across the table, Victoria catches a strong whiff of whiskey and sweat. “You come here with someone?”
“No! Actually, I came here to get away from someone. Why ever do you ask?”
“Just wondering, doll. Say, who're you trying to get away from? A boyfriend?”
Victoria shakes her head. She's not used to being careful with whom she speaks to. Usually, her parents have to give the okay first. As such, even if the alcohol weren’t making her mind buzz and chirp, she wouldn't think to be careful. “My mother, actually. I'm so tired of her trying to rule my life!”
The man laughs. “Aren't we all? You can call me Richy.”
He holds out his hand. Victoria takes it, only to find herself pulled partway across the table. “Um, what are you doing?”
He grins at her, crooked and dark. “I just wanted to get a better look at your pretty face.”
“Please let go. You're starting to hurt me.” Victoria tries to pull back but she cannot. “I said let go!”
“I'm not doing anything wrong,” says Richy. “I'm just looking. Ain't nothing wrong with that. Why, I'd even be taking it as a compliment, if I were you.”