Royal Disaster: Royal Disaster, #1

By Renna Peak and Ember Casey

Sophia is the youngest daughter of the royal family of Montovia. While her older brothers have found themselves in scandal after scandal over the years, she’s mostly stayed out of trouble.

Until now.

Pax Donovan is a rock god. His band is about to release the riskiest album of their career, and he won’t let anything distract him from taking over the music world.

Until he meets her.

From the moment Sophia and Pax meet, sparks fly. They both know this is a bad idea, but it doesn’t matter.

He’s trouble for her.

She’s trouble for him.

This might end in disaster—but there are some things you just can’t deny.
 

This is Part One of a six-part contemporary romance serial by bestselling authors Renna Peak and Ember Casey. This episode ends with a cliffhanger.

New to the Royal Heartbreakers books?
Each series contains a complete romance story and can be read on its own, but the following is the chronological order of our books:

Royal Heartbreaker series (Prince Leopold + Eleanor Parker)
Royal Mistake series (Prince Andrew + Victoria Simpson) 
Royal Arrangement series (Prince William + Princess Justine)
Royal Wedding Fiasco (special release)
Royal Disaster series (Princess Sophia + Pax Donovan)
Royal Escape series (coming soon!)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Oct 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386302735

Book preview

Sophia

Isuppose it’s nothing new, but my brother is being ridiculous .

His Royal Highness, Prince Andrew, heir to the throne of Montovia and major pain in my ass, is back to his stuffy ways after his wedding. Apparently, he went back to his old self right after he and his new wife returned from the honeymoon. He’s always taken his role as the heir very seriously, but this is something altogether different from what I’ve seen of him in the past.

It’s like I’m watching something from a horror movie—the part right before the man goes insane and begins chopping at people with a machete. Not that I think my brother will actually murder anyone, but the rage in his eyes is obvious.

There’s more than a little discomfort in my stomach at understanding that this time his rage seems very much directed at his new wife. But I have to admire the resilience of my new sister, Victoria. She’s glaring at my brother as much as he’s glaring at her. I just hate being in the middle of this argument. Andrew and Victoria have had a tough time of it, and nothing about their relationship has been easy. But this…this seems to be taking things to a whole new level.

Victoria lifts her chin in defiance. You’re not talking me out of it.

"You are not going back to work. You are a princess now. You have duties here—"

"And what duties are those? Standing by your side while you do your duties? That’s hardly work, Andrew. She glances over at me before looking back up at her husband. I don’t think—"

You are now a representative of the country of Montovia. I’ll not have you working for that rag—

"You do not get to dictate my life, Your Highness. I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do for your charities. I’ll still volunteer at the school. I won’t even—"

"You have duties. His gaze darts to mine. Tell her, Sophia."

I’m sure my eldest brother means well, but surely he knows that the duties of his four younger siblings don’t entail much. After all, ours is one of the smallest countries in central Europe. It isn’t as though we who aren’t the heirs have much in the way of foreign diplomacy to attend to.

Oh yes, you’ll have duties, Victoria. I nod, trying to feign excitement. "My most exciting duty last year was cutting the ribbon at a shopping mall opening. Oh, wait. No, that wasn’t it. It was definitely choosing the prizewinning flower bouquet at the Salt Festival—"

You have duties other than those, Sophia. And representing our family is an honor.

It is. I nod at him, trying to give him my most hopeful smile. I’m not sure how I came to be roped into this conversation, anyway. Of course it’s an honor.

There, you see? He cocks his head at his new wife. "It’s an honor—"

I never said it wasn’t an honor, Andrew. I—

Then how can you go back to work at a tabloid, Victoria? How could you betray our family?

"I’m not going to betray anyone, Andrew. She almost growls the words. How many times do I have to say that I’m not going to write any stories about this family? I’ve already told Celebrity Spark that the royal family is off limits—I’m only writing for their music special. I swear to God. What else do I need to do to convince you?"

"Princesses don’t work. How many times do I need to tell you?"

She groans and lifts her gaze skyward. "I can’t believe you’re being this hard-headed about it. It’s one special. One. I’ll be gone a week, if that. She drops her gaze back to his. I’m only going to do an interview with Pax Donovan. And maybe with his bandmates. That’s it. It’s one interview."

I lift a brow, though neither of them is paying attention to me. I know exactly which band Victoria is talking about. Twisted Throne is one of the most popular rock bands out there—and Pax Donovan is almost royalty himself, at least in the music industry.

"An interview anyone could do. He pauses, and I swear his glare could bore a hole right through her. And it is highly inappropriate for a married woman to be alone with some rock star—"

Then I’ll take Sophia with me. She turns her gaze to mine. You want to come?

I can barely contain my grin. Meeting Pax Donovan? I don’t mind if I do… I—

"My sister will not be going anywhere. He turns to glare at me for a moment. Will you, Sophia?"

It seems I’m not going to be allowed to get a word out during this argument. I—

"And why do you get to decide for her? And why couldn’t she work if she wanted to? Victoria turns to me again. I could use an assistant for the week, Sophia. She turns again to glare at her husband. A paid assistant. She slides her gaze back to mine. What do you say?"

Andrew growls his words. I say I’ll have the both of you locked in the dungeon—

I cut him off with a laugh. And if the dungeons still existed, Brother, that might be an effective threat. I can’t help but chuckle. You’re both ridiculous, you know that, right? I shake my head as I look over at my brother. But you, Andrew, are the most ridiculous of all. You really believe your wife would have any interest in a rock star like Pax Donovan? I’m much more in the demographic of his fan base, and I know he never takes interviews. If he’s allowed Victoria one, that’s a huge thing for her. It’s a huge thing for both of them.

Andrew works his jaw several times. If I know my brother, he’s trying to cover for himself when he knows he’s wrong.

Victoria smiles, almost as though she knows she’s won the argument already. It’s one interview, Andrew. It’s hardly worth fighting over. And Sophia is right… Victoria glances at me. "He’s never granted an interview to anyone. And I’m honored that Celebrity Spark asked for me to do it."

He glares at her for a moment, then turns to glare at me for another. He finally lets out a long huff of a breath. "Fine. But this is a one-time only thing. I’ll not have you flitting about the globe, chasing celebrities. And if I so much as suspect that you’re going to make this a full-time—"

You’ll what? Her lips turn into a playful grin. Deport me?

Color rises in my brother’s cheeks. He once had Victoria deported from Montovia, and he clearly hasn’t completely forgiven himself for it. And rightfully not. My brother can be a regular prick at times, and that was certainly one of those moments.

He works his jaw again. Fine. I trust you. He glances over at me. But you will bring Sophia. And you won’t let her out of your sight.

I roll my eyes at him. I may be the youngest of the five Montovian royal children, but I’m hardly a child. I think I can take care of myself, Brother.

He growls, turning his gaze back to Victoria. That is my only condition.

She smiles at him before turning to me with a wink he can’t see. I think Sophia and I can both agree to that.

Pax

Sunlight filters in through my bedroom window, warming my face. My head throbs, and I’d do anything for a few more hours of sleep, but fuck me if I’m going to get any more now. Insomnia’s a bitch. You’d think I’d be used to it after thirty-one years, but some things are always shitty, no matter how long you live with them .

I roll over, fumbling for my cell on the shelf above the bed. Beside me, a warm, soft body shifts and murmurs softly in her sleep. I frown, trying to remember her name, but all my memories of last night are lost in the haze left behind by whatever whiskey I was drinking. I don’t even recognize her. She’s not one of our usual groupies, but that’s a good thing—that means she’ll probably be out of my life fairly quickly.

My phone says it’s almost noon. That means I’ve got two hours before the photo shoot Mick set up for us this afternoon. That’s at least time to grab something to eat. And to shower—one sniff of my armpit tells me I need one. Bad.

I stumble out of bed and shuffle toward the bathroom, my phone in hand. Halfway there, it buzzes. Mick’s calling.

Don’t worry, I’m up, I tell him as I shove the phone under my ear.

You sound like a fucking mess, he says.

I’m about to fix that. Hopping in the shower right now.

Make it a quick one. I need you down here in an hour.

I stifle a yawn. What the hell for?

"I had to reschedule that Celebrity Spark interview. Moved it up to today."

I thought you said we didn’t have to do any interviews? I groan as I turn on the shower.

"I said you didn’t have to do any except for this one for Celebrity Spark. You need to do this, Pax. The label’s already worried about the new sound—"

And we need all the good PR we can get if we want this album to sell. I know, I know. I run my fingers under the stream of water, testing the temperature. I’ll be there, don’t worry.

Good. And Pax?

Hm?

Thanks for the trampoline for Emma. She loved it.

I knew she would, I say. Growing up with three younger sisters has made me something of an expert when it comes to birthday gifts for friends’ daughters. I’ll see you in an hour.

In fact, it only takes me forty-five minutes to shower, dress, drink some coffee, get last night’s guest out of my bed, and be on my way to the studio for the shoot. I hate interviews—they’re tedious at best, invasive at worst—but Mick is right. Twisted Throne needs this. We decided to try something different this time around. Our label wanted something like our last two albums—both of which went platinum—but we couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. We need to evolve, to push boundaries, and we can’t do that by recycling the exact same sound we’ve already played to death. The songs we’ve cut over the past few months are the best we’ve ever done, in my opinion. But labels like things they know. Things they can guarantee will be successful. They don’t like when their musicians actually begin to give a damn about their music. It’s too fucking risky for them, apparently.

I’ll do whatever it takes to make this album successful. Even deal with some simpering celebrity reporter for an hour if I have to.

Mick is waiting for me at the door. He looks me up and down, taking in my clean black T-shirt and dark jeans and giving a nod of approval. I guess I look a lot less hungover than I feel.

This way, he says with a jerk of his chin. They want to get an interview with you first, then a few behind-the-scenes shots of the photo shoot, then maybe they’ll talk to the others afterward.

The other guys aren’t here yet?

Charlie’s on his way. And Rider is trying to track down Jameson. What the hell did the four of you get up to last night?

You don’t want to know, I mutter. I can’t even remember most of it. I know there was a bar. And then a strip club. And then…who the fuck knows? It’s probably better that I blacked out. It’s a miracle that none of us ended up in jail this time.

"Celebrity Spark is mostly interested in you, anyway, Mick tells me, leading me down a corridor. You’re the face, after all. And this whole new ‘direction’ for Twisted Throne is your vision."

As long as they don’t make me out to be some moody fucking artist or something.

Mick smirks. "Then I suggest you don’t be