The Prince I Love to Hate: A Steamy Romantic Comedy (The Heir Affair Book 1) by Iris Morland (learn to read books TXT) 📗

It was all a lie for him.

Yet I had the terrible feeling that it wasn’t a lie for me.

Chapter Sixteen

“You have saved me, Your Highness.” Stefan bowed low. “My daughter will never forget this night. So, the information you require in exchange for your service tonight.”

As the taxi passed through the city, I gazed at the documents. The documents that included my father’s address. Or at the very least, his last known address.

And because my life was absurd, Connor Gallagher just so happened to be living in Dublin, Ireland.

What an asshole. He was right under our noses the entire time. 

“You don’t seem pleased,” said Olivier as we took the elevator to our hotel rooms.

I blinked. “What? Oh. No, I’m pleased. We got what we came for.” I folded up the papers, handing them to Olivier, but Olivier pressed them back into my grasp.

“This is your father, Niamh. Not mine. Aren’t you excited? Happy?”

At the moment, I only felt tired. Tonight had been so emotionally draining that I struggled to feel anything about this.

It should feel like a victory. We should be toasting each other and screaming in the streets that we’d gotten this.

Yet why did it feel like a failure? Or, worse, a mistake?

I pasted on a tight smile. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Once we return to Ireland, I’ll be more excited.” At Olivier’s skeptical expression, I widened my smile. “See? Happy. So happy.”

He said nothing, but based on the look on his face, he remained unconvinced.

I went to my room and lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I considered ordering a bottle of wine to drown my sorrows. Instead, I turned on the TV and watched reruns of The Golden Girls and ate some German snacks I’d picked up at the train station. Damn, I wish I could be as ruthless as Dorothy or Sophia.

I texted Rachel, mostly because I needed some commiseration. But how did I explain the situation I was in? I hadn’t updated her on the whole Prince Thing since I’d spoken to her back when I was in Dublin.

Sending her the longest text ever, I explained as much as I could. The text was so long that my phone had to cut it up into multiple messages. Okay, maybe I should’ve just called her.

My phone rang. Rachel. Oh shit, I hadn’t expected her to call me—

I answered. “Hi?”

“OH MY GOD!”

The conversation proceeded to vacillate between Rachel nearly screeching in my ear, to me attempting to explain, to Rachel going back to yelling at me. She wasn’t angry; she just tended to yell when crazy shit went down.

“YOU ASSHOLE. YOU KEPT THIS FROM ME?”

I had to hold my phone away from my ear. “I’ve been busy,” I hedged.

“BUSY, MY BIG TITS! I’M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU WHEN YOU COME TO NEW YORK.”

I wasn’t scared. Rachel had been threatening to strangle me since we’d first met. It was her way of expressing affection.

After Rachel had calmed down with some help from Maddie, I ended up spilling my veritable guts to them both. I admitted that I was starting to feel things for Olivier and that I hated myself for it.

Both women were silent for a long moment. Then Maddie piped up with, “Are you sure you know how he feels?”

“I mean, he says he’s attracted to me. He told me as much yesterday at the park. But beyond that…” I sighed. “Doubtful.”

Rachel harrumphed. “I think you’re going to have to put on your big girl panties—”

I groaned.

“—and just fucking ask him. Because you’re both grown-ass adults, and communication is a thing adults need to do.”

“We all know you hate the Big Misunderstanding plots,” said Maddie.

I could practically see Rachel throwing her hands up. “They just need to sit down and talk! It’s so stupid and contrived!”

I didn’t want to admit that Rachel was right, because it would mean admitting that I was too much of a coward to ask the question I wanted to ask. And besides, did I really know how I felt? Were my feelings growing, or was I just horny?

“I could be confusing it with lust, you know,” I said.

“True,” Rachel conceded. “Which is why my next suggestion is that you should really jump his bones.”

“I agree,” said Maddie. “Get that princely dick.”

“Oh my God.” I flopped onto the floor. “Did you really just say that to me?”

“Stop acting like a dumb virgin and just get some good fucking. I never took you for a weenie, Niamh,” said Rachel.

I sat up, my forehead creasing. “Excuse you, I am not a weenie. I might have ninety-nine problems, but by God, I have a fucking spine!”

Somebody clapped, probably Maddie. “This is so exciting!” she said.

The three of us talked some more, me promising to be brave and talk to Olivier, even though I wasn’t entirely certain I could do it. I probably was a big weenie.

I had just started watching another episode of The Golden Girls when there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, I found Olivier standing there, wearing a robe like he’d been about to go to bed.

“Are you sleeping?” he said.

“I think I’m still awake?” I tried to sound jokey, but Olivier didn’t laugh.

“Can I come in?” When I hesitated, he added, “We need to discuss our plans. For returning to Dublin, you know.”

Oh, of course. I moved aside, letting him come inside, before putting on my hoodie to cover up my bra-less upper torso. I might have itty bitty titties, but my tank top was so sheer that you could see my nipples through it. And I didn’t really need to seem that desperate right now.

“Do we need to fly straight there?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because I could use a day to just recharge.”

“I’d rather not. It would be better to go there straight away, because the address Stefan gave us might not, in fact, be your father’s current address. That would