Riled Reign (Royal Reflections – Prequel) Read Online Aleatha Romig

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)

Demanding and aloof, the prince of Molave is the heir apparent to the sovereign state. Laden with secrets and responsibility, the future king has become a liability. After five years of marriage, even Princess Lucille is leery of her husband’s next move. To what lengths will the crown go to save the future of Molave?

Princess Lucille’s fairy tale dream has turned into a nightmare.
Is there hope for her marriage, her adopted country, and the future?
As the curtain rises in the production of life, not everyone is as they appear. As Lucille struggles, she no longer knows what is real and what is merely a reflection.

From bestselling author Aleatha Romig comes a brand-new contemporary romantic-suspense series, Royal Reflections, set in the world of the royal elite, where things are not as they appear.



“Your Highness, it’s nearly time,” Lady Mary Buckingham said, opening the door and slipping into my private study aboard the royal jet. London, our next stop, was the third on our current Eurasia tour.

With nothing more than my mistress’s address, my heart rate spiked, my mouth dried, and my hands became clammy. It wasn’t Lady Buckingham who incited the visceral response; it was what her announcement signified. The plane was about to land, and in less than an hour, I’d be paraded around London on the arm of my husband, Roman Godfrey, the Duke of Monovia and crown prince of Molave.

To think that at one time, I’d been honored to be in the royal family’s favor. Naively, I’d believed the fairy tales of princes and princesses. As the daughter of a baroness and an American politician, I wasn’t unaccustomed to the finer things in life. I’d grown up in the lap of luxury in a three-story mansion within a building of mansions on the northern end of Midtown Manhattan, our windows overlooking Central Park. I attended the best private schools in the city and graduated with honors from Columbia University. My plans for my future included the work my mother loved—that of her charities and philanthropic events. I imagined helping others through my own efforts.

While I’d always been open to leaving the East Coast, I never dreamed of moving away from my home country.

The principality of Molave was a sovereign city-state on the southern shore of Norway. While my husband’s country was relatively small in landmass, it was incredibly rich in natural resources—iron ore, copper, lead, zinc, and titanium to name a few. Over the past few centuries, generations of the Godfreys have ruled Molave and benefited from its assets.

I first met Roman Godfrey at one of my mother’s philanthropic events. High atop the New York skyline in a swanky rooftop bar, our encounter resembled a choreographed movie. With the lights of the city as the backdrop, our gazes met from across the room. Conversations around us dimmed as the lights faded. Tall and handsome, Roman stole my breath and left me stirred in a way I couldn’t describe. His dark gaze swept over me as if my designer gown was invisible. His deep timbre and unique accent were sparks on flint. His rich cologne clouded my judgment.

In his presence flames ignited within me.

By the time Roman possessively took my cheek in his grasp, bringing my lips to his, there was an outright blaze. As we kissed, there was much I didn’t know about him, including his title, and yet as I tasted the whiskey on his lips, I was intrigued.

When he asked to see me again, I agreed.

Little did I know that the meeting had actually been choreographed—arranged by my father and King Theodore of Molave, Roman’s father. Without my input, a deal had been brokered. The king and a politician predetermined that I had the qualities compatible with the future king’s only unmet need—a wife. I fit the bill: well-bred, well-educated, my own family wealth, and what some considered to be beauty.

Being that Roman Godfrey was nearing his fortieth birthday, he needed to wed.

Molave was also in need of allies within the United States. A congressman and heiress were the answer.

During Roman’s and my whirlwind courtship, I was too infatuated with the man whose eyes I could become lost in to heed the warning bells. Covering the clapper in lamb’s wool, I chose to keep those bells from ringing.

Roman’s intensity for life should have frightened me. Instead, it invigorated me. Soaring through the air in his two-seater sailplane created a rush unlike any other. His frequent disappearances came with explainable excuses. His ability to disappear while in plain sight sent chills through me that I learned to ignore.

When I voiced my concerns, I was reassured that marriage and family would help the prince overcome his anxiety.

Roman’s quickness to anger should have been a waving red flag. Of course, at that time I equated his mood swings with difficult dealings regarding affairs of state.