Royally Bad by Lee Savino

Author:Lee Savino [Savino, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silverwood Press

The Kid’s Olympics is at the stadium downtown. We leave the mansion at eight a.m., in a convoy of Escalades. Theo opted to ride with me. I frown at my phone the whole time, scrolling through newsfeeds, but I feel him watching.

The dirt on Pepper Spice Mina found yesterday has done its work, deflecting attention from Theo. Between his demure statement (crafted by me) and his positive photo op at the skate park, he’s looking a lot better in the news. People are willing to forgive a rich, handsome guy and his sexual exploits a lot faster than they would anyone else.

Sexist, but it’s true.

“We’re here,” Evans announces when we pull up to the stadium.

“No press,” Theo mouths as we walk in, and I nod.

He accepts a complimentary volunteer shirt, and my hand itches to grab my phone, take a picture, and send it to my friend at Good News, America.

Instead, I accept a shirt as well, and plunge in.

The day whirls by. At one point, Evans calls me over to tell me the Wall Street Journal wants to do a write up of Theo’s dad and Kensington, Inc. and they want a quote from Theo.

“Tell them we’re preparing for an audience with the Queen, and that we’ll have something to them by Friday.” I can only hope Theo will commit to cleaning up his act by then. At least today he seems to be having fun. The kids flocking him don’t bother him at all. Plenty of parents are here, too, and ask for pictures. Apparently, Theo’s skateboarding prowess is enough to make him popular with the kids, and his status as a scandalous public figure—on level with the Kardashians—is enough to make him a minor celebrity with the adults.

And Theo? He just hangs out with the kids, and enjoys himself. Biceps flexing as he lifts one up to make a slam dunk. Tattoos peeking out from under the volunteer shirt he wears. Sexy smile drawing yoga-pant wearing moms like flies to honey. And these women’s yoga pants are skin tight.

“I thought you weren’t doing pictures,” I grouse to him at lunch.

“I said no press. I don’t care if the kids want pictures.” He offers me his water bottle. I shake my head and he caps it. “Why, you jealous?”

“No.”

He throws an arm around me. I push at him, trying to get free, but he’s too strong. His manly scent washes over me, sexy cologne mixed with the smell of the popcorn they sell at the stadium. He smells like a teenager on a first date.

My cheeks heat, remembering how he held me all night. And then gave me an orgasm.

“Hey,” he calls to his new ten-year-old buddies. “Take a picture of us?”

“Theo—”

“Smile,” he orders, so I do.

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