Some fairy tales start after midnight. The crown prince and I have nothing in common. He's a rugged, battle-hardened soldier who spent four years in the Royal Guard, an elite military unit. I met the King and Queen for the first time wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. He's the serious, quiet, straight-laced heir to the throne, and I accidentally got drunk at a formal dinner. But there's the way he looks at me, eyes blazing with hunger. Like he knows every dirty thought I've had about him - and he likes them. There's the way my pulse skyrockets every time his hand brushes mine. I'm the ambassador's daughter. I know better than to mess around with a foreign head of state. But I don't know how long I can resist. Not all princes are charming. I spent years in the Royal Guard, our most elite military unit, fighting like hell so I could rule one day - not so I could give my father an heir with some well-bred rich girl. I have a f*cking country to run. My love life can take a back seat. It's not like I've ever met a girl I had to have. Until her. The ambassador's daughter. She's so... American. Lowborn, brash, wildly unsuitable... and gorgeous. I'm disciplined, tough as hell, and I don't f*ck around. But I can't stop thinking about the way she laughs, about how she might taste. My father's threatening to strip me of my title if I touch her, but she makes me want to break every one of my own rules. F*ck titles. F*ck rules. F*ck my father's threats. I want her. I need her. She's mine.