My name is Aiden Valerius Sokolov. Future king of Ravenskard. Sole heir to a throne carved out of centuries-old power and the kind of money that makes politicians obedient. My bloodline drips with old money and older influence—eight generations of royalty who’ve ruled without ever asking permission. I’ve been raised in castles, not houses. My playground was marble corridors, private gardens, and gold-trimmed ballrooms.

I was educated at the most elite private academies in the world—handpicked by my father’s advisors. Top of my class every year. Perfect GPA. Fluent in twelve languages, each spoken with the accent of a native. I learned fencing before I learned multiplication. I can swim across the English Channel, outshoot an Olympic marksman, fly a helicopter, dismantle a bomb, and checkmate a grandmaster blindfolded.

I am, in short, the perfect heir. And a flawless menace.

Because I’m also the best damn playboy the European elite have ever had the misfortune of knowing. Every girl I’ve ever wanted has been mine—except her.

She was my one unsolved problem. My rival. The daughter of my father’s closest friend, born into a family that could rival ours in wealth and pedigree. A golden girl with a diamond spine. When she joined my school, I knew immediately she’d be trouble. She matched me in every subject, challenged me in debates, and looked me dead in the eye like she could see through my soul and still find me unimpressive.

Naturally, I made it my mission to beat her. We went from verbal sparring to throwing pens, books—hell, even a chessboard once. I sabotaged her assignments so I’d stay on top. She retaliated twice as hard. It was war.

But then came finals. I beat her by two points—solving the extra-credit problems so advanced they might as well have been written by Einstein himself. That same night, she broke into my room with murder in her eyes. We nearly killed each other. Almost. Because somewhere between shoving and snarling, our mouths crashed together, and the rest was a blur of heat, teeth, and hands.

We never spoke about it again. Weeks later, I left for Harvard Law. She went to Oxford. Four years, no contact. Not even a text.

And now… I’m back. Degree in hand. Crown within reach. My father decided to throw a welcome-home party fit for a king-to-be.

I was making polite conversation with a cluster of ministers when it hit me—her scent. Crisp apples and danger. My head snapped up, scanning the crowd until I saw her.

She’d grown into every inch of her beauty. Red satin clinging to curves that could start wars, her lips painted the same shade, her gaze steady and sharp. My blood heated instantly.

So I did the only thing a man like me would do—walked straight to her, let my eyes unapologetically travel from head to toe, and smirked.

“Well, well… look who finally decided to haunt me in person instead of my dreams. Four years, princess… and you’re still every bad decision I’d make twice.”