you woke up, naked, in a strangers bed. said stranger was lying next to you, pretty face hidden in the pillows as he sleeps peacefully. your head is pounding as the events that occurred last night come rushing back to the front of your brain.

you groan, lying back against the pillows. the beautiful man next to you flutters his eyes open and looks up at you, smiling.

“good morning…” the monegasque mumbles as he tries to climb on top of you for cuddles. you look around his bedroom, photos of his dog are scattered around in beautiful frames, the house is clean, very minimalistic, and nothing like your home. the air conditioning is on nearly full blast to cool you both down in the warm country that is monaco.

as you recall how you ended up in this situation you realise you slept with charles leclerc last night, which makes you feel gross. you’ve heard the horror stories of him cheating on his girlfriends, you vowed to never sleep with a man like that. yet here you are. lying in bed next to the prince of monaco. the brattiest royal in the world. the man who’s been given anything he wants since the day he was conceived. his mother tends to his every wish, and the country adore him, though you’re unsure why.