Royal Disaster

I didn't want to be king.
I'd rather continue bedding half of Europe while my personal protection detail chased me from bed to bed.

The last thing she wanted was to be queen.
She'd rather stick her hands in piles of dirt than wear heels and couture dresses that made her look like a goddess.

So what is she doing in my sex club about to give up the one thing promised to me?
We are bound for disaster.
A royal disaster.