Royally Bad

Okay, let’s talk about Kain Badd—because *wow*, does Jeremy York make him impossible to resist. I went into *Royally Bad* expecting a standard playboy-prince redemption arc, but York’s performance turns Kain into something rarer: a man who’s *aware* he’s terrible and leans into it with the confidence of a golden retriever who just ate your last slice of pizza. His voice is all warm honey and mischief, dipping into this fake-innocent tone when he’s lying (which is often) that had me laughing out loud during my commute. Kendall Taylor’s Sammy, meanwhile, is the perfect counterbalance—her delivery is so deliciously *over* his nonsense, but you can hear the cracks in her armor every time Kain pulls one of his stunts. Their back-and-forth in the scene where she’s trying to wrangle him out of a nightclub? *Chef’s kiss.* The pacing here is relentless, with short, punchy chapters that keep the energy high, though I’ll admit the middle act drags slightly when the conflict starts recycling itself (how many times can one man almost ruin a gala? Apparently, a lot). The production quality is top-notch—no awkward pauses or volume inconsistencies—but I did notice a few spots where the editing felt *just* a beat too slow during transitions between POVs. Still, it’s a minor quibble in an otherwise stellar listen. What really sold me was how Flite subverts the “rich guy learns humility” trope. Kain doesn’t magically become selfless; he stays a chaotic neutral force of nature, and Sammy’s attraction to him feels earned because of it, not in spite of it. If you love enemies-to-lovers with *bite*, narration that makes you forget you’re listening to a book, and a hero who’s equal parts infuriating and irresistible, this is your next obsession. Just maybe don’t listen to it while operating heavy machinery—you *will* laugh at the wrong moment.