Page 2 of Royally Tempted

“What else?”

I paged through some more of my notes on leads. That was one thing about royals and the hints of scandal — it wasalwaysthere if you just look a little deeper than the surface.

“There’s a source that claims she has evidence that Princess Amalla of Krysto is actuallyPrinceAmalla.”

Martin beamed, still looking at my tits.

“Good, good. Nice work, Emma.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“But I think we can go deeper. Get something that matters more.”

I raised a brow. Well, this was new for Martin.

“Yes!” I said excitedly. “I’ve beendyingto do something hard-hitting that gets into the real stuff that matters!”

He grinned, nodding his head eagerly. “Good! I like your fire, and I think you’d be perfect for this.”

The smiled stretched across my whole face, excited tofinallybe moving past this scandal and rumor stuff and into something that really mattered.

“So, what are you thinking?” I eagerly flipped to my notes ofactualpolitical news. “There are reports of Lumloria amassing troops at their borders, and there’s atonof stuff to get into with the separatists insurgency fighting in Berne. Or, I know there’s—”

Martin cut me off with a laugh and shake of his head. “Nah, not what our team is after.”

My spirits sank.

“Oh.”

He rubbed his hands together, his eyesfinallypulling back up to my eyes.

“Ever heard of the Triple Crown Club?”

The name gave me pause. IknewI’d heard the name before, but I couldn’t grasp it.

“Maybe?”

“Alleged members-only, royalty-only sex club? Ring any bells?”

That was it. Yeah, I’d heard of it, as the completely bullshit urban legend it was.

I smiled and started to roll my eyes at Martin, when he stopped me.

“No, hang on. I think it’s more than a rumor.”

“Got any leads or anything?”

He shrugged. “None. But wouldn’t it beawesomeif it was true? I mean, a secret club where princes and dukes and other royal elite men go to…fuck, I don’t know. Bang pricey hookers, or each other, or whatever the fuck they do there.”

I’d heard the rumors, of course. The whispered stories, the urban myths of a secret sex club of the elite, like something out ofEyes Wide Shut. I, like most sane, rational people, was pretty sure it was as bullshit as it sounded though.

That all said, if itwasreal, the story would be the holy grail of news stories. If someone was ever able to prove that the Three Crowns Club, or the Triple Crown, or whatever it was called was real, the story would be worth its weight in gold. And as much as I didn’t like Martin, or the tabloid-drama angle our special team had turned into, thiswasa chance at something big. Maybe not trade embargoes or troop movement, but still, muchmuchbigger than just a simple who was sleeping with whom.

“Here, this is all we have on the story.”

Martin turned and grabbed a small folder, handing it to me.

“It’s not much, but I want you to start looking into it. See what you think.”

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