Page 7 of Royally Tempted

“Okay! They go there and getsharedby these guys.”

“What.”

“Yeah, like, you know.”

“Like a threesome?” she whispered, her voice hushed.

“Hey, you’re the expert now,” I grinned at her, teasing her since she was holding out on details.

She quickly tried to hide her blushing face in her coffee mug.

Suddenly, my eyes narrowed at her — at the way she was avoiding my eyes all of a sudden.

“Wait, where exactly did you see this tattoo?”

Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place and my jawdropped.

“Oh myGod, did those guys from last nighthavetriple crown tattoos?!”

“What? No!” she about choked on her coffee she answered so quickly. Too quickly.

“No, of course not! I just— I think I heard the rumor from someone the other day, that’s all.”

I finally caught her eye, holding it. “It’s the mark of member. You know, allegedly.” I arched a sharp brow at her. “You didn’t happen to go home with a couple ofprinceslast night, did you?”

“Oh,sure,” Julia said flippantly, her voice cracking as she tried to brush me off. “No, they probably just got the tattoos for some kind of sports team.”

We both froze as she quickly threw a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Holyshit, theydidhave the tattoos?!”

I grabbed her, my pulse racing to connect the details, like the journalist I was.

My friend had gone home with two guys. Now she was asking about crown tattoos. I’d justreadabout crown tattoos and the secret sex club they represented.

Holyshitindeed.

“Okay, now youhaveto give me details!”

“I need to get to work!” she said quickly, pulling away, downing the last of her coffee, and grabbing her bag.

“Jules, this could be ahugestory for me if what you’re saying is—”

“It’s nothing, seriously.” She waved me off, avoiding my eyes and shaking her head as she power-walked for our apartment door.

“I’m sure I just didn’t see it right. I probably heard the story and saw something I thought was something else because of it. That’s all.”

She paused by the door, clearly shaken.

I decided to drop it. After all, I’d done this for years, and my experience as an investigative journalist had taught me one thing: know your source’s limits. Know when you’re not going to get anything else from them, and back off.

So I did.

I cleared my face of the shock and the eagerness to seek out the rest of the story and smiled at her instead. Like I was dropping it entirely.

“Well, I guess youmighthave been distracted. You know, what with thetwodicks to think about.”

She blushed furiously, but she grinned at me. This was theusualteasing I gave her, instead of the journalist twenty-questions routine.

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