Page 18 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

“Was it?” My mother sighs. “She used you, darling. To get notoriety for her… whatever it was.”

“No. She’s not like that. If I could address the people myself,” I say, “I could explain my side—”

My mother’s eyes go hawk-like. She turns away from me and briskly barks, “Mr. Tolle.”

Ben, who has no doubt been hiding in the doorway, now steps through it. I can see the vibrancy in his eyes—he wants to step to my aid—but instead he lingers a respectable distance away, shackled by loyalty to the crown. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“How did the Normal get in?”

“I invited her in, ma’am, but—”

“Thank you. You’re fired.”

That is like a sucker punch to the chest. Ben’s eyes go wide, but he holds his tongue. What can he do? Nothing. Me, on the other hand… I can’t lose him. He’s the one person who keeps me sane in this place. The only friend I have to lean on.

I jump to his defense immediately. “Mum—it was my decision. I requested that Ben bring her into the palace.”

My mother’s hand snaps across my face. Fast as a mongoose. My fork clatters to the ground. The servants, instead of running to pick it up, go statue-still. There is nothing more frightening than a lioness losing her temper.

Even I don’t dare to budge now. I stare ahead, tense my jaw, and wait for the stinging pain to leave my cheek. The only sound comes from Iris, who is still scraping jelly off her plate and onto her scone.

“After everything I’ve done to protect you,” my mum hisses. “You throw it away. On a girl.”

“I never asked you to protect me.” I don’t mean the words to come out, and I certainly don’t mean for my tone to be so knife-sharp and bitter.

The queen rises from her chair and walks over to Ben. She hands over the iPad. “Mr. Tolle, you are officially rehired. See what you can find on this girl. Shake some skeletons out of her closet and spread it out for the world to see. I want her disgraced. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A cold sweat prickles the back of my neck. This is all my fault. I told Ben to fetch her. I can’t let Rory go down like this, especially not to cover my own sordid nature. “I was thinking we’d invite her to the ball,” I blurt out suddenly. “As my girlfriend.”

My mother spins to me, and her eyes go wide. I’ve never spoken out against her before, not like this, and she’s looking at me as though I’ve raised Nessy from the lake. “Have you lost your mind?”

But I’ve got my armor now. I’m pragmatic. Problem solving. I stand, plant my palms on the table, and explain calmly, “Tell me, Mother, what’s a better headline: Strange Woman Breaks into Palace and Tricks Gullible Prince into Filming Sex Tape? Or Media Capitalizes on an Intimate Moment Between Prince and his Loving Girlfriend? One story calls into question our entire bloody security system. The other paints a target on the press, and God knows everyone hates them already.”

My mother stares at me. She knows I’m right—she has to know. But she doesn’t like it.

“Your girlfriend?” she says as though the word is grit between her teeth.

“Yes, Mum,” I reply. “My girlfriend.”

Finally, she turns away from me and faces Ben again. “Find the girl. Invite her tonight. Make sure to stress that her presence is nonnegotiable.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Ben leaves but not before casting me a glance. We’ve been around each other long enough to speak without saying a word, and I know his eyes are asking, Are you sure this is what you want?

I nod, just a small tilt of my chin. He understands and leaves.

Nothing is as cold as the look the queen of England gives me when she faces me again. Her voice drops low so only I can hear her. “If this girlfriend of yours calls into question the Pennington reputation again, even the American Embassy won’t be able to keep her safe. Do I make myself clear?”

She’s being dramatic. I know that. We’re the royal bloody family—we’ve earned the right to our histrionics. Still, I don’t doubt that she could make Rory’s life a living hell, so I submit.

“Yes, Mum. Crystal clear.”

“Good.” There’s a sudden shift in her expression then—she looks weary, suddenly, as if the argument took all the remaining strength she had left. Her eyes soften and all at once she’s switched from queen of England to simply my mum. “I’m only trying to keep you safe, Roland. I lost your father. I can’t lose you, too.”

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