Page 27 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

“I’m bi.”

Why am I telling her these things? I need to shut up. I need to keep my mouth closed. But Rory is stubborn. She gestures dubiously. “You mean to tell me that you two have slept with the same woman… at the same time… and you’ve never bumped uglies?”

A red heat climbs up my throat. I pray my dark stubble and the dimming sunlight hides it, and I turn away from her. Like an idiot parrot, I repeat, “It’s not like that.”

She’s watching me. I can feel the heat of her eyes. “Maybe not for him,” she says softly after a moment. She looks out over at the garden, and she lets out a breathy laugh. “Oh. I get it now.”

I eye her warily. “What?”

“Last night, when you brought me to the palace… you wanted to scare me away.”

She’s getting dangerously close to the truth, and I square my shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s it, isn’t it? You blindfolded me and conveniently forgot to tell me about Roland… because you wanted me to freak out and leave.” Her eyes meet mine, and she blurts out, like she’s bloody Sherlock Holmes, “You’re in love with him.”

She may as well have stabbed me through with an ice pick. My feet root in the ground, and my molars grind. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My stubborn denial gives me away. “It’s true,” she gasps. “Does he know?”

I can’t speak. Literally. My words seppuku themselves on my tongue.

All at once, her expression grows somber. Those big eyes are wide and sad and pitying. “Oh, Ben,” she says. “I’m sorry. If I knew—”

“That’s enough.” This is painful. I would rather be dragged over hot coals, eat the barrel of my gun, or be buried alive than continue this conversation. I smash my smoke on the stone railing, and it spits out sparks and embers. “We should go back inside. I’m sure the prince is looking for—”

“Roland!” Rory raises her voice, a gracious signal to cut the conversation short.

The prince is backlit by the light from the palace, and it creates a halo around his golden hair. The heat from inside has made him unkempt, fizzy, and his cheeks are flushed with rosy splotches. He’s wearing that unbearable grin he always wears, as though he knows some incredible secret.

My heart is thudding in my chest, and I try to force it to slow down.

“I thought you’d run off,” Roland says as he approaches Rory. “I was going to start hunting for a glass slipper.”

Rory deepens her lean against the railing and half shrugs. “Ben was keeping me company.”

Roland glances around as though he’s looking for the invisible man. His eyes intentionally never hit me, and his forehead scrunches in faux confusion. “Strange, I don’t see anyone else here.”

One of these days, I’m going to punch the prince of England.

I’m going to ball my fists into that stupid, gaudy shirt, shove him hard against the wall, and—

No. No! Fuck!

My thoughts race around my head and trip over themselves. Rory has me all worked up. I need to extract myself from the situation immediately.

Wordlessly, I leave the two of them and slip inside. I wish I weren’t on duty. Maybe Rory had the right idea. I’m tempted to down ten of those champagne flutes.

I need my heart to stop pounding. As usual, it doesn’t listen to me.

16

Roland

I can’t keep my hands off Rory.

She’s everything I shouldn’t want. A common-born Normal. Punk. Ginger. But there’s something about her that makes me insatiable. The second Ben skulks away, I press her against the ledge and swallow her mouth in a kiss. Her lips taste like cherry. She makes a small, muffled noise of surprise before her body goes limp and pliable against mine. Every time I feel that switch in her—from rigid and tense to soft and submissive—my dick gets diamond hard.

“Stay with me tonight,” I murmur at her lips. “The worst part of today was waking up without you.”

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