Page 16 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

“You know what bodyguards used to be called, Ben?” Tanner asks suddenly.

“No, sir.”

“Knights,” Tanner says. “Bizarre to think about, isn’t it? It’s a long history of honor, chivalry, and loyalty to live up to.”

“I suppose so.”

“Would you say that watching the prince lay his pretty companion over the monitors is more or less than honorable?” Tanner asks.

I see his point. I click my fingers over the keyboard, and the feed from the sitting room goes black.

“Good call,” Tanner comments, as though it had been my idea all along. With that, Tanner stands once more and makes to leave.

My pocket vibrates. I fish my phone out. It’s an alert from Roland’s social media manager. His Twitter account is blowing up. I click around to a recently uploaded video. I hit Play and immediately my heart thumps against my rib cage.

A single word slips out my lips. “Shit.”

Tanner stalls at the door and turns toward me. “Everything all right?”

“Might not be my honor you have to worry about,” I tell him and turn the phone so he can watch the video.

Tanner lets out a weary sigh. “Bollocks. Selena’s going to have my head.”

10

Roland

My mother has told me over and over how it will feel when I take the throne.

I’m next in line. The second she passes away, I’ll ascend. The way she did when her father died, and so on and so forth. Our family has ruled England for over a century. We come from a strong line. A proud line.

When I become king, she claims, I’ll feel reborn. It’ll simply feel right.

I don’t know about that. The crown has been nothing but a cloying shadow my whole life, its dark fingers wrapping around my ankles and holding me back.

But when I wake up after one wild, passionate evening with Rory, I think to myself, So this must be what it feels like to be king.

My room seems somehow brighter this morning. I don’t feel tired or sluggish, that near-debilitating weight in my limbs. Instead, the very blood in my veins feels fresh, reinvigorated. The taste of her lingers on my lips, and I swear I can still smell her own personal musk in my bed.

She’s not the first conquest I’ve had in the palace. Not by a long shot. But she easily may have been the best. I haven’t felt this good in as long as I can recall.

I throw off the heavy quilt and toss my legs over the side of the bed. The wood-paneled floor is icy, but it feels refreshing now instead of uncomfortable. I walk over to the bathroom, rinse the night off, and don fresh clothes. By time the maids knock on the door, I’m ready for them. There’s three of them, all fluttering in a flock, and they pull at my hair and fuss over me.

The door is ajar, but Ben still knocks when he steps into it. “Sir,” he says, announcing his presence. “Permission to enter?”

I don’t even look at him. Instead, I turn to one of my maids. “Angelia, do you hear something?” I ask. “The water pipe must be roaring again.”

“Must be, sir.” It’s Angelia’s job to agree with everything I say, even when I’m being a petty bastard.

I can see Ben’s form fidgeting in the corner of my eye. Good. Let him squirm. His lack of forethought nearly cost me my delicious sex kitten last night.

“Your Highness.” Bloody hell, he doesn’t give up, does he? “There is… something we should discuss before you see the queen. About last night.”

“I’ve got it from here, thank you,” I tell the maids. They scatter, and I swiftly exit my room with not so much as a look in Ben’s direction.

I make my way down the hall. Damn Ben’s long legs. He keeps pace with me effortlessly.

“I know I was… out of line last night,” Ben says urgently. “And it won’t happen again. But there really is something we need to—”

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