Page 26 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

I look over her head and find the prince. He’s trapped in a conversation with the queen and looks like he wants to sink into the floor.

“You met the queen,” I state.

“I wouldn’t say we met. Meeting requires two people interacting. We exchanged words around each other. And then I found Princess Iris. She’s… interesting. Are these for anyone?”

Rory reaches out to pluck a champagne flute from one of the walking trays. She puts it to her lips and tilts her head all the way back, downing it.

I can’t leave her like this. I chance a final glance toward the prince. He’s with the queen. He’ll be fine.

“Come.” I take Rory by the wrist. I drag her through the sea of people until we hit the terrace. Rory tries to grab another champagne flute along the way, but I take it from her and set it down on another table. It’s like escorting a child with sticky fingers.

“You can’t get drunk,” I tell her. “On your best behavior. Remember?”

“I’m not getting drunk,” she sighs. “I’m just trying to take the edge off.”

It’s dusk now. The pale sun sets over the perfect manicured royal garden with its topiaries and gas lanterns.

There’s a couple lingering on the terrace when we get there, but they spot Rory, murmur to each other, and then leave quickly, their eyes avoiding us. Rory is the party pariah. Between the video, her low-class slouch, and her American accent, she never stood a chance in this crowd. Anger burns in my chest for her.

If Rory notices, she doesn’t seem to care. She goes to the edge and leans her elbows on the stone rail. I take the spot beside her and pull a pack of cigarettes out of my blazer pocket. I offer her one, but she declines with the shake of her head. “I don’t smoke.”

“Suit yourself.” I light up. I need this small creature comfort. We watch the garden in silence for a moment. There are goose bumps on her bare shoulders. I want to offer her my blazer, but the words stick like gum on my molars.

“We used to be friends,” Rory says out of the blue and turns to me, her brows knit. “What happened?”

“We were never friends,” I correct. “I seduced you for the prince. That was it. And now he won’t talk to me. So thank you for that.”

“Hold up, buddy,” Rory says and lifts a palm. “You’re the one who blindfolded me right before a threesome. Do you want to talk about that?”

“Not particularly.”

I take a drag and blow the smoke away from her.

Rory sighs. “Listen… whatever you and Roland have going on… that’s between you two. As far as I’m concerned? You and me… we’re golden.”

“Right.” I take another drag. This time I hold the smoke in my lungs until it hurts.

I can feel her eyes on me. They’re inquisitive. “Speaking of you and Roland. What’s that about?”

My chest clenches up. I keep a straight face. “What about it?”

“You’ve worked for him for a long time, right?”

I nod. “Six years.”

“So you know each other pretty well.”

“You could say that.”

“Did the two of you ever…?” Her voice trails off suggestively.

I stare her down, daring her to finish that thought. “Ever?”

“You know.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem to have… a special relationship. Did things ever get… intimate?”

“No.” The word comes out more forcefully than I would like. I pad my rising temper with “There’s always a woman involved. It’s not like that.”

“Not like what? Like… you’re not gay?”

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