Royally Tempted

by Madison Faye

“Prude,” I stuck my tongue out at her.

  “Nosy.”

  “Yeah, guilty. I am a journalist.”

  I let Julia get dressed, hanging out in the kitchen until she joined me for some coffee.

  “Fine, I’ll just wait until you decide we’re friends enough to share, jeez.”

  She laughed into her coffee, until her brow suddenly furrowed.

  “Hey, Emma?”

  She looked up at me, biting her lip.

  “Do you know anything about tattoos?”

  I shrugged, turning my eyes back to my iPad to go over my schedule for the rest of the week. Some smaller pieces to write, some leads for the piece about the Princess Amalla.

  “No, not really.”

  Julia was silent, and when I looked up, I frowned, seeing the pursed, thoughtful look on her face.

  “What’s up?”

  “I—” her lips twisted, like she was thinking.

  “What does a tattoo of three crowns mean?”

  She turned away as she said it, reaching for the coffee pot.

  She didn’t see the way I froze as she said it.

  “What?”

  My pulse raced, every single detail in the folder of interviews that I’d read the night before blasting through my head.

  The members are marked with a Triple Crown tattoo.

  She shrugged, clearly not hearing the tone in my voice.

  “It’s probably nothing. A tattoo of three crowns over a little crest.”

  “Jules!”

  This time, she glanced back sharply at me, her look worried.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I said quietly. “It’s— it’s nothing, just this urban legend.”

  A chill crept up my spine as the worry played across her face.

  “It’s called the Triple Crown Club.” I shook my head. “But seriously, it’s made up. I mean it has to be. Someone would have found something out about it if was real. It’s totally a made up thing.”

  I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to convince.

  “Well what is it exactly?” she said in a quiet voice.

  “It’s secret underground club. A sex club.”

  A red flush crept across her face.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, it’s allegedly this club exclusively for royal elite guys. You know, princes and that sort of thing. And the whole point of this club is…”

  I shook my head but she reached out, her hand grabbing my wrist.

  “And the whole point is?”

  “The whole point is, women get picked to go there and get…” I giggled nervously, biting my lip and thinking about the sexy dreams I’d had the night before after reading the file.

  “Emma!”

  “Okay! They go there and get shared by 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 jaw dropped.

  “Oh my God, did those guys from last night have triple 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 of princes last 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.

  “Holy shit, they did have 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 just read about crown tattoos and the secret sex club they represented.

  Holy shit indeed.

  “Okay, now you have to 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 a huge story 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 you might have been distracted. You know, what with the two dicks to think about.”

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

  “Hey, good luck today with your hot new boss.” I almost didn’t say it, but I couldn’t resist.

  “See if he’s got a crown tattoo!”

  Julia bolted from the apartment as I chuckled and sipped my coffee.

  The second she was gone though, I ran back to the desk in my room and opened the notes from the night before.

  Okay, this story had legs, and now, I was determined to see where it led.

  Chapter 3

  Landon

  The wind was still as we knelt on the edge of cliffs overlooking the sea on the Bellhaven shore. My eyes closed, and I tensed my fist, forcing myself to keep my voice steady and my emotions in check.

  “Anyways, sir, we just wanted to say we were thinking about you today. Hope you’re having a great party wherever you are.”

  I glanced at my brothers, all of us nodding solemnly at each other as we rose. Malcolm picked the bottle of the 30-year scotch we’d brought and took a solid swig out of the bottle before passing it to Joaquin. My other triplet did the same, his eyes fierce as he looked out over the water before he passed it to me.

  “Here’s to you, Dad,” I said quietly. “Happy birthday.”

  I took a drink from the bottle before the three of us turned to each other, hugging the others fiercely before pulling away.

  It’d been almost a full year without him, but this was his first birthday without dad here, amongst the living. Time had helped with the grieving process, but the hurt was still real from the loss.

  Our mom we’d lost early, when my brothers and I were still little. So it was our father who’d raised us to the men that we were today. Not all kings would have done that, and we knew it. Most kings would have left the raising of his children after the death of his queen to the help — to nannies and tutors, and people he could pay to raise his kids how they ought to be raised in the world of royal blood.

  Not our dad though. Even as the lord regent of a kingdom, the man had raised us, spent time with us, taught us, and loved us every damn day of our lives — bringing us up to be the men of honor and dignity that we were.

  And then one day, he was gone.

  The cancer had spread so fucking fast it still made me furious to think about. That a man like our father — a brave, immeasurably strong rock of a man had gone that quick to something as bullshit a
s the big C-word had been like taking a knife to the gut. One day he’d been with us, laughing and smiling, and the next, he was gone, leaving Bellhaven without a king.

  And in Bellhaven, that presented a problem. You see, our kingdom was a little old-fashioned. The line of succession here was like the old days — father to son to grandson. A lot off kingdoms were doing things differently these days — senates and councils and all that, which was probably the better idea seeing as it was the modern age and not the land of King Arthur anymore.

  But Bellhaven hung onto its traditions. And normally, the oldest son would become king, but when the king leaves behind three sons and they happen to be identical triplets?

  Well, exactly. That’s a problem.

  Technically, one of us was older than the other two, but when we’d been born, in an effort to make sure no one was ever the favorite and each was loved no matter what, our mother had had the official order of birth expunged. So it was a mystery which of us had actually popped out first. I suspected it was Malcolm, for whatever reason — maybe just instinct — but no one really knew.

  Which meant no one really knew who was to be king.

  We hadn’t had much time to prepare for dad’s passing, but he’d always been a man of planning and foresight. Except, he’d never said a word about who was to take the throne after. Even when it’d come up, he’d just said that we’d know when the time came.

  Well, then it came, and it turns out, he hadn’t written it or willed it anywhere. So, for almost a year, the whole thing had been under review with no end in sight. Three princes, one throne, and no solution in sight. We’d even offered to just draw straws and get it done with. After all, the stability of our kingdom came far before any personal pride for us. We honestly didn’t care which of us was “officially” king. We knew whoever it was, it’d really be all three of us making the decisions anyways.

  But the council said no.

  Fucking traditions, man.

  The thing was, we’d be great at running and governing Bellhaven as the three of us. Hell, we could practically read each other’s minds half the damn time, being triplets and all. I knew how my brothers thought through problems and tough decisions, because it was how I’d think them through.

  And on top of that, we were beyond close. Hell, we were three parts to one whole, really. We did everything together. We’d played the same games and sports as kids, and on the same teams even. We’d picked up the same hobbies, read the same books, wanted to be the same superheroes for halloween.

  Then we’d gotten older, and figured out something else that we all wanted.

  The same girls.

  At first, it’d been confusing, and maybe a little weird. But it’d soon become abundantly clear that when it came to girls, there was no splitting us up. We all wanted the same ones, and the idea of being in a relationship with someone and not having the other two be involved was just… weird, I guess.

  I know that sounds fucking insane, and maybe it is, but I can’t and won’t apologize for the way we were.

  It made things tricky, for sure. I mean, there aren’t a lot of women out there who want to date three guys. Yeah, there were those out there who wanted to fuck three brothers — oh and were there ever — but it was fucking and nothing else. These women wanted the ultimate fantasy, and we were willing to give it to them, since it was the closest we could get to what we were after.

  But it wasn’t quite there.

  A lot of woman saw us as objects. I don’t say that out of arrogance or pride, it’s just the way it was. Yeah, we were good looking guys, and we’d kept in great shape. But we wanted to be with someone, not just be three hot guys with big dicks for a woman to lose herself in for one night.

  But, that’s pretty much all we got. So we’d made peace with it, as best we could.

  “Hell of a year,” Joaquin growled, taking another sip of the scotch and raising the bottle high in a toast.

  The cliffs, where we were standing and having a toast in dad’s name, had been his favorite place to come and just sit. He’d fold his arms over his chest and glance out at the ocean, just watching the waves and the horizon.

  “Being a good ruler is like the waves,” he’d say. “It takes time and patience to wear down these cliffs, but also, it requires the raw strength and the willingness to smash yourselves against the rocks.” He’d smile and ruffle our hair when we’d roll our eyes at him. “Remember that, boys.”

  I lifted the bottle high, thinking of him, before taking a sip.

  “Heard that,” Malcolm muttered, taking the bottle next. “A year later, and here we are that the same bullshit impasse.”

  “I talked to the head of the council again the other night,” I nodded, taking the bottle. “You know, pushing them for the vote to just decide on one of us.”

  “Let me guess, he’ll ‘think about it,’ right?”

  I smiled grimly at Joaquin. “You know it.”

  “Motherfucker,” he hissed, glaring out at the ocean. “We need to make a decision. Fuck, the country needs to make a decision. Bellhaven has to have a king, and the longer we don’t, the weaker we get.”

  We fell silent after that. Hell, we’d been having this same conversation for twelve months now.

  “Fuck, I need to get out of my own head tonight.”

  “Same,” Malcolm sighed. “A distraction from all this.”

  Joaquin made a face. “You know, there’s a Club event tonight, over in North Revania.”

  Malcolm and I glanced up at him, chewing on that. We hadn’t been to the Triple Crown Club in a while. I guess we’d gotten bored with it, as absurd as that may sound to someone who’s never been. Yes, it sounded like an amazing time, and yes, I’m sure there’d be girls there who were free for the evening. Women who’d been invited to be guests of the whole club — unclaimed, and not with someone for the evening.

  But yet, we were bored with it, and hadn’t gone to an event in months.

  Still, a distraction did sound good tonight, after today and the emotions it brought.

  “North Revania, huh?”

  It was a short helicopter flight away. And even if we didn’t participate, a change of scenery from the council’s conference rooms in Bellhaven sounded like what we needed.

  “Fuck it, why not,” Malcolm growled. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Chapter 4

  Emma

  “It’s just a work thing.”

  I smirked at my friend.

  “A work thing, yeah,” I said sarcastically, eyeing the outfit she had hanging up on the hook across the room. “A work thing where you wear a super hot little black dress that I’ve never seen before but looks insanely expensive?”

  Something was up with Julia. She’d been acting strangely since starting the new job as Prince Snow’s PA. On top of that, both of us had apparently decided to ignore and not talk about the bruises on her neck that were clearly hickeys. But this was icing on the cake. Julia never went out — and definitely not out in sexy, crazy-expensive looking little black cocktail dresses like the one hanging on her closet door.

  She was also never this secretive.

  “It’s really just a work thing,” she said quickly, her face red.

  I didn’t have to be a reporter to see she was bullshitting me.

  “Very mysterious.”

  “Emma,” she laughed nervously. “Look, it’s just a thing, okay? Some people from work invited me out, and it’s kind of a fancy place.”

  “Fine,” I finally threw up my hands, rolling my eyes. “Fine, I yield. I’ll stop. I have to go out anyways.”

  I don’t know how the thought came to me, or from where, but suddenly there it was. I knew it was wrong, and that it made me a terrible friend, but I was already thinking through the plan before I even opened my mouth.

  “Oh?” Julia raised a brow at me.

  “Yep, just going out.”

  This story was bigger than me, and I knew it. I’d also investi
gated enough leads and stories to know when there was a hint of something real in a mountain of bullshit.

  Something — a gut instinct, or intuition, or whatever — told me the Triple Crown Club was real. That same sixth sense or intuition told me Julia was involved.

  …And I was going to get to the bottom of this.

  I shrugged. “You’re not the only one with a hot date tonight, you know.”

  “Well well!” Julia grinned at me. “And do I get to pester you for details now?”

  “Nope! I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

  I was a terrible friend. I felt awful, knowing what I was about to do, since it felt like a serious breach of trust, even if she was probably lying to me about what she was up to that night.

  “Well, have fun tonight, girl. And you’d better eventually tell me about what you’re up to.”

  “I know, and I will,” Julia said quietly.

  “Good.”

  Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the backseat of a taxi parked across the street and halfway down the block from the front door of our building. I felt my pulse skip as I watched Julia step out of our apartment building and walk towards a black, sleek town car.

  “That’s the one,” I nodded, pointing it out to the driver. “Can you just follow that one please?”

  “Any idea where we’re going?” he grumbled.

  I shook my head as the town car pulled away with my friend, and my taxi began to follow. It didn’t take long for me to realize where we were going.

  “Lady, I can’t follow that car in there.”

  The taxi came to a stop as we watched Julia’s town car get waved through the gates of Prince Snow’s royal palace.

  What are you up to, Jules, I thought to myself.

  “Hang on, just wait here for a few.”

  “Meter’s running.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  We waited a full fifteen minutes, the taxi driver tapping the wheel annoyingly, until suddenly, a black limo pulled back out through the gates.

  “There.” I nodded, swallowing quickly. “Follow that one.”

  “You want me to follow a damn limo coming out of the royal palace? Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”