Long Live Queen Perry: Contemporary Reverse Harem (Kingdom of Veronia Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  “Yes, of course,” George murmured, coming to attention in a way that told her he was back in princely form. “If you’d like to come with me, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

  The doctor nodded his appreciation. “Most kind, your Highness.”

  The two of them stepped toward the doorway, but as he moved past her, Perry let go of Edward’s hand to press her fingers to the bottom of George’s back. He turned around to look at her and shot her a soft smile. She felt something inside her settle at the sight of him winking at her as he guided the doctor toward his room.

  “What’s going on, guys?” she asked, when George closed the door behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me Dr. Schertz was here?”

  Edward sighed as he moved around the bed to come up behind her. “I didn’t know.” He pressed his forehead to her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

  It was disconcerting to realize how hard it was for him to do so. Her belly had definitely grown in the last few months, and it was swiftly moving out of the “can hide with the excuse I’ve eaten too many donuts” phase, and into the need for hardcore maternity wear.

  They were still keeping it quiet thanks to the UnReal situation, but she hoped that would be over soon. They certainly seemed to have declared war on the rebel party—she’d never heard as many military formations gathering outside the palace, and the number of meetings the men were engaged in?

  It was beyond ridiculous.

  Yesterday, she’d been introduced to the man called Markov, whose life Edward had once saved, and who was about to be asked to repay the favor by saving theirs.

  He was a small man. Beady-eyed and shifty as well. Like his years of being a spy had rubbed off on his very genetics. Despite his height and his unfortunate habit of scanning rooms like he was an x-ray, he was actually quite attractive. White blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a face that was marred by a scar across his cheek but that somehow gave him a rakish charm.

  He’d disappeared after that initial meeting, and God only knew where he’d set up his base. By the sounds of it, her men weren’t encouraging him to front any of the myriad security councils that were the Veronian versions of the US’s FBI and the UK’s MI5. He was going to head up his own organization. A new one, formed under Edward’s rule, and governed by Markov.

  Edward sighed, blowing at the cobwebs gathering in her thoughts. “I forgot he was due here this week, and then I got the call that father was awake and talking.”

  “Hardly talking,” Xavier grumbled. “Just repeating Perry’s name. That’s strange, don’t you think?”

  “Very.” Edward peered down at her, tension gathering about his eyes. “Why would he relax so utterly when he knew you were here?”

  She shrugged, jostling Edward behind her. “I have no idea. Truly. I’m just glad I managed to calm him down some.”

  “We’ll find out what’s going on when he wakes up properly.” Xavier rubbed his chin at the prospect, impatience dragging him down, because only God knew how long that could take.

  “Schertz said it could take weeks,” Edward dismissed. “He’s been in a coma for a hell of a long time. It’s not like he’s just waking up from a deep sleep.”

  “Does it matter? He’s on the mend, guys. That’s all that counts, surely?” Perry scowled at their lack of enthusiasm.

  “You’re right.” Edward blew out a long, deep breath.

  “A Christmas miracle,” Xavier said, his tone surprisingly sour considering how good the news was.

  She glowered at him. “Come on, Scrooge. Cheer up. This is great. It’s the first step in his recovery.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

  “What? That he’s woken up?” she grumbled.

  Xavier narrowed his eyes at her. “No. Of course that’s marvelous news. I’m just… Too much shit has passed under the bridge, Perry. There’s a reason why a man wakes up from a months-long coma and is whispering your name under his breath like a damn litany.”

  Edward’s hold about her waist tightened. “He’s not wrong, Perry. I love my father, but…”

  “But what?”

  “He’s a game player. We all know that.”

  “And a bad one, as we’ve been learning recently,” Xavier said darkly.

  Perry frowned down at the man lying lax on the bed. He’d once been a king, but now, he was just an ill old man in a very rich, very resplendent suite.

  She gnawed at her bottom lip before she murmured, “He’s family. He’d never do anything to put us in harm’s way.”

  “There was threat of an assassination before the wedding, Perry,” Edward intoned grimly. “He didn’t tell us.”

  Though his words had her stiffening in anger, she exhaled roughly. “And look how he’s paid for it.”

  Edward rubbed his chin against her hair. “I know. I know.”

  She relaxed in his hold. “Let’s not judge him until he can speak for himself, okay?”

  Xavier blew out a breath, but he came up to her side. His arm was hot against hers, and she wished George was there to stand to her left. She needed her men at that moment. Needed them badly.

  They were a solid unit, that she knew. She just wished life would stop getting in the goddamn way and would cease biting into what they had together.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s crazy.” Perry peered around the open hall of Masonbrook castle’s entryway. “When did this even happen?”

  “Santa’s elves live in Veronia, not the North Pole,” George teased, and his mischievous tone was further proof that her man was still there: her playful joker hadn’t died a death four days ago.

  “Why don’t you put the tree up earlier? All this for one day?”

  “No. It’s not like that here,” he explained, curling an arm over her shoulder as they peered down at the thirty-foot fir that soared past the mezzanine floor—she was, even on the landing, still too far away from the star that glistened at its summit.

  “What’s it like then?” she chivvied.

  “We celebrate Three Kings. Christmas is important, but not as important as Three Kings.”

  She scowled. “Why am I only just learning this?”

  “Because, for once, even the Royals are allowed to bow out at this time of year. There are few public engagements. Veronians know what Yule means to all families.”

  “They do? We don’t have to go sing carols or something?”

  “No. We get privacy, until the 5th of January.”

  Her mouth popped open. “We’re on vacation?”

  His nose wrinkled. “Ordinarily, we would be,” he confirmed. “But with things up in the air, we’re going to be working still. But as a family, we don’t have to leave the castle.” He must have sensed her relief at that because he tightened his arm around her. “You’ve been holding up like a dream, love,” he whispered into her ear.

  “I don’t know how,” she admitted softly, staring up at the tree and at the thousands of decorations and lights that made the damn thing look like it belonged in Santa’s workshop.

  “You’re stronger than you think.”

  “I’ve had to be.” Her tone was grim.

  “Why didn’t you want to go back to the US for Christmas? I’d have taken you.”

  “I know you would’ve,” she admitted. “But my place is here now. I’m Veronian. I can’t run off home every time something goes wrong.”

  “This hardly counts!”

  “What kind of message would it have sent to the people if I’d fled home? That, when times got tough, I was willing to run away?” She shook her head. “Even if I’d wanted to go, I wouldn’t have.”

  He was silent for a second as he let her words resonate with him, but he kept his gaze averted from hers as he murmured, “I wish you’d gone.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “You want me safe.”

  “Yes.”

  Perry sighed. “I’d kiss you right now if I could.”

  “I’d ta
ke it.”

  She turned to look up at him and, licking her lips, whispered, “This is my place now, George. With you. You have to understand that.”

  “We brought you into this danger, Perry. We never even saw it coming, and we just keep expecting you to deal with it.” He swallowed thickly as he lifted a hand and pressed it to her belly. “You’re starting to show more than ever, and it’s not like it’s going to get smaller, is it?”

  She snorted out a laugh. “No, it’s definitely going to get bigger not smaller.”

  He grinned. “Your tits are going to be divine.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “You’re not supposed to say things like that out here.”

  “No one cares. Everyone who’s here is sulking because they’re working.”

  “Ugh, I feel guilty now.” She grimaced. “It’s not fair that they’re working and we’re having fun.”

  “Don’t feel too badly for them. They get quadruple rates for being here.”

  Her mouth gaped. “Quadruple? Is that even a thing?”

  “Yes, and it tells you how important this season is to us. Mostly, we make sure the people who are working are the ones who don’t have young families, or if they do, they’re the ones who need the money.”

  “How do you make sure of that?” she demanded, her brow puckering. “It sounds like something that would fall under my remit—I’m head of this motley crue after all.”

  “It is, ordinarily. But I’ve been helping out with the household.”

  Her mouth opened wider. “You?” she said with a squeak.

  His nostrils flared—in amusement, not anger. “Why does that come as a surprise?”

  “I don’t know. It just does.” She wriggled her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t be silly. We’re a team, aren’t we? Xavier and I aren’t just helping Edward. We’re here to help you, too.”

  “He needs it more than I do,” she said sadly. “He’s so busy all the time.”

  “Father was busy; Edward’s schedule is insane. He can’t keep it up, and I don’t think he wants to. Once everything is sorted out with the UnReals, then things will calm down.” He gripped her chin between thumb and forefinger. “I promise you, Perry. I’ll make sure he takes a step back.”

  Her mouth curved into a slow smile. “I’d like to see you bully him around.”

  He snorted. “Why? Because he’s the one usually tormenting me?”

  “Yeah, right,” she mocked, making him laugh. Edward was many things, but he wasn’t a bully. She pursed her lips as she turned back to look at the tree. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Next year, I want to help them put it up.”

  He couldn’t stop himself from snickering a little. “I told Edward you’d be gutted at missing out on this. He said that you should try to relax this year. What with your condition.”

  She pulled a face. “My ‘condition’? You mean the bump?”

  “I mean the bump,” he confirmed. “It’s not like we’re going to let you climb the ladder to decorate the damn fir anyway.”

  “Still, I could have watched,” she said on a pout.

  “There’s always next year.” He squeezed her again. “You ready for brunch?”

  “How many meals are there today again?”

  He’d awoken her an hour ago and they’d slowly meandered their way out of the bathroom where he’d given her her Christmas gift in style—an orgasm in the shower. They’d dressed, and had been heading toward the dining room when she’d seen the tree.

  “Four.”

  “How do you eat so much?”

  “We’re Veronian. We pace ourselves.” Laughter boomed from him at her bewildered face.

  “There’s pacing and there’s pacing,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “None of these meals include anything gross, do they?” She prodded him in the chest. “I still haven’t forgiven you for that sliema d’alt.”

  More laughter spilled from him. “Your face was hilarious that day.”

  “I thought I was going to be sick. Who eats pig’s blood anyway? And if you’re going to have it, why would it be in a dessert?” She shuddered. “I’ll never get over it. Ever.”

  “You’re so melodramatic,” he chided, elbowing her gently in the side as they began to head to the dining room.

  “George, you’ve no idea how melodramatic I can be if you’re going to serve me up fish eyes for Christmas dinner.”

  Her warning was swallowed up in his chuckle, and though he wished he could kiss the grimace from her face, he allowed himself to tuck her tighter against his side.

  This Christmas might not be going how they’d planned. There might have been threats against their family, threats they were still trying to resolve, but it was their first together as a unit, and for that, he intended on making it a memory worth savoring.

  Something he knew Xavier and Edward were wholeheartedly in agreement with.

  “Where the hell are they?” Xavier grumbled as he eyed the tureens.

  “You know George, he’ll have taken the scenic route,” Edward said, amused at his cousin’s impatience.

  If there was one time of the year when Xavier lost his cool, it was Christmas. The man loved Yule, and he loved the food even more.

  “Just start without them,” he complained when Xavier looked at his watch for the tenth time. “You know Perry won’t mind.”

  Xavier glowered at him. “You know she’ll definitely mind. Anyway, I’d prefer for her to see the spread without my having disturbed it.”

  Edward had to admit, it was damn pretty and Perry would love it.

  According to George, Perry was a very festive person. It was a side of herself that they hadn’t been able to explore all that much.

  For Thanksgiving, they hadn’t returned to her home in the States as she’d wanted. But Edward had arranged for a meal to be made that followed the American tradition—who ate corn with gravy, anyway?

  She’d scooped it up like it was going out of fashion, and had given him the best blowjob of his life in thanks.

  Considering the day was about giving thanks, Edward had decided it was bound to become one of his favored holidays.

  They’d been under the cosh for the entirety of this latter half of the year, and he knew that even Perry, festive and holiday-loving, had felt the strain. After the bombing, it had been easy to forget it was the most important time of the year for their people, but that was all the more reason for them to make it a special day.

  If the UnReals ruined this holiday, then they were winning, and they’d win over Edward’s dead body.

  He ruffled the papers in his hand. He’d been awake since five. But this brunch was the first time he’d be eating, and it was the first time he was reading something that wasn’t stamped with the words “Top Secret.” He was just reading a Veronian newspaper, and it was wonderful to scan something normal even if it did contain the grimness of the news of the day—most of it bad considering the state of his poor nation.

  At his side, there were four small boxes. Gifts that he’d had made for Perry. They’d all decided not to give each other presents, but to spoil her instead, and each place setting had their gifts to her at its side.

  He wasn’t sure if Perry was going to give them anything, but he hoped that if she did, it would come in the same form as the way she’d shown her thanks for getting cranberry sauce in a tin-can specially sent over for her, as well as having the kitchen make a gravy that was distinctly gray in color.

  For all that he found the concoction bizarre, the mixture had been tasty.

  Perry had explained why corn was important, and she’d subsequently explained why marshmallows made an appearance on yams, and why the dessert called Jello Salad even existed.

  George hadn’t batted an eye at the odd meal, but then, he wouldn’t, would he? Not after living over in the States as long as he had. Xavier and Edward had visited, of course, but never at that time of the year.

  Still, Edward was relieved to
be eating Veronian fare, if he was being honest. At least that made sense to him.

  When footsteps sounded outside the door, he smiled as Xavier straightened in his seat. They both peered at the door, Edward looking over his paper, to see his wife heading into the dining room, her step heavier than it had been months ago.

  Her belly was still relatively slight, but it pulled taut against the silky sweater she wore. The knit clung to her ripe curves in a way that let all around them know she was pregnant. It was a surprising move on her behalf, considering they were trying to keep it under wraps. But then, as he took her in, he realized how big she was getting.

  She’d need maternity clothes soon. A fact that truly grounded him.

  Soon, he’d be a father. They would be fathers.

  It couldn’t have come at a worse moment, but then, there was never a good time to become a parent, was there? Children never entered the world when the timing was right. It was simply par for the course, he supposed, as he climbed to his feet, rounded the table, and headed for her.

  Sliding his arms around her waist as George closed the door, he kissed her gently on the mouth before anointing her forehead with another. “You look beautiful, my sweetheart. Happy Christmas.”

  She peered up at him, a huge smile beaming his way as she murmured, “Happy Christmas, darling.” Perry squeezed him, not just with her arms but with her words. When she looked at him, it was easy to feel like he’d set the stars in the night sky and made the sun shine at dawn.

  She looked at him in a way that always clogged his throat, that overwhelmed him. It was, he reasoned, exactly why he adored her. Nobody, not even his brother or cousin, had the same belief in him that she did… yet she seemed to recognize how much he needed her without ever taking advantage of that.

  He was well aware he should be her rock, and yet, she was his.

  He pressed another kiss to her mouth, smiling as she wriggled against him. When her hips arched against his, rubbing her pelvis along his groin, he grabbed her and tutted. “Patience, Perry.”

  “You might as well ask for birds to do the front crawl,” George said with a laugh as he took his place at the table. “Perry can’t do patience.”