Flynn snorted. “Neither did I.”
Magnus’ smile disappeared, and he pointed a serious fork at his son. “But promise me one thing. You never do anythin’ so foolish ever again. You gave me enough panic attacks during that week to last a hundred lifetimes.”
Hannah’s smile turned sad. “He was really so worried about you. But in a way, I’m grateful. Without that whole escapade, I never would’ve come back here, and rekindled things with your father. We’re all very blessed.”
His father held his wife’s hand, and rubbed his thumb over her palm.
If Flynn hadn’t known otherwise from the romantic display his parents shared—of a perfect marriage—he never would’ve guessed these two had spent nearly the last thirty years spewing unadulterated hatred across an entire ocean at each other.
His life with Alanna had brought out more than just his own miracle.
“So,” his mother started, not releasing her husband’s hand as she filled her fork. “Have you two discussed children?”
He swallowed, and held his fork against the plate.
“I assume as a queen, she has an obligation to produce children, as heirs and whatnot, am I right?” she asked.
“Yes,” Flynn answered matter-of-factly, and took another bite.
“Well?” his mother nudged. “When do you plan on starting?”
Damn, I’m not even married yet, and that talk is starting already.
“We’ve all been otherwise occupied by restoring her country. The marina was in the worst shape, along with the amepphire mines, military outposts…the hospital overworked. Parliament had threatened to tear apart the monarchy all together, and it’s still in turmoil. Babies aren’t on anyone’s mind right now.”
“Solanian newspapers say otherwise.” Magnus raised his eyebrows.
“You mean tabloids.”
“I bet there are lots of bets goin’ on around the world about when she’ll first get pregnant, and the gender of your first child.”
“You better not be placing any bets. That’s a massive conflict of interest.”
His father chuckled. “I don’t have to.”
Flynn stared. “What do you mean?”
“Business is going well.” Magnus stared back, a simple smile on his normally rugged, unshaven face. Although, he’d shaved every morning while Flynn was back.
“Very well,” Hannah added.
He set down his fork. He’d never been any good at deciphering hidden meanings behind people’s expressions, and sometimes felt as though they were making fun of him. Or intentionally leaving him out of a joke. Flynn had improved a bit since childhood, at least at identifying when it was happening. “How well?”
His dad shrugged. “The wealthy always want to do business with the ultra-wealthy. As if it would rub off somehow.”
“You’re not ultra-wealthy.”
“He’s the father of the future Queen Consort of Solana,” his mother chimed in again. “Any kind of in they can attain to actual royalty, and they swarm. Magnus isn’t advertising that, and anytime a client brings it up, he’s very quick to shut it off. He’s even turned away business where they offered some kind of kickback for a connection to you.”
Flynn’s jaw dropped. His father had lost his smile now, and even appeared frustrated. “How long has this been going on?”
“Don’t worry about it, Gabriel.” He sighed. “I’m sure all that fuss will die eventually. Once word spreads I’m an iron vault, and they can’t gain anythin’ from me in that way, they’ll stop askin’.”
“What if it’s more than a kickback?”
Magnus tilted his head.
“What if it’s a threat? You know, like random calls with fake ransoms and extortion.”
His father propped his elbow on the table. “Like the kind I got when you went missin’?”
“What?” Hannah’s head shot up.
A deep, heavy sigh filled the table. “You were on the run afta’ the Philippines, and some whacka’ called, threatened me if I kept intervenin’ tryin’ to find you. I told him to rack off. Wasn’t the first threat in my life, and it won’t be the last. But I know how to handle those tossers.”
“Did you get his name?”
He smirked. “You think someone threatin’ me would be dill enough to give me his name?”
“If you get any other calls like that, let me know.”
Magnus scoffed, and loaded up his fork with more food. “What are you gonna do with it?”
“The Royal Guard has very good investigators.”
“I’m sure they do. And I’d want their full focus to be on you and your future wife. And any future children.” He clapped Flynn’s shoulder, and finished the rest of his dinner.
After his father cleared the dishes and went to work on something in the carport, Flynn helped his mother fold a load of laundry.
She’d taught him how as a child, among other self-care lessons, her unending patience a comfort in an otherwise difficult childhood.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked. “You’re focusing extra hard on that pair of shorts.”
“I don’t know how to be a good father.”
Hannah dropped the towel she was folding. Then waited. Patiently, for him to continue. Like she always did.
“What if I screw up?”
His mother giggled. “News flash. All parents screw up. At least a few times. You will, too. But you work through it. You were always good at that.”
“What if they’re born like me?”
Her smile vanished, and she turned toward him. “Then they’ll be perfect.”
“Mom, this kid will inherit a throne. That’s intimidating enough, but with all that extra hardship…the job requires interpreting what people don’t say. Hell, just talking without insulting someone. They’d be doomed. I can’t help them with that.”
“Sure you can.”
He shook his head, doubt saturating his mind.
“First of all, there is so much more help nowadays than when you were a child. More studies, better treatment…even overall awareness. More importantly, you have an advantage. You know what it’s like. You’ve lived it. You speak the language I could only study, and never really be fluent. You can interpret the function of their behavior better than anyone else. If they have ASD, I think that kid would have the best chance in the world. As long as you love them, they’ll be fine.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
His mother gave a single laugh. “Simple doesn’t mean easy. Every parent knows that. But hardship never stopped you before.”
True.
“And the best part,” she finished. “You won’t be alone. Alanna will be right beside you, too.”
He smiled, and couldn’t stop it from spreading.
Chapter ELEVEN
André
He smiled. Couldn’t help it from spreading as he surveyed the room full of reporters. Normally not how he would’ve responded to the press. This was where he’d put some of these vultures in their place.
André finished his update on Solana’s economic outlook, complete with new five star hotels, luxury casino, and the announcement of a new sailing school, funded by the royal family. He nodded to Alanna, and cameras flashed.
“This new program is the brain-child of Gabriel Flynn. He wishes he could be here today for this, but he’s traveling at the moment. He’s very excited, as we all are. Questions?”
A dozen hands shot up, with several people bursting out inquiries. The loudest—a lady up front—wore a black pantsuit with too much cleavage revealed.
“Rumors earlier this week claim you and Miss Westfall had broken up. Now, I can’t help but notice the band on your ring finger. Care to comment?”
André smiled. With a nod from Gemma, who stood off to the side, he took a deep breath. “Gemma and I were married this weekend, in a private ceremony.”
More cameras flashed as murmurs raced through the crowd. People surged forward with recorders in ha
nd.
“We’ll hold a grand reception in a few weeks, and honeymoon in a few months. There’s still a lot to complete here on Solana before we take a holiday.”
“Where will you go on your honeymoon?”
“Was the queen present?”
“Why was there no formal announcement before?”
The questions bombarded him like a tidal wave.
He kept his cool. Waiting for the reporters to calm.
“Does the false rumor of the split up have anything to do with the recent resignation of the Royal Stable Manager, Oscar Nauta?”
That question pulled his attention back to the woman in the black suit.
Not a mystery why she asked that.
“Why would you ask that?” He stared her down, the other voices fading off, and waiting.
“I just find it curious; a man working for the crown for thirty years dismissed the same weekend as the false rumor. Do you believe he was a leak of some kind? Does the royal family routinely use false rumors to flush out any assumed leaks?”
André used his practiced political smile. “I think, Miss Callowell, you already know the answer to that. As does your boss. Since personnel files here are confidential, I’m curious how you would know about our stable manager’s employment status.”
“I don’t reveal my sources.” She smirked. “Like all good journalists.”
Is that what you are?
“And like all good employers, we don’t discuss personnel matters. That’s an invasion of their privacy.”
“How can the general public be sure we’re getting accurate information from the royal family with these kinds of tactics?” she dared to throw back.
Another scattered murmur traced through the room.
He held up his hand. “The general public will always receive the truth from the royal family. Events over the last year have proven that. This is a good example of why we don’t condone gossip. Most of the time, it’s wrong. Or an outlandish exaggeration. In the future, I recommend before you print anything regarding the royal family, you call our Press Secretary’s office for confirmation. Not hound palace staff members.” He locked eyes with Callowell again. “Like all reputable journalists.”
A warm satisfaction spread through him when several people glanced sideways at her.
“Last question,” he announced.
“When will the grand reception take place? Is there any word on the queen’s wedding date?” someone called from the back.
André grinned. “I’ll let Her Majesty answer that.” He stepped back, and allowed his sister to take the reins.
Taking Gemma’s side, he kissed her cheek, and laced his fingers with hers.
The slight dimple bared from her satisfied smile sent a zing through his body. The same smile she used during foreplay, that drove him wild with—
“Well done,” his wife whispered, careful to keep her words discreet while Alanna spoke into the microphone. “Your annoyed smile is just as sexy as your genuine one.”
“Prove that to me later.” He winked.
The queen cleared her throat. Her subtle way of reminding them she was still speaking. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a lot to do to prepare for the reception, not the least of which is to update the royal records to include Her Royal Highness, Princess Gemma.”
Gemma’s lips parted, and her chest rose with a gasp.
The room erupted into applause, and Alanna grinned, clapping along.
A burst of joy filled André’s heart. He lifted Gemma’s hand to kiss her knuckles.
Then she smiled.
And knocked his soul sideways all over again.
Chapter TWELVE
Flynn
Flynn ignored the cameras as he stepped off the jet stairway. At least the reporters were several yards away and couldn’t hear the grumbles under his breath.
The sunset cast a brilliant twilight over the landscape, with the ocean visible just off to the west. An ocean he desperately missed.
The woman in the awaiting limo was more than worth it
A royal guard waited by the vehicle door. He spoke into the microphone at his sleeve. “Larkspur in route.”
He frowned. Still didn’t like his call-sign, but at least it was an improvement from the original, crabapple. He’d hounded Stefano for a week before they finally agreed to change it to another flower, in keeping with the rest of the royal family theme.
Flynn climbed inside the limo.
Alanna waited with an eager smile.
Her long, dark hair was twirled into a bun on the top of her head, with a simple braid wrapped around the base.
He loved curling that hair around his hand, the smooth texture so soothing. And invigorating.
Her lavender wrap dress hugged her perfectly, accentuating her cleavage, and making his mouth water.
“Hi, gorgeous.” She crossed her legs, the fabric slipping off her knee, revealing a super creamy thigh. “Enjoy your trip?”
“What’re you doing all the way over there?”
She reclined against the seat. “I thought I’d show you a nice view of Solana.”
“This is the perfect view of Solana.”
Alanna grinned. “Over dinner.”
“Why wait?”
“Because I’m hungry. And I’ve missed you.”
Flynn slowly slid forward off his seat, and kneeled at her feet. “Can we start with dessert?”
His fiancée smiled, kissed his cheek, and pushed him back.
He reluctantly resumed his original seat.
Then she knocked on the window between their cabin and the chauffeur. “Drive around for a while.”
Then shut the privacy shade.
He raised his eyebrow, his tongue instantly swelling from her mischievous glance.
Alanna pulled on the string at her waist, slow and suggestively. “How about a show first?”
His dick responded to the question eagerly. Stretching his arms over the back of the leather seat, he shifted to create more room in front of him. “Always love a good show before dinner.”
She uncrossed her legs, and pulled the fabric to the side, revealing her onyx push-up bra and G-string. Her tan skin nearly glistened with sex appeal, and his tongue swelled at the thought of licking every inch of her.
Alanna slipped the dress from her shoulders, and tossed it at him.
Flynn held the material to his nose, and breathed in the familiar coconut scent.
This is home right here.
The Queen of Solana leaned forward, spreading her legs wide, and rested her elbows on her knees. Her delectable breasts appeared so much bigger in that particular lingerie.
He licked his lip. Then draped her dress around his neck like a scarf.
The lights of the city passed by the blacked-out windows, a blurry distraction out of focus.
From the slight tilt in the limo, they traveled uphill, no doubt moving toward the top of the coastal hills where several five-star restaurants and boutique hotels serviced wealthy residents and tourists. All boasting the beautiful panoramic views of Solana’s coastline.
The view in this enclosed limo was far more appealing.
Soft music drowned out the thumping noises from the street beneath the wheels, Alanna’s soundtrack for her effective striptease.
One of her bra straps dangled from her shoulder as she glided her hands down her body, lingering on all of Flynn’s favorite parts.
He’d never been harder in his life.
Until she dropped to her hands and knees on the seat. Crawled across the leather like a panther.
She threw a leg over his thighs, and straddled him. Her breasts dangerously close to his mouth.
He caressed her ass, pulling her in closer. His dick screamed for freedom.
Alanna grasped his hands, and put them behind his head. “You can touch when I say so.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” His voice sounded raw.
Holding onto his shoulders for balance, she rolled her h
ips into his pelvis, grinding into his stiff erection. Deliberately taunting, torturing, and edging him.
Flynn hissed out a slow groan when she scraped her nails down his chest. Unbuttoning his shirt as she went. Once bare-chested, she dragged her nails along his skin again, leaving white streaks in her wake and making goosebumps rise.
Alanna’s perfume intensified when she suckled his ear lobe while unfastening his belt. It didn’t take long for the randy ruler to have his anxious cock in her hand, stroking his length.
“Kiss my breasts.” The dusky look in her gaze kicked his breathing up a notch. “But nothing else.”
He hooked his fingers into the bra cups, and slid them down. Revealing two dark-rose, pointed peaks. Straining for attention.
Flynn drew one into his mouth, using his tongue to make her gasp. Then followed suit with the other. Equal treatment was crucial.
She cradled the back of his head, the feel of her nails on his scalp urging him faster.
With a fluid motion, he unclasped her bra, and let the fabric fall away.
“May I kiss your lips?”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Not yet. But you may unfurl my hair.” Alanna pulled a pin from her bun. Several strands came loose.
He reached up, and ran his fingers through her scalp. More hair tumbled, nearly reaching her waist. The coconut scent magnified. Then he rolled the dark locks around his palm, and tugged ever so gently.
His dick stretched even further.
She grabbed his waistband, and rolled his pants down. Lifting his hips to help, she slipped them over his ass and below his knees. Freeing his cock, the tip already wet with arousal.
Alanna didn’t hesitate. She lowered her sultry lips and licked him off.
Flynn gasped.
Then she closed her hot mouth around his tip, and slid downward, taking all of him.
He groaned, the sensational sucking escalating the heat in his whole body.
The woman’s appetite amazed him. Almost as much as her graceful authority. So tiny, but her presence commanding and insistent.
All mine.
Royal Wedding Page 5
