DOUBLE PRINCES: A Twin Step Royal Romance (With BONUS Book His Tight Little Brat)

by Cassandra Dee

  “Not that you were ever in danger,” added his brother quickly. “We just wanted to take you out of the line of fire.”

  I sat back on my heels, astounded. Everything in my world had been upended. Not only were my husbands the leaders of the rebel movement, but they’d been behind my abduction to boot. The trauma I’d endured in the last few months had been because of them, they were the masterminds.

  “I can’t believe it,” I said softly to myself, shaking my head, my thoughts whirling confusedly. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Please baby,” said Hayden reasonably. “Please try to see it from our standpoint. Our country is in tatters, the elite get everything, and we needed to step in. As princes of the kingdom, it’s our duty to act for our people.”

  I was silent for a moment, still thinking.

  “What about your dad?” I asked softly. “Does King Constantine know about all this?”

  Both brothers snorted then.

  “Our dad is an asshole,” spat Holt. “The elites getting everything? More like dear old Dad getting everything.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my brow furrowed. “King Constantine is a fake?”

  Hayden snorted.

  “Constantine,” he said sarcastically, “has been using Slovania as his personal piggybank for years. All these state-owned companies? He pockets the profits. Humanitarian aid from other countries? He steals it and sells it on the black market,” he raged. “Oil for food programs don’t have a chance here because Constantine makes off with the dollars.”

  “So your dad has been using Slovania for his personal benefit then?” I asked, worried.

  “Personal benefit,” snorted Hayden. “He’s a downright thief and international criminal. We just have to prove it.”

  “How?” I asked faintly, my head whirling.

  “You’ll see,” said Holt darkly. “You’ll see.”

  And I was afraid then, very afraid, because Pandora’s box had been opened and its troubles unleashed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Holt

  “You think it was too much?” my brother asked me.

  We were cleaning our rifles, stacking the parts to the side as we oiled and scrubbed each segment. The fiery scent of gunpowder blended with the musky scent of death in my nostrils, and I didn’t answer for a few seconds.

  “Probably,” I acknowledged. “We laid in on her all at once, who wouldn’t be stunned?”

  Because we’d blown apart the doors to our secrets earlier that afternoon. Not only had Summer discovered that the guerilla movement was headquartered here, at this remote camp in the Kolstya Mountains, but that my brother and I were the heads of the insurgent group looking to overthrow our own father.

  It’s ironic, I know. As princes of the kingdom, it would have been so easy to lay back and let the money roll in. After all, dear old Dad was doing the looting so we could have feigned ignorance, living the high-life in London or Paris as Constantine raped the country.

  But that’s not us. Halborg blood runs thick in our veins and we couldn’t turn away from our people, the common folk who needed us. We’d watched during the last couple years as our people had gone hungry, the situation ever more dire, unrest raging through the streets.

  And so we came back after medical school. Sure, we disguised ourselves as playboys, sleeping with women right and left while we fixed boobs and butts, but at the same time, we were boning up on military strategy, searching for allies, all the while negotiating with the insurgents. Finally, they convinced us to join their movement, to lead the war.

  And the last straw has finally come. We have proof, solid evidence that Constantine has been stealing, that he’s been orchestrating the drug trade, selling narcotics to fund his forces. Even worse, he’s been taking from the poor for his own gain, making a buck off the backs of underprivileged children.

  “You ready?” grunted my brother.

  “Absolutely,” I affirmed, and we hoisted the Kalashnikovs over our shoulders. A steady beating grew in the background, the wub-dubs growing louder and louder until a helicopter landed in a campsite clearing, a giant black praying mantis among the foliage.

  “Sires!” shouted Barbaro over the din. “To the palace!”

  And grim-faced, my brother and I got into the big bird. Our ride was here … and there was no looking back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Summer

  I watched as the helicopter disappeared until it was only a black speck in the sky, smaller than a gnat. The dust slowly settled around the clearing, a few men going about their business, camouflage uniforms sweaty, dirty, and grimy.

  And I looked down at myself. I wasn’t much better, my hair tangled, dressed in plain khaki outfit. Because what was supposed to be my honeymoon had turned into the shock of my life. Not only were my husbands the leaders of the insurgent movement, but they’d orchestrated my assault during Operation Smile.

  And I was confused, beyond bewildered at this point.

  “Please,” I’d said slowly to the twins. “I need some time alone.”

  Holt and Hayden looked at me carefully, their big forms tense in the small cabin.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” Hayden said slowly. “Because it’s totally natural, we kind of, uh, sprung this on you.”

  I was silent for a moment.

  “Yes, it’s that, but it’s more,” I said slowly. “I need time to think, to process this all. You guys kidnapped me, had your men tie me up and throw me in a corner, all in the name of your revolution. If you’d do that to me, your beloved wife, what else are you capable of?”

  And Holt and Hayden were silent.

  “Honey, you were never in any danger,” Holt said quietly. “You know that right?”

  “I know, but that’s not the point,” I replied, taking a deep breath. “It just seems like you’d do anything for the insurgency, including scaring the daylights out of me, wrecking your own honeymoon, not to mention putting Halson and your mom at risk. What about them? They’re not accomplices, are they?”

  The twins were silent.

  “No, our mom and Halson know nothing,” said the twins slowly. “But they’re collateral damage in this war.”

  “Collateral damage?” I gasped, my eyes wide with shock. “That’s how you talk about your mom and brother? Your closest family, short of me? What aren’t you willing to do?” I asked, tears spilling from my eyes now. “And what about my mom? Candace is at the palace too, is she going to be killed?” I asked, clutching my breast. My heart felt like it might explode from the heartbreak, the internal pain.

  “We know how you feel,” said Hayden slowly, “but we’re committed to the cause. We’ve been fighting for it for years now and it runs in our blood, our minds, our hearts. We can’t undo it, we can’t back away now. It’s in our DNA,” he said sorrowfully.

  And therein lay the problem. The twins were on a mission to bring down their own father, and the only sure thing in the future was pain … a lot of it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Hayden

  The coup was bloodless and swift. We made sure of it because although Holt and I come off as merciless tyrants, we’re not into messes and unfortunately, blood creates a mess.

  Our troops stormed the palace, breaching every entryway, every barrier with a combination of shock-and-awe tactics and technical knowhow. It helped that as princes of the kingdom we’d had access to the castle blueprints, knowing where each electrical outlet, each wire, each narrow passageway lay.

  And Constantine lay in wait, as if expecting our arrival.

  “Ah, you’ve finally come,” he smirked, slumped on his throne. “The prodigal sons.” The old drunkard even had his crown on although it tilted sloppily over one ear, almost falling off.

  “Father,” I said slowly. “Get up. Get up and keep this humane. We know you’ve been looting the kingdom for decades now, it’s disgusting what you’ve done to our people. Get up and we’ll put you under house arres
t for trial in Geneva.”

  “That?” scoffed Constantine. “That fucking Truth and Reconciliation tribunal? That’s bullshit, you have nothing on me.”

  “If we have nothing on you then there’s no reason to be afraid,” growled Holt. “Come quickly and your life will be spared.”

  Constantine laughed as if possessed, the sound demonic as it rang through the throne room, echoing ominously.

  “You have nothing!” he screeched. “I’ve been doing this for thirty years, you think I don’t know how to cover my tracks? Prove it,” he challenged, throwing wine into my face.

  I stood motionless, letting the aromatic liquid trickle off my chin before slowly reaching for a cloth, cleaning myself with deft, sure strokes.

  “Father,” I repeated again, keeping my voice even, refusing to let his clown tactics cloud my judgment. “Come quietly.”

  And Constantine lost it then. He physically threw himself at us, his wizened sixty year-old form launching into the air and tackling Holt, his robes flapping, the ermine cape spreading like wings before falling to the floor.

  Because of course, he was no match for my brother. Holt’s six four and a trained fighter whereas my dad had been sitting on his ass for years, indulging in the good life. So Constantine bounced off Holt, collapsing on the ground in a mess, landing on the stone floor with a painful splat.

  But he wasn’t done yet.

  “Get them!” the old man screeched to his men. “Get them, get these traitors! Put them under arrest!”

  But no one moved because I held up a hand and tellingly, it had a syringe in it.

  “This,” I said to the assembled crowd. “This is proof of Constantine’s crimes.”

  There was nothing special about the syringe, not really, except that it was marked with a blue cross on one end.

  “This syringe was donated by an American medical mission for the children of Slovania,” I said slowly. “This and a load of painkillers such as fentanyl and Narcan, to help underprivileged children recover from cleft palate surgery.”

  “My father,” I spat, “has been stealing medicine from kids, putting the drugs on the black market for sale. He’s been using the proceeds to benefit himself, diverting everything into a Swiss bank account.”

  “And we have the records,” my brother added woodenly. “We’ve been working with Swiss officials to track the ill-gotten gains, and it’s all there. All the money, from this and other crimes, stolen from the people of Slovania.”

  And after that, the coup went swiftly. The palace guards put my father under house arrest, threw him into a cell to be escorted to the Hague for trial. Meanwhile, we cleaned house quickly.

  “Barbaro, go,” I directed, and our loyal man-at-arms dispatched my father’s cronies, throwing the corrupt cohort into a temporary slammer, a makeshift jail.

  Meanwhile, our older brother and mom stood by, mouths agape, wide-eyed as we asserted control.

  “What?” gasped Halson, clutching my mom and Candace close to him, the women cowering. “What is this about?”

  “Brother,” I said grimly. “You’ve been a shut-in for far too long, blind to our father’s ways. Unfortunately, he’s a traitor to the people and it had to be done,” I said, returning my pistol to its holster.

  Halson’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “But … but … but I’m the crown prince,” he whispered, chin wobbling.

  This is where Holt cut in.

  “Yes, but no longer,” he said smoothly. “The new government’s not going to work with you in charge, you’re not the right one.” And he turned to me, his eyes meeting mine before falling to one knee. “All hail the new King,” he ground out, lowering his head in fealty, hand over heart.

  And slowly, the soldiers in the room followed, bending their knees, copying his movements, hand over their chests in subservience.

  “ALL HAIL,” came the roar of a thousand men.

  And I surveyed the crowd, nodding.

  “Hail,” I said simply, and the coronation was done.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Summer

  I struggled internally, although the expression on my face was impassive, giving nothing away. Hayden and Holt had called me to Konstadt Palace, “summoned” me was more like it, and I fumed at the way I was being treated, like one of their subjects.

  “Mom, I’m out,” I said flatly. “I don’t care, I can’t stay here, absolutely not.”

  Candace gave me a searching look. We were sitting on her plain white bedspread, which surprised me because my mom has never been basic. It was shocking that there weren’t lace frills everywhere, that the vanity only had a few things on it instead of being overloaded with perfumes and cosmetics.

  “Is it Slovania, the country?” asked my mom slowly, “or is it the twins?”

  I shot her a look.

  “Do you know about us?” I said, my expression half grim, half shamefaced.

  My mom sighed.

  “I was hoping you weren’t going to say ‘us,’ but I guess you’ve confirmed it,” she said tiredly. “I was hoping it wasn’t true, but I see that it is.”

  I grit my teeth.

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me Candace,” I said tightly, “maybe if you’d been more involved in my life you would have known.”

  But instead of spitting back a sharp retort, my mom nodded wearily, looking down at the bedspread.

  “I know baby, I know, I haven’t always been the most involved Mom, but I figured you could take care of yourself,” she said. “I never thought things would get this off course.”

  The “off course” remark really stung, and I blurted something out without thinking.

  “Thanks Candace,” I said sarcastically. “But just so you remember, you’re the one who got us here with the stupid Prince Halson stuff. And now look what’s happened, my husband is, he’s …”

  I couldn’t continue because tears overwhelmed me then and I found myself crying hard, my shoulders heaving painfully, tears running hotly down my cheeks. I hadn’t cried like this in a long time, years probably, so the volcanic eruption startled me, scared me.

  But Candace didn’t seem surprised at all.

  “I know honey, our husbands haven’t exactly been models of excellence,” she said softly, “or I guess in your case, your two husbands?” she asked.

  And I nodded through the tears.

  “I ma-married Hayden, but Holt’s always been pa-part of our relationship,” I confessed, the sobs making my words almost incomprehensible. “I can’t explain it but the twins mean so much to me, we’re a trio and can’t be any other way.”

  And my mom sat back wearily, letting out a big sigh.

  “I know baby, and maybe you should count yourself lucky to have found someone special,” she said sadly. “Or two someones in this case. I don’t think I’ll ever be so lucky.”

  That made me stop sobbing for an instant. Candace was a newlywed, someone who’d literally just tied the knot. She shouldn’t have been talking like this, so I looked more closely at her, peering through my tears. And what I saw shocked me. Mom seemed to have aged about fifteen years in the short time we’d been here. Her once blonde hair was almost all silver now, and tiny lines had appeared around her eyes and mouth, her skin slightly crepey in texture, almost translucent from fatigue and disappointment.

  “Mom?” I said slowly, “Are you okay? Have things been okay for you?”

  Candace sighed again, and shot me a wry look before letting out a short, sharp laugh.

  “Why is it that you always seem to be taking care of me rather than the other way around?” she said dryly. “Maybe if I’d listened to you things would be better for us both.”

  “Mom,” I said more forcefully this time, “what’s wrong? Has everything been okay? You look really thin,” I said, scrutinizing her even more closely. It was true. Mom’s designer duds hung limply on a skeletal frame, and while she’d always slim, this time it was different. She loo
ked ill, unhealthy, and her glow was just … gone.

  But before I could say anything, Candace sighed and started to talk.

  “Baby, count yourself lucky that you’ve found two men who adore you,” she said with some introspection. “I don’t think I’ve ever found a man in my life who loved me, really loved me,” she continued sadly.

  Of course, my dad had been a dud, they’d divorced years ago. But what about Halson? They were newlyweds, practically still on their honeymoon. What had happened there?

  And Candace saw the unspoken questions in my eyes.

  “Baby, I’m always chasing romance,” she said, “you know that. You’ve met a ton of my boyfriends over the years and you’ve seen how headstrong I can be, dating that guy who lived in Montana who was still married, or the Australian one who ran a puppy mill.”

  I nodded. Those interludes hadn’t been her best moments, but I didn’t think it defined her.

  “Sure, you’ve made some bad decisions when it comes to men, but who hasn’t?” I said quickly. “Don’t be down about that. Why, has something happened with Halson?” I asked again.

  “No, not really,” said Candace with a small smile. “I think it’s more about me,” she said ruefully. “I’ve always had my head in the clouds, wanted to get swept off my feet. And when a dashing prince actually showed up, I was over the moon,” she said. “But Halson, I don’t know, it’s just not working,” she said, stating the obvious.

  The long look on her face moved me. But there had to be more.

  “Why though?” I pressed again. “I mean, Halson is a prince, even if he’s not the Crown Prince anymore. Hayden and Holt aren’t kicking him out of the family or anything, he still lives at the palace and you’ll have a nice lifestyle. And besides, you were so in love and it’s only been months. Has he done something bad?” I asked insistently.