Queen Sized: Royally Screwed: Book 7

by Faye, Madison

  “That was your captain of the guard making sure my quarters were secure,” I mumbled to Emilia, hoping to God my face wasn’t as red as I was pretty sure it was.

  “Oh,” Lola smiled wickedly at me. “So that’s what that was?”

  “Yes,” I answered primly. “That’s what that was.”

  “And are your… quarters secure?” Lola started to giggle as she said it, and this time, I know my face burned red.

  “Yeah, Alessia, did Oren do a good job of securing your quarters,” Vi pantomimed with air-quotes as the three of them grinned at me.

  “Not what it looks like, I promise,” I mumbled again, turning and walking quickly over to the refrigerator in the small kitchenette area of the suite and yanking it open.

  “Is there any wine in here?”

  Vi snorted.

  “Dude it’s like two in the afternoon.”

  I frowned as I raised my head up, I’m sure looking guilty as sin.

  “Right, right.”

  The three of them glanced at each other before Emilia turned back and shrugged.

  “You know what? Screw it. Have a drink. I think it’s probably deserved considering why you’re here.”

  I smiled wryly as I glanced back into the fridge and plucked out a bottle of expensive looking Chardonnay.

  “Anyone else?”

  Vi sighed, sticking her hand up. “You know what? Why not.”

  “Lola?”

  “No, I’m goo—”

  “Yeah, she’ll have one.”

  Emilia laughed as Lola shot her a look.

  “You’re drinking for me, okay?” she grinned, patting her not-even-showing-yet belly.

  Lola sighed. “Ugh, fine.”

  Two minutes later, we were all camped out in chairs around the patio table out on the balcony of my suite, Lola, Vi, and I nursing chardonnay.

  “Here, have some more.”

  Emilia eagerly shoved the bottle my way as I shot her a look.

  “You realize I still have basically a fully glass, right?”

  “You do realize I’m trying to get you tipsy enough to come clean about what we just walked in on, right?” she shot back.

  My face burned as I quickly took a sip of wine.

  “Hey, you know you can spill it with us, right?”

  I chewed on my lip as I glanced away from Vi’s remark, gazing out over the lake in the late afternoon sun.

  “I mean, we can dance around it, or we can just talk like adults about the fact that you’ve totally got the hots for Oren Henley.”

  My eyes swiveled back to Emilia, who shrugged.

  “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  The three of them laughed.

  “Okay, if—and it’s a big, big hypothetical if—I thought Oren was—”

  “Hot. Growly. Super single.”

  I shot Emilia a look and she giggled.

  “Please, continue.”

  “If,” I muttered. “If I were… into him like that, it’s not like it could ever actually happen.”

  “Why?” Lola raised her brows as she took a sip of wine.

  “Because I’m marrying someone else? Because that is literally why we’re all even here this weekend? So I can meet this guy before I shackle myself to him for life?”

  “You are such a romantic, Alessia, you know that?”

  I stuck my tongue out at Vi.

  “Plus, there’s that little factor about me being a queen?”

  Lola frowned. “And?”

  “And queens hooking up with captains of the guard of neighboring kingdoms isn’t exactly high on the ‘appropriate conduct for a queen scorecard’,” I rushed out.

  Instantly, my mouth clamped shut, but not before the three of them perked right up.

  “Hold up,” Lola pushed her glass aside and steepled her fingers in front of her on the patio table. “Did you and Oren…”

  “No!” I said quickly, blushing. “No, I… this was a hypothetical, remember?”

  “Oh, right, right. It’s just a hypothetical, Lola,” Emilia snickered, rolling her eyes.

  “Alright, so let’s say hypothetically, you totally jumped Oren’s bones,” Lola grinned at me.

  “I did not—”

  “Just play along, okay? Jeez.” She sighed dramatically. “Say you did. Is it just the King Brian thing? Or something else?”

  “Can we please change the subject?” I groaned, grabbing my wine.

  “Al, you know you’re in good company here in terms of scandal, right?” Emilia shrugged. “I mean, I married a man after I broke into his freaking royal ball with forged invitations.”

  Lola smirked. “And hello?” she pointed to herself. “Married to a guy more than twice my age?”

  Okay, I’d give her that. Duke Xavier Danes, Lola’s husband, had at one point been her guardian when she was growing up. That one had seriously been a scandal when the tabloids got ahold of it, that I remember.

  Vi snorted, knocking back a big gulp of wine.

  “Uh, married to two men, you guys,” she grinned, hooking both thumbs towards herself. “I think I win.”

  I blushed. Yup, that’d been another big tabloid thing. Not only had Vi forged her way into Rian’s royal ball along with Emilia that same night I’d literally fallen into Oren’s arms, but she’d also managed to get tangled up with Rian two’s friends, the then princes, now kings Shane and Adam McDermott, of Nessa.

  …Well, shit. Sitting there, suddenly my “drama” didn’t actually seem that dramatic. Except, it still wasn’t something that could be. I mean, I knew what I felt even just thinking about Oren. And when his hands were on me, and his lips on mine, and his voice in my ear.

  Good lord. Forget it. One touch from the man and I was mush. One kiss and I was his. Except, laws were laws, and customs were customs. And as silly and antiquated as they may have been, they were still a reality. And Danesland wasn’t exactly on the cutting edge of forward thinking like Nessa, which had legalized three-way marriage ahead of Vi marrying her two guys. No, Danesland had a stupid royal council full of stuck-up snooty assholes who wouldn’t let me actually flex my royal rule unless I was married. And not just that but married to someone royal.

  …Oren Henley was not royal. Trust me, I’d looked, and deeply.

  “This is about your royal council, isn’t it,” Emilia said gently, reaching out to squeeze my hand.

  I nodded, scowling.

  “It’s a stupid fucking royalty thing. I mean, you’re a Lord’d daughter. Even if you broke into that ball, you were still okay to marry Rian.”

  “Yeah, but also Bandiff doesn’t have rules like—”

  “But if they did,” I muttered. “You’d have been fine. Same with you,” I nodded at Lola. “Your father was a lord as well.”

  Vi cleared her throat. “Um, hello? I was her cook, remember?”

  She nodded her chin at Emilia, who rolled her eyes.

  “You make it sound like you were my slave.”

  Vi snorted, throwing her head back.

  “Well, I married two royals, and there was definitely not a drop of royal blood in this family tree.”

  I shook my head. “You guys, I…” I sighed. “I appreciate it, really. But Daneland is… different. Oren being of un-royal blood just wouldn’t—”

  My lips clamped shut, but of course, not fast enough. Not fast enough to stop the three of them grinning eagerly at me.

  I waved my hands, shaking my head.

  “Yep, we’re done talking about this.”

  The grins evaporated from my friends’ faces as they looked at me sympathetically.

  “Ugh, okay, one of you needs to drink another glass of wine for me asap,” Emilia groaned before raising her eyes to me and smiling.

  “Look, we’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

  I frowned. “Can you make Brian LaBeau disappear?”

  “Probably?”

  I snorted a laugh, almost choking up
on wine.

  “I mean, I am a queen. And a pregnant lady. I think Rian has to do everything I say for the next several of months, right?”

  “Think he’d go for whacking a king-apparent and probably starting a war with Seyvette?”

  She smiled. “It’s definitely worth asking.”

  I grinned as Vi topped off her, Lola, and I’s glasses before raising hers.

  “A toast. To the bullshit that comes with royalty.”

  “Amen to that,” Emilia muttered, clinking her water glass.

  “How about a toast for ‘who the fuck has ever even heard of Seyvette’?”

  All four of us cracked up at Lola’s toast, clinking glasses and knocking back big gulps. And at least for the moment, I could forget about the looming problem of being betrothed to one man while being completely head over heels in love and in lust with another.

  Chapter 5

  Oren

  “What is it, casual fucking Friday?”

  I glanced up, grinning and giving the middle finger to Isaac as he stepped into the enormous six-car garage.

  “And here I thought it was ‘come to work late’ Friday,” I muttered back.

  Issac, my-second-in-command of the Royal Guard of Bandiff and a long-time friend, arched a brow and glanced at his watch.

  “Hey, I’ve been here all day, boss-man, out doing a patrol of the grounds. And in uniform,” he added, glancing down at his royal guard uniform before nodding at me—me, dressed in jeans and a dirty white t-shirt.

  “What, I’m checking the cars for security breaches,” I muttered. “Didn’t want to get my uniform all fucked up.”

  “Wow, weird.”

  I frowned. “What’s weird.”

  “It’s weird that King Rian has the exact same black Triumph bike as you. I mean, the same fucking dings on the tailpipe and everything. Man, that’s just craz—”

  “Fuck off,” I muttered, making my friend snort a laugh.

  He shook his head, stepping over and crossing his arms as he leaned against the gorgeous black Lamborghini parked next to where I was working on my bike.

  “What’s going on, buddy.”

  I shook my head, keeping my eyes focused on the shifter I was fucking around with.

  “Nothing, I told you, I—”

  “Okay, as your friend, can I say something?”

  I sighed. “Shoot.”

  “Dude, you’ve been cagey for months. And I know that’s kind of your thing, being all emotionally closed off and all that, but it’s been like double the stone walls around you than it normally is. So, you wanna pretend you’re looking for car bombs in your own bike’s shifter, or can we drop the bullshit.”

  I sucked on my teeth, taking a breath before dropping the spanner and standing. I eyed my second-in-command, my jaw tight.

  “Look, I just needed to clear my head. Blow off some steam. You know how working on bikes does that.”

  Isaac frowned. “Yeah but what the fuck are you blowing off steam about? This weekend is going to be a breeze. We’re way over-staffed with men, the property is definitely secure, and there aren’t even any imminent threats on a single one of the royalties who’re visiting. This is a cakewalk, Oren, and the men are beyond prepared for anything. Hell, that’s because you trained the shit out of them.”

  He shrugged.

  “So, what’s really going on.”

  I turned, grabbing a rag, wiping my hands off.

  “Forget it, Issac.”

  “Still about your mystery girl from that night?”

  Okay, I’d come half clean to Isaac. The guy had bumped into me like four minutes after Alessia had run off at Rian’s ball, and he’d immediately called me out based off the lipstick on my face and the scent of her perfume hanging off of me. If I’d been in my normal state, I’d have just told him to forget it. But after Alessia?

  Shit, after her, I was in fucking free-fall.

  I’d bullshitted Isaac, and told him yes, there’d been a girl, but I said she was one of the guests’ attaché, or possibly a lady in waiting for one of the visiting queens. And hell, at first, I didn’t even know who she was, so it was hardly even a lie. But once I’d figured out that the girl who’d fallen into my arms was Queen Alessia of Danesland, I’d still kept the story the same whenever it came up with Isaac.

  “Buddy, you gotta let that one go. I mean, she didn’t give you a name, she ran off…”

  He sighed.

  “Look, I know you’ve got your code and all, but some girls just aren’t out there looking for their one and only. She had some fun with the captain of a royal guard, and that’s that. Look, we’re out at the summer palace for the weekend, and all we have to do is keep an eye on Queen Alessia while she meets this dude no one’s ever heard of.”

  My friend shrugged.

  “So, relax, man. I don’t know what about all of that would get you all grumpy like you’re still thinking about that chick from—”

  Issac went silent, and when I raised my eyes up, suddenly, I knew why.

  Shit.

  “Oh fuck!” Isaac’s brows were raised, a half-grin, half-jaw-dropped look of shock on his face.

  “Isaac—”

  “Dude,” he shook his head slowly. “Wait, is the girl from that night…

  “Isaac—” I growled, warning in my tone.

  He whistled lowly. “Jesus fuck, Oren! Am I right?!”

  I raked my nails down my jaw, grinding my teeth as my eyes slid away to glance out through the open garage doors.

  “Fuck, Oren,” he growled, standing and pacing the floor. “Please tell me the girl from the ball isn’t Queen-fucking-Alessia.”

  I dragged my gaze back to him, my eyes hardening.

  “Damn, man,” he groaned, shoving his hand through his hair. “This is… shit.”

  Fuck it. There wasn’t any backpedaling at that point, and I knew it.

  “Yeah, well, shit is right,” I growled.

  “She’s a queen.”

  “I’ve picked up on that, thanks.”

  “She’s getting married, Oren.”

  “Oh, is she?” I hissed sarcastically.

  He whistled lowly, turning to pace the garage floor some more.

  “You haven’t… I mean, since that night.”

  I said nothing, stroking my jaw, and Isaac groaned as he shook his head. “Fuck, today? Did you go see her here? At the fucking place where she’s meeting this dude, all while it’s your duty to keep an eye on her?”

  “Calm down,” I muttered, wiping the rest of my hands off and tossing the grease rag away. “I’m taking care of it.”

  “Oh, yeah, it looks like it. You’ve got it handled, huh? That’s why you’re sitting here all fucking moody working on your bike, right?”

  I was still figuring out what to say back besides “fuck off and leave it,” when suddenly, a voice sounded behind us from the open garage door.

  “Am I interrupting something, gentleman?”

  I swiveled, my eyes landing on a tall, built, silver-haired man dressed in a dark, tailored suit—Nolan Karl, Alessia’s uncle and close advisor.

  “Sir,” I bowed curtly, Issac doing the same next to me. “Not at all, just going over some logistics for the weekend.”

  Nolan was a distinguished looking guy probably in his mid-forties, and definitely built like a soldier. We’d spoken on the phone a few days ago to go over some of the logistics for the visit, but this was our first face-to-face.

  “Captain Oren,” he reached out to shake my hand, but I held back, nodding at the bike and my still-dirty hands. Nolan just shrugged, keeping his hand right where it was, so I shook it firmly.

  “I wanted to introduce you all.”

  For the first time, I glanced past him at the two people standing behind him—a girl and a guy who looked quite similar, and young, maybe Alessia’s age. The girl was beautiful for sure, and the guy was… well, pretty, as fucking weird as that is to say. Waifish, maybe? Red hair, a thin face, with this wis
py little excuse for a beard. Frail. Delicate. Maybe a little—

  “Allow me to introduce her highness,” Nolan gestured at the girl. “The princess Simone, of Seyvette. And her brother,” he smiled. “Who I’m sure needs no intro—”

  Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  And suddenly, it hit me, just as Nolan beamed at me and gestured towards the shrimpy little red-haired guy with the wispy beard.

  “King-apparent Brian LaBeau, here to meet his betrothed, my niece.”

  The garage went silent for a good two full seconds, both Issac and I’s jaws basically on the ground. I recovered first, shaking my head and blinking as I bowed formerly.

  “Highness, welcome to Bandiff.”

  No. Fucking. Way.

  This was the guy Alessia was promised to? I mean the guy was a boy—small, delicate, and even a little scared looking as his eyes nervously darted over mine.

  No, no way. A girl like Alessia deserved a real man. A man to manhandle her, and pick her up, and throw her down until she’s moaning for more. A man like me.

  “Captain, pleasure to meet you.”

  Brian’s lilting, husky voice tumbled out, a thin arm extending with an outstretched hand, which I shook.

  Smooth. Jesus Christ, how did a guy even get hands that smooth?

  “My guards and I are at your disposal, your highness. Princess,” I said gruffly, nodding at each of them in turn as Isaac stepped forward to shake Brian’s hand. It was the token line used to address someone important when you’re guarding them. Royals sometimes had a way of looking at guards as if we were “the help”—like we were going to fetch them a second martini, not shield them with our bodies in case of a shooter. My token line was specifically tailored to appease the douchebags and also convey a sense of security.

  “I thank you,” he said curtly, unsmiling. “This is an important weekend for me, and for Queen Alessia.”

  “Of course, highness,” I said lowly.

  “Will you be joining us for dinner this evening, Captain?” The princess Simone smiled, pretty green eyes flashing as she pushed a lock of hair the same shade of red as her brother away from her face.

  “I, uh—”

  “Oh, of course you should, Captain,” Nolan decreed, smiling as he clapped me on the back. “Although, perhaps a, uh…” He arched his brow. “Well, perhaps something more formal.”