The King's Surprise Bride: A Royal Wedding Novella (Royal Weddings Book 2)

by Vivien Vale

  “For what?” I ask with confusion.

  “For being amazing, witty, and smart. That was one of the best family dinners I’ve ever had.”

  Carter

  If these latest expense reports could hold my attention half as well as June does, I’d have them done already.

  Truth be told, right now I’d much rather be doing June.

  I’d never had a secretary as decorative as her before, mostly by design—the way her hips flare out beneath her pencil skirt when she bends over to highlight a discrepancy, the way her hair falls over her shoulders like waves of chocolate.

  I can’t stop fucking staring at her, and I can’t even complain about it. If my office was over the Grand Canyon, I’d want to gaze upon its majesty, too.

  Fuck work. Figures and numbers are pretty fucking meaningless in comparison. The only figure I’m concerned with right now is that of my bride.

  Suddenly, she looks up and catches my stare. It makes my heart fucking stop—and the way she smiles after makes me think she knows it.

  What she doesn’t know is that I’m fantasizing as I stare. Not just about bending her over that desk and making her moan into the intercom…but also about the way that cute little skirt of hers is going to start filling out once we know for sure she’s carrying my child.

  She’s beautiful now, but add in that baby bump, and she’s going to be fucking glowing. Good thing I no longer have to restrain myself, because she’s mine. I’m gonna have her everywhere and anytime I want to, even on the—

  The fantasy comes to an abrupt end as the devil himself bursts into my office.

  “Christ, I’m up to my ears in child support payments! I can’t take it anymore…there’s just too many of them,” my father’s currently on his monthly rant about paying all the baby mamas he’s knocked up.

  For as long as I can remember, I’ve looked up to my dad. When I was younger, he was the very picture of success—he had more money than he knew what to do with and his choice of pussy every night, with no fucks to give about knocking his conquests up…I mean, what more could a man want?

  Boy, was I fucking naïve.

  I now know the answer to that question, and I’m sure at one point in time, my dad did, too.

  He truly loved my mom. Everyone who ever knew both of them as a couple said as much. It took a real toll on him when she passed away during my and Lawrence’s birth.

  Since then, he’s been a real man-whore, bringing true glory to the name Abraham Fertility Inc. He’s the very face of the company, sowing his seed every-fucking-where. Lawrence and I were quick to follow in his shoes as playboys extraordinaire.

  My eyes skirt over to June, sitting at her desk, typing away. The look of concentration on her face is sexy as hell. The green blouse she’s wearing compliments her eyes and skin tone. She looks like a fucking goddess. Doesn’t hurt that it hugs her curves in all the right places, too!

  “Maybe you should’ve kept your dick in your pants then, or at the very least worn a condom,” I shrug.

  “Pussy is much better without those lousy rubber sacks. It ain’t the money, it’s that there’s too many fucking kids to keep track! I had Vicky calling me two days ago, and Francesca and Marlene today, the phone calls never end!” He throws up his hands in resignation.

  “Should I have June create you a spreadsheet?” I’m only half joking. She’d do it if I asked, but the utter reality would be pretty fucking shocking to her.

  “Har, har, har. Laugh it up, son…” He drops a file on my desk and leaves as quickly as he had come.

  I have no sympathy for the man. You’d think he would’ve learned after the first of my brothers and sisters were born. But no. They just kept popping up out of nowhere.

  Seriously, every time I turn around, I’m hearing about a new baby on the way. I swear, he could fucking wink a woman pregnant at this point.

  I know all too well how easy it is to knock someone up. But unlike my old man, I took that one painful experience and turned it into a valuable lesson.

  My eyes flick over to June again. Looking at her, it’s crystal clear that I’m not the same.

  All my father and I share is that super sperm that we could probably bottle and make millions out of. I can just see the tagline now: Delivering Dreams Around the World.

  For once in my life, I can lay eyes on a beautiful woman and know that I have a good future waiting. She’s unlike any other I’ve met and any other I will meet. I know that for fucking sure.

  I knew it the first day we met.

  Yes, there’s a contract involved, but I can feel that it’s more than that. It feels so good, and so right to fuck her. She gives good head, too.

  She’s every man’s dream, and she’s mine.

  She flips her hair over her shoulder as she reaches for the filing cabinet right outside my office. Our eyes connect again, and the smile she shows me is so damn dazzling, I can feel my cock pressing against my trousers.

  She’s driving me fucking crazy, and she knows it. As she bends over, I get a clear line of sight of her perky tits.

  That fantasy about bending her over my desk is about to become reality if she keeps this up. I don’t give a fuck if it’s the middle of the morning. It’s about time for a snack anyway.

  I can’t wait to find out if she’s pregnant, for her to show me the pregnancy test. The anticipation is wrecking me, and I can’t seem to think about anything else. It normally takes about two weeks to find out, and I can tell you right now: it’s going to be the most agonizing two weeks of my life.

  I might just have to find ways to keep my mind occupied. Like June naked on my lap, riding me like a cowgirl. Yeehaw.

  June

  The copy machine whirs, printing and stacking paper lightning fast. The Wheatfield Public Library never had anything even half this fast. Heck, this copier makes the Wheatfield Public Library’s technology look completely stone aged by comparison.

  It figures. Even the copy machines work faster here in the city. The days go by quicker too, and the relationships…

  It’s safe to say that I’m feeling closer to Carter Abraham right now than I ever felt to Kody. And that’s saying something—since Kody and I started dating back when I barely even understood what a boyfriend was.

  Maybe it is just this city. Everyone’s lives move so quickly here, the heart finds ways to keep up.

  Or maybe it’s just Carter. Call me a hopeless romantic, but whatever’s brewing between us, it’s the stuff of my most embarrassing fantasies.

  Not even just the sexy kind, either.

  Sure, those are being met and exceeded, but there’s so much more.

  Like the sappy, gooey things that I imagined before everything with Kody, before the heartache and the betrayal.

  I’ll admit, after what that man put me through, I didn’t have it in me to continue believing in love.

  I had put “true love” into a mental filing cabinet with things like Santa and the tooth fairy. It was just one more made-up story that whimsical old women tell and nothing more. I had decided that I had absolutely no use for it.

  I guess life has different plans.

  I feel the smile crawl across my face at the mere thought of him, and I don’t even try to hide it. I’m too far gone for denial.

  I hear the door open and turn to find the man himself.

  “Hey!” I say, smiling broadly now that he’s actually in front of me. “I was just thinking about you.”

  He smiles back, a strange, wide smile that I’ve never seen on his face before. It’s almost pained, not reaching his eyes. His forehead is creased.

  I open my mouth to ask if anything’s wrong when he stumbles, smacking hard into the nearest filing cabinet before he can right himself.

  “OOF!”

  “A-are you okay?” I ask, hesitant, unsure.

  There’s a gnawing worry in my stomach that I can’t seem to get rid of. A feeling of unease, like my sixth sense is trying to tell me something, only I
can’t quite make out what it is.

  My grandmother was great with her sixth sense, her instinct. Mine, on the other hand, fluctuates. Some days it’s good, other days not so good.

  Today must be an off day.

  He refocuses his attention on me before straightening and starting back in my direction.

  I know before he’s even halfway to me what the problem is. In fact, I’m kicking myself for not noticing sooner.

  He stops about a foot in front of me, the stench of liquor on his breath only confirming my suspicions. It’s so strong I fear I may get drunk just from the stench alone.

  “Lawrence, how nice to see you.” I say, trying hard to make my face believe what I’m saying and failing miserably to do so.

  “Really?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “And here I got the impression that you didn’t like me.”

  I bite my tongue down hard on the response that comes to mind. Tempted as I am to spew it out, I know better.

  “I don’t know why you’d think that, Lawrence. I hardly even know you.”

  He’s nodding his head with a far-off look in his eyes. It’s like I’ve just said something so utterly profound, he needs time to take it all in.

  I decide to give him all the time he needs, stepping to the side to get by.

  He cuts me off. Of course he does.

  What in the Sam Hill does this guy want?

  “That’s a really good point,” he says, as if he didn’t just bar my exit, “and actually, that’s just why I stopped by.”

  His eyes lock onto mine. What I see in them drives me back a step, my ass bumping into the copier.

  His gaze is hungry, almost predatory. Something else as well—anger? Madness? I’m certain I don’t want to stick around to find out.

  I feel my skin crawl as he directs his eyes lower, sizing up my body in slow, precise measurements.

  “I don’t—” I begin.

  “It’s really about time that we got to know each other better,” he says, leaning forward.

  “I’d rather not,” I say, again trying to get by.

  There is no humor in his laugh.

  Before I can so much as process what he’s doing, I feel his mouth against mine. Hard. Pressing, no more like forcing himself on me.

  It’s a kiss unlike any I’ve ever felt, and one I hope to never feel again.

  I yell into his mouth, my hands pressing hard against his solid chest, desperate to break the contact.

  He grabs me by my upper arms, lifting me from the floor with uncanny ease before setting me down hard atop the copier. The act breaks his mouth from mine, and I use the opportunity.

  “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” I scream, the curse feeling strange and yet welcome on my lips.

  Tempted as I am to spit the stench of alcohol from my mouth, I restrain myself. I don’t want to stain the carpet.

  He laughs again, though now it sounds like more of a cackle.

  “Oh, come on,” he shouts. “If my brother’s good enough, then I sure as hell am!”

  The statement’s so absurd, I almost laugh.

  Instead, I bring my knees up, planting my heels into his chest and shoving for all I’m worth.

  I’m rewarded with his stunned expression as he is flung backwards.

  Too drunk to react, he falls, his back hitting the floor with surprising force.

  Boom!

  It’s at this moment, of course, that the door to the copy room bursts open.

  I sigh loudly, my relief instant and soothing.

  Carter looks dumbfounded at the scene laid out before him. Me, legs still half in the air, terror lingering in my eyes. His brother, drunk, struggling back to his feet, murder in his eyes and my lipstick on his lips.

  “You bitch,” he mutters as he stands.

  I see the look before Lawrence does.

  Carter’s face, usually a plane of composure, cracks into absolute fury. His eyes become a storm—raging violently, promising vengeance.

  He’s already in motion by the time Lawrence turns to face him, his fist flying through the air with incredible force.

  I hear the crack of breaking bone from across the room, see the blood that flies from Lawrence’s now shattered nose, hear his anguished scream.

  Time seems to slow as I watch, still perched on the copy machine.

  “What did you do to her?” Carter demands, though his expression tells me he already knows.

  “What did I do to her?” Lawrence screams, looking in horror at his hands, now filling with blood. “What did you do to me?”

  “Nothing compared to what I’ll do if you ever touch her again,” Carter says, this time eerily calm.

  The silence is deafening.

  “Do you understand?”

  Nothing.

  Behind them, a security guard I’ve seen but never met pokes his head through the door. Quickly surveying the scene, he directs his attention to Carter.

  “Anything I can do?” he asks.

  “Yes. Get him out of my sight.”

  Lawrence doesn’t even resist as he’s escorted from the room, doesn’t so much as glance behind him.

  Then Carter is at my side. He touches me. His hands and eyes run up and down my body, as if searching for injury.

  “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, it’s okay,” I reply. “I’m okay, really.”

  He ceases his inspection long enough to look me in my eyes, the concern in his own almost bringing me to tears.

  “Really,” I repeat, “I’m okay.”

  This time, he seems to believe me.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he’d do that to you. I never thought…”

  I lay my hand gently against his cheek, cutting off whatever might come next.

  “He didn’t hurt me, I promise. I’m alright.”

  He nods, his eyes an equal mix of relief and pain.

  “Really.” I feel like a broken record, saying the same words over and over again. “I’m more worried about Lawrence…and you. Are you okay?”

  His smile is pained, but at least he’s smiling.

  “I’m worried about him. too,” he says. “But I can’t think of that now. Right now, you are my priority.” He places his hand gently against my stomach. “You and our child.”

  I laugh. It feels nice to laugh after what’s just occurred.

  “If there is a child.”

  “Oh, there is,” he says, “I’m sure of it.”

  Carter

  They say that twins have some kind of extrasensory connection. Something that binds them together, no matter how far away from each other they are or how long they’ve been apart.

  If that’s true, then Lawrence has either turned off his twin powers, or he’s fucking dead.

  I shouldn’t fucking care either way. Not after what he did to June—or what he tried to do.

  It’s just that I haven’t heard from him, either. Radio silence on all channels, both extrasensory and standard.

  His phone goes straight to voicemail. Not just for me, but for Dad as well.

  I can’t pretend that I’ve forgiven him for the shit he pulled in the copy room. But I love my brother. I give a fuck whether he’s safe or not.

  He might be a bastard, but he’s still family.

  And family…family has been on my mind a lot lately.

  It’s hard not to think about. Not when June’s around.

  June at the office. June here at home. June waltzing around my mind all day on those long, pretty legs of hers, that unspoken question still between us: pregnant or not pregnant?

  If I had it my way, the lanes of worry in my head would be the only place she’d ever cross paths with Lawrence again.

  My head’s been too full of that lately. Worry, worry, worry. I need something to take my fucking mind off of it for a change.

  I don’t fucking watch TV. Before today, I’ve never found the appeal.

  I sit down on the couch and flip the television on anyway.

&nbs
p; Anything to escape the worry, even some stupid television show or sporting event.

  Apparently, though, escape is not what the universe has in mind for me today. Not two minutes in, and I’m already back to thinking about babies. Difficult not to, with them crawling across my television advertising diapers.

  Funny to think that I might soon be taking these ads seriously.

  After the diaper is a food ad, and then something about the importance of learning early on and needing to buy this special toy to facilitate such learning.

  I picture myself, June at my side, buying diapers for a screaming kid of our own. In my mind, we both wear heavy bags under our eyes, badges that all new parents earn. I’m disheveled, she’s a mess, all is chaos.

  Still though, I can’t see us there without smiles on our faces. I can practically hear her laugh as we compare brands of diapers for the hundredth time. Even only in my mind, her laugh soothes me.

  After the diaper purchase, we head to the toy shop to check out all the latest and greatest must-have baby toys.

  Just a few months ago, the idea might have had me running for the hills.

  But now, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than there: in the future.

  I also can’t think of anyone I’d rather be than the person I’m picturing: loving father, devoted husband, all-around good guy…I’ve never wanted anything more.

  Crazy enough, since I met June, I think I’m well on my way to becoming him.

  At least, I better be.

  It’s yet another thing that’s been keeping me up at night. I’m worried not so much about starting a family, but if I will make a fantastic dad and husband. With my old man a rather poor role model, I can’t help but fucking worry if I’m up for the task. It seems so daunting.

  June has made me feel like I can be anyone I want to be, though—including a father. Trouble is, it comes with so much fucking responsibility.

  At the back of my mind, though, I still wonder…

  How much like my father am I?

  I can’t imagine my father loving a woman like June. In fact, I can’t imagine him ever loving anyone.

  It’s hard, since I never saw him with our mother. I can’t remember him ever being any different than the man I know today, but sometimes I wonder if he could have been.