Royal Affair

by Marquita Valentine

  He winks at her. “Consider me a loaner.”

  “You’re a curse,” she retorts, but all that does is make him laugh.

  Devereaux really is secure in his position, or he’s bluffing just to get under Gen’s skin, like a splinter. I like that about him as well….But he’s not my type at all. I prefer the sarcasm and dry wit of an American who is the worst sort of man for me.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” He nods to Gen and then to me.

  I give him a friendly smile.

  “I cannot stand him,” Gen mutters once he’s out of earshot. “He’s conceited and bossy, and—”

  “Handsome. Powerful,” I finish for her.

  “I won’t lie and say that he’s not those things, but if I could have my way, he wouldn’t be my bodyguard,” Gen says, then blows out a breath. “Besides, I’m not attracted men with dark hair and gray eyes. It’s so common.”

  “Yes, he’s quite common-looking. On the streets, anyone could be mistaken for him.”

  “Agreed,” Gen says, but not quite convincingly enough for me.

  It occurs to me that Devereaux might be exactly Gen’s type, except…if she were to fall for her bodyguard…I can only imagine the pandemonium that would break out over her becoming involved with a commoner without the benefit of marriage to a king and an heir in place first. Not even our Corinthian ancestors were heathen enough to break that rule.

  Except recently, we Sinclairs have been breaking many, many rules.

  My brother married an American maid.

  My other brother has taken to running Sinclair Enterprises instead of leaving it to the powers that be.

  And I…I’m having an affair with the very man who shoved us back into the spotlight.

  Forced Parliament’s hand.

  Upped the tension between my sister and me.

  Caused a rift between us and the man who’d watched over our family for years.

  Basically, Brooks made us remember who we were meant to be and I don’t think any of us, save Colin, are happy about that.

  So what does it say about me that Brooks makes me feel utter joy when we’re together?

  —

  I’m home for all of five minutes before Colin comes bursting through my door.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he asks, practically throwing his tablet at me. On the screen are pictures of Brooks and me in my suite and at the park. We’re kissing in each one.

  My heart pounds against my chest. Who could have done such a thing? At least it’s not Brooks, he couldn’t have taken any of the photos from those angles. “I believe that’s called an invasion of privacy.”

  “No, this is a direct violation of my orders.” He grabs the tablet back and tucks it under his arm. “Charlotte, you can’t see him again.”

  “I can and I will. We’re doing nothing wrong.”

  “There are laws against you spending time with a man like him. He’s not eligible and he’s not worth risking your future over.”

  I know my brother means well, but I’m tired of everyone who means well because it means I end up alone. I end up heartbroken and sitting in my room with only my books for company. “As if I’d be the first Sinclair to disregard those archaic laws.” At least they’re not sexist. The laws apply to my siblings, male and female, equally. “You defied the laws to marry Della.”

  “Della wasn’t interested in using our family’s history to make money,” he points out.

  “Brooks should work for free then?”

  Colin rakes his hand through his hair. “Char, be reasonable about this. He’s the one responsible for exposing us to the entire world. In an instant, he made the world remember what the Silicon Valley Giants made disappear, for millions, I might add. Do you know how much work, time, and money went into protecting us, into making us nothing more than a footnote?”

  Guilt claws at me, but I refuse to be lectured. “No, because you’ve never told me. Furthermore, if he’d never exposed us, you would have never married Della or adopted Seth.” I shake my head. “Face it, brother, you’d be a thirty-four-year-old bachelor raising teenagers, mooning over your best friend, while Della married some other man because she was tired of waiting on you to make a move on her.”

  A tic starts up in his jaw, a clear warning that he’s about to shout at me, but I won’t back down. “You give Mr. Walker too much credit.”

  “And you give him too little.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Char. I give him loads of credit. He will hurt you, not physically, but emotionally…he will turn on you. He will find your most vulnerable spot, your biggest weakness, and tell the world.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s been five years, and not a peep from anyone concerning our parentage. The storm has passed,” I say in an airy voice as I try to be like my twin. “If I’m not concerned, then you shouldn’t be, either.”

  “You should be concerned. What’s happened to my sensible sister?” he asks. “The one I counted on to be the calm in our storm?”

  Unable to take his disappointment, I grab his hand. “Trust me. I’m only having a little fun and you know that’s so unlike me. Let me get him out of my system and I’ll move on to a more suitable man.”

  “Get him out of your system?” He grunts. “I can only assume this is Theo’s influence.”

  “Theo doesn’t have an opinion on the matter, but only because we haven’t discussed it,” I admit.

  “At least promise me this will end soon. The last time you were involved with—”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.” I refuse to utter his name. “But if we’re going to bring up my past mistakes, please let the record show that he was suitable for me.”

  “There are bad apples in every bunch.”

  “Yes, but have you ever had to pay off the bad apple in order for him to not share nude pictures of your sister with the rest of the bunch?” I hate the pity that replaces the anger in Colin’s eyes. I hate it so much because it reminds me of what a silly, stupid girl I was to trust a man based solely on his good looks, his family’s reputation, and his connections.

  “No, I have not.” Colin exhales thickly. “I’m not sure how to go from here.”

  “Then allow me to take over.” Theo pops in, handing over a wriggly Seth to Colin. “Your son was shouting for you.”

  The sweetest smile imaginable appears on Colin’s face as he snuggles his son. “My big boy.” Suddenly, Colin sniffs and glares at Theo. “You couldn’t have changed his nappy first? Perhaps given me a warning?”

  “Said he was shouting for you.”

  “You didn’t say why he was shouting.”

  Theo shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”

  Colin’s mouth opens and then closes in frustration. My brothers enjoy riling each other up, but Colin has a hard time staying mad at anyone while he holds baby Seth.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have a disgusting diaper to change.”

  “Stay away from the nursery. Seth and I were learning our colors via finger painting.”

  “With what?”

  “His favorite foods.”

  Colin closes his eyes. “One day, Theo. One day.”

  “Actually, we’ve been doing it all week. Started out in the closet. Might want to get staff to take a look at the artwork.” Theo winks to let me know he’s joking but he keeps a straight face for his brother.

  “Which closet?”

  “Your closet, naturally. Della would kill me if I allowed Seth to play in hers or his, for that matter. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  I have to turn away to keep from laughing.

  “I see. Well, we will talk later, Char.”

  “Yes, of course,” I reply, all humble and agreeable until he leaves the room.

  Unable to contain my laughter any longer, I let it all out and laugh so hard that tears run down my face. Theo tsks and shakes his head at me.

  “You are very unsympathetic to your brother’s plight.”

  “You are the rea
son for his plight!”

  Theo nods gravely. “Which is why you should be very sympathetic.”

  “Have you come to lecture me as well?” When I was younger, he and Colin would take turns playing good cop and bad cop. They meant well, but I honestly was mortified the majority of the time as they attempted to parent Gen and me.

  “Nope.” Theo sits on the sofa facing the fireplace. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

  I wince. “You’re not happy with me, either.” I hate it when Theo’s upset with me, worse than Colin because Theo rarely gets upset or angry at anyone. I suspect he saves it up, buries it deep, and only lets bits and pieces of it out at a time.

  Lord help the one who makes him blow his top or forces him to share a very real emotion other than the easy ones. Like lust and happiness.

  “Love, I’m thrilled that you want to uphold the Sinclair tradition of defying archaic laws to take a lover or two,” he says, but his mouth doesn’t quite wrap around the words convincingly.

  “You are not,” I say, sitting down beside him. “You’re just as bad as Colin and only pretend to be progressive.”

  The tips of his ears turn red. “Fine. I’m old-fashioned and hypocritical. You should be locked up in your room until you turn thirty. Four more years and you’re done.”

  “My birthday is Friday, so that would be only three more years.”

  “Then we’re agreed.”

  I grab his hand. “Not so fast. I want your support on this.”

  “Normally, I’d be the first one to tell Colin to shove his prudish ways, but he’s right about your Mr. Walker. There is a history that lends credence to Colin’s very tangible fears.”

  “And yours?”

  His blue eyes get a faraway look to them. “I don’t care anymore, Char. The world thinks our father was the king and as far as I’m concerned, he is.”

  “But Beaumont is—”

  “Not up for discussion, love.”

  “I appreciate that you and Colin are worried for me, and I recognize there is a history with Brooks that can’t be swept under the rug, but we’re being very honest with each other. I said he could have a go at me—my secrets.”

  For the first time in my life, Theo looks shocked.

  Horrified.

  Furious.

  “But I only offered that because I thought he wanted information about Sinclair Enterprises,” I add in a rush. “He didn’t want that, either. He said he thought I was fascinating.” I don’t add the bit about figuring out my pseudonym in order to follow me on social media.

  “What did he want?”

  My cheeks heat. “What every man wants.”

  “Ah.” He rubs his thumb under his bottom lip. “You’re an adult and perhaps the man who’s the most unsuitable is the most suitable for you.”

  “It’s not serious.”

  My brother glances at me. “Not yet.”

  “I promised Colin that as soon as I got Brooks out of my system, I would be very good again,” I protest, but that only makes Theo smile. “What?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “But I’m the good twin.” He should believe me. Gen rebels against everything, all the time. “I’m the one who keeps my promises.”

  “Yes you are, which is why it’s high time you get to be the bad one who tells everyone to bugger off.” He squeezes my hand. “I’ll talk with Colin, but on one condition: If Brooks prints one thing about you, I will personally beat his arse within an inch of his life.”

  “He won’t, not without my permission.”

  “Be very sure of that, Char, because men like him don’t get where they are without making quite a few enemies…or breaking a few hearts along the way.” Theo stands and makes his way to my door.

  “I thought you’d be more understanding.”

  “Understanding your desire for something different than the walls of St. Claire isn’t the issue. I fully applaud you for being so damn brave by trusting someone when you were hurt so badly before.” He pauses, his hand on the doorknob. “But you’re still my little sister and it’s my job to look out for you.”

  How can I not love a brother like that? The same is true of Colin, and both of them only want the best for me.

  I swallow down the tears that threaten to clog my throat and whisper, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 8

  Brooks

  After a monster of a workout with my personal trainer, I head home to get ready for a party that’s being held for a new councilman. While I’m invited as a guest, I’ll be covering the event as well.

  Now that Charlotte’s out of the city, I can concentrate on work again. I don’t have much time to wrap up things before I leave for North Carolina to pick her up and take her to my family’s place.

  It’s strange she’s never been to the coast, especially considering her family’s resources.

  Stepping inside the elevator, I punch in my code and it shoots to the top floor. The doors open and I find two men standing on either side of my door, heavily armed under their overcoats.

  “I think I’m at the wrong apartment.” I double-check the number on the wall, but it don’t miraculously change to a different one.

  Fuck.

  “Go in. Mr. Davies is expecting you.”

  “I wasn’t expecting him. Give me a second to run to the store for some coffee and I’ll be right back.” I turn to go, but a meaty hand slams down on my shoulder and squeezes. I’m not a small guy and I can hold my own. Hell, I’ve been embedded with soldiers in Afghanistan who were taking heavy fire, but I’m not stupid. I have no weapon and there are two of them. “Not a coffee drinker, no problem.”

  Like when Charlotte’s brother put a water gun to my head, even though I had no idea it wasn’t real until I got a look at it, this isn’t the first time I’ve been threatened and it won’t be the last.

  However, it has been a while since my last face-to-face meeting. Nowadays, most of my death threats come in the form of emails:

  Death Threatener: I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you.

  Me: Could you wait until after I shower? I don’t like the taste of sweaty balls.

  Unfortunately, I don’t ever get a response, so I never know if I need to up my response game. Then again, those types aren’t hired for their witty repartee.

  The two men shove me into my apartment, where I find a nicely dressed older gentleman sitting at my dining-room table.

  “I leased the place for the view,” I say. “What do you think?”

  “Please sit down, Mr. Walker.”

  Smiling, I shake my head. “I’d rather stand.”

  “Suit yourself.” He pushes his chair back and stands, then walks over to the wall of windows. “Do you always choose the penthouse?”

  “Only in Manhattan.”

  He turns to me, his face naturally pale-looking and his dark eyes sharp. His accent is British and his suit is custom. “What is your relationship with Princess Charlotte?”

  Warning bells go off so loudly in my head that I almost bolt. I don’t know what kind of shit her family has gotten itself into and I don’t want any part of it.

  But I also don’t want her to get hurt, either.

  “Fuck buddies?” I figure the more flippant I am, the faster he will say what he wants and leave. Or the faster his henchmen will beat the shit out of me and leave. Either way, as long as I’m alive when they leave, I’m a happy camper.

  And I can warn Charlotte.

  “Indeed.” He cocks his head to one side. “You don’t have feelings for her.”

  “Not beyond how hard she gets me off.” I grin and wriggle my brows like a frat boy who never grew out of his college glory days. “I feel like she’s extremely good at that. Is that a royal skill that’s taught, or would you say she was born that way?”

  Mr. Davies doesn’t twitch at that. I can only assume he’s not a relative or a fan of Charlotte’s. I also can’t place his name. It sounds familiar and like it’s right
on the edge of my brain.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Did Drea send you over? I don’t sleep with guys, but I know a couple of dudes who are looking for a sugar daddy.”

  “I am quite serious, Mr. Walker, and I’d appreciate it if you’d drop the act,” he says calmly.

  It’s the calmness that gets to me. “What’s your proposition?” I ask, dead serious now.

  “How would you like to keep Walker Media?”

  “I own it.”

  “Not for much longer, judging by the hostile takeover that’s been initiated by a private Delaware LLC.”

  “The fuck you say.” I march up to him, grabbing his suit jacket and yanking him to me. “Whatever you think I published about whatever you represent, it was true and I stand by it.”

  He waves away the two meatheads who I know are about to pounce on my ass. “This has nothing to do with what you’ve published about me—which is nothing, to my knowledge.”

  “Your employer then,” I all but bite out. “Tell him or her to go fuck themselves.”

  “If you’ll let go of me, we can discuss this like gentlemen.”

  I all but shove him away. “Discuss away.”

  “The Sinclairs are my former employers, if you will, but I was let go for wanting the best for my country. A country whose best interest was to not support them any longer.”

  “That’s why your name is familiar,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “You’re the former prime minister.”

  He nods. “I still care about my country, Mr. Walker.” He walks over to my table and opens the briefcase that I hadn’t notice before and pulls out a large manila envelope. “I think you’ll find this to be very enlightening. Perhaps legitimizing.”

  “You want me to make whatever’s in this envelope go viral?” I ask, but I don’t take the envelope. For some reason my gut is warning me away, warning me not to trust this guy. I can fight a hostile takeover. I have the power. I also have enemies and they could be working together to take me down.

  “That is entirely up to you,” he says pleasantly. “However, I have on great authority that if you were to share the contents, not only would the hostile takeover disappear but an invitation to the Manning-Bowler Club would be issued.”