Royal Baby Double Trouble_A Two Princes MFM Menage Romance

by Sierra Sparks

  “We will, but for now I am taking you shopping. Pack your bag.”

  “Shopping? I don’t want to go shopping. I don’t have time!”

  “The baby will need things,” I insisted.

  “The baby is at least five months away!” she said. “Why are you worrying about it now?”

  “You do not think of the future,” I said.

  “The paternity test is the future,” she pointed out. “You may not even be the father.”

  “I don’t care whether or not I’m the father,” I said. “Do you not see how I feel about you?”

  “You were gone in the morning after we had sex!” she snapped. “At least Byron stayed!”

  “I did not want to cause a scandal!” I growled. “You do not understand the court politics in my country. People would not understand! My father, the King, would not understand. It is one thing for rich young men to come to America and have a wild time. It is another for a man to sleep with a woman who is having another man’s baby.”

  “That is a weird distinction to make,” she said suspiciously. “I think you’re just jealous of Byron.”

  “Think what you want. Now will you got shopping with me or not?!”

  “I don’t really want to go.”

  “We will take my jet. Do you want to just sit in the embassy for days?”

  “I want us to take the test first. Start the test and I’ll go.”

  “Fine!”

  I stormed out. Women can be so infuriating! They cannot simply do what they are told. They must question, question, question, question everything. I summoned one of our doctors. He took blood from Byron, Savannah and I. I did not tell Byron that we were going shopping. Let him find out about it later. Finally, I went back to the room and found Savannah sitting on the bed reading her phone.

  “Now, we will go shopping,” I insisted.

  “I suppose.”

  “I’m taking you to Paris, the most romantic city in the world to buy you things and you act as if I’m trying to get you to go to the dentist!” I snapped.

  “All right, all right, I’ll go if it’s so important to you,” she relented. “You’re very cute when you’re jealous and possessive.”

  “I am not jealous,” I said. “It is not about the sex, I tell you.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said in disbelief.

  “It’s about common decency. Something you don’t understand.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She further annoyed me by still being unready with her bag. I waited until she packed. If she had any consideration, she would’ve already packed her bag or had a servant pack one like I did.

  We stopped by her place to get her passport. It was a very small place. I don’t know how people live in these “apartments”. It’s like they’re in one room of a big house, but don’t know each other. My God, they must be constantly tripping over one another! And judging by the size and number of people in the building, they couldn’t have more than two or three rooms to themselves! Imagine not having a private room for watching TV or smoking or relaxing or drinking or eating--- You’d have to do it all in one space! You’d be tripping over your servants constantly! Ridiculous!

  It was at her apartment that the paparazzi caught up to us. She rushed back into the limo as the cameras flashed. I kept to the inside of the limo where I could not be seen. The moment she was inside and shut the door, I told my driver to lose them.

  “As you wish, my prince,” said the driver.

  My driver was a former race car driver in my country. It’s why I hired him. I don’t remember his name, but he was a good man. He sped through the hills of Los Angeles, whipping the limo around, once knocking over a mail box or planter or something.

  “Jesus Christ!” cried Savannah on the drive. “Is this guy nuts?”

  The moment of the turn slid her closer to me and I put my arm around her.

  “Don’t worry, Savannah, you are in good hands,” I smiled. “I shall protect you. Like the airbag only more handsome.”

  She laughed. Finally, we were having fun again.

  “Sorry about earlier,” she said. “I just--- This whole thing has really thrown me off my game. It’s not that I don’t want to go to Paris, I just feel like I’m dropping the ball on my career. I worked really hard for it and now it’s falling apart.”

  “Don’t say such things,” I said. “This is just a minor set back in life.”

  “What do you know about set backs?”

  “It is all relative, my dear. For me, a setback is that my private helicopter is not working on the yacht and I am forced to take a boat to shore and be late for a party. For the poor people, maybe they do not eat for a day.”

  “Wow, you have been rich your whole life, haven’t you?”

  “My point is, you cannot let life’s little bumps upset you. You are a smart, capable and very feisty woman. Let nothing stop you and it won’t.”

  My driver took another step turn and we found ourselves on the tarmac of the airport.

  “Wow, you guys can drive right on the tarmac,” noted Savannah as she got out of the limo. “And the jet’s ready to go.”

  “See?” I said. “Now if it wasn’t ready, that would be a little set back. I would not let it stop me. I would fuel another jet immediately.”

  “You are a true inspiration to all,” she said, mildly sarcastic.

  We entered the jet. The servants there were ready to feed us lunch.

  “So, wait,” she said almost in disbelief. “We’re just going to go right to Paris while we have a sandwich?”

  “Sandwich?” I said incredulous. “That’s not on the menu. My jet makes an excellent Duck a l’Orange, although the wine list is still a bit lacking.”

  “I didn’t think they could fit a whole wine cellar on a jet,” she mused. “You princes really know how to live.”

  “Yes and you actresses--- Well, the apartment building is interesting to me,” I said. “How do you all share a bathroom? There must be so many people in the morning.”

  “We have our own bathrooms,” she explained. “It’s not a flophouse.”

  “That would be one down from an apartment building, then?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I do not think I would like this flophouse,” I thought aloud. “Unless I choose my housemates. Do they get to choose?”

  “Not really,” she said.

  “Fascinating. We shall have to visit one sometime.”

  “Oh, no-no-no-no-no.”

  Chapter 9

  Savannah

  It was weird that probably one of the best meals I ever had was on a private jet, but my life was different up until now. Also, it didn’t really feel like we flew anywhere. Going to the airport had always been such a hassle for me. Now here we were, getting off the plane and right into a car? It was nuts. The customs people met us right on the plane to check our passports and they were polite!

  “I’m sorry about that,” said Dominique, annoyed we even had to do that. “If this was my country, we would breeze right in.”

  “You’ve never been through a check with the TSA have you?” I asked.

  “What is TSA?” he said curiously.

  Wow, this is how the other half lived. I mean, I thought my life was pretty sweet. Hollywood parties, great food, beautiful people and no lines at the club--- This was some other whole level of living. It was like the entire world was laid out for us. Well, for Dominique anyway. Wherever we went, people were there asking us what we needed.

  Making a seamless transition to the car, I recalled that I hadn’t even carried my bag. Dominique servants were quick to pull our bags out of the plane and put them into the car. We got inside the limo.

  “Drop us off at the Avenue des Champs Elysees. Then go see to our hotel arrangements,” ordered Dominique. “I will summon you when we grow tired of walking.”

  “Yes, my prince,” said the driver obediently.

  As the cliché goes, it was a like a movie. I was actually
living in a movie. I guess the plot was some schlub like me hooks up with a prince or two. I was looking around and I was in Paris in just eight hours. It didn’t even feel that long! His jet was like a luxurious hotel room. I could take a nap, eat, watch TV, surf the Internet--- I’m pretty sure we would’ve had sex if we could’ve gotten the servants into a different part of the plane.

  We got out of the limo and started to look at the shops. They were amazing! The clothes, the knick-knacks, the food, the jewelry--- I could barely afford to shop in any of these places and Dominique was offering to buy me anything!

  There was a shop that sold baby clothes. They were insanely expensive, made more insane by the fact that babies grow and hardly get any use out of their clothes to begin with. Dominique bought extra copies of everything I liked “just in case”. We carried no bags, he paid to have everything shipped back to the embassy in L.A.

  Dominique had settled and seemed less tense after the plane ride. Who knows? Maybe it was that we were in Europe that relaxed him. He was pretty attentive to me. I was pretty sure we were going to have a nice quiet day together, but then--- They came.

  “Ms. Kelly! Ms. Kelly!” yelled the first paparazzi outside the shop. “How long have you and the prince been dating?”

  “Do not answer them,” said Dominique. “I have already summoned the car.”

  “How did they find us?”

  “Cockroaches can crawl anywhere,” he said bitterly.

  “Prince Dominique! Your Highness! Are you two an item?” screamed another.

  “Can we get a picture of you two looking in the camera?” asked a photographer.

  “Ms. Kelly! Is that a baby bump or are you just getting fat?”

  What?! I froze. Oh, no! Am I showing? I couldn’t be showing. Am I? Oh, God!

  “Pregnant?” said another paparazzi rifting off the other.

  Fat?! They think I look fat?! That’s even worse! God dammit, I hate these vultures!

  “Are you the father, Prince Dominique?!”

  “Are you married? Is this your honeymoon?”

  Dominique pulled me, and I started walking again. The paparazzi followed us for three blocks, never letting up with their questions or pictures. They surrounded us like a swarm of flies, biting at whatever they could. Mercifully, the limo pulled up right in front of us and Dominique ushered me inside.

  “Go-go-go,” he ordered. “Lose them!”

  “Oh, my God,” I said. “He can’t lose them here. They found us at the shop, they definitely know where the hotel is.”

  “I am sorry, my sweet,” said Dominique. “You seem upset.”

  “Yes, I’m upset! They called me fat and they know about the baby!” I cried. “As soon as this hits the Internet, my director is going to be furious. We should’ve just stayed in the embassy and waited for the test results. Now we have no control over the message and I’m probably going to get fired.”

  “I am sorry I pushed you to come,” said Dominique. “Please, let me make it up to you? We will go to the hotel and rest. We still have time to figure things out.”

  “I guess. Sure. Whatever,” I said, a bit resigned.

  Dominique ordered room service and went a bit over the top. He ordered ice cream, pickles and peanut butter because he had heard pregnant women crave these things. It was all really good, but I wasn’t in the mood to each much after someone called me fat. Still, I was grateful that he was trying at least. Maybe this could work, Dominique and I.

  “My sweet, you deserve nothing but the best,” said Dominique. “When this baby is revealed to be mine and I truly believe that it is, you and I shall only give this baby the best in the world! Education. Clothes. Food. Everything! And this!”

  Dominique opened the curtains to the hotel room. It overlooked the Eiffel Tower. This was the life of a prince: private jets, shopping in France and your biggest problem is that everyone wants to know your life. Not bad. I suppose I could get used to it, but--- Ah, who am I kidding? He probably just wants the kid. I saw the way he disappeared after we had sex. Once your looks are gone, it’s just like Hollywood, everyone forgets you.

  I checked myself in the mirror. I couldn’t tell if I was fat or not. It didn’t seem to show. Dominique saw me checking myself out and sighed.

  “It is barely noticeable,” he said.

  “But you notice,” I pointed out. “You can tell that I have a bump.”

  “Without your jacket and while wearing a skin tight thin top while you stick out your stomach, yes I see something. Barely,” he admitted. “You just need some looser clothes then no one will notice. What size are you?”

  “Size 2,” I said.

  “We order you some dresses, size 3,” he offered.

  “Too baggy,” I insisted.

  “Then 2.5,” he said. “I shall have them altered.”

  He was typing on his phone.

  “Laurent? Ackermann? Balenciaga? What do you like? Ah, I’ll just order them all. I’ll have them hand delivered here. Whole new wardrobe,” he offered. “You pick what you like, the rest we send back.”

  “You are nice to do that, but that’s too much,” I said embarrassed.

  “It is nothing, I am a prince,” he assured. “Now if I bought you a couple of skyscrapers, then we would be talking some real money maybe. Wait. Do you want a skyscraper?”

  “No!” I laughed.

  “Well, if you change your mind, I have a friend,” he assured.

  Within the hour, a delivery guy and a fitter arrived at our room. The clothes were all incredible! I mean, I was used to get free expensive clothes, but not to have my pick like this! Everything was beautiful, high end and designer. I wanted it all and Dominique insisted that it was fine.

  “Oo,” he thought as the delivery guy and fitter left. “I will order you some new luggage to carry all this. Might as well get you a new overnight bag. Yours has a tiny tear in it. Plus, you want it to match, no?”

  I hugged him and gave him a kiss. It wasn’t about the stuff, although the stuff was amazing. It was just sweet that he went to so much trouble for me. Well, for a prince anyway. For someone with his money, he was really working!

  “Thanks for cheering me up,” I said. “I feel much better now.”

  “Good!” he smiled. “I was getting a little worried. Take you all the way to Paris and you were down in the dumps. I like to make you smile, Savannah.”

  “I could get used to you making me smile,” I said looking into his eyes.

  We kissed again. It was more sensual, but still sweet.

  “My baby’s momma needs the best just like my baby,” he said. “And I will protect you both. This is a man’s job to do, no?”

  “It’s hard to protect me from the paparazzi,” I said.

  “Bah, I will buy their newspapers and fire them all!” he threatened. “Or their Youtube channels or websites or whatever.”

  Chapter 10

  Dominique

  Savannah was extremely emotional on our shopping trip. I couldn’t blame her. I had heard that pregnant women become this way. I did what I could for her and by the end of the trip, I think we were having a good time.

  But travel is exhausting. I could not wait until they invented a jet that could get me to and from Paris in under an hour. Even with fine dining and all the amenities, it just drained you to travel so much.

  When we arrived back at the embassy, I escorted Savannah back to her room. I ordered the servants not to disturb her unless she wanted something. She needed rest after all the jet setting and I needed a drink. I was just about to go down to the bar near the pool when my father burst into the room.

  “Well, you’ve done it! You’ve really done it this time!” he ranted.

  “Father, what troubles you? Come, I have news to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?!” he said outraged, slapping a tabloid down onto the table in front of me.

  The front page had a picture of Savannah and I walking through Paris. The headline screamed “Royal
Bastard?” and speculated about my baby--- Well, Savannah’s baby still, technically. I was hopeful.

  “What is the meaning of this?! You slum around with these whores?!”

  “Father!” I objected.

  He slapped me with his open hand. What was I to do? He was the king.

  “Shut up!” he roared. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is? For me? Your mother? All Andalia has is its tourism now! The Royal Family is the face of the entire country! The entire economy! Who will come to a country where its prince sleeps around and acts like an irresponsible child?!”

  “Father, we were discreet,” I assured him. “No one was to know until the parentage of the baby was known.”

  “You don’t even know if you are the father?!” he snapped. “How can this be?!”

  His face changed. He realized.

  “Byron,” he said with disgust. “That boy is a bad influence on you.”

  “He is my friend. We did not plan this,” I said. “Byron is very upset as well.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is,” scoffed my father. “Wait until I tell his parents! Assuming they don’t already know. You two? You’re sharing women now?”

  “We have shared many things,” I said. “This cannot be new to you.”

  “Of course, I was young,” he said. “But I did not knock up those women. You will have to marry her now. It’s the only way!”

  “If it is mine, you’re saying.”

  “Of course! Why would--- You love this woman? Please don’t tell me you’re in a love with an actress,” he said in disgust. “These women parade around on the screen with no clothes! What kind of wife is that for you?!”

  “You do not know her, father. She is gracious and kind and beautiful---“

  “I’m sure she is, but none of that matters,” he concluded. “All that matters is whether or not she is carrying your heir. Then you must marry her. If not, she is Byron’s problem.”

  “But I would--- I mean, I could still---“

  “Marry her if she carries Byron’s child? No! Don’t be a fool.” he scoffed. “Are you trying to make this a bigger scandal than it is?! If you have any concern for your friend and our family, you will put that out of your mind right now.”