by Jenna Sutton
She says something, but I can’t hear it because her face is trapped against my chest. Nuzzling my nose into her hair, I breathe in her sweet scent.
“I’m so sorry. I know I screwed up. I know I should’ve told you that I was the guy in the wolf mask. Forgive me. I love you so fucking much, Cassie. Come home, and I’ll prove it to you every day.”
Her palms press firmly against my chest, just over my pecs. Reluctantly, I loosen my arms and take a step back.
She looks up at me and nods imperceptibly. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
Her lips quirk. “Okay, I’ll come home.”
Shock makes my mouth fall open. “You will?”
“Yes.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “Promise you’ll never leave me again.”
“I promise I’ll never leave you again. I’ve been miserable without you too.” She strokes my cheek with her fingertips. “I just couldn’t stay with you, knowing you only married me because of the baby.”
I shake my head. “But that’s—”
She presses her fingers to my lips. “I know. Leo told me.”
Circling her wrist, I pull her fingers away from my mouth. “What exactly did he tell you?” I ask warily.
“That you loved me.”
“I told you that,” I point out indignantly. “You had to hear it from my brother to believe it?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“Because you told him that you were in love with me before you knew who fathered my baby.” She bites her plump bottom lip before releasing it with a swipe of her tongue. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were the guy in the wolf mask?”
Taking her hand, I guide her to the sofa. After sitting down, I pull her onto my lap and loop my arms around her.
“That night, by the lake, when I first found out, I almost said something then. But I held back because I was afraid of your reaction—that you’d think I was the worst possible father for your baby. I was afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Marco.” She sighs my name. “What about later? Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“I didn’t want you to think I proposed because of the baby, and I didn’t want you to accept because you felt obligated. I wanted you to marry me because you loved me and wanted to be my wife. And after the wedding, I kept putting it off because I didn’t want to ruin things. I was afraid that you’d see that night in the folly as proof that I was irresponsible and reckless. That I was bad husband material. I didn’t want you to regret marrying me.”
I slip my hand under her top and rest my palm against her smooth, round belly. “Before we had sex in the folly, I hadn’t been with anyone for nearly a year.”
She puts her hand on top of mine and plays with my fingers. “So I ended your dry spell.”
Her word choice makes me laugh. “A dry spell implies an absence of interested sex partners. I was celibate by choice.”
“Why?”
“I was waiting for you.”
Jerking her head toward me, she asks, “Then why did you have sex with me ... with Bumblebee?”
“Because I was angry—”
“Why were you angry? What happened?
“That entire night, I was thinking about you and Zac on vacation in Italy. I was so jealous. I wanted you, but you were with him. I couldn’t stop picturing the two of you together—him fucking you. It made me crazy, so I went for a walk, hoping to clear my head. That’s when I ran into you ... Bumblebee.”
“So you had sex with a stranger because you were jealous?”
“Yes. No.” I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tight muscles. “I wasn’t looking for an anonymous hookup if that’s what you’re asking. Bumblebee reminded me of you—your voice, your wit, your body, even your smell. I wanted you, but I couldn’t have you, so I had sex with her instead.”
She’s silent for a long time. Finally, she says, “I’ve been in pain—”
Alarmed, I weave my fingers into her hair and gently tug her head back so I can see her face. Her eyes are shiny, like she’s about to cry.
“What kind of pain? How long has it been going on? Have you talked to Dr. Schiff about it?”
“Emotional pain, Marco. I have so many unanswered questions about my parents, and it hurt so much to know that my child was going to suffer the same fate. From the moment I saw those two little lines on the pregnancy test, I’ve been in pain every second of every day, thinking about all the questions she’d ask that I wouldn’t be able to answer. And then, when she got older, having to explain the circumstances of her conception. You could’ve spared me that pain if you’d told me the truth.”
“I’m so sorry, Cassie.” Knowing how much pain I caused the woman I love makes my throat ache and my eyes burn with tears. “I was a selfish prick, thinking only about myself.”
“If you’d told me the truth, you could’ve spared me that pain. But ultimately, I think the truth would’ve hurt me even more.”
I shake my head, more confused than I’ve ever been. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“What you did—not telling me that you were Wolf—it was wrong.”
“I know. I know it was.”
“It was wrong, but you made the right decision, Marco. If you’d told me the truth, we wouldn’t be sitting here today. I have no doubt of that. I wouldn’t have given us a chance, and I would’ve missed out on so much. I would’ve missed out on you. And that would’ve been the worst thing that could’ve happened.”
I clear my throat. “I love you, bellezzina.”
“I love you too.” She shifts on my lap, and my Cassie-deprived cock notices. “I want to announce our marriage as soon as possible.”
I press my mouth against hers. “That can be arranged,” I murmur against her lips.
She wiggles around until she’s straddling me. There’s no way she could miss my hard-on now. It’s almost poking a hole through my pants.
“I wonder what the paparazzi will call you once they hear about our marriage? The Playboy Prince no longer applies.”
A grimace contorts my face. “I’m sure it’ll be something awful, like the Smitten Prince.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It has to be an alliteration.”
We sit in silence for a few seconds, both of us pondering the possibilities. Suddenly, she giggles and covers her mouth with her hand.
“What?” I ask. “Did you think of one?”
She nods but doesn’t share.
“Tell me.”
Eyes wide, she shakes her head.
“Come on,” I cajole. “I want to hear it.”
“The Pussy-whipped Prince,” she squeaks out before throwing back her head and guffawing.
I laugh until my stomach aches. Regaining my breath, I say, “That’s incredibly offensive, yet astoundingly accurate.”
“What about the Perfect Prince?”
“I’m not perfect,” I reply, sounding humble but preening on the inside.
She laughs. “Trust me, I know.” She widens her legs and grinds against my erection, drawing a moan from my throat. “But you’re perfect for me.”
EPILOGUE
Ten Years Later
Cassie
As I wander down the path behind Helios, the crushed shells beneath my feet make a gritty crunching noise. Heels aren’t the best choice for a midnight walk through the garden, but I refuse to wear hiking boots with my evening gown. Made of black silk with a black lace overlay, it’s far too lovely to mar with ugly footwear.
Earlier in the evening, an unexpected storm blew in, wiping out the oppressive heat and humidity that’d hung over the countryside for days and showering the estate with rain. Now the cool air carries the scent of fresh water, damp earth, and sweet-smelling flowers.
The massive house comes into view, lit up like a birthday cake with hundreds of candles. Reaching behind my head, I double-check the knot that keeps my mask in place a
nd readjust it so I can see a little better.
Up ahead, I spot a gentleman sauntering down the path, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black dress pants. Like me, he’s wearing a mask, but he’s too far away to discern what it is.
As he moves closer, I see it’s a white wolf mask that covers everything except his mouth and chin. Pointy ears poke out the top and a long snout protrudes over his nose.
He comes to a stop in front of me, and I take note of the broad shoulders and muscular arms outlined by his black tuxedo shirt. His V-shaped torso tapers into a lean waist and long legs.
“Good evening,” he says.
His deep voice rasps over my nerve endings, sending goose bumps skittering along my bare shoulders and arms.
“Hello.”
“Nice night for a stroll.”
“Yes, it is,” I agree.
“I like your mask. A bumblebee, right?”
I touch the top of one of the antennae that juts from the top of my mask. “Yes.”
“Ever been stung by one?”
“No. You?”
“One flew down the collar of my shirt when I was a teenager and stung me seventeen times.”
“Ouch. That sounds horribly painful.”
“Did you know there are over two hundred species of bumblebees?” he asks.
“I had no idea.” I touch the end of the wolf’s snout, just an inch above the man’s sexy lips. “I like your mask too. Are you a lone wolf?”
“No. I’m part of a fairly large pack. Did you know each and every wolf has its own unique howl so other members of the pack can identify it?”
“Really? That’s fascinating.”
He moves a little closer, and I catch a whiff of him, a spicy smell that literally makes my mouth water. “I seem to have lost my cufflink. Would you help me search for it?”
“Do you remember where you saw it last?”
“Near the folly, I think.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “A folly is an outdoor building that has no purpose other than decoration.”
“I know what a folly is.” I tilt my head. “You expect me to go somewhere secluded, in the dark, with you?”
His mouth kicks up in a wicked smile. “I’m quite harmless, I assure you.”
“And yet you’re wearing a mask of a deadly predator.”
“Wolves have a bad reputation, but they’re actually very loyal and affectionate. They’re social animals.” He runs the rough pad of his forefinger across my collarbone, and my nipples pucker inside my bustier. “Did you know wolves mate for life?”
“No.”
“It’s true,” he murmurs. “They find that one special wolf and never stray.”
“In that regard, I’m exactly like a wolf.”
“As am I.” He sweeps his arm to the side. “Shall we make our way toward the folly?”
When I nod, he flattens his palm against my lower back and ushers me forward. The heat from his hand radiates through my dress, sparking a simmer low in my pelvis.
“Is this the first time you’re attending the masquerade ball?” he asks, shortening his strides to keep pace with mine. “I don’t recognize you.”
“No. I attend every year.”
“You’re well-acquainted with the royal family then?”
I suppress a smile. “I would say so, yes.”
“I heard that Prince Marco and his wife, Cassandra, aren’t in attendance this evening.”
“I heard that as well. I wonder why they aren’t here.”
“Most likely because they have a new baby at home. Prince Rafael.”
“If I’m not mistaken, his first birthday is next month.”
“I believe you’re correct. Perhaps his parents aren’t able to attend the ball because he’s teething and cranky and cries piteously unless his father carries him around until he can’t feel his arms.”
“Perhaps,” I agree, choking back my laughter. “I’ve heard Prince Marco is a wonderful father ... very devoted to his children. One might even say he spoils them.”
“Hmm. I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.” He slants a sideways glance toward me. “And how many children do they have now?”
“It’s hard to keep track, they have so many.” I hold up my hand and start ticking off names. “There’s Sofia, who was born only four months after they wed in secret. Then there’s Adela, Mariella, Zara, and the baby—the only boy—Rafael. So that’s five.”
He whistles, clearly awed by the prince’s prolificacy. I’m rather impressed with it myself.
“Was that a wolf whistle?” I tease.
A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Guess it was.” He shakes his head. “Five children in ten years. Scandalous. Absolutely scandalous.”
Through the darkness, the light gray stones of the folly appear. I slow my steps, wanting to prolong my time with this man whose laugh makes me feel as if I have champagne running through my veins instead of blood.
“Prince Marco must not be able to keep his hands off his wife,” he says. “I can’t blame him though. Have you seen her? She’s stunning.”
“After all those children, she’s getting a little ... plump, wouldn’t you say?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he retorts. “Everything about her is stunning.”
I snort. “If anyone’s stunning, it’s her husband. Maybe she’s the one who can’t keep her hands off him.”
Under the edge of his mask, his lips twitch. “Maybe.” He folds his cuff and begins to roll it up his forearm. “I’ve heard that Prince Marco is absolutely besotted with his wife, even after a decade of marriage.”
“Interesting,” I say. “I’ve heard it’s the other way around—she’s besotted with him.”
“I think they share many of the same interests.”
“You’re referring to the foundation they established a few years ago—the one that supports the mental health of young children and adolescents?”
“Yes,” he answers. “It’s a good cause.”
Satisfaction trickles through me. I became a teacher because I wanted to help children reach their potential, and the foundation is improving the lives of children in Alsania and around the world.
“Supposedly, Prince Marco is shameless when it comes to soliciting donations from his obscenely wealthy friends and acquaintances,” I say.
The masked man snorts loudly. “That doesn’t surprise me. He’s shameless when it comes to a lot of things.”
We reach the base of the stairs leading to the folly, and the man in the wolf mask silently offers his arm to me. I take it, curving one hand over the muscles of his forearm and lifting the skirt of my gown with my other one.
With every step up, my heart beats faster and faster until it’s pounding furiously. The moment we pass through the folly’s arched doorway, he spins me around and propels me backward until my spine bumps into cold stones.
Trapped between his body and the wall, I hook the edge of my fingers into the waistband of his pants, just above the clasp. Arousal drips from my body, and without the barrier of panties, it glazes the insides of my thighs.
“Wolf,” I breathe.
“Bumblebee.”
He removes my mask and then removes his own. It’s too dark to see his face clearly, but I know exactly who’s pressed against me, so close I can feel the hard jut of his erect cock.
“Wife,” he growls.
“Husband.”
He leans down until our mouths touch. Against my lips he whispers, “Mine.”
“Always.”
GET A SPECIAL GIFT FROM JENNA
Thank you for reading Royal Mess! I hope you enjoyed getting to know these fun, loveable characters as much I enjoyed writing their story!
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WHAT’S NEXT?
Tipsy-Turvy (Trinity Distillery #1.5) – Kyle and Mercy’s story – Summer 2018
Bottled Up (Trinity Distillery #2) – Ren’s story – Fall 2018
Chased Down (Trinity Distillery #3) – Gabe’s story – Winter 2019
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jenna Sutton is the author of the Riley O’Brien & Co. romances and the new Trinity Distillery series. She’s a former award-winning journalist who traded fact for fiction when she began writing novels. Surprisingly, the research she conducted for her articles provided a lot of inspiration for her books.
Although Jenna calls Texas home, more often than not, she’s somewhere else. Her love’s job takes him all over the country, and she tags along, just like a groupie follows her favorite band.
You can find out more about Jenna and her books by visiting www.jennasutton.com or you can connect with her on Facebook and Instagram (jennasuttonauthor) or Twitter (@jsuttonauthor). Sign up for her newsletter to access the latest news and monthly giveaways. To be notified of new releases, visit her author pages at Amazon, BookBub, and Goodreads.
EXCERPT OF BARRELED OVER (TRINITY DISTILLERY #1)
Ready for another round?
Ava Grace Landy’s music career is humming along until a shakeup at her label jeopardizes her recording contract and curses her with the world’s worst boss. Determined to satisfy him, she partners with Trinity Distillery to access a larger male audience. To her surprise, she’s the one who’s satisfied—by none other than Jonah Beck, the gorgeous, yet gruff man behind the bourbon.
No doubt about it, bourbon runs in Beck’s blood. But it’s audacious Ava Grace who makes it run hot. When she signs on as the spokesperson for his craft distillery, he doesn’t plan on hoisting her onto an oak barrel and rocking the rickhouse. Though he’s convinced their lives don’t mix—like a terrible cocktail—he can’t keep his hands off the alluring country star.