Plaything at the Royal Wedding: An MFMM Royal Romance

by Lana Hartley

  “The best news we could ever hope for,” Simon chimes happily. “The auto shop’s only a couple of miles away. They’re going to send a car to pick us up, as well as a tow truck. They said they can fix us up with new tires within the hour.”

  Standing up, I clap my hands as Krista jumps up and down with excitement.

  “Thank god,” Dylan says as we high-five each other.

  “Well, we just sidestepped a land mine,” I joke, and Krista laughs.

  “I’ll take good news wherever I can get it,” she says pitifully.

  I feel sorry for her in that moment because I know her spirit’s ready to work hard to get her research completed.

  “Well, the good thing is the bags are still outside.” Dylan points to the door and chuckles. “Should we just wait outside for the tow truck and the pickup to get here?”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me.” I shrug as we all walk toward the door.

  “Not to mention, whoever slashed our tires might steal our bags, too,” Simon, the compulsive worrier of the group, states.

  We walk outside and notice that the daylight’s fading fast.

  “We’ll probably have to drive home in the dark,” Simon complains.

  “I don’t mind driving,” I state with confidence. “I can dodge the deer like I’m playing Super Mario or something.”

  “Don’t get all old school on us,” Dylan teases.

  “I love Super Mario,” Krista says and points at him. “Don’t hate.” Then she gives me a sexy wink.

  A few minutes later, we hear the crunch of tires on gravel as the tow truck pulls up.

  “They’re here,” Krista squeals with delight and grabs her bag.

  “Here, let me get that for you,” I tell her and swoop it off her shoulder.

  “You’re so sweet.” She gives me a soft kiss on the cheek that makes my cock rouse in my pants.

  It’s too fucking bad there’s no time for that now, and we all file into the car and head to the repair shop.

  * * *

  “Alright, gentlemen and lady. You’re all good to go.”

  The repairman named Larry hands me the keys, and I thank him gratefully.

  “You’re a real lifesaver,” I tell him and give him a firm handshake.

  “Be careful out there on the road. Those deer like to be friendly.” Larry tips his hat and walks back inside.

  Simon gives me a mocking, smug look as if to say ‘I told you so.’

  I merely roll my eyes and start walking toward the car.

  “Come on,” I beckon to them. “It’s already past seven o’clock. We won’t get back to the city until after dark now.”

  “I’m sorry all this is happening,” Krista says regretfully. “I feel like it’s all my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault, baby,” Dylan whispers to her, consoling her as she climbs into the seat beside him. “We’ll figure out what’s going on.”

  “I hope so,” Krista mumbles and stares out the window.

  I start the engine and pull out of the shop. “If we’re lucky, we should get back to the city around midnight.”

  “If we’re lucky,” Simon inflects on the word.

  “Don’t be so doom and gloom,” Dylan argues.

  “You guys better not bicker back there like school kids,” I warn them.

  I already have a massive headache from all the stress of today, but I’m trying not to let it show because I don’t want Krista to become uneasy.

  We ride most of the way back in silence while everyone else sleeps. I focus my eyes on the road, trying not to drift off as well. I’m tired, but in the back of my mind, I’m still haunted by the fact that someone’s out to get us.

  A few hours later, I pull up in front of Krista’s building.

  “We’re here,” I state, and everyone looks up.

  “Thanks for getting me home safely.” Krista gazes lovingly up into my eyes.

  “You’re welcome.” I give her a warm smile and stroke her cheek gently while the other guys hug her goodbye.

  When Krista climbs out of the car, she gives us a little wave, which we return with our own goodbyes out the window.

  I wait until she’s safely inside her building before driving away.

  “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Dylan mentions and chuckles while stretching his arms and legs from the long road trip.

  “Me, too,” I admit, and then I pull in front of his building next.

  Dylan opens the door to exit the vehicle, but I hold him back. “Hey, Dyl, you got a sec?”

  He groans and sighs dramatically. “Dude, it’s after midnight. Can’t this wait?”

  “It won’t take long.” I lick my lips and flash my eyes back to Simon, too.

  Simon throws his hands up. “Okay, what is it that’s so important it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “Okay...just hear me out, alright?”

  Dylan and Simon exchange a glance.

  “Alright,” Dylan states wearily.

  I throw an idea out there into the wind. “I think some of the unlucky circumstances we’re facing right now are related.”

  “Related?” Simon furrows his brow in confusion.

  “Yes,” I say. “Think about it. It makes perfect sense. Somebody’s out to get us.”

  “You believe that we’re being sabotaged by someone?” Dylan asks.

  “I do.” I nod assertively.

  “Who would want to stop our research?” Dylan asks innocently. “Do you think it’s somebody on the faculty?”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I want to find out, though.”

  “It makes sense,” Simon agrees. “Three things in a row seem awfully suspicious to be coincidental.”

  “I mean, I could be wrong,” I say, “but I think it’s worth checking into.”

  “Absolutely.” Dylan nods and glances between Simon and me.

  “We should plan something,” Simon offers.

  “Yeah, devise a way to catch the perpetrator in the act,” Dylan adds with excitement.

  “I’m glad you guys agree with me.” I give them a tired smile. “Why don’t we go home now to get some rest? And we can execute our plan in the morning.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Dylan climbs out of the car. “We’ll be able to think more clearly with fresh heads, too.”

  “See you guys tomorrow,” I call out to them, ready to defend Krista’s research no matter the cost.

  Krista

  I’m having a total spastic moment.

  I mean, I’m not a total nerd, but Professor Smith’s definitely one that I would have at my dream dinner.

  You know what I’m talking about, right?

  You know, the dream dinner—if you could pick like six people to have dinner with, alive or dead? Well, anyway, Professor Smith’s at the top of that list.

  I try not to sound eager or like a crazed fangirl while I talk to him, but he knows literally everything about the mines and coal.

  To say I admire him would be the understatement of the century. He’s epic, and I respect him immensely.

  He’s published books regarding his findings, research, and studies on the mines, and I want to pick his brain forever.

  Only I can’t do that. I have a job and a life, and I’m sure he does, too. The prospect sure sounds appealing, even if it’s beyond unreasonable.

  Yes, I have indeed read all his books. Twice. Okay, three times.

  So sue me! I’m passionate about my work and willing to take it above and beyond what a normal person would consider appropriate standards.

  “So how’s your research going?” Professor Smith asks me with genuine curiosity, folding his hands delightfully.

  “It’s going really well,” I tell him.

  I don’t want to mention the guys too much, although they do deserve worthy praise for all their hard work and efforts to help me.

  Not to mention, they seemingly have my back during the series of annoying and unfortunate oc
currences that nobody can pin down to a suspect.

  “Please, let me know if you need help with anything—anything at all,” Professor Smith chimes with a friendly demeanor.

  “Yes, of course, absolutely.” I nod passionately, maybe a little too desperately. “When we need help, you’ll be the first one we run to,” I add with a sheepish chuckle.

  I’m in the middle of class and enjoying every minute of it when a utility worker for the school brushes past the students, interrupting class.

  “I need Krista,” he asks, looking around.

  “I’m Krista.” I hold up a hand and give him a polite smile.

  “Good, come with me.” He beckons with an uninterested wave of his hand.

  “Um...can you tell me what this is about?” I chuckle nervously, glancing around.

  “Somebody’s looking for you outside,” he says a little more hastily, leaving me to believe that this must be some sort of emergency.

  I excuse myself and follow the worker outside, and I stop dead in my tracks when I notice Brandon standing there across from me.

  Disappointment floods me, and all I want to do is run away from this jerk. Why the hell does he insist on continuously bothering me?

  Can’t he take a damn hint that I’m not interested in him anymore, like whatsoever?

  Do I need to explain it in ten different fucking languages until he finally gets it through his thick skull to move on?

  You know what? I’m a strong, independent woman who can survive on her own. I don’t have to answer to any man.

  Before you start telling me I sound like a viral video, just hear me out.

  First, though, I’m going to flee the scene. I spin on my heel and prepare to give Brandon the cold shoulder without speaking to him.

  Fuck! He grabs me before I get the smug chance to abandon him in the hallway. I try to shrug him off my arm, but he’s got a pretty good grip on me, as if he’s been training for the Olympics or something.

  I flash my eyes up at him and immediately notice that he’s calm and appears rational.

  Now that’s a first when it comes to this unequivocally seasoned, irate asshole.

  I also notice his eyes. It looks like he’s not sleeping well. His pupils are dilated and hollow, and he has large dark bags underneath his eyes.

  “You look horrible,” I state flatly, getting solid vindication by saying something offensive directed toward him.

  He gives me a wounded bunny look, and against my better judgment, I decide to stay and hear what he has to offer.

  Who knows, maybe this’ll be my entertainment for the day? I wish I had a bowl of popcorn to go along with it now.

  Maybe it’s the fact that he looks so pitiful, and I’m in a good place in my life, aside from the secret research sabotage and veiled perpetrator.

  “Okay, Brandon, what the hell do you want?” I sigh with annoyance.

  I want to go ahead and get this shit over with.

  “I want you back.” His eyes plead for mercy. He’s still singing the same song, doing the same shoddy dance.

  “Brandon—” I begin with my own impeccable quality to hash out unfavorable opinions, but he interrupts me yet again.

  “Hear me out,” he pleads pathetically. “I can compromise about your work.”

  I scoff. “What the hell is that supposed to mean exactly?”

  Brandon licks his lips and glances around nervously. “I can change for you,” he says as if he’s desperate.

  “You don’t need to change for me,” I say, sighing and shaking my head. I turn to leave. “Goodbye, Brandon. I wish you the best of luck. Honestly.”

  Brandon locks his hand around my arm so hard that he squeezes it and makes me gasp in pain.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I glance up at him in panic. “Let me go, you freak.”

  His eyes look wild, and I recoil with regretful fear. What the hell am I thinking? I should’ve run from him when I had the chance.

  “I mean it,” I hiss. “Let me go. You can’t control me or keep me here.”

  “I can do what I want,” Brandon says with a fanatical expression on his face.

  Shit. I hope I don’t wind up on some Dateline show. The last thing I want to have happen is to be kidnapped by this emotional basket case.

  “No, you can’t do what you want,” I exclaim sternly. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Let me go!”

  Unfortunately, he’s not listening at all.

  Brandon’s stronger than me, and my efforts are in vain. No matter how hard I struggle, he just seems to be that much stronger.

  He’s twisting my arm so hard that I am certain I’ll wake up with a bruise tomorrow. This shit’s the last fucking thing I need on top of everything else going on lately.

  “Come on, Brandon.” I stop fighting him, realizing that if I pretend to be a negotiator, he’ll let me go eventually.

  Only I forgot one pretty significant detail of this circumstance.

  Mind games and head tricks don’t work on Brandon. He’s an idiot, but he has street smarts, and he’s a master manipulator.

  He doesn’t buy into my load of crap, no matter how submissive I pretend to be so that he’ll let me go.

  “You’re hurting me,” I say forcefully through gritted teeth.

  “You hurt me, too,” he argues, as if that’s the best fucking comeback on earth.

  “People break up all the time,” I remind him. “More importantly, they always move on.”

  “I don’t want to move on.” Brandon struggles as I squirm around, trying to free myself. “I want you.”

  “Well, this isn’t exactly the best way to court a girl,” I joke, hoping to get him to loosen up...both literally and figuratively.

  Brandon ignores me and tries to drag me down another hallway. I grimace with the pain, and before I know what’s happening, something dark flashes in front of my peripheral vision.

  What the hell is going on? Is there a bat lose in the school just flying around?

  Never mind. It’s King!

  King to the rescue! He’s going to live up to his namesake potential. Not that I ever doubted he had the qualities anyway!

  Brandon’s just as jolted as I am at the rescue. Well, in Brandon’s case, it wouldn’t be considered a rescue—more like a road block hindering him from his abduction attempt.

  The next thing I see in my vision is King’s arm going up and swinging back down to clock Bandon right in the face.

  Gloriously, all this is unfolding before my eyes in surreal slow motion. I smile and squeal, jumping up and down as my true hero comes to my aid.

  Brandon naturally topples to the ground, crumpling like a heap of dirty laundry upon impact at King’s fist meeting his face.

  King turns to face me, heavily panting and with a mixture of pride and concern splashing across his face.

  “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He sounds nervous as he rubs my bruised arm.

  “I’m okay,” I reassure him with a smile. “Thank you. That’s so awesome. I want to relive him going down forever.”

  Speaking of which, I guess King’s not through with Brandon because he stands in front of him while Brandon’s still lying on the floor, wincing and withering in pain.

  “You son of a bitch. I’m going to kill you,” Brandon mumbles and clutches his wounded face.

  “Wrong, asshole. If you ever bother Krista again, I’m going to kill you,” King threatens Brandon, who just glares back up at him.

  My heart leaps with relief that the ordeal is over, and I can walk away with King, my hero of the day.

  Dylan

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?” King asks, raising one eyebrow.

  Simon gives me a blank stare, and Krista perks up.

  What a crowd I have to wow.

  “Um...put myself out there on the frontline...” I trail off as if I’m stating the obvious.

  “You aren’t infantry material.” King shakes his head.

 
“Fuck you,” I state defensively.

  Just in case you’re wondering, we’re back at the university. To catch you up even further, we’re devising our plan.

  I’m volunteering to play the role in making sure that someone—or something—isn’t out to get us.

  “We’ve already established the fact that someone’s out to get us.” King stares at me.

  “Enter...me,” I proclaim proudly.

  Krista sighs beside us, and we halt our playful bickering.

  “I really want to make sure we get to the bottom of this derailment and sabotage against you.” I cradle her petite hands in mine, cupping them against my chest.

  “Oh, come on.” King laughs then points at Krista. “Krista, are you really going to believe that load of crap?”

  Krista just chuckles, taking it all in stride. “Don’t fight over me, guys. I care about you all the same. In fact, there are so many amazing qualities from all three of you that I can’t imagine being without all of you. It would definitely feel like something was missing.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Simon raises an invisible glass.

  “I could use a real drink.” King rubs his tired eyes.

  “I just don’t want to see you sad,” I tell Krista, biting out my bottom lip.

  “I’ll be okay as long as you three have my back.” She smiles warmly.

  “Absolutely and always.” I wink at her.

  I know it sounds fucking crazy—because it is—but I really think I’m beginning to fall for Krista. She’s so smart, sweet, and durable.

  When I say durable, I don’t exactly mean that she’s a set of decent storage bins or something. No, that’s not how I’m describing her at all.

  What I mean is, she’s tough and resilient. Even through all this stress, she picks up the pieces and dusts off her shoulders...always willing and ready to press forward and try again.

  I admire and respect her—a perfect balance to make me see stars and get the lovestruck feeling.

  “I just want to do anything I can to make sure you’re successful,” I confess to Krista.

  “Stop kissing ass,” Simon scoffs, and I glare at him.

  “Come on, guys. Your fighting doesn’t help.” Krista breathes out a sigh in frustration.

  “We’re sorry,” King states apologetically and then shoots a look of fire at me and Simon.