Plaything at the Royal Wedding: An MFMM Royal Romance

by Lana Hartley

  “No way, man.” I shake my head and laugh.

  But I do have a fuck ton of things to balance in my work and personal life, that’s for fucking sure.

  Molly

  Beams of sun hit my eyes.

  I stretch and yawn, coming out of a fresh dream about him.

  It’s daylight outside.

  First, let me start off by stating that it’s never, ever fucking daylight in my room when I wake up.

  We went over this before, remember?

  Molly Quinn wakes up at five a.m.

  That’s the way I do things.

  Today is different, and it begins with the sunlight shining in my room, announcing the day and for me to wake the fuck up already.

  I stretch again and pull the covers up closer to my neck while glancing at the alarm clock on my night stand.

  Holy shit! It’s already nine o’clock in the fucking morning.

  Well…I guess we both know what that means: I’m not going into work today.

  Daddy dearest might not be too happy, but if he’s not gonna give me the credit I deserve, then fuck it, I deserve a day off.

  I grab my cell phone off the bedside table and proudly yawn as I dial Katrina’s direct line.

  I imagine her sitting in her cubicle, spanning the office wondering where the hell I am and if I’m going to show up.

  It’s a first.

  She’ll have her answer in a few seconds. I’m turning over a new fucking leaf and apparently taking my father’s advice to heart by literally lightening the fuck up.

  Oh, yeah, this new me swears a great deal, too, because I don’t fucking care anymore. Not after that shit show at lunch with my dad.

  Katrina picks up the line immediately, most likely recognizing my number, but also because it’s part of her job to answer the phone.

  “Molly?” Her voice is quizzical on the other end.

  “Hey, Katrina,” I chime, so cheerily she probably wonders if I’m surrounded by fucking Disney animals while they braid my hair and magically make my bed.

  “Are you coming into work today? It’s nine already.” Her voice reveals her concern.

  “Nope.” I shake my head, even though she can’t see me.

  “I’m sorry, is everything alright?” Katrina asks.

  “Everything is perfect,” I state.

  I don’t owe Katrina that much of an explanation; I’m her boss after all.

  “I’ll be working from home today,” I announce. “If you need me, you can text, call, or email.”

  “Okay,” Katrina says, and I can tell she’s confused.

  “You can report anything important or pressing if it comes up,” I add.

  “Sure thing,” she responds, and we say goodbye.

  I hang up and stretch again, savoring the fact that I don’t have to even get out of bed if I don’t want to, but who the fuck am I kidding here? I live on coffee in the morning.

  I pull my hair back into a tight ponytail and climb into some black leggings that cost me a fucking fortune. I deserve to look luxe even in my workout gear, right?

  I put on a black, strappy sports bra and prepare to run like I’ve never run before. I need to pound the pavement, or in my case the treadmill, and work off some steam...because I’m steaming for him.

  Owen makes my blood boil with want and desire and there’s no escaping it. The only way out is through.

  Fuck.

  I walk to my kitchen but stop dead in my tracks when my doorbell rings.

  Why is someone ruining my day? I pay good money to have a doorman and yet there’s no telling who he let through today.

  I’m not expecting anyone, and everyone I know will expect me to be at work, so I’m having a moment of wonder thinking about who it could be.

  I walk to the door and peer through the peephole. Then I slam my back against the door.

  It’s him.

  Owen Wolfe is at my door.

  Damn. What the hell is he doing here?

  I take three deep breaths and then swing the door open and breezily greet him with a smile. “Good morning!”

  He whips out a bouquet of stargazer lilies from behind his back. “For you,” he says in a charming voice and gives me his million-dollar handsome-as-fuck smile.

  “Wow, thanks,” I take the flowers gratefully and smell them, trying to distract myself from the hot, brooding man in doorway. “These are beautiful, what’s the occasion?”

  I move aside to allow him in.

  “Just pretty flowers for an even prettier woman,” he says with a grin, exposing his perfect set of teeth.

  “Awesome,” I say. “Why don’t you take a seat on the couch, and I’ll make us some coffee?” I suggest.

  “Perfect,” Owen says and he walks in like he owns the place.

  He’s wearing a black suit and it’s cut in such a way as to reveal his chiseled form just beneath the crisp white shirt. He looks ready for the workday and sexy as hell.

  “Cream and sugar?” I call from the kitchen, asking how he wants his cup.

  “Just cream, please, that’s great. Whatever you have is fine,” he responds politely.

  I bring the mugs and hand him one of them. “For you.” I grin.

  “Thanks.” He takes it and brings it up to his mouth. “It smells delicious.”

  I take a minute to just enjoy his dark eyes,

  “So, what are you doing here?” I get right to the point.

  “More importantly, why aren’t you at work?” he asks.

  I lean back on the back of the couch. “If you thought I would be at work, then why are you at my house?” I raise my eyebrow, taunting him.

  He rolls his eyes. “I called your secretary, who told me you weren’t coming in today.”

  “Oh…right,” I say. Now I feel fucking stupid.

  “Anyway,” he says. “I’m here to invite you to the Lone Wolfe Anniversary Celebration.” He beams with pride.

  “Hmm, a movie studio party, huh? That sounds fun,” I say. “It’s awesome you’re having a party for that. Congratulations by the way.”

  “Thank you baby,” he says.

  He catches my eye and for a moment there’s an intense heat pulsing between us. I can’t deny it. It’s real, right? I mean he must feel it too.

  I break away, unable to maintain that level of intensity with him, and I take a sip of my coffee.

  “Why didn’t you just mail me an invitation?” I chuckle.

  “Well that’s another part of the reason I’m here,” he begins and takes my hands in his. He feels warm, strong and masculine.

  “Okay,” I say and look down at our intertwining hands as my heart beats faster.

  “I want you to go as my date,” he says as if I should take this as a privilege and an honor.

  “Really?” I smile.

  “If you’ll have me,” he says with the grace of a true gentleman.

  I ponder this idea for a moment. In theory, it sounds like a fantastic idea. Maybe there will even be some celebrities there, and maybe Owen will introduce me to them.

  “Well, you can probably guess that I’m doing a personality flip here.” I laugh and cross my legs. “You know, beginning with having dinner with you the other night—”

  “To now playing hooky from work…” He grins and interrupts me.

  “Right.” I point a finger at him in agreement. “Something like that. Maybe I’m becoming more like you.”

  “I might not be the best role model for anyone,” Owen jokes.

  I laugh and think about how much fun I have when I’m around him, but more importantly how I’m actually fun, too, when we’re together. I’m trying to be more relaxed, and I hope my leisurely lifestyle plan doesn’t backfire.

  This is all for a purpose after all. I am easy, breezy, and adventurous and my father will soon see that thanks to Owen Wolfe.

  I might be using him a little bit but I’m so daft as to not realize that he’s using me right back. There’s a connection between us for sur
e. But Owen doesn’t quite seem like the kind of guy that would settle down.

  And me? Well, I have a business empire to conquer. I might have time for a nice fuck but there’s no time for love.

  For now, I’m content to take each second and opportunity as they arise. There’s something irresistible about Owen that draws me in, and I have a hard time saying no to him, which I’m sure he’s already used to.

  “Okay.” I nod. “Yes, I’ll be your date for your anniversary party.”

  Owen’s eyes light up. “That’s great, thank you so much.”

  “No, thank you for inviting me.” I smile at him, wondering if we’ll end up in bed together again. The funniest part of this scenario? I’m not even afraid to know what might happen. I’m not thinking about the future or anything else.

  Just one moment at a time, one step at a time.

  Owen starts to chuckle as if there’s a realization hitting him.

  “What?” I chuckle because his laughter is infectious.

  “You went from being this uptight girl to this girl who doesn’t give a fuck about anything.”

  Inside I’m flattered.

  My plan is working perfectly.

  “You think?” I say, feeling genuinely curious.

  If Owen thinks I’m adventurous then maybe my father will too and my brother will finally be demoted to Vice President where he belongs.

  “I do think,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss.

  His hot breath.

  His taste.

  His strong body.

  It all threatens to consume me and suddenly I feel okay with being taken under his control.

  Owen

  “This party is rad.”

  “Hmm?” I toss a disinterested glance Melissa’s way.

  Melissa Anderson, my secretary, is a genius. I’d be fucking lost without her. She organized this whole affair, the second anniversary party for Lone Wolfe Productions.

  It’s chic and swank and everyone who’s anyone is here.

  The Hollywood set, models, socialites, investors...the most important people in New York are all here. And I have Melissa to thank for it.

  But there’s one person who’s conspicuously absent.

  Where the fuck is Molly?

  I find my eyes scanning the room, looking for her.

  Why do I feel like this girl is mine already?

  “Look, boss,” she says, as she affectionately likes to call me. “People are pouring in from the entrance to the bar.”

  “Oh, right,” I say vaguely as I stare across the crowds of people, looking for that fucking luminous face.

  Melissa works her ass off and part of the reason this party is so incredible is because of her diligent dedication to not only me, but to her job as a whole as well, but I just can’t fucking concentrate on anything right now.

  We’re in the lounge of a restaurant of mine called Urban Fusion. It’s upscale and modern, just like everything I own. I like to kept my investments strong and varied over several fields of interest...real estate, restaurants, clubs, and of course, my studio.

  I hate to brag but my portfolio is expansive.

  Melissa’s sitting next to me on a black leather couch in the VIP lounge area.

  She’s trying to give me a run-through of the program for tonight, but unfortunately, my mind is somewhere else.

  I have more important issues to deal with right now, and the biggest one is whether or not Molly Quinn is going to show up and be my ‘date.’

  “Are you ignoring me?” Melissa cuts through my hazy concentration once again.

  “Huh? No, sorry, please continue.” I wave my hand at her, but she’s right; it’s a hopeless cause trying to keep me on track.

  My eyes won’t leave the entrance. I need to see her and to have her by my side. I feel possessive over her, like she’s mine already, and I want her near me or the night will be a bust.

  I’m waiting for Molly, looking with rapt attention to anyone who walks through that door, hoping that the next time I glance in that direction, I’ll see her coming towards me.

  She better get here soon or I might have to deliver a punishment in more ways than one.

  My cock strains uncomfortably against my pants at the idea of taking Molly in the office at the back of the restaurant. I envision bending her over the desk and making her mine and making her pay for being late, and for becoming my new obsession.

  “Owen?”

  This time I recognize the voice, and it’s male. I glance up to see Victor standing directly in front of me, blocking my view.

  “I have drinks, man,” he announces, and I nod when I notice two whiskeys in his hand.

  “Thanks,” I say and crane my neck to peer past him.

  Melissa’s talking about something but I don’t hear.

  Victor sits down next to me and says impatiently, “Dude, where’s your head at?”

  I pull myself back into the moment long enough to say, “What are you talking about?”

  Victor ignores me and addresses Melissa directly. “I can take this from here,” he tells her. “Owen is distracted to say the least.”

  She looks at me as if it’s all finally registering.

  “I can take a hint,” she says, pouring another drink.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from the entrance for one fucking millisecond.

  Obsessed doesn’t even begin to describe the way I’m acting right now, but I don’t fucking care.

  Is she okay? What if she got hurt or something?

  “He’ll be alright.” Victor nudges me again. “Right, man?”

  “Huh?” I stare at him in a daze.

  Victor smiles at Melissa. “See?” he says confidently, although his story is unconvincing.

  I’m not selling it because I am indeed fucking distracted. I can’t seem to rip my thoughts away from her and that’s very unlike me.

  “What about his speech?” Melissa’s eyes dart nervously between us.

  “He’ll wing it.” Victor shoots her a wink and a smile.

  Melissa is like the fucking queen bee, guarding the hive. She looks reluctant to leave my side, but Victor nods reassuringly at her again.

  “Don’t worry, I can take care of Owen. He just needs some TLC from his best friend.”

  “Okay,” she says reluctantly.

  Melissa gives him a nervous glance, but she stands up and hesitantly moves away from us, most likely to do something else behind the scenes. I don’t fucking know, secretary and assistant type shit.

  Victor takes a sip of his whiskey and stares at me.

  I drink the whole fucking thing down like a shot, hoping it will quell my desire for her. I stare at the door some more, and I’ll keep staring forever if that’s what it takes.

  “Dude, are you alright?” he asks, and waves his hand in front of my face as if he’s trying to break my trance.

  “Yeah,” I respond robotically.

  “Then what the fuck is wrong with you?”

  I look at him and laugh. “Nothing.” I pour another drink from the bottle of high-end vodka sitting at our table.

  “You seem really distracted, Owen,” he says.

  “I’m not,” I deny, although I don’t really have a valid fucking point to back myself up with either.

  “Does this have anything to do with your fail-safe plan?” Victor asks.

  I don’t look at him, I merely stare straight ahead. “Eye on the prize my friend, eye on the fucking prize.”

  “Do you want me to give the toast then?” Victor looks at me.

  “Maybe.” I shrug.

  “Well, it’s time,” he says.

  “How the hell do you know?” I look up and scan the room.

  I notice Melissa waving at Victor, indicating that he needs to help get me ready for the speech.

  “Sure, go ahead,” I say, and give a defeated look to Victor. “You’ll do great.”

  The last thing on my mind is giving a damn poetic speech to this room of money-laden p
eople. I don’t care about investments. I don’t care about business. All I want is to see her.

  Victor takes a deep breath. “Okay, no problem, dude.”

  He gestures for me to stand up, which is the least I can do. This is my fucking party after all.

  When Victor is sure he can grab everyone’s attention, he clears his throat and clinks a spoon against the side of his glass.

  Everyone stares at him, and at me because I’m standing right there beside him. I know they’re expecting me to say a few words, but I don’t have it in me right now. I still have time to kill before my big speech at dinner.

  Victor directs every film I make, so he’s more than worthy for the task at hand.

  “Good evening, everyone.” Victor’s voice bellows in the room, capturing the moment.

  “I’ll keep this short and sweet, because I’m not good with the words like Owen here.” He chuckles and points a thumb at me.

  I put on my best charming smile and wave to the crowd. “Thank you all for coming.” At least I’m able to say that much to the room full of my friends, peers, and coworkers.

  “Anyway,” Victor says and holds up his glass, “I would like to propose a toast. We are at the two-year mark for Lone Wolfe Productions. Our success is broad and growing like wildfire. We would just like to thank each and every one of you, members and investors alike, for all of you play an intricate part in the role of keeping this operation successful. So, this party is for you, because together, we are one.”

  Victor raises his glass high and proud, and the crowd joins him, clapping and roaring with their congratulations and joy.

  Once the chatter begins again, Victor and I sit down next to each other again on the couch.

  “Thanks for saving my ass.” I give him a chagrined look.

  “Anytime.” He slaps my back. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “I know I’m still going to have to go on the stage later when everyone sits down for dinner,” I say begrudgingly.

  “You’ll do fine,” Victor reassures me.

  I know I’ll do fine. Talking in front of a crowd is no big thing. But my distraction is at an all-time high. And instead of perusing the crowd for potential models to fuck, there is only one woman on my mind.

  Fucking Molly.

  She has a hold on me.