Prince's Triplet Babies

by Sophia Lynn

  She was a lovely human being—pure, sweet, glowing with life.

  His gut begged him to persuade her to stick around, not cast her out in a grand display of humiliation and revenge.

  A waiter arrived with menus on wooden boards, explaining in soft French what the specials were. Antonia watched him with brows knit together. Before he could go on, Louis interjected.

  “Excuse me, the lady doesn’t speak fluent French. Might you be able to continue in Italian? Or allow me to translate for her.”

  “Merci,” Antonia said. “My French is so basic.”

  The waiter launched into the menu again in sufficient Italian, hesitating over a few words that Louis then translated for her. After conferring briefly, they made their choices—Louis selected a red roast mullet in fennel, and Antonia the rabbit served with foie gras.

  Soon after, the waiter returned with a local vintage red wine, which he poured reverently for them, bowing before he left.

  “Cheers to my favorite poker queen,” Louis said, raising his glass. “May the cards be in your favor.”

  She smiled and clinked her glass against his, and they sipped the wine. Antonia moaned low. “Dear God. This wine is amazing.”

  “I told you.” He grinned at her from over top of the glass. “It’s straight from the heavens.”

  “Just like you.” Her eyes sparkled as she took another sip.

  His chest tightened. Her adoration was somehow a relief and not cumbersome like other women he’d been with in the past. Being revered by Antonia made him feel as if he was doing something right…even though deep inside, he knew he was doing something very wrong.

  But he still had time to fix it. The plan didn’t have to transpire.

  Taking a shaky sip of wine, he let the whole conundrum go. Tonight would be about more pleasurable times with the lovely lady. Decisions would come later.

  He could only hope that time would give him the clarity he so desperately craved.

  Chapter Seven

  Friday morning.

  The thought seared through her as Antonia awoke in the soft nest of Louis’s palatial bed. The alarm hadn’t gone off—the sun wasn’t even cresting yet. It was just nerves. Dreading the inevitable last day of the tournament; the last day of this prolonged fantasy they’d been living. Anxious about the outcome of the tournament, desperate to win the jackpot.

  She sighed and turned onto her side to face Lou. He snored softly beside her, mouth open slightly, his hair tousled. Reaching for his arm under the covers, she squeezed his bicep, loving the warmth of him, the smell of him beside her.

  Sleep eluded her. Ever since their dinner in Nice on Tuesday night, she’d been fighting a losing battle against time. Wednesday and Thursday had come and gone in a blur of laughter, sexy games, and more victories at the poker table. They’d celebrated last night by touring art museums in the evening, one of them inside his own home.

  And now, Friday, the final battle. If Antonia could win all the rounds today, she’d leave Monaco as the new Southern European Poker Champion, a title that had never been held by a woman before, and never by someone so young as her.

  Anticipation filled the air at the casino, which made her thankful for the escape to the palace each day. If she’d stayed in the hotel, she worried she may have choked on the tension. Maybe even had some unfavorable run-ins with the other players.

  But with her prince at her side…A smile crossed her face as her eyes adjusted to the low lighting and she could see him more clearly. Moonbeams made it into the bedroom, casting an ethereal glow. She burrowed deeper into the covers, nestling against Louis’s body.

  She drifted off to sleep but awoke later with a start when she sensed Louis sliding out of the bed. Yawning, she watched him walk around the bed in just his boxer briefs.

  “Good morning.” He spoke softly, grazing her hand as he passed. “Go back to sleep—it’s not time to wake up yet.”

  “Then why are you up?”

  “To get my work done before you wake up.”

  She laughed sleepily. “You can’t work if I’m awake?”

  “Exactly.”

  Her eyes drifted shut, and she felt his lips against her forehead. She must have dozed off because the next time she woke up, he was dressed and setting a breakfast tray on the round table in the middle of the room.

  She blinked lazily, allowing her transition into the waking world to be leisurely.

  “Good morning, again.” He sat in front of the computer again. “I got our favorite.”

  “Mmm.” She sprawled on her back, admiring the ornate design of the ceiling. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  As she lay contemplating the room, she thought, for perhaps the hundredth time, that she should check her email again. Her father had surely responded by now, and she was eager to talk to him but also hesitant to find out whether Lou was really connected to their family business. This time with him was pure, and real—she wanted it to stay that way.

  You don’t need any distractions on your last day of the tournament. It was an efficient rationalization, one that overruled almost anything else. Finding out bad news now might ruin her chances at the jackpot. And if she had any goal at all, it was winning those millions.

  So clearly, checking her email had to wait until after the tournament. Her poker profession demanded it.

  Rolling out of bed, she joined Lou at the table where he worked, picking out a bowl of fruit and granola for herself. As she munched, she watched him.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Business plans.” He frowned. “Trying to stimulate growth within Monaco.”

  “Are you writing them?”

  “Some. But critiquing others.” He paused, studying the computer screen, then rattled off the titles of some of the business approaches he was considering.

  “Sounds smart. And potentially lucrative.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  Once they finished breakfast and Antonia had showered and dressed, it was time to make the trek to the casino. The events were scheduled to begin a bit earlier today, since there would be considerable fanfare and interviews preceding the actual gameplay. Butterflies tormented her belly as she and Louis made their way to the driveway to meet the car. Louis grabbed her hand.

  “You’re going to do so well today.” His gaze was earnest, full of confidence. “And I, for one, cannot wait to see you win this jackpot.”

  She forced a smile. “Thanks. I’m just feeling so nervous, suddenly. I can’t explain it. I never felt like this the other days.”

  “Well, the jackpot wasn’t within grasp the other days. Now it is.” He ushered her into the black sedan that waited for them, and then joined her from the other side.

  “I can practically taste it,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I just want this to go well. And…” She broke off, unsure if she should admit the rest of what she was thinking. “I’m sad that this is ending.”

  There was a tense silence as Louis studied their clasped hands. “We’ll talk about that after the tournament. I don’t want anything to distract you today.”

  She deflated. It wasn’t the response she’d been hoping for. Deep inside, she wanted him to beg her to stay, to tell her this connection was as magical and perfect for him as it was for her. But maybe he was being more practical. Maybe he had a solution worked out. Or maybe he was just waiting to let her down easy and burst the fantasy bubble.

  He stroked her knuckles rhythmically as they approached the casino, the steady cadence calming her mind as they neared the point of no-return. At the cul-de-sac in front of the main doors, photographers swarmed the car, some even pounding on the trunk in their impatience.

  Turning to Louis, she drew a deep breath. “Here we go.”

  He offered her an encouraging smile. “You can do this. Now it’s time to go kick their asses.”

  They shared a deep kiss, and then Antonia pushed open the door and stepped into the throngs of photog
raphers.

  ***

  Louis paced the lounge restlessly. Antonia would be wrapped up in interview and pre-tournament events for at least another hour. Which left him more than enough time to stew on what the hell his plan should be for later today.

  Several worrisome things had snagged his attention. First and foremost, the magazine someone left in the lounge featured him and Antonia on the front cover—a bright, glossy image of them leaving the restaurant Wednesday night in Nice, alongside the simple question: “Is Louis in bed with the enemy?”

  The paps had jumped to conclusions all their own—linking Antonia’s family’s business with the slander about him. Even his blind eye to the tabloids couldn’t miss it, which meant it was only a matter of time before Antonia caught wind. And what would he tell her then?

  The choice was clear—he had to orchestrate the public humiliation today. Or not at all.

  Indecision gnawed at him. He didn’t want to sever this thing between them. Who knew where it would go, but he wanted to see it through. But the bastard tabloids left a lot of questions to answer once Antonia saw them. Which she would, sooner or later. It was just luck that she’d chosen to go off the grid for almost a week, with no phone or internet access.

  In a way, it was a beautiful blessing—they’d been able to connect and escape the reality of the outside world. Make love in a way that might never again be possible. Once she reentered society and had a phone at her fingertips, she’d be up to speed in a second.

  So he had to act now. His future or their future depended on it. He ran a hand through his hair, jingling some coins in his pocket as he paced the lounge. As he passed the magazine again, he flipped it over. Then, after thinking about it, he tossed it into the waste bin nearby.

  One down, thousands to go.

  He ordered an appetizer and a whiskey tumbler as he waited for the casino to open to spectators. Mingled in with his distress about his pending decision was the deep hope that Antonia would walk away with the jackpot. She had to. Everyone was pegging the long-running champ to win, but he had faith that his sweet Antonia would pull through.

  His chest tightened, and he downed the whiskey and ordered another.

  Fuck. He certainly had never envisioned this as an outcome when he set out to get his revenge against her vindictive father. In his mind, it had been embarrassingly easy—seduce daughter, rub it in the old man’s face. No big deal. But now? He was too emotionally invested to break her heart. So he’d have to dig deep into his worst impulses to find the wherewithal to go through with it.

  Louis pulled up the email he’d received a month and a half ago from an advisor, imploring him to lay low for a while. The advisor’s admonishment came after Mr. Giovanni’s story broke: that Louis engaged in swindling and arm-bending, undercutting and bribery. And worst of all—that he was a disease-replete womanizer who prioritized women over his city-state.

  The worst part of the scandal was that Antonia’s father had somehow, somewhere, managed to find people willing to come forward to verify these statements. People he’d never even heard of—couldn’t recognize them if he was forced to at gunpoint. It was all bogus. His dealings with Giovanni Designs had never been anything but professional and brief. The old man’s bitterness stemmed entirely from the fact that Louis had made the executive decision to end their contract and seek designs from within Monaco. No exceptions.

  The slander wouldn’t have been such a big deal if it hadn’t affected his relationships with other clients. Several key marketing companies for their tourism department backed out of contracts, citing Giovanni’s allegations as the cause. Even people within the political sphere looked at him differently, treated him with suspicion, consulted his brothers over him as a way to ensure honesty.

  The old man had gone above and beyond in his quest to hurt him. He’d succeeded far too well. And Louis would do well to remember that, too. His pursuit of Antonia was not about pleasure, no matter how lovely the preceding week had been.

  He was here to even the playing field.

  Bolstered by the visit with the past, he strode through the lounge confidently, sipping on another whiskey. He could do this. It would sting, it might feel awful for a while…but it was possible. Antonia would forget about him and move on. He would continue with his business dealings as usual.

  The world would be fine.

  He held onto these thoughts as long as he could, desperate for the tournament to begin so he could do something. If he was going to enact the plan, he had to do it now, before he lost his nerve. When the doors finally opened and the waiting throngs streamed inside, he heaved a sigh of relief. The nervous jumbles in his belly were threatening to morph into something more dangerous if he didn’t see progress soon.

  Pocketing his phone, he took up his post along the edge with a view of Antonia, who sat poised and grinning in her seat among the other players. He smiled involuntarily—she was a beacon of light. Their eyes met across the room and he could instantly read her excitement, her wonder, her nervousness. He gave her a thumbs-up, then watched as each player received microphones and makeup touch-ups before the live stream began.

  The reigning champ sat bulky and dour in a seat across the table from Antonia. He was known for being a hard-headed jerk at his best, and immediately Louis could sense his disdain at competing against the likes of Antonia—a newcomer and a woman. He sent plenty of dirty glances her way, which Antonia either ignored or genuinely didn’t see. Maybe she was too wrapped up in her own world to care.

  As the showdown ticked nearer, more people filed into the casino to watch. Soon, it was standing room only, people pressed elbow-to-elbow, craning necks to see the players. A hush fell over the crowd as the casino official formally started the tournament. Applause erupted as he introduced each player.

  When the first hand was dealt, so fast that it was basically a blur to the human eye, a tense silence fell over the room. Louis gnawed on his lip, drawn to both Antonia and the reigning champ. His eyes darted between them, at opposite ends of the table, but he couldn’t figure out why. His name was Florencio, and he held his cards with a look of disgust, which was also status quo for him.

  The first hand was called, and Florencio took the win. There was a murmur as the dealer collected the cards and slid the chips his way. The next hand came out, and after a tense couple of minutes, Florencio came out on top again.

  Antonia looked genuinely confused, though she flashed an unconvincing grin here and there. He could feel the frustration radiating off her. Had she met her match? The thought was sobering. He’d come to think of her as a poker genius, nothing short of a heaven-sent conqueror. Losing to this man had never even seemed a possibility, despite his long tenure at the top.

  As the next hand was dealt, Louis kept a close watch on Florencio. His eyes darted around the table, assessing his competition no doubt, but there was also a frequent glance over to someone behind Antonia’s shoulder—a tall man with a long, expressionless face. He stood behind Antonia’s deck, peering intently at her cards. He seemed too far away to be able to see them clearly, but who knew what sort of tricks people had up their sleeves.

  Louis stared at the man, waiting for a tell, some sort of sign that he might be communicating to Florencio. And then, there it was—eyebrow movement, a pattern. If he hadn’t noticed the trajectory of Florencio’s gaze, he would never have noticed the other man’s tics as anything other than normal.

  But as soon as the man waggled his eyebrows, Florencio placed a bet.

  The hands were shown—Florencio won.

  Antonia looked crushed as the dealer swept her chips away.

  Louis’s chest tightened. Three fell-swoop wins in a row wasn’t common against Antonia. She should have won at least one hand by now. Though she tried to hide it, she was shaken. He could feel her nerves from across the room, another frightening sign of how close they’d grown in such a short amount of time.

  Tension spiked in the room as the players placed thei
r bets. One folded; Antonia hesitated before shoving more chips forward from her drastically waning pile. Again, Florencio looked discretely to the tall man behind Antonia. A different signal this time, but it, too, led to Florencio sweeping the table.

  Applause erupted; others booed. Louis’s stomach sank as he realized the inevitable truth: Florencio was cheating, with Antonia his primary target.

  He looked around for someone to alert, panic cresting inside him as he wrestled with what to do next.

  One the one hand, if he let Florencio cheat and win, it would aid his dramatic break-up, providing a reason, of sorts, for his departure from her life. Let her pick up the pieces however she saw fit. If he was going to break up with her, why call out the cheater? Let her lose big—a grandiose failure at the poker tables, and a grandiose heartbreak to accompany it.

  But he couldn’t stand to see Florencio doing this to his sweet Antonia. It wasn’t right. And how did Antonia deserve the repercussions of her father’s actions, especially when she had nothing to do with his slander and his deception?

  Before he could think better of it, he pushed through the crowd toward the tall man behind Antonia. His eyes were like a laser on the snitch as he neared, which snagged the man’s attention.

  Coming up close, he spoke low so others wouldn’t hear. “I saw what you were doing with Florencio.” He’d started with French; if that didn’t work, he’d switch to Italian.

  The man rolled his eyes and turned away.

  “I’m going to out you, and the press will listen to me. The match will be called. Whatever is in it for you will be long gone before you ever have a chance to even dream about it again.”

  The man shifted beside him, attitude dissipated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”