by Eden Finley
I snatched the bottle out of his hands and took a long pull. “It’s not a quick fuck. We’re … together.”
“You and Xander? Like, is Cordelia a beard?”
“No”—another pull of scotch—“Xander, Delia, and me … we’re a couple. Err … triple?”
“A throuple?”
I shrugged. “A whatever. The three of us want to be together.”
“For how long?”
“For as long as it works. Xander’s talking forever.”
“And you’re stupid enough to believe that?”
I flinched.
“I’m not trying to be a dick, and I’m not judging your lifestyle. Sex with more than one person at a time I can understand, but having a relationship where you have two people to satisfy emotionally? Good luck to you, brother.”
His words made more doubt creep in.
Brad’s expression softened. “Look, if you’re up for it, who am I to say it won’t work. Maybe if you were all normal, a permanent three-way could work out, but you’re a commoner, trying to be with the future king and queen of Ashwick. There’s something majorly wrong with that picture.”
He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know, but I was so head over heels in love with Xander I was willing to believe we could make it in the long run. I was falling for Delia, too. The week we had alone together sealed our bond, and now Xander was back, it was better than ever. But Brad had a point, and it was my biggest fear too. I didn’t belong in their world.
“Dude, I’m sorry,” Brad said. “You look like I just slaughtered a kitten, but it had to be said. I don’t want to see you fuck up your life, because when this blows up, you’ll be back here in this really shitty apartment while they still live in the palace.”
“Fuck you, my apartment’s not shitty.” I glanced around the small space and realised I was lying my ass off. It wasn’t just shitty—it was depressing.
“That’s what you got from what I said? You’re going to end up jobless and alone if you keep doing what you’re doing. And I thought I’d fucked up. Geez.”
“I’m in love with him. Have been since I worked for him. I want to love her too. The idea of being with both of them—”
Brad threw his hands up in the air. “Your choice. I’ll be there to buy you a beer or ten when your world comes crashing down.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
He grabbed the bottle of scotch back off me and lifted it to his mouth. “Cheers.”
Delia
“We’re horny,” Xander complained.
I waved my hand between him and Roman on the couch as I continued to pace. “Help yourselves.” Now that Roman was back from his forced two days off, they were both eager to get me into bed. Xander and Roman were phenomenal lovers on their own, but together … I didn’t think there was a word to describe how explosive it was. They sat in just their underwear, all manly sculptured muscles as far as my eyes could see, but I was too stressed to think about sex.
“You’re not going to join us?” Roman asked.
“Isn’t the point of a poly relationship so that if one person’s not in the mood, there’s still another person right there who can do it?” My attitude was shitty, but I had to talk to them both about something, and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.
Xander frowns. “Umm, no, that’s not actually the point of what we’re doing.”
“It’s not?” Roman asked. There was no humour in it. It was a genuine, perplexed question.
Xander stood from the couch faster than The Flash could even pull off. The tips of his ears turned pink, and he wore an unprincely scowl. “You think I only want you two for sex?”
Roman and I locked eyes, confusion warring in our mirrored expressions.
Xander turned to Roman. “You, you jackass, know every single thing there is to know about me, this fucked-up royal family I was born into, and extremely intimate details of my life, and you want me anyway. You’re not just my physical security, but whenever shit goes wrong, I want you there.” Xander breathed heavy, getting more and more worked up. “I was grateful you were the one to tell me my family were dead, because I could handle it coming from you. When you told me everything was going to be okay, I believed you. For so long I joked about you joining in on my sexcapades, but they were never really jokes. I wanted just one time where I could touch you the way I wanted and love you the way I’d fantasised about.”
Roman sat there, eyes wide and speechless.
Then Xander turned his rant onto me. “And you. You made me smile, laugh, and have fun for the first time in over a year. Your no bullshit attitude is one of the many reasons I’m falling in love with you. Each of you give me something different.” He pointed to me. “No nonsense or drama.” Then he pointed to Roman. “Unconditional love with no judgement. At least … that’s how I thought it was. You guys thought what? That I wanted to keep you both as sex toys? You know what, I’m so pissed right now I don’t even want to have sex. With either of you.”
Xander stomped towards the door, but Roman called out, “Dude, you can’t go out there in your underwear. They all know we’re in here. That’ll be a great way to tell everyone we’re fuck—umm, together.”
Good move on rephrasing that, Roman.
Xander froze with his hand on the door and sighed.
“Xander,” Roman said and rose slowly from the couch, “you kinda gotta see it from our perspective. You don’t talk about real feelings, and after one night together, you declared you wanted the two of us forever. What were we supposed to think when you pushed us into getting to know each other and have sex so you could get what you want? You know I’d do anything for you, because I’m hopelessly—some would argue pathetically—in love with you, but you haven’t exactly given us reason to believe you don’t want anything more than a queen in your bed and a bodyguard to fuck.”
Xander spun around to face us. “If you thought I was only using you for sex, why did you agree to it?”
“I was desperate for any scraps you’d give me,” Roman whispered.
“Yeah, that’s pretty pathetic sounding,” I said. Out loud. Oops.
Roman chuckled. “You know, you don’t have to be no nonsense all the time, Miss Sensitivity.”
“Sorry. I’m stressed. I have an even worse filter when I can’t think properly. I’ve even avoided going out when I’m pissed off so I never risk breaking my noble composure.”
“Why are you so stressed out?” Xander asked.
“My … My …” I began to hyperventilate.
“Breathe,” Roman soothed.
Suddenly the air was no longer charged with anger but concern for me. Both guys approached and sandwiched me between them.
“My parents called and demanded I break it off with Xander,” I mumbled into Roman’s chest.
Xander’s arms tensed behind me. “They what?”
“They’re worried it’ll all get out—that I’m not who everyone thinks I am. I’m not fit to be queen, and I’ll bring shame on the family when our secret is splashed all over the tabloids.”
“And we thought the king and queen would be the obstacle,” Roman said.
“It’s probably time to talk to them about it,” Xander said. “I’m surprised they haven’t brought it up yet.”
“Exactly,” I said. “So, this whole argument could be moot. I’m going to be banished from the palace any day.”
“So much for not being dramatic,” Roman mumbled.
“I’ll talk to Grandfather tomorrow,” Xander said.
“And if he says I’m ineligible?”
“Then we work something out,” Xander said. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”
It was the first time since we started this that I had a flicker of hope. I wanted this to work in the long-term. Xander said he was falling for me, and I knew I was falling for both of them.
Xander
Roman had a briefing with his superiors, so I spent the afternoon making Delia forget about h
er stupid parents and reassuring her with my hands, my mouth, and my cock that we’d find a way. Once Roman came back, we reassured him a little too.
Now they were both passed out in bed, and I couldn’t sleep, so I made my way to Grandfather’s office with the intention of addressing the Delia issue. I knew he’d still be awake—he usually didn’t leave the office until nine or ten p.m., but when I got there, the king decided to drop a bombshell on me.
“I was about to summon you. An anonymous source claims to have been Crown Prince Alexander’s gay lover for years. The palace was given advanced warning of the headlines going out tomorrow.”
My stomach lurched. All these years of covering it up, only to be outed by a jilted ex?
Motherfucking Carl.
I gritted my teeth. “He had an NDA.”
“Anonymous source. We can’t prove who it was,” Grandfather said.
“There’s only one I was with for that long.” I waited for the yelling—the lecturing—but it didn’t come. There wasn’t time when we had to do damage control.
“Well, we can’t admit that to the public now, can we?”
“Then what’s the point of having an NDA in the first place if we can’t do anything about it when it’s breached?”
“The best way to make this go away is to cover it up. Is Cordelia ready to become queen? Your engagement’s being pushed up.”
I swallowed hard. “Uh … there’s something you need to know about her.”
“Her biological father was a farmer, not Lord Hillington. We know. The man died a few years ago of a heart attack, and the medical records have been lost.”
“Lost?”
Grandfather nodded. “Lost. Which makes her eligible. You’ll announce your engagement tomorrow.”
“Just like that? Cover up the past? An entire life?” I didn’t know why I was surprised, but it was scary how easily my grandfather could make things disappear. Like my sexuality for one. “You don’t think announcing my engagement so soon will look like we’re overcompensating? If we ignore it, it’ll go away. This isn’t the first time rumours have spread about me.”
“Hmm, and you’d think you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”
I knew where this was headed, and I needed to avoid it. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“You’re going to give the anniversary speech at the memorial, reflecting back on the attacks and the loss of the future king and queens of Ashwick. After that, you’ll announce your engagement and spout about how your parents would’ve adored the love of your life. Who’s a woman.”
My hearth thundered in my chest. “I … I can’t do that. Announce the engagement, fine, but I’m not giving a speech about my parents.”
“This isn’t a negotiation. If you’re ready for the crown, you’ll do it. We need to appear strong and unemotional.” Sure, because talking about my family being killed while remaining unemotional will be a walk in the park. “We miss Prince Christian and Princesses Prudence and Anne, but we’re recovering and our alliances remain solid. We’re thriving so much that you’ve found love and are getting married. You will deny these accusations”—he pointed to the newspaper on his desk—“and you will be believable. I don’t want to put you in front of a camera, but it will look weak if the PR department does it for you. End of discussion.”
The elation I should have felt thanks to Delia’s issue being dealt with wasn’t present. All that sat in the pit of my stomach was dread.
Once dismissed and in a haze, my feet led me the opposite way to Delia’s room, and I ended up in the kitchen raiding the liquor cupboard.
I downed two shots of scotch immediately.
Grandfather thought it was no big deal for me to stand in front of the media—the whole country—and deny who I was. He wanted me to talk about my family as if the country lost more than I did. I lost my mother, father, and sister; they left me alone in the world.
Another two shots went down my throat.
Was this where it started with my grandfather? Did he sit on a stool in the kitchen and drink away his feelings until he became the cold, heartless asshole that he was? Was I destined to become him?
This last year, I tried to see what Annie saw in that man, but I just couldn’t find it.
Ugh. I should stop drinking. That didn’t stop me from taking one last swig.
I refused to become him.
Stumbling my way through the empty halls of the palace, I tried to be quiet when I reached Delia’s room.
My hand went to the doorhandle, but I didn’t open the door. Not yet. I needed to compose myself in case they’d woken and found me gone.
Should’ve brought the bottle of scotch.
When I finally opened the door, it didn’t matter how much composing I did because they were still both asleep.
I didn’t want to disturb them, so I went and sat on the couch by the fireplace which wasn’t lit. Didn’t stop me from absently staring into the dark abyss and seeing my future.
Rustling of bed sheets and clothes sounded behind me, yet I couldn’t bring myself to look.
Roman appeared in my peripheral, wearing only sweats. “You’re back.” Guess he noticed I was missing after all.
Normally, I’d have a hard time averting my gaze from a shirtless Roman. Definitely didn’t have that problem now. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” I looked back at Delia who was still sound asleep. “She sleeps like the dead, huh?”
“And she snores occasionally.” Roman sat beside me. “What’s with smelling like a scotch factory?”
“My grandfather. What else?” My voice cracked. I closed my eyes because I refused to cry in front of Roman.
“What happened?”
“The king wants me to give a speech. Oh, and announce my engagement. One good bit of news in a bucket of shit—Delia’s past has been covered up. But mine has been unleashed. Carl fucking outed me.”
Roman blinked. And then blinked some more. “Well, shit. Never did like him. I think he knew I had a thing for you. Would always make sure to be extra loud about how much he worshiped your cock. Fucker.”
“Carl is a non-issue now. This press conference, however … I think Grandfather’s testing me after botching the last one. He said I have to be unemotional as I talk about my parents and Annie.”
“Yeah, okay, like that’s a possibility.”
“That’s what I said.”
Roman wrapped his arm around my shoulder and brought me down so my head rested on his chest. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t have a choice,” I whispered.
“Sorry, babe. That sucks.”
“Do you think Delia’s ready to marry me?” I asked.
“I dunno. But she’ll do it for you anyway.”
This whole thing felt wrong. She wasn’t marrying me because she loved me. Maybe one day she would—we were heading in that direction—but what if she resented me for forcing her into a marriage? It’s not like the king of Ashwick got divorced. If he did, he’d have to step down beforehand. “God, what are we doing? I should let you two run far away from me. I’m forcing you into this shitty life where we have to hide.”
“We’re not going anywhere. Especially me.”
“Maybe I should abdicate. I don’t want the crown that bad.” I didn’t want it at all.
“Yes, you do,” he said.
“I’m taking it out of obligation to my parents. I owe it to them. To Annie. I don’t want to have to lie every single day or be scared someone’s going to take my crown because a tabloid gets wind of our relationship. I want to live with you and Delia without this damn pressure weighing me down. I thought I could do it all—be king and have you guys on the side—but the media is going to be ruthless now that Carl outed me. Anonymously, of course, so we can’t do anything about it.”
Roman’s arms tightened around me. “Anonymously call up the tabloid and out Carl.”
“Nah, I don’t want to stoop to his level. If he ever decides to come out o
f the closet, he should have the right to be the one to do it. Even if he is a dick.”
His lips touched the top of my head. “You’re a better man than I am. Look, if you don’t want the crown, don’t take it. But don’t abdicate for us. Delia and I had this very conversation a few days ago. I’m happy to live in the shadows for you two. You and my country are worth the sacrifice.”
I sat up. “I don’t want you to have to sacrifice anything,” I hissed. “I don’t want her to sacrifice anything either.”
“But you think you should? This is a two-way—hmm, three-way street? That phrase doesn’t quite work with us, does it?”
I laughed. “I guess not.”
“Don’t make any rash decisions tonight. Just get through the memorial. Announce the engagement, talk about your family, and then we’ll sort the rest out later.”
I nodded.
“Let’s go to bed.” Roman pulled me up off the couch and kissed me softly. I tried to deepen it, but he pulled back. “Dude, you need to brush your teeth.”
My head fell to his shoulder. “Too fucking exhausted.”
“Then let’s go crash.” Roman interlocked his fingers with mine and dragged me towards the bed.
Delia had somehow moved in her sleep and was lying diagonally across the bed.
Roman sighed. “She does that.”
“Yeah, she’s a bed hog.”
“We’re gonna need a bigger bed.”
Sweat dripped off my forehead, and not just because it was hot as balls out here. The memorial was held on the palace grounds in the private gardens, and the invited media stared at me from their chairs, awaiting my address. It was like watching a flock of vultures circling their prey. My tie felt tight and my throat felt thick. Forget swallowing when my mouth was drier than a desert.
I took two steps towards the stage when Trisha, the PR lady, pulled me back.
“Mayday,” she whispered.
“What’s going on?”
She handed me her phone, and there on some gossip rag site was a photo of Delia and Roman kissing in one of the royal guards’ SUVs. Looked like it was in the parking lot of the palace.