Seduced By Her Royal Dukes: A MFM Royal Menage Romance

by Harper West

  Both men have been busy, but they always find time for me. It’s been a whirlwind, and officially, our first year of marriage is coming to an end. It’s like a dream come true. I smile, resting a hand lightly on my full belly. The baby within kicks me rambunctiously, sending me giggling.

  I can tell the baby will be a troublemaker, but he or she will also be a joy. We’re waiting to find out the gender, I want it to be a surprise. Of course, Ryker is struggling not knowing the gender of the baby, surprises are difficult for him. Though I do find him adding worriedly to his hoard of baby toys. Harry is loving it, on more than one occasion I’ve caught him with clothes for a baby girl and a baby boy.

  After the wedding, we spent three weeks on a tour of Europe, they gave me the trip I was never able to complete. This time, it was much, much better. I was with the men I love, and of course staying in expensive hotels. It’s been better than a fairytale being with Ryker and Harry. They’re loving and kind, and veritable sex gods.

  My footsteps echo softly through the halls as I make my way back through the palace. All I want is a cake… A chocolate cake with fudge frosting and cheesy chips on top. Ryker and Harry tease me constantly about my cravings, but they bend over backwards to get me anything and everything I need.

  I remember when I first found out I was pregnant. At first, I was scared – terrified. But when I finally told them after dinner one day, Ryker actually cried. He was silent, smiling, and a tear slipped down his cheek. Harry was ecstatic, dragging me out of my chair to pull me into a hug. And the wonderful part was, neither of them asked me whose I thought it was. And none of us wanted to know. Then we fucked right there in the dining room, loudly enough that the servants knew to stay out.

  I asked them, because I was secretly worried about it. But when I even brought it up, they shot me down immediately, telling me that the baby belonged to all of us. Just like I belong to both of them.

  It’s still a shock that I can be so loved and so completely whole with these two, I feel grateful every day. The baby kicks again, jolting me from my thoughts. The baby wiggles, moving around in my belly as it tries to get comfortable.

  “Hold on, baby,” I murmur, rubbing my belly. “We’ll get that cheesy chocolate soon.”

  Finally, I find the center of the palace again, from here I can find the right corridor to get to one of the kitchens. I sigh, waddling forward. I’m set to give birth within a few weeks, I never thought I would actually waddle. Yet, here I am, my belly jutting forward as I try to find my delicious treats.

  Suddenly, I hear another set of footsteps, a familiar sound. I turn around, my eyes meeting Ryker’s grey gaze. His gaze drops to my belly and a broad smile stretches across his face.

  “Hello, love,” he says softly, hands on my belly. He drops a kiss to my lips and then another to my belly. “How are my two-favorite people?”

  “Good,” I giggle. “I can’t find the kitchens.”

  “Don’t tell me, chocolate cake covered in cheesy chips?” he teases, nipping at my neck.

  I laugh. “What else?”

  “Come on, let’s go back out our room and we’ll order in, how does that sound?”

  I nod and follow him back through the palace. Because of my pregnancy, we’ve moved to a room on the first floor, so I don’t have to try to tackle so many stairs. When we reach our room, Ryker deposits me on the sofa carefully. I sigh heavily as I adjust myself, he plumps the pillows behind me.

  “Comfy?” he asks, kissing my cheek.

  “As comfy as I can be,” I say, laughing a little. Pregnancy isn’t always a comfortable experience.

  He picks up the phone nearby and calls the kitchens. “Can we get a chocolate cake, cheesy chips, some Danishes, chocolate chip cookies, and…a jar of pickles. Okay, thank you.”

  Moments later, there’s a soft rap at the door and a servant nudges it open, wheeling a cart in front of them. It’s absolutely covered in treats and snacks. My mouth waters at the sight. Carefully, the servant deposits the cart in the center of the room and bows out.

  “How did they bake the cake so fast?” I ask, watching as Ryker slices me a piece.

  He brings me the cake and a bag of cheesy chips. “We’ve had them bake a cake almost every day just in case you crave it again,” he says.

  I moan as I take my first bit of the cake, popping a chip in my mouth right after. “Oh my God, so good.”

  Ryker laughs lightly and plops down next to me. He slings a leg over his knee and munches on a pickle. “I think I’m getting sympathetic pregnancy cravings.”

  “Ha!” I blurt out a laugh. “You should try some of this, it will change your life.”

  “Let me see.” He opens his mouth wide.

  I pop a bite of cake topped with a chip into his mouth. He chews slowly and then makes a face. “You don’t like it?” I laugh.

  He shakes his head. “I’ll stick with the pickle.”

  “The baby likes it,” I say, a hand on my belly as I feel the baby dancing inside my belly.

  Ryker chuckles, touching my huge belly. He laughs. “I feel it!”

  Suddenly, the door swings open and Harry slips inside. He sighs, and then looks up at us. “You two are having dessert before dinner without me?” he pouts, joining us on the sofa.

  “I was having terrible cravings,” I explain, leaning over to kiss him.

  His lips are soft on mine, gentle and loving. “Mmm, well I think I’ll join you. Ah, you’ve got pickles. I’ve been dying for one of those all day.”

  Ryker and I exchange a glance and a wily grin. “How was work?” Ryker asks.

  “We’re calling in a biologist and an environmental scientist, if the fish die because of the algae the village will take a big hit,” Harry sighs, biting into a pickle.

  I purse my lips and wrap my hand around his. “It’s good you’re tackling it early, I know it’s stressful.”

  He gives me a soft grin. “It’ll be fine. Now, how is baby doing?”

  “Baby is doing a little dance right now.” I place his hand on my belly so he can feel the baby moving. Ryker joins us.

  The two of them grin happily, and simultaneously plant kisses on my cheeks. I feel such an overwhelming surge of love, it feels like my heart is going to burst. And then I feel a dull cramp. I hiss softly, riding the pain.

  “What’s wrong?” Ryker asks, instantly alert.

  “I’m just starting to cramp, maybe the cake was a bad idea,” I say, setting my half-finished cake aside.

  “Or maybe…” Harry’s eyes dart to my swollen belly.

  I shake my head. “No way.” And then another pain sweeps through me, this time I feel it in my core. “Oh.”

  Ryker is on his feet, his eyes cool and calm. Controlled. “We’re having a baby.”

  I glance wildly between the two of them. “No, it’s at least two weeks too early.”

  “Holy shit, where’s her hospital bag?” Harry bounds away, searching through the room.

  Calmly, Ryker reaches towards me and takes my hand. He smiles reassuringly. “Come on, love, we’re having a baby.”

  I rise on shaky feet, feeling a surge of fear at the prospect of going into labor early. But then Harry is beside me, and so is Ryker. And they’ve got me wrapped up in their strong arms, their lips kissing any part of me they can reach.

  And I don’t feel so scared anymore. With the baby moving happily inside me, and Harry and Ryker showering me with love. I know there’s nothing to be scared of. I feel tears brimming in my eyes as I’m overcome with happiness. It really is a happily ever after.

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  Chapter 1

  JAMES

  The paperwork was brought in by the heaping boxful and the hands on the gleaming grandfather clock in the corner of my office seemed to hang at 4
o'clock sharp for the last two hours. Would it ever end? My last pen was almost out of ink. I put it aside in disgust and set my fingers to work on my aching temples instead, trying to find some way to relieve the twin pricks of pain that darted around to my hairline and to the back of my skull.

  Finding none, I groaned and rocked back in my father’s chair which seemed evermore large and daunting each day I came to take his place in it. I closed my eyes and thought about the many times during my childhood he had come home hours late for dinner and felt a sharp sting of regret when I recalled the many times I had accused him of not loving my sister and I when he failed to make it— on time— to our important events like my hockey games or her talent shows. Now I knew why. He always had to climb out of a small avalanche of papers first.

  Sweet Jesus, this must be my karma for being such a spoiled brat back then.

  I winced as a tap tap came at my office door. It was probably yet another armload of very important documents that needed my attention.

  I need a drink. Maybe I can stop by that new bar down the street. Vesta’s, was it called? I wonder if they have anything decent enough for me to choke down.

  Instantly I missed Ruthie, my former secretary. She would have known to order me a bottle of good scotch before I even had the chance to ask her for it. It was a shame she chose to retire this week after thirty-five long years of working for my father. How long had it been since I started the new position, a month? It felt like I had been chained to this chair for years now.

  “Enter,” I called out, remembering someone was still at the door when they tapped again, louder this time. My voice sounded gruff and impatient from lack of sleep.

  A tall, slender, man with square glasses and a balding patch on the top of his head quickly slipped through the door. My lawyer, Jeff, I recognized him immediately and made no effort to sit any straighter. We had been friends a very long time and he had seen me in more compromising states than just pure exhaustion.

  “James, good to see you again and doing real work no less! Now that is a treat. Haven’t seen you this haggard since the funeral,” he commented without malice and made himself at home, taking the chair across from mine.

  “Was there something pressing you needed, Jeff? Or did you come just to laugh at me?”

  His eyes wandered the room, glanced back to me once, and quickly away again to settle on a picture of my father shaking hands with some uppity business investor. “Actually,” he began hesitantly, “I ran into a rather large bump while signing the assets of Kricker and Storm Bank from your father’s name and into yours. I have some papers here—”

  I knew it. More work. “Just leave them in the pile.” I cut him off and gestured to my paper cluttered desk grandly, “I am sure I will get to them sometime in the next year.”

  “No, James. You’ll need to have a look at these. Right now,” Jeff replied.

  Something in his tone pulled me upright even as I wanted to sink further into my chair. For the first time since he walked in, I looked at Jeff properly. He appeared almost a tired as I felt, like a sun deprived zombie in an expensive grey suit. His jaw was set firmly and his mouth was drawn in a tight grimace. His long fingers held out a folder with thick red letters that read CONFIDENTIAL on the front.

  Intrigued, I took it and flipped it open. I glazed over the heavy technical text until I found what he needed to show me highlighted in bright yellow. But this…this is impossible, I thought, suddenly wide awake. I told him as much with a curt, “This is a terrible joke, Jeff. Shame on you for trying to wind me up like this.”

  “Think on it properly, James, why would I joke about something as important as this? This is serious and real and you need to do something about it before the investors get wind of it.”

  “The investors? Screw the investors! You barge in and suddenly tell me that I don’t own half of my own business? Well dammit, Jeff, who the hell does, then? Who was this secret partner my father apparently had for years without my knowledge? It’s no small wonder I think it a joke. I have been working under my father for the last seven years, Jeff, and have I even heard a whiff of rumor about a co-owner? Not once.”

  “Gordon Storm. Apparently, he passed away a couple of years after the bank opened, but if you read carefully, that is not the name on the paper. It's Devan Storm, Gordon’s son and rightful owner of forty-nine percent of everything.” Jeff took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes before putting them back on again. “I’ve done some research on him quietly and found out he is in America, but I want to bring him over to London and discuss a settlement price as soon as possible. It won't come cheap, but if he signs it, the bank will be officially yours.”

  “Do it. This weekend. I don’t want anyone to hear about it until the bank is already in my hands. Understand?” I asked.

  “Agreed.” Jeff nodded solemnly, then he sighed, “Where are you going, James?”

  “If I don’t get a drink now, I may just sign over my half of the business.” I grunted, jacket already half way on. I made a beeline for the door and just before it snapped shut I heard him chuckle humorously.

  My watch told me it was just past 5:30 when I pulled up to Vesta’s bar. A quick look in my overhead mirror had told me that I should at least go home and shower before putting myself out in the public eye. My office could be a sanctuary where I let my tie hang loose around my neck, kick my black Louis Vuitton shoes to a corner, and let my weeks’ worth of unshaved growth go unnoticed, but not a hopping new bar just down the street from my building. My father had been a stickler about appearances in his business and I would strive to do the same.

  Club Vesta was an odd place, mixed somewhere between a dive bar and a posh gentlemen's club. It’s dimly-lit, squared-off rooms, with limited seating, loud thrumming music, and wafting cigarette smell contrasted greatly with the pristine dark granite countertops, pricy wall decorum, and well cushioned leather chairs. Except for the music bringing around another headache, I didn’t really mind.

  As easily as if I owned the club myself— and in all actuality, my bank probably did front the loan for it— I strode up to the bar and was not disappointed by the high-shelf selection of scotch and bourbon I found there.

  “Laphroaig, twenty-five-year,” I told the gentleman looking at me expectantly as he poured another customer a glass of something vibrantly orange and sweet smelling. He took note of the expensive brand of my suit and nodded. “Want to start a tab?” he asked.

  “Why not.” I shrugged. I certainly didn’t plan on leaving quickly. In truth, I hadn’t been out of the office to socialize in months and it was startling to realize how much I had missed it.

  The man dipped his head again and sat the orange liqueur down on the counter beside me. That was when I noticed the woman directly behind me and that it was her, not the drink, that had invaded my nose with her sweet scent. She stretched a long arm for her drink and drew in too close as the cluster of people around the bar suddenly closed in. I imagined if there were better lighting, I could distinctly count each long eyelash, almost hidden behind a waterfall of mahogany-colored hair. The woman looked up to me with doe-like, hazel, eyes that pinned me where I stood, even as she said, “Pardon, I can’t quite reach it.”

  A pause, then, her pink rounded lips dropped in a confused frown when I didn’t even try to move away. She raised one arched brow and I suddenly remembered myself.

  “Of course. Allow me.” My throat was dry in a way that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. I handed her the drink, almost reluctantly, because she swiftly moved out of the space next to me. I was almost tempted to take the drink back just to have her reach for it again.

  What a stupid thought, I told myself. Just ask her for her name.

  The bartender sat my own drink beside me and I picked it up to sip on absently. She turned to walk away and as I opened my mouth to get her attention, the company logo on her tight blouse caught my eye. “You work for Kricker and Storm, Gloria?” I squinted my eyes to read her nam
e pinned to the upper right corner of her shirt.

  To my surprise, she harrumphed, her brows knitting together as she tipped her head back to gulp her drink greedily. Some professional part of me thought that surely it wasn’t a good idea for her to show that much cleavage while wearing our uniform. Not that I could really say I was displeased by it, just then. She appeared to be in her early twenties, but her body was all woman; long legs that almost matched his in length, full hips and chest. The view of her plunging neckline captured me as she slammed down the empty glass on the bar. Her flushed cheeks and throaty moan of pleasure as the strong alcohol burned all the way down, would surely haunt my dreams tonight.

  “Yeah, I work there. Why do you think I am here getting completely hammered?”

  The question took me aback, I tore my eyes away from the swell of her breasts to try and focus on why she sounded so pissed off.

  “You don’t like it? I thought all of my— I mean— the bank’s employees were happy to work there.” Best not to let her know she is talking to her boss, I thought.

  She let out a throaty chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose most do like the job...I am just not one of them.”

  “Why do you happen to hate it?” I pressed.

  Weary of my round of twenty questions, she cocked her fleshy rounded hip and poked a finger into my chest, moving close again. I could feel the heat from her body and was dizzied by it. “What is it to you?” she asked.

  It took me a moment to realize her speech was heavily slurred. She was completely hammered. Do I tell her the truth? Would she be honest with me or stiffen up and offer apologies before she ducked out?

  She saved me from having to make a decision, having already forgotten why she was being defensive. “Fine. I’ll tell you a little about me and then you can tell me a little about you.” She offered with a suggestive smile. She took my arm to lead us to a quiet table toward the back. All I could think about was how soft her breasts were rubbing against my bicep as I held her upright while she walked. “I work in the mail room, you see. Not a bad place. Except I haven't had a raise in the four years I have been working there and my manager has been giving me very unwanted attention, if you know what I mean.”