Forbidden Prince: A Brother's Best Friend Royal Romance

by Zoey Oliver

  That last part, that’s where Aden could use a little work, if I’m being honest. He’s more likely to kick people out than give them a free dinner if they decide they want their steaks done a different way. He is sort of like Gordon Ramsay that way. Sometimes he yells. Aden isn’t cool under pressure, not by a long shot.

  He thinks it’s okay, but I’ve seen his Yelp reviews. Nobody ever complains about the food, but there have been enough run-ins with Aden’s terrible temper that I guess he has scared pretty much everyone away by now.

  Hopping up on a barstool, I swing my heels back and forth and watch C-SPAN on one of the thirteen flat screens distributed around the empty bar. The bartender gives me a Sprite with grenadine and extra cherries when I ask, then resumes his post polishing already polished glasses at the other end of the bar.

  “Well this is a surprise,” Aden chuckles, pulling out the barstool next to me. The metal legs scrape loudly against the floor as he sits down, leaning against the lacquered wooden bar. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  I sip at my Shirley Temple, shrugging and chewing on the end of my straw.

  “Can’t I just come to visit?” I ask innocently. “I love what you’ve done with the place. It looks really nice in here.”

  He nods stubbornly, looking around with his jaw set. I’m sure he’s proud. Aden has been working on carpentry projects since high school. He probably did most of this with his own two hands.

  “Yeah, but the remodel was two and a half years ago. Didn’t you see it then?” he asks, knowing full well that I didn’t.

  “Yeah, I think you were just about done the last time I saw it,” I mumble, not sure if I’m right or not. I have definitely not been spending as much quality time with my family I should have been.

  He just nods, smiling thinly. I hear the accusation in his voice, but what am I going to do about that now? He’s been under a lot of stress, so I avoided him. Frankly, the whole restaurant business has been something I’ve been happily willing to avoid ever since the drama with the Mercers. That may not be very sisterly of me, but at least it kept me out of trouble.

  Until now, that is.

  “So, did you come here to try the food? You want to write a review?” he jokes, knowing full well that I would do whatever he needed me to do if he would just ask. He would never ask, of course.

  “Actually, I thought maybe we could talk,” I finally sigh.

  “It’s about time,” he grumbles. “You ready to come clean?”

  “I just want everybody to be happy,” I say, totally trying to dodge the question. “I don’t like this feeling where everybody’s waiting to be mad at me. I don’t like it at all. This is supposed to be so happy, and I’m just stressed out all the time.”

  He shrugs one shoulder, mangling a plastic straw between his fingertips. “Well, that’s your decision, right? Didn’t you give us a big speech about how you’re an adult and everything? Everybody is just going along with your decisions, Ava. Everybody.”

  I take a few cleansing breaths, turning the glass in place on the bar. Water condenses on the outside and forms a little puddle underneath.

  “Well, maybe I was wrong about that,” I begin. “Maybe I shouldn’t be shutting everybody out. Because it doesn’t matter at all. Right? I mean, the most important thing is I’m supposed to be having healthy babies, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s definitely the best part,” he says. “Nothing else should really matter. So you ready to talk about this? To bring the father into this discussion?”

  I sit up straight in my chair, folding my fingers together. I look him over, noting how he’s trying to seem relaxed, but he isn’t. That vein is twitching and jumping at his temple, like it does just before he freaks out. He’s under control, but just barely.

  The front door opens, and the hostess greets a couple of men in khaki pants and pale blue polo shirts, then takes them to a table by the window.

  “All I want is a good relationship with everybody. With the father, especially. I definitely want to try to have a relationship with him and the babies. All of us, together.”

  Aden narrows his eyes at me. His nostrils start to flare. “You came all this way to talk to me, and you still think that you’re not going to tell me who the father is?”

  “That’s not really the most important detail, is it?” I counter. My voice sounds meek, thin. It’s not my strongest argument, I have to admit.

  “Because I think I already know who it is, Ava,” he says in a low voice, leaning toward me.

  “Aden, I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came here because… you’re my brother. Because it would really mean a lot to me if you could have, you know, a better attitude about this.”

  “A better attitude about this?” he repeats, his voice rising in volume. “A better attitude, Ava? After you spent the last few weeks pretending like I’m stupid? Like I don’t know exactly what happened?”

  “Aden, you have customers,” I remind him in a whisper. The bartender looks over at us, alarmed.

  Aden slides off his barstool, scrubbing his face with the heel of his hand. He paces a few steps in either direction then comes back to me.

  “Aden, I just want you to try. I just want us all to be happy.”

  He shakes his head, then looks up at the ceiling, then glares at the television. He’s having a conversation with himself, I can tell.

  “It’ll kill them, Ava,” he mumbles. “You don’t even understand. It will absolutely kill them.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” I snap back, suddenly. “You’re my brother. I’m coming to you to ask you for help. You owe me that. So suck it up, Aden!”

  He glares at me, startled.

  “Excuse me?"

  I heave myself from my barstool, trembling with rage. I know I need to keep my voice down or risk those two guys in khakis leaving Aden yet another bad Yelp review, but I have had quite enough of this. If patient begging won’t work, I’ll try convincing him another way.

  “You heard me,” I hiss, pointing at him. “You’ve got a job to do, so do it! You’re supposed to have my back. And if you can’t do it with a good attitude for real, fake it!”

  Snatching my purse off the counter, I stalk back out of the restaurant before I can say anything else. The hostess swerves out of my way, alarmed.

  When I am back on the sidewalk, my anger dissipates like air being let out of a balloon. I’m suddenly tired, so tired. I don’t understand why everybody thinks it’s their right to fight with me.

  Our families may have fallen out six years ago, but we’re about to have two brand-new family members in the immediate future, like it or not. It’s not the twins’ fault that all the adults are behaving like children.

  I won’t stand for it, I decide. I am done trying to beg everyone for a little bit of support, walking around on eggshells, wishing everyone wasn’t angry at me. I’m done hiding in my apartment because I am the walking embodiment of everybody’s hurt feelings. I had nothing to do with this feud, and I’m done feeling responsible for something that really had nothing to do with me at all.

  Everybody’s going to have to get on board. All the adults are going to need to stifle their objections and give me the help and support I need right now. It shouldn’t be my job to coddle a bunch of other adults, especially the ones who aren’t currently growing tiny humans inside them.

  I want to shout: Just grow the hell up and get on board!

  Chapter Nineteen

  ETHAN

  When I hear the elevator door slide open, I can’t help but smile. Now that Ava has a pass card for my condo, she can come up here anytime. All she has to do is touch the card to the reader in the elevator and she has access to everything. My condo, my private garage, and a bunch of other things she doesn’t even know about yet.

  She could walk through my bottling plant in Malaysia, or a couple of very exclusive nightclubs in Seattle. There are three more houses along the Pacific coastline that the card unlocks, an
d two more office buildings. That card gets her free parking at half the garages in San Francisco. She doesn’t even know. I can’t wait to tell her.

  It’s nice, having somebody with a sort of backdoor key for everything. Even if we never talk about it, I sort of like knowing it’s there. Of course, Perry and Ben have similar kinds of access cards. But it is not the same thing.

  Only Ava. She’s the only woman who has ever gotten this close.

  “Hi honey, I’m home!” she calls out playfully. I walk over to her, taking her hand and pulling her toward the patio. It’s an unseasonably warm night, and we can even see the stars. It’s perfect.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, confused. “Ethan? Are you okay?”

  My heart is racing, and my core is trembling. I want everything to be perfect, and I don’t want to ruin it by opening my mouth too soon.

  We reach the center of the patio, and she looks around, startled by the candles, the soft music playing through hidden speakers, the soft scent of eucalyptus wafting up from Golden Gate Park. I guide her to the center of the patio and drop to one knee in front of her, taking her hand in mine.

  “Ethan? What are you doing?”

  Sliding the box from my pocket, I open it in front of her, grinning like some kind of idiot.

  She scowls, clenching her jaw.

  Not exactly what I was expecting.

  “Ava,” I begin, my voice a little too loud, “we’ve known each other for such a long time. Now at this new point in our life, I want to—”

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispers urgently.

  I stop, awkwardly trying to remember where I was in my prepared speech.

  “Now at this new point in our life…”

  “Ethan!” she interrupts impatiently. She stuffs her hands under her armpits stubbornly. “Why are you doing this?”

  I pause for a beat, temporarily knocked off-balance. “I’m doing the right thing, Ava. Let me do the right thing, will you?”

  She backs away from me, whirling to drop hard onto the sofa and glaring at me from where she sits.

  “No, I will not let you do the right thing,” she snarls.

  I wonder if this is some kind of pregnancy hormone thing, but I’m legitimately terrified to put that thought into words. She’d chop my head off.

  “Why not?” I ask simply.

  “Because you’re not in love with me,” she practically shouts, spreading her hands out in front of her. “I don’t want you to do the right thing because you think you have to. Besides, we’re already doing the right thing. We’re having babies. We’re taking care of business! But I’m not going to marry you out of some idiotic, old-fashioned sense of obligation…”

  I stand awkwardly, stuffing the ring back into my pocket. I feel stupid, exposed.

  “But I do—”

  “Just stop!” she cuts me off, holding up a hand before I finish what I was going to say. Her eyes narrow, a defiant dare in her expression.

  “But I thought—”

  “You’re not thinking, is the problem,” she huffs, shaking her head in frustration. “Just take a breath, Ethan. This is not right. You have to know this isn’t right.”

  With my hand in my pocket, I move the ring around my fingertips, feeling its cool presence. I’m disappointed, more disappointed than I’ve ever been about anything, but I can’t let it show. I thought she’d be excited. I realize I hadn’t planned for this contingency at all.

  She pats the cushion next to her gently. “Come sit by me,” she says quietly.

  With a weak smile, I sit next to her, trying to look casual.

  “Listen, I’m sorry if I was too harsh,” she sighs.

  “Oh, no. Don’t even worry about it,” I say, trying to hide the pain in my voice.

  She holds her hands out, palms up, then lets them fall against her knees. “It’s just that… everything is so complicated. Keeping this a secret… not being able to tell my parents about us… it’s too hard. How can I show up with an engagement ring? Even if you did really love me? Like really love me?”

  I nod, not knowing what else to say.

  “That’s what an engagement is for, Ethan. I don’t want a proposal out of duty.”

  Duty. That’s a strong word, in my book. It’s a good reason to do most things. Her rejection stings, lancing through to the center of me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this awful.

  She leans back, tipping her face up to the sky. “It’s really beautiful up there. You can see the stars tonight, did you notice?”

  “I did notice.”

  Her hand reaches out and finds mine, and she curls her knuckles against my palm like she always does, nestling her fingers inside my hand like a bird inside a nest. After a few seconds I shift on the sofa, leaning back as well. The moon is full, illuminating streaky clouds from behind.

  Quietly she crawls along the cushions until she’s half on my lap, her head against my chest, gazing up at the sky with me. She pulls my arms around her and holds my hands over her swelling belly.

  “We’ll figure it all out,” I whisper into her hair, kissing the top of her head. I need to figure this out. I need a plan. It can’t just stay like this. She’s right.

  She shifts, turning around to face me, sitting astride my hips with a mischievous smirk on her lips.

  “I’m totally impressed that you put all this together, though,” she smirks. “Candles and starlight? That’s really pretty awesome.”

  My hands automatically find her hips and I slide my thumbs under the hem of her shirt so I can feel the warmth of her skin.

  “Anything for you, Ava. Did you see how I got you a full moon and everything?”

  She nods, opening her eyes dramatically.

  “You got full moon, just for me?” she coos, beginning to giggle.

  “I am a billionaire, after all,” I shrug.

  “That you are, Boss,” she sighs, leaning forward to kiss me. As she shifts her weight, I feel the outline of her bones and muscles rocking against my cock. I’m instantly hard, wanting her immediately. Even as she gets more pregnant, I find I only want her more, want to impress every part of me on her.

  Her lips are gentle, sliding back and forth across mine as her hair curls over my shoulders, tickling my neck. She runs her tongue over my upper lip, teasing me by rolling her hips against me.

  “Oh my God, you’re so hard,” she sighs, opening her mouth to bite gently at my lower lip. She moans softly and rocks, pulsing against me.

  My thumbs find the sides of her panties and pull, tugging the elastic down over her ample thighs. She frees my cock from my trousers with one hand, stroking my shaft and purring with satisfaction. She balances herself over me, teasing me, making me wait. Her warmth and wetness drift over me, making me crazy.

  “Do it, Ava,” I beg her, gripping her hips tightly.

  She raises her eyebrows playfully. “Do what?” she asks innocently.

  I groan with need. “Fuck me, baby,” I moan. “Get on my cock.”

  With a smile, she lowers herself onto me. I could feel every ridge of her hot, deep pussy as it slides millimeter by millimeter over my quivering shaft. Slowly she retreats, then back down she comes, tight and slick. Her hips circle luxuriously, taking every inch of me up to the hilt. She buries me inside her beautiful, fertile body, making me a part of her.

  We go more slowly than we ever have before, watching each other, letting the passion build and build. Letting the stars witness what we’ve made together. When we climax, it’s a mixture of passion and pain, with all the emotions flooding out like something has broken free.

  I bury my face against her neck, not wanting her to see through me, to see how wounded I feel. She’s so close, yet still so far away.

  Chapter Twenty

  AVA

  Bea taps vengefully at the keyboard, making disgusted faces at the screen. I try to ignore her as I shuffle around the room, kicking stubbornly at boxes, trying to imagine how this is ever going to accommodate a
couple of babies.

  Can babies sleep in bunk beds? Can they sleep together? This room is so small, I can’t believe I’m paying for two bedrooms. It’s basically a closet, with another closet in it.

  Babies. Oh my gosh. Every time I say that to myself, I freak out just a little bit.

  “Okay, what the hell is a breast pump?” Bea sneers. “Aren’t your breasts big enough already, right now? They’re scary big, Ava. Terrifying.”

  I can’t help but glance down, and she’s got a point. My breasts are ginormous, verging on absurd. The rest of me hasn’t caught up yet, even though I’ve gotten a little bit thicker. But in comparison to the boobs, my belly hasn’t really gotten significantly bigger.

  “A breast pump is for storing milk. You pump it out, not pump the breasts up.”

  “Milk?” she raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Breast milk,” I explain. “Did you not pay attention at all in healthcare class? Any of those women’s studies classes cover this at all?”

  “Women studies has absolutely nothing to do with actual women stuff, I’ll have you know,” she informs me archly. “Mostly we talked about the patriarchy.”

  “Well, that’s messed up,” I sigh, considering a mural on this wall. Babies like murals, right?

  “You’re telling me. Okay… a changing table? One or two?”

  “Zero. Mom says changing tables are a waste of space. And babies can fall off of them. I’ll just use the bed or floor or something.”

  “Well, that’s terrifying,” she scowls, stabbing at the keyboard again.

  “What website are you on, anyway?” I ask, suddenly curious.