The Love Triangle: Filthy Rich Royals Read online

  The Love Triangle

  Filthy Rich Royals

  M. S. Parker

  Belmonte Publishing, LLC

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Belmonte Publishing LLC

  Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC

  Contents

  Free Book

  Filthy Rich Royals

  1. Alicia

  2. Jarek

  3. Alicia

  4. Jarek

  5. Alicia

  6. Jarek

  7. Alicia

  8. Jarek

  9. Alicia

  10. Jarek

  11. Alicia

  12. Jarek

  13. Alicia

  14. Jarek

  15. Alicia

  16. Jarek

  17. Alicia

  18. Jarek

  19. Alicia

  20. Jarek

  21. Alicia

  22. Jarek

  23. Alicia

  24. Jarek

  25. Alicia

  26. Jarek

  27. Alicia

  28. Jarek

  29. Alicia

  30. Jarek

  31. Alicia

  32. Jarek

  33. Alicia

  34. Jarek

  35. Alicia

  Preview: The Manhattan Royals

  Also by M. S. Parker

  About the Author

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  Filthy Rich Royals

  Thank you for reading The Love Triangle, the fourth book in my Filthy Rich Royals series. Each book can be read stand-alone but I do recommend reading them in this order:

  1. The Perfect Guy (Liechtenstein)

  2. The Dukes Virgin (Luxemburg)

  3. The American Au Pair (Monaco)

  4. The Love Triangle (Belgium)

  One

  Alicia

  The wind kicked up as I stroked a hand down Hermes’s strong, proud neck. The Friesian lowered his head and butted it up against my chest, nudging me back a step.

  “I already gave you an apple,” I told him. “If you’re good, I’ll give you another treat once we’re at the stable.” The look he gave me was so pitiful, I laughed. “You’re awful. A big baby.”

  Another gust of wind blew a few loose tendrils of hair back, and I sighed, lifting my face to the sky to study the deepening banks of clouds gathering overhead. “You’d think the weather forecasts would be getting more accurate in this day and age.”

  Hermes chuffed out a loud burst of air.

  “Fine, don’t give me any sympathy,” I told the horse as I moved to his side and mounted. He waited patiently, but the moment I was in the saddle, he started moving restlessly, tossing his head and tugging at the reins, anxious to be on the move.

  Clicking my tongue, I nudged him into a quick walk, guiding him to one of the longer routes that led to the stables and the palace. The Royal Domain of Laeken, the park surrounding the Castle of Laeken where I lived with my father, was a large, private piece of land. Although at times, like today, it still wasn’t large enough or private enough to suit my tastes.

  I wanted to give Hermes his head so he could run for miles and miles, so I could be completely free, and not have to worry about returning to the grim quiet of the palace that had grown ever more oppressive in the years since my mother had taken ill, then eventually died.

  As if sensing my restlessness, Hermes picked up his pace, settling into a quick canter. Moving forward, I bent low over his neck and murmured to him. I had a moment to prepare, then his powerful body lunged into action as he sprang into a run.

  I laughed, the stress of the day fading away, worry and frustrations briefly disappearing as the animal and I raced along the path, the wind our only competition.

  A fat drop of rain plopped down on my nose, shortly followed by another.

  I hated to do so, but I tugged on Hermes’s reins, slowing him to a canter. After he’d had a chance to cool down, I guided him to a walk. Rain now fell at a steady drizzle, and I blinked away the droplets on my lashes as I took in where we were. We’d overshot the path we needed for the stables, so I swung him around in a circle.

  Hermes tossed his head.

  “Sorry, love,” I told him. “They’ll send out a rescue team if we stay out here. You know how everybody is. Princesses melt in the rain, you know.”

  He made another chuffing sound deep in his chest, like he was laughing.

  I laughed with him, although it wasn’t solely from amusement. Part of me understood the protectiveness of my bodyguards and that of my father.

  I was Belgium’s princess, the Belgian King’s only child. While I knew I wasn’t reckless, everything I did was scrutinized by others, and many of those others would see it as very foolish of me to linger outside, riding my horse during a rainstorm. The fact that I was an accomplished equestrian had no bearing on the fact to anybody except me.

  I could pout all I wanted, but that accomplished nothing.

  These were facts I’d long since come to accept, so instead of brooding, I enjoyed the few minutes I had left and the freedom of riding through the drizzle, feeling the rain on my face and laughing as Hermes deliberately splashed through puddles.

  “You’re going to need a thorough washing after this.”

  He whickered in response, and that just made me laugh again.

  “That’s probably why you’re doing it, vain beast.”

  Hermes loved being washed. More to the point, he loved being groomed afterward, having his long, glorious mane combed through, having the stable staff fuss over him. He was spoiled rotten.

  The path came into view, and I prodded him into a quicker walk. The rain was coming down harder, and although it didn’t bother me, I didn’t want anybody being sent out to search for us, either. If we didn’t arrive soon, it would happen, assuming it hadn’t already.

  Hermes must have decided he was done splashing in the puddles forming on the path because he started pulling at the bit, eager to go faster. I kept him restrained to a quick walk, though, leery of the mud that was quickly growing thicker. I had no concerns about my ability to handle the horse in the rain, but Hermes was young still, only three years. Although he was very clever, he could also be reckless.

  The stable came into view, and I lifted a hand, unsurprised to see the headlights on the small golf cart in front, or the three people standing near it.

  I wasn’t close enough to make out their features, but I already knew who I’d find. Pierre, Hadrien, and Cécile, my primary bodyguards. Cécile Bernard was the newest member to my team, handpicked by me, and she was probably the only reason the two men weren’t already out combing the grounds for me.

  She’d come highly recommended, a former operative for Belgium’s intelligence and security agency, the VSSE. She’d left the VSSE to work as a bodyguard for the previous prime minister, but upon her sudden heart attack and subsequent retirement, Cécile had declined to stay on with the newly appointed PM. I asked to have her join my team and hadn’t regretted it a moment.

  I smiled at them as I rode Hermes into the large, warm stable. Now that I was out of the rain, I grew more aware of the chill, but I suppressed a shiver so Hadrien didn’t start fussing. He was like a mother hen that way, something I constantly teased him over.

  M
y hair was soaked, hanging in a heavy cable down my back. The Irish wool sweater I wore had kept me warm enough, but I was more than ready now to get out of the damp clothes and soak in a hot bath for a bit before dinner.

  Cécile handed me a towel, a smile tugging at her lips. We’d developed a friendly rapport almost from the start, and I hoped it would become a real friendship in time.

  Cocking a brow at her, I asked, “Do I look like a drowned rat?”

  “Of course not, Your Royal Highness,” she said, but the grin widened a fraction.

  Pierre winked. “A bedraggled wet kitten, maybe. A lovely royal one, of course.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. He’d been with me longer than anybody else on my security team, save for Hadrien, but while Hadrien cuddled and cossetted and worried, Pierre teased and played. We were separated in age by five years, and he had two twin sisters who were two months younger than me. I’d met them both at a summer gymnastics camp when we were fifteen, and we’d become rather friendly that summer, although we hadn’t spoken much since. Still, I suspected I reminded Pierre of his siblings, and I was content with that, because if I had an older brother, I’d want him to be like Pierre.

  Evan, the man who ran the stables, came striding up, a scowl on his face as he took in Hermes. “That silly beast went dancing through mud puddles again, didn’t he, Your Royal Highness?”

  “He did. He loves to play, Evan. You know that. And he loves getting baths even more.”

  “Vain creature.” He shook his head in mock disgust as he held out his hands for the reins. Hadrien turned them over.

  Before the horse was led away, I pulled the single carrot I’d withheld and turned it over to Hermes. “Here you go, vain, silly creature. Even if you did dance in the mud, you’re a good boy.”

  Hermes tossed his head and whickered before nipping the carrot out of my hands.

  “He’s also spoiled.” But Evan’s eyes smiled at me before he led the horse away.

  “Let’s get you to the palace, mademoiselle,” Hadrien said, gesturing to the golf cart.

  I suppressed a sigh and walked with him. My phone chimed, signaling a message, and I tugged it out, smiling as I read the screen.

  It was Amaury, the man I’d been dating for the past two months.

  Dating, I’d learned, was a complicated matter.

  It was even more complicated for a princess who didn’t go anywhere without a retinue of bodyguards. Most men weren’t all that keen on the idea of having several armed men accompanying them as they took their date out for dinner, drinks, or dancing.

  I didn’t particularly enjoy having three or four shadows everywhere I went, but I’d long since become used to it, and I was intelligent and self-aware enough to understand the necessity.

  Amaury, so far, hadn’t been thrown by the security…or me.

  After unlocking the phone, I opened the message, my smile widening enough that Pierre noticed from where he sat at an angle behind me. “She must be getting texts from the tennis player.”

  “He has a name,” I said mildly as I finished reading the message.

  “Of course, mam’selle. But he’s more impressed with himself and his tennis prowess, so it’s hard to remember anything else about him.”

  “Pierre.” Hadrien’s voice was firm.

  Pierre just laughed.

  While their back-and-forth continued, I re-read Amaury’s message.

  The doctors took another look at my shoulder and did a few more scans. They’re concerned about the inflammation and advised me to take the week off to rest.

  I sent a sad-faced emoji back, along with a question.

  Does this mean you won’t be in Metz after all?

  The three little dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, letting me know he was already typing back a response. The rocking of the golf cart had slowed, and I glanced up as we came to a stop close to the west entrance, my wing of the palace.

  “Thank you, Hadrien,” I said, tossing a smile at them.

  Pierre winked. “Give the tennis player a kissy-face from me.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned away, shaking my head as I strode toward the steps.

  The door was already open, and I nodded at one of the many staff members who kept the palace going. “Thank you, Isolde. How are you this afternoon?”

  “Very well, Your Royal Highness. And how are you?”

  “Rather well.” With a rueful grin, I looked down at my sodden clothes. “I think I’ll spend the next hour soaking in a hot bath.”

  The phone chimed, indicating the arrival of Amaury’s message, but I waited until I was on the second floor and walking toward my suite before reading it.

  No, darling. I will still be in Metz. My sponsors want me there and I’m still scheduled for two interviews.

  I skimmed over the details, already familiar with how popular a figure he was in European sports, and in tennis, in particular.

  I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to join me. We could attend the matches together, have dinner. I’ve been invited to a few parties as well. I’d love to spend more time with you. Seems like it’s never just us.

  It never was just us. I wanted to tell him yes, but he needed to know I couldn’t just show up alone in Metz, especially not for a large, well-publicized tennis tournament.

  I’m very much interested, A. But you know my security detail has to come with me. Especially at such a large event.

  His reply didn’t take long.

  Of course. I have tickets for all of them and have already spoken with the necessary parties, just in case you were interested in attending with me. Let’s just say certain individuals are delighted with the idea of you attending, Princess Alicia.

  Rolling my eyes, I resisted the urge to type back something pithy, like I bet. There were always people interested in having somebody with royal connections attend whatever event or function was happening. I knew Amaury didn’t mean it that way, and I didn’t think he was interested in me because of my title—nobody would put up with the invasive presence of my security team unless they had a real interest in me.

  But at the same time, just reading those words were an irritation. I pushed the feeling aside and focused on his invitation, which was, all in all, very intriguing. I’d never had a romantic trip anywhere with a man I was interested in.

  My life didn’t exactly allow for the development of easy romantic interludes. The few men I’d really been that attracted to, other than Amaury, had decided, in the end, that having to deal with my security team as well as the ever-present public interest in our every date—from the clothes we both wore to whatever venue we visited—was enough to kill the fragile relationship before it had time to grow into anything real.

  Send me the details. Dates and all. I need to make sure there are no conflicting duties. As long as I’m free, I’d love to be there.

  I sent a heart emoji and tossed my phone on the bed without waiting for a response.

  I was going to indulge in that bath now and think about something as normal as spending a few days in Metz with my boyfriend.

  Two

  Jarek

  “Good one,” Michel Desmarais said as we finished the set, swiping a dark forearm over his brow.

  Despite the moderate temperatures, we’d both worked up a sweat, and my muscles had that familiar loose feeling I always got after a couple of good matches.

  “Same to you.” Grateful he’d spoken in English so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself with my barely passable French, I moved off the court to grab my water bottle and check the time. Our allotted practice time at the court was about up.

  Neither Michel nor I had the star power or sponsorships of some of the big names in tennis, and we made do getting our practice time in at smaller local courts like this one. We’d played against each other before—each of us taking a turn winning—and our relationship was a friendly-enough rivalry.

  “You’re getting better.” Michel joined me at the bench, grabbing
his water and taking a drink. As he lowered the bottle, he switched over to French, a sly grin curling his lips.

  I grimaced before I could stop it but replied haltingly in the same language. “Je n’ai pas d’entraineur…” Fumbling with the rest, I hesitated. “She’s not in Metz yet. She’s got another player in a big tournament in the States. She hopes to be here in the next day or two.”

  “Stay with English,” he advised me in the same language. “Your French, unlike your game, sucks.” Thoughtfully, he narrowed his eyes, and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “Please tell me she didn’t stay behind with one of the college students who pay her for private lessons. You’re competing on a pro level, Jarek. You deserve a coach who can devote pro-level attention to you.”

  “Yeah, well, if I ever pick up sponsors so I can afford one…” I hitched up a shoulder. “It’s nothing I can control, so no point in making a big deal about it. I can just make the most out of the situation.”

  Michel gave me a pensive study, his dark eyes inscrutable. I knew his stats as well as he knew mine—there weren’t many secrets in an industry like ours. Although he was seven years older than my own twenty-four years, he could easily pass for my age or younger, with his medium-brown skin and easy, boyish smile. That was until he got that serious look on his face.