CHAPTER ONE
London
Melinda Torrance Glen glanced across the elegantly appointed table, watching her sister pour steaming brew into delicate cups. “You look almost graceful serving tea. Lots of practice these days, I suppose. Remember when you broke the play set Mom bought us, and she had to glue it back together?”
Piper al Mussad, now known as the Queen of Bezakistan, still flashed the same bright smile she had growing up in rural Texas. Though she wore designer clothes and sat in the penthouse of one of London’s most exclusive buildings, Tori still saw Piper, first and foremost, as her older sister.
“I cried until she repaired it, as I recall. Mr. Bear simply couldn’t be without his afternoon tea.” She glanced back at the bodyguard waiting in the background. “Thank you so much, Tanner. I’d like to be alone with my sister now.”
The massive bodyguard frowned. “Dane gave me strict instructions not to let you out of my sight.”
“I need to talk to my sister about girl things. He’ll understand if you wait just outside the door. We’re sixteen floors up, and the windows in this building are bulletproof. Dane made certain of that when we bought the flat. The only way in is through a private elevator, and any intruder would still have to pass multiple guard stations. My husbands wouldn’t have left me or our sons here unless they felt certain we’d be safe.”
The guard didn’t move.
“All right, then. I hope you can be discreet, Tanner.” Piper sighed and turned to her. “You know, Mindy, since I last gave birth, I’m struggling with my vaginal walls contracting painfully during sex. It’s been difficult, and I wonder if you have any advice.”
The door slammed as the guard disappeared.
Tori pressed a hand over her mouth to smother her laugh. Despite her sister’s now regal polish, she glowed with happiness. She had three gorgeous husbands and two precious sons. She’d been blessed.
Piper had married the Sheikh of Bezakistan, Talib al Mussad, and his two brothers, Rafiq and Kadir. In Bezakistan, the practice of brothers sharing a wife was both ancient and common—very unlike the West where primogeniture, which meant the first-born son inherited all the wealth and land, had been the norm. But Bezakistani nationals preferred to honor all their sons, keeping the riches within the whole family through the practice of polyandry. The world seemed utterly fascinated by the queen and her three sheikhs.
Tori constantly reminded herself that she didn’t live there and having three husbands would be quite frowned upon in London, even more so in the great state of Texas where she fully intended to return in a few months.
“You’re so bad,” Tori teased her sister. “You probably scarred that poor man for life.”
Piper giggled. “One of these days Dane will realize that a female guard would be so less easy for me to handle than these ex-military types. Then I’ll be in trouble. For now…” She shrugged. “It’s amazing how quickly they run once I start talking about the royal vagina.”
“You’d better hope Dane never figures it out,” Tori agreed. “If he does, he’ll tell Tal, Rafe, and Kade. Then you’ll have hell to pay.”
Clearly aware of that fact, Piper pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh.”
Tori just shook her head. “So, how is Dane doing? I heard Alea had another baby.”
Alea al Mussad was Piper’s cousin-in-law and had married the head of Bezakistan’s royal guard—all three of them—Dane Mitchell, Cooper Evans, and Landon Nix.
“Yes, a girl. She’s beautiful,” Piper groaned. “I want a girl, but it seems my husbands only produce male sperm. I might try one more time, but then my womb is closed for business. Two boys is enough. Three would be more than any woman should have to handle and keep her sanity. Hopefully, we’ll be blessed with a princess next, but if not, surely my little sister can give me a niece to spoil, right?”
“Me?” Tori reared back. “I’m not even dating anyone, much less married or looking to become pregnant.”
“Hmm.” Piper sent her a speculative stare. “I see the way Oliver looks at you. If he hasn’t already, he’s going to man up and ask you out.”
The mere mention of Oliver Thurston-Hughes made Tori’s heart flutter. The eldest of the three British brothers she worked for was a golden god of a man in a perfectly pressed three-piece suit. When she’d met him six months earlier, she’d been dazzled by his good looks, but his sharp intelligence and ruthless business acumen had truly lured her in. He did his best to maintain a wide distance and make others believe he was heartless, but over time, Tori had come to know him—the employer, the brother, the friend. She’d seen under his harsh façade. And she’d fallen in love. The only trouble was she could say the same for his two brothers, Callum and Rory. Athletic and model-gorgeous, Callum could be funny and surprisingly sweet. According to rumor, he was magnificent in bed. Brilliant Rory had the most intense focus of any man she’d ever met, and the idea of being the center of his attention made her shiver.
But Tori didn’t live in Bezakistan and couldn’t have them all. She reminded herself of that every single day.
“He’s not going to ask me out.” She answered her sister with what she hoped sounded like a matter-of-fact tone. “We work together. So if he did, of course I would turn him down. And you’re the only one in the whole world who still calls me Mindy. Can you stop it?”