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And I shrugged silently. To each their own.
“Sorry man,” said Harvey, magically materializing with a dish rag in his hand, wiping the bar clean. “I really thought Candy was your type. Didn’t think it’d turn out such a shitshow.”
“No worries,” I rumbled. “Doesn’t always work out, plenty of fish in the sea.”
But that’s the thing. We didn’t end up with anyone that night, not at that port stop, and not at the next one either. Kato and I basically were celibate, living like monks, our thoughts consumed by only one woman, a brunette with hazel eyes. But where was Tina? How the fuck would we find her again? The chances were slim, we didn’t know her last name, her address, her anything … so it was impossible, come to think of it.
TINA
Kristian pulled me inside the bar, his big form insistent, tugging on my arm.
“Come on, you’ll like it baby girl,” he rumbled, “I promise,” he smiled, making googly eyes at me.
And I had to laugh, he was so silly, so alpha and yet so silly at once. I’d literally just sucked him by the side of the road, let him run his big dick up my backside, and now here we were, laughing and comfortable like we’d been dating for years.
“Kristian, stop!” I giggled, panting breathlessly, my voice trailing off as we stepped inside. Because this was no fancy hot spot. I mean, I wasn’t expecting razzle dazzle, but I wasn’t expecting something crass either. The place had sawdust on the floors, the furniture broken down and sad, the bartender a wizened old dude who’d seen better days.
“Where are we?” I asked, shaking my head. Where were we indeed? It seemed crazy that a prince, a real live prince, would come to a dive like this.
But Kristian just shook his head, shooting me a grin before nodding.
“Yeah, I know what you think. This place is a secret, no one knows me when I come,” he confided.
And I could see why. The guys inside were all farmers, literally wearing overalls in some cases, ten gallon hats on their heads. They looked totally uneducated, not exactly people who kept up with news and current events, reading theWall Street Journal. So yeah, they probably wouldn’t recognize their Crown Prince, even if he appeared right in front of their noses. I sighed. It was mind-boggling that even in St. Venetia, an international hotspot known for its casinos and sophisticated clientele, there existed places like this.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kristian nodded at the clientele, “but a lot of these dudes are rolling in it. Agricultural subsidies are the name of the game,” he said, winking. “Trust me, I’d know.”
And I let out a small “mm-hmm” because it was in the news now how small-time farmers were actually millionaires due to government support, buying spoiled and leftover crops when there was oversupply. Who knew farming was so lucrative?
So I just sighed and looked at the big man, hands on my hips.
“The drinks here better be good,” I retorted, and the big man laughed, escorting me to the bar.
“They’re excellent,” he assured me, making eye contact with the bartender. “Jonas, two bourbons,” he called out, and I scrunched my nose. Shit, I still wasn’t great with hard liquor, at Miss Carroll’s events we were only served wine and champagne, but hey, there’s always room for new experiences.
So I downed my bourbon in one gulp, gasping as the liquor burned my throat, making Kristian laugh.
“Slow, little girl, slow,” he rumbled, “there’s plenty of time.” But I shook my head. This was my chance to let loose before I was locked up again at the finishing school, a modern-day prisoner, and I wanted to make the most of it.
“Again,” I demanded, and like magic, another shot appeared in front of me. This time I was even faster, gulping the amber liquid without letting it touch my tongue, shooting it into the depths of my stomach in one fell swoop.
And the liquor must have worked quickly because when I put my glass down, I saw Kato and Karl, the two men I’d done at the Old Dog back in Andorra.
“Kato?” I asked, befuddled. “Karl?”
They looked amazing, tall, dominant, so handsome with their built physiques, the hard muscles outlined in tight t-shirts, jeans that showed off sculpted asses and long legs.
And the twins just growled, staring back at me.
“Tina?” they asked, looking at me and then Kristian, their heads swiveling.
Because the resemblance was astounding, Kristian the spitting image of the twins, just as tall, just as muscular, with the same black haired/blue eyed combination. Plus, they had the same glare, the same menacing stare that was currently shooting sparks, growls low in their throats as they sized each other up.
Never one to hold back, Kato spat out, “Who is this fucker?” nodding at Kristian. And before I could say “The Crown Prince of St. Venetia,” Kristian ground out, “None of your fucking business. Who the fuck are you and how do you know Tina?”
That led to a moment of silence. How did the twins and I know each other exactly? I could hardly say we’d gotten it on next to a dumpster in back of a bar, that I’d let them drill me double, touch me everywhere. So I hemmed and hawed, mumbling, “Kato and Karl are friends of mine from back home. How is Andorra, Kato, Karl?” I asked, shooting them a meaningful glance while purposefully keeping my voice neutral.
And they took the hint.
