Dirty Thief

Zelda seems content to have an empty seat between her and the queen mother.

It’s a formal dinner, so my mother is dressed in a drab green pantsuit with a lightly sequined top. Zelda wears a filmy, pale-blue dress with spaghetti straps, and her golden hair is swept up in a twist.

Ava breezes into the room stealing my breath. She’s in a thigh-high cream strapless dress with beads across the part covering her breasts.

“Is Cal joining us?” she asks.

“One never knows how plans might change,” Mother says.

I stand as my wife takes her seat. “You’re beautiful.”

“Yes,” the queen mother continues. “Thank you all for joining me for dinner.”

Ava looks around the long table. “Where’s Belle?”

Zee does a little point toward a door from which a line of servants emerges. Each is carrying salad plates and glasses of wine, which are placed in front of us at once.

“The princess is having her dinner with Mrs. Pottsworth,” Mother says, lifting her glass. “Let’s have a toast. To the next generation.”

Zee and I lift our glasses along with my mother, but Ava hesitates. She glances at me, and I hold my expression steady, unsure what she wants to do.

“I think I’ll just have water tonight,” she says. “I’ve had a little headache all afternoon.”

“A glass of wine will help your head,” Mother says, and Zelda leans back in her chair as if waiting to see how this is going to play out.

I know my mother so well. She’ll have all the information she wants in the first twenty-four hours if I don’t step in and save my bride.

Signaling the waiter standing beside the door, I say, “James, please bring the queen regent a glass of sparkling water.”

My mother narrows her eyes, and I sample the dark green salad. “This looks delicious, Mother. Are these beets?”

The look Zelda gives me is open admiration, and I feel like I rose a few points in her book. It’s like winning the fucking Grand Prix, considering how much Zee means to Ava, and when I look over at my wife, she gives me a subtle wink.

We’re quiet a moment, consuming the first course as my mother regroups. Once the salad plates are removed, the staff carries out sliced lean beef au jus with mashed potatoes and asparagus. Red wine is served to all except Ava.

“Reggie seems to be doing well on his little tour of our allies,” I say, cutting off my mother’s follow-up dig.

She in turn directs her barb at me. “He compared it to a fool’s errand when he left.”

“My uncle is an expert at telling me what my council wants and expects,” I say. “It seemed only fitting he should go.”

I take a bite of meat. It’s rich and salty in my mouth, and the wine is a perfect accompaniment, earthy with notes of berry.

“Your uncle has lived through three successful monarchies, Rowan. You might take his advice a bit more seriously.”

“But the first one shouldn’t count,” Zelda interjects. “I mean, he couldn’t have been more than a little kid, right? Unless he’s a hundred.”

My mother is momentarily derailed, and I grin into my crystal. In that moment, I feel a slim hand traveling across my thigh. I hold my wine glass still as long fingers glide up and down my hardening cock. The lovely hand disappears when the servers appear at her chair.

“Are you finished, ma’am?” a woman asks softly.

“Yes, please,” Ava answers, and I get a brief, but very naughty glance as the servant leaves.

“I’m finished as well,” I say, lifting my plate. “What’s for dessert, Mum?”

Once more, my mother is at a loss for words, but this time I couldn’t give a damn. I reach out and cover my wife’s naughty little hand with my larger one.

“We’re having chocolate soufflé and coffee,” she says, but her eyes linger over our joined hands. “We can have it at once.”