Prince's Triplet Babies Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prince's Triplet Babies

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  ANOTHER STORY YOU MIGHT LIKE

  Prince’s Revenge Baby

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Prince’s Triplet Babies

  By Sophia Lynn

  All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2017 Sophia Lynn.

  CLICK HERE

  to subscribe to my newsletter & get EXCLUSIVE updates on all offers, secret previews, and new releases!

  Chapter One

  The busy streets of New York felt like a swarm that fall day, and Erin O'Reilly was grimly doing her best to stay afloat. She had had more than three years of experience making her way through the crowded city. Most of the time, she thought it was just fine, but some days, she thought she would cheerfully murder everyone on the street just for a little peace and quiet. Standing at the corner waiting for the light to change, she glanced at the people around her.

  On her left was a beautiful woman in a pure white coat, her face haughty and disdainful. Despite the woman's unpleasant expression, Erin couldn't help an inward sigh of envy. What was it like to be able to wear pure white in a city like this, where under her own cheap jacket, it felt as if her blue waitress uniform was always just a little limp and grimy?

  On her left was a man who seemed to exude power. He was tall, towering over most of the people on the corner, and he wore his blue suit and light wool jacket with the careless grace that only wealth could bring. Everything about him seemed to scream money and class. He was Middle Eastern, and Erin wondered if he was a foreign dignitary of some sort or simply one of New York's native sons who made out very, very good.

  Her reverie was interrupted when she realized that she was being observed in return. She had no idea what had prompted the tall, powerful-looking man to glance at her, but when she looked up, she locked eyes with him. Something in his incredibly dark gaze made her own eyes widen, and if it wouldn't have been a ridiculous faux pas in the packed streets of the city, she might have lurched back in surprise. There was something about his gaze - dark and deep and just a little menacing - that made her feel as if somehow, he had touched her.

  Like he had just reached over and unbuttoned my coat for me, she thought with a slight amount of indignation.

  There was a small voice inside her that suggested that maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, but she shushed it immediately. That was a voice that had gotten her into trouble before, and Erin was going to be damned if she fell for it again. Instead, she scowled as best she could, standing up straighter. If he was some kind of pervert or if he was looking for some kind of easy mark, he was going to find that she was no one to be trifled with.

  Instead of putting him off, her brief and tiny display of defiance made him smile, and in that moment, his face changed. Before, Erin had thought him a rather stern and unforgiving man, handsome perhaps, but far too grim. When he smiled, however, it was as if he became an entirely different person. He looked far younger for one, and instead of being handsome, there was a kind of beauty to him, raw and open and giving, that made her smile in return.

  Then Erin remembered herself, that this wasn't the Midwest and that one did not smile at strangers unless one wanted more trouble than could be easily dealt with, and she forced her face back into the customary frown that she wore when she was on the streets of New York.

  The smile on his face softened to a smirk that made her instantly defensive, and Erin deliberately turned away, glancing down at her phone for a distraction. Who did he think he was, anyway? It was probably just as well that she would never see him again, that she would never have to speak with him or figure out what was behind either the smile or the smirk.

  The light changed, and he walked forward, away from her, out of her life, and somehow, instead of feeling a breath of relief, Erin felt a pang of sadness instead. Suddenly, she wanted to reach forward and grab his sleeve, tug it, and...

  And what? Erin thought cynically. Ask him if he wants the hash browns or if he needs a refill on his Coke? Come on, girl. He wouldn't be caught dead at Joe's, and he certainly wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with a waitress.

  New York was an amazing city, but she had come to understand that it had its stratification just like the rest of the world did. There was an urban elite that came to play and to work, and there was the larger invisible underclass, where she belonged, pouring drinks, sweeping floors, and generally being as silent as she could be. When the two mixed, it was always the person from the underclass who got the worse of it. Erin was someone who believed in keeping her head down, and that was a kind of trouble that she didn't need.

  Of course, the moment that she decided she was better off minding her business and getting to work, Erin realized that she couldn't do any of that.

  The man who had caught her eye had walked in front of her, and from her vantage point, Erin could see it all. She saw the slender young boy, probably no more than thirteen, sidle up to the man out of the crowd. The boy was like any of the ones she had grown up with: dark, wiry, and hungry, and the man's wallet, sticking slightly out of his back pocket, was likely too tempting to resist.

  No, don't, bad news, Erin thought, hoping against hope that the boy could perhaps understand her frantic telepathic message, but her telepathic skills were apparently not online that day. The boy reached forward for the wallet, but he had barely budged it before the tall man, faster than Erin would have believed, spun around and wrapped a large hand around the boy's wrist.

  The look on his face was sharp, but there was still that edge of amusement to it, and Erin felt her stomach sink. The boy struggled against the man's grasp, but it was like a kitten struggling against a tiger that had it pinned. The boy's face took on a look of adolescent defiance, but underneath, she could tell that he was afraid. Maybe he had been run in before, and maybe he hadn't, but either way, it would be a terrifying process.

  There was a space clearing around the two of them, but New Yorkers, being New Yorkers, didn't care to get involved. Erin knew that if this went on much longer, she would be late for work, something that she couldn't afford, but somehow, she couldn't bear to separate herself from this scene. Instead she walked a little slower, a little closer, and now she could hear what the man was saying.

  “You know, where I come from, the pickpockets are far more skilled. I suppose it is because the laws there are stricter than they are here.”

  The boy tried to make some kind of protest, but the man shook him with a casual strength that made Erin hold her breath.

  “Well, I suppose we will find out how harsh those laws are,” the man said pleasantly. “I'm taking you right to the...”

  He grunted with surprise as Erin threw herself towards his back. It was an impulsive decision, but once she felt her body moving, there was nothing in her that wanted to stop. She pushed off with one leg, getting a fair amount of steam going, and by the time she stumbled forward into the tall man's back, she was moving quickly.r />
  Erin hit his body with a solid thump, and she heard him swear as they both lurched forward. Of course in his surprise, he let go of the boy, who was clever enough to dart into the crowd and disappear.

  Maybe be a little smarter next time about who you try to rob, she thought, and then she realized that she should think about disappearing herself. She stepped backwards, mumbling apologies as she tried to get back into the anonymous crowd, but of course just as she made that attempt, two men walked by carrying a large flat of wood. Distantly, she realized that it was likely a set piece for one of the nearby theaters, a scene of a serene Italian wood, and at the same time, she realized that it was handily blocking her escape.

  Oh... oh no...

  She turned because she had no other option, and of course that was when the tall man's hand darted out, looping around her wrist as solidly and as inescapably as a steel manacle. Now she looked into eyes that were all at once dark and dangerous and magnetic, and Erin realized, in no uncertain terms, that she was in a great deal of trouble.

  ***

  Askari Al Hajar was just thinking that he had had enough of New York. This was his second visit to the great city. The first had been when he was a boy and easily impressed by the towering skyscrapers and the busy multinational populace. His mother and father had been honored guests at the White House, and after their brief sojourn there, they had brought the whole family over to see the United States.

  Now in his early thirties, Askari could remember some of the wonder that he had had as a boy, but it was tempered by the fact that Hazn had its own skyscrapers now, its own modern transport system, its own metropolis. His grandfather had started the work, it had been the work of his parents' all too short lives, and though Askari knew that he would not finish it, he was seeing the true fruits of their labor now.

  To his adult eyes, New York looked a little faded, the past century hanging on in strange places that the twenty-first century ignored. Still, there was a life to it, a bustle and a busyness that sang, and he would remember it fondly. However, more and more he was realizing that he was a man of the desert. The cold ill-suited him, and he found himself longing for the sun.

  Ah well, it will be good to be home tomorrow...

  He was thinking of nothing more interesting than what he should work on on the flight back when a young woman caught his eye. Standing at the corner, there was nothing particularly engaging or exciting about her, but somehow, he wasn't able to look away. She had dark red hair, wavy and tamed with a clip at the nape of her neck. It was impossible to tell whether it was dyed or not, and she wore a dull black coat, lumpy and unfashionable. Then she glanced up at him, and somehow, he couldn't look away.

  Her eyes were a vivid dark green, more emerald than grass, and they were so large and liquid that he thought for a moment how it was possible to drown in a woman's eyes. In that moment, she went from dull to extraordinary, and he almost spoke to her, almost wanted to see if he could pull her from the crowd to speak with her.

  Then she frowned, drawing back in on herself, and Askari smiled a little ruefully. This wasn't a romantic fairytale, after all. Men who spoke to women on the street weren't doing much more than harassing them, and expecting a random woman to care about his impulses was ridiculous to say the least.

  The light changed, and he walked forward, thinking nothing more of it, though there was something about her that tugged at him, that made him want to turn around just to find out whether she felt the pulse that he had as well.

  Then Askari felt light fingers on his wallet, and he spun around to catch the thief. He was saddened when he realized that the boy was young enough to be skipping middle school, and he decided that while having his wallet swiped was worth a scare, it wasn't worth taking some child to the police station.

  He started out strong, if he did say so himself. The boy looked defiant but terrified, and in another few moments, Askari had every intention of letting him go. He was getting ready to launch into a truly ferocious tongue lashing when someone crashed into him from behind, the boy escaped, and he had to regain his balance so that he and the person behind him didn't go toppling into the street.

  “What in the name of hell...?”

  He turned to catch a glimpse of dark red hair and emerald eyes, and almost by instinct, his hand shot out to grab her narrow wrist. It might have been because he didn't want someone who had nearly thrown them into the street to get away, but it was more because of a voice in his head that rang out as clear as day.

  I am not letting you go, not again, not ever, that voice said, and he started to smile.

  Chapter Two

  Erin was thinking about screaming. She was thinking about dropping to the pavement as a dead weight and forcing him to drag her towards whatever fate he had in mind. Instead she did neither.

  After he had grabbed her, he smiled, and something about that smile sent a thrill of fire through her. It reminded her of being seventeen and sneaking out for the night. It reminded her of fireworks and long summer evenings where there was nothing ahead but the future. Perhaps that was why she didn't scream or shout.

  “Well, that was a strange thing you did,” he said.

  She started to offer some kind of mollification, some kind of apology, but he shook his head, almost mockingly.

  “Let's not pretend that you did that by accident,” he said, and Erin knew then that he had her number. Memories rose up from her disreputable past, and she felt a thrum of panic start to go through her.

  “What are you going to do about it?” she muttered, and then she wished that she hadn't spoken up at all as he nodded.

  “I think I want to speak with you privately. Come along. My room isn't far. Unless you want me to go straight to the police with a description of your little thief friend?”

  She didn't, so biting her tongue, she allowed him to take her down the street, walking briskly to keep up with him. There were alarm bells ringing in her head, so loudly that she could barely hear herself think, but somehow, she managed to keep the panic at bay.

  This is fine, she thought. He probably just wants to scare me or something like that. Unless he's some kind of crazy murderer...

  The hotel that he led her to was all white marble and gold. The doorman and elevator attendant greeted him by name, not sparing her a glance. She felt a little comforted; murderers didn't drag their victims up to their rooms to be butchered in front of tons of witnesses, did they?

  Unless he's new at this, or bad at it or something. Oh god, it's just my luck to get a crazy killer who doesn't know how to do things...

  Her thoughts were spinning around in a frenzy, and then she looked up to the tall man opening a door and pushing her in.

  It was really more an apartment than it was a hotel room, with beautiful turn of the century furniture and an enormous window looking out over Manhattan. The door locked behind them with an audible click, and now he was turning towards her with purpose.

  Hurriedly, Erin put the coffee table between them, wincing as she did so. The door was farther away now, but she could feel her nerves dancing as he crossed his arms over his chest. That slight smile was still on his face, and she had no idea what to do with her hands.

  “Look,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “I don't know what you want, but people at Joe's are going to miss me if you try to keep me here...”

  “I don't want a great deal,” he assured her, his voice as smooth as good coffee. “I just have a few questions for you over what happened. First, what shall I call you?”

  It occurred to her that she should give him a false name, but for some reason, it was the truth that came out instead.

  “Erin O'Reilly,” she said reluctantly, and he tilted his head slightly.

  “Irish?”

  “Someone in my family was a long time ago,” she said with a shrug. “I have the hair and green eyes from my mother, but I've never been to Ireland.”

  “I see. And what is your relation to the boy who tried t
o rob me?”

  She blinked. The boy had been dark, black or Latino, and she was about as white as they came. It should have been obvious that they weren't related.

  “I don't know what you mean,” Erin said cautiously.

  “Are you going to be stubborn about it?” he demanded. “Empty your purse on the table.”

  She started to ask why he wanted that, and then to her shock, he slammed his hand down on the table in front of her. The slam shook her so badly that she made a soft noise of surprise, and then she looked up at him, eyes wide.

  “I asked you to empty your purse on the table.”

  Suddenly she was fifteen again in a police station, and her eyes hardened. She lifted her chin slightly to show him that she was under no circumstances afraid of him, and did as he said.

  Erin was never one of those women who kept a whole lot in her purse. Her wallet and her ancient phone tumbled out, followed by her checkbook, her keys, a tube of ChapStick, a handful of change, and her little pocket knife.

  “It's all mine,” she said angrily, and he made an assessing noise as he went through it. She almost protested when he reached for her wallet, but looking around, he wasn't someone who had a reason to rob her.

  Anyway, if he chose to rob me, there's nothing I can do about it, Erin thought bitterly.

  “So you are who you say you are,” he responded thoughtfully. “And you have twenty dollars to your name and some hundred and fifty dollars in your bank account.”

  She refused to squirm under his speculative eyes. So she was poor. Most people in this city were.

  “Yeah, I've got bills to pay and it's not cheap to live here,” Erin retorted. “Have you figured out what you want here yet? Can I go? I'll be late to work if this goes on much longer.”

  “I had thought that you were in cahoots with the boy from before,” he said with a shrug. “It's a common enough scam, have one partner lift the wallet, and then they drop it off with someone completely unrelated to the crime.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Erin snapped, “but I'm not a thief. I just didn't like seeing you hassle some poor kid who probably hadn't eaten all day.”