The Prince and I

by R. S. Lively

  There’s a band playing outside, too—a string quartet, to be exact. The strings are smooth, diving into a deep baritone and then a high-pitched harmony. I place my drink on the white railing of the gazebo, and I steal her glass from her hand as well, placing it next to mine. “About that dance,” I say as I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close, intertwining our other hands together.

  A small, shy smile graces her mouth. It’s innocent, almost as if she has never been touched or been so close to a man. She feels good. Her body against mine, my hand on her lower back, the way we sway with the music—I’ve never felt more at peace.

  “So, what brings you to the party?” I ask, spinning her out and around. As I pull her back in, her breasts hit my chest, and my cock takes notice. My shaft starts to fill, and before making a fool out of myself, I will my erection away.

  “Just having a good time. Enjoying the people and the company.” Her gaze slides across me before looking over my shoulder.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, unable to tear my gaze from lips, waiting for her answer.

  “Rosie.”

  “Mademoiselle Rosie,” I repeat, and her name tastes sweet as it rolls off my tongue. “I’m Luca.”

  She whispers and places her cheek against my chest. “Luca… It suits you.”

  “Does it? How?” It’s been a while since I’ve flirted with someone. I forgot how good it feels.

  I stare down at her as she peers up at me through her mask, the blue lining shining against her pale skin. “I don’t know. It’s unique and sounds like it fits a strong, handsome man.”

  This time I blush. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woman call me handsome to my face. It makes me feel like a teenager again. “You think I’m handsome.”

  “Who wouldn’t? I mean, look at you,” she says. Her hands grip my shoulders, and she stares at my chest, afraid to look at me.

  “Yeah, look at me,” I reply, my fingers lifting her chin, needing to see her eyes.

  “Why?”

  “So, I can see you.” I win as she lifts her gaze to mine. “There you are.” I move my hand to her cheek, cupping her jaw. Her skin is smooth and flawless, reminding me of porcelain.

  “Here I am,” she says, never taking her eyes off my lips.

  I lean in closer, a magnetic force pulling me to her. I’m turning my head to the right as she moves to the left. I have to kiss her. I have to know if this feeling is real—if she is real—because nothing can feel this right. It’s impossible. Things like this only exist in dreams.

  We stop dancing, the breeze swirling around us, and the tulle of her dress sways in the direction that the wind blows. Our noses touch, and my other hand cups the side of her face. I’m holding her steady as our lips press together. It’s soft, timid, and slow. She moves her lips with mine, inexperienced and unsure. It turns me on even further, and I can’t stop my erection from turning to stone. She gasps, giving me the opportunity to dive my tongue inside her sweet mouth. I’ve never tasted anything like her.

  She tastes like she is made for me. A taste that will haunt me for the rest of my life if I don’t have her within reach. Our tongues mingle together as we breathe each other in. It’s the best damn oxygen I’ve ever had. It makes me feel alive, like I can fly. I break the kiss to inhale some air and am planning to dive back in when her phone rings. “Let it go to voicemail,” I plead.

  “Yeah,” she says with swollen red lips. Her eyes flutter shut as we try to fall into one another again, but her phone starts ringing once more. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.”

  “Yeah, I understand.” I take a step back and wipe my mouth, watching her lift her dress to take her phone out.

  She gasps, tears forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I need to go.” She grabs her dress at both sides and pushes past me.

  “Wait! Let me go with you. Is everything okay?” I wrap my hand around her wrist, stopping her.

  A single tear falls down from behind her mask. “I’m fine. No, you can’t come with. I’m sorry. It’s my father. I need to go. Thank you for the best night of my life.” She runs to me again and places a kiss on my lips. “I’ll never forget it.” Her forehead leans against mine for a split second before she departs, her dress floating behind her as she runs away.

  I sigh, wishing I had more information on her. I down what is left of our champagne and something catches my eye on the floor. I bend over to pick it up, and I realize it’s her bracelet. All pearls. Very beautiful and classic. It suits her. Carefully, I put the delicate jewelry in my pocket. I’ll hold onto it until I see her again. I know I will because there is no way a feeling like this is fleeting.

  Chapter Four

  Rosie

  Three months later…

  The rain pebbles against the window as it falls down the glass, reminding me of tears. I can’t sleep, for a million reasons it seems. I lost my mother’s pearl bracelet the night of the ball, my dad died that night, my stepmother got everything in the will, and she kicked me and my brother out. I had to drop out of school to support us. Now, I’m a personal secretary at Kimmel Infrastructure, a large company based in New York City.

  Ah, right. That’s another reason. We live in an apartment the size of a shoebox. It’s the only thing I can afford. It took my entire savings to get us out here and away from Billings, which isn’t too bad since I didn’t like the people there anyway, but it still sucks being away from the only place I ever called home. Another thing keeping me awake is that my newly seventeen-year-old brother is not home yet, and it is almost one in the morning.

  I knew life would be harder without my dad around, but I had no idea it would be like this. I never expected to be a parent. Especially to a kid I hardly know. I love my brother, of course, but he has always been away at school. He and I are starting over, basically forced into each other’s lives. I want us to have a good relationship, but he makes it so damn hard when he pulls crap like this.

  Emotion lodges in my chest and it tries to force its way out, but I refuse to cry anymore. Why cry when the pain won’t ever go away? I sip my tea, and the hot liquid warms my body as it flows through me, but it still isn’t enough to stop a shiver from washing over me as well. I cover myself up with a throw blanket and watch as the raindrops fall.

  How the hell is this my life? I guess it isn’t that different. The only thing that changed is the house. The mask finally came off. My head hits the couch cushions as I stare up at the ceiling. I'm both exhausted and worried.

  The doorknob jiggles, and I jump off the couch, causing the tea to spill on my hand. “Damn it,” I say as I slam the mug down, running to the kitchen to put my hand under cold water. When the door opens, an exhausted Jesse walks into the room, his feet dragging and his eyes barely open. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick, Jesse.”

  He shuts the door, locking it behind him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s it? You don’t have anything else to say? Come on. Cut me some slack,” I whisper, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I know it’s been hard with me. You’re used to certain things. You know, like having certain things, but I’m trying. It won’t always be like this.” I cross my arms and turn to him, staring with a bit of scrutiny. “Why have you been coming home so late this past week?”

  He has Dad's eyes. Those icy, cold, blue ones, but Jesse’s hold love. His hair is getting long to the point where his brown curls are starting to block his vision, so he has to flick his head to get them out of the way. He walks over to me and holds my arm as he stares at me. Even though he is my little brother, he is taller than me. “You think I’m not grateful for you? I’d rather be here with you than at that boarding school for another day. Being with you, my sister, is so much better than that empty mansion. I’d rather live off ramen for the rest of my life with you than go back there. I know it isn’t easy, but I love you. We are here for each other, right?”

  Tears swim in my eyes as I hold his hands with mine. “Of course we
are. I love you, too. That's why I’m up so late waiting for you to walk through the door. We aren’t in Billings anymore, Jesse. New York City is different. It isn’t as safe. What have you been doing? Are you dealing drugs?”

  “What! No, of course I’m not dealing drugs,” he says, rolling his eyes at me. An envelope appears out of his jacket pocket, and he sets it on the counter. “I’ve been working.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I see you busting your ass. You work so much. And I know you’re doing everything you can, but I want to help. I don’t want to see you so tired all the time.”

  I open the envelope and see cash. A lot of cash. “What… How?”

  “It’s not much. It’s like two hundred bucks. I work at a diner close to school, and I go there after classes let out. I’m just a busboy.” He shrugs it off like he didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the entire world.

  I shake my head, but I smile, placing the envelope back in his hand. “I know things are hard right now, but they aren’t supposed to be hard for you. You’re seventeen. You’re supposed to be concentrating on school and hanging out with friends. I appreciate this, but this is your money.” I close his hand around it. “And you’re quitting that job. The best thing you can do is focus on school, get a scholarship, and go to college. Or learn a trade. Something, anything so you don’t end up like me.” I give him a sad smile, twirling a piece of my hair around my finger.

  Reaching for my mug, he stops me, holding both of my hands with his this time. “I know you think that. I know you think you’re some loser. I see it written on your face every day, but you aren’t. I look up to you, Rosie. I think you’re smart. And I think something really shitty—”

  “Language!” I abolish.

  He tilts his lips in a cocky smirk. “Anyway, something really bad happened to us. Tabitha and her daughters are horrible people. Good people wouldn’t send other people to live like this, but guess what? You put a roof over our heads and food in the fridge. You’ve taken a really crappy situation and turned it into a good one. Sure, we don’t live in a mansion, but at least I have my sister.”

  I throw my arms around him, my toes dragging across the floor because of the height difference between us, and I bury my face in his shoulders. “You’re the sweetest brother in the world. And here I was, thinking you were going out and getting trashed," I snicker.

  He laughs, and it's deep, like he's aged ten years. When did he grow up? “Tell you what... The first time I drink, I’ll make sure it is here with you.”

  I pull back, lifting an eyebrow with skepticism. “That’s awfully responsible of you. I almost don’t believe it. That’s too adult. Don’t you need to, I don’t know, go out and get a fake ID? And then you'll slip into a club. And then, oh! And then, you'll have to call me from jail—”

  “Woah, easy there, killer—”

  “And it’s your one phone call that they allow you. I'll come and bail you out just to give you this long speech about being responsible or else you will ruin your life. Then, you’ll get mad at me and not talk to me for a week, at the very least—”

  “Okay, I think you need to stop watching reality TV. It’s time for bed. I think you’re exhausted.” Jesse pushes me toward my room, and I brace my feet on the floor, but it doesn’t work. He opens the door to my bedroom and shoves me inside. Before he shuts it, he peeks his head in just to say, “Maybe you should take a hot shower to help you relax. You’re blabbering nonsense.”

  I sit down on the bed and nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. And Jesse?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Quit that job. I’m serious.”

  “Lower hours?” he counters.

  I narrow my gaze at him, contemplating his negotiation. “Fine. No more than fifteen.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Seventeen, and that's my final offer.”

  “Deal,” he says before shutting the door, leaving me alone in the small space.

  I get up and stroll over to the bathroom. Getting undressed, leaving my clothes in the middle of the floor, I step into the walk-in shower. The water doesn't relax me. All it does is make me think. And thinking right now can be so dangerous. Thinking sends me to a bad place, usually. However, right now, like every night before I go to bed, I recall the man in the mask from three months ago.

  I think of his accent. The way he spoke. Oh, god. It still makes my clit throb. And don’t even get me started on the way he smelled. It was an expensive cologne. It had to have been laced with some type of drug, because even now, remembering the scent of it, I’m dizzy with lust.

  Luca was a pure gentleman. Something about him screams importance. It hurts me more than I thought when I had to run away from him. I felt like I left my future behind, and now, all I have left is the memory of him in this shower, touching myself from the images my mind conjures up from that night.

  I shove my fist in my mouth to keep myself from getting too loud as I groan, stroking my swollen clit as I think about the way his breath ghosted over my ear. The way his arms tightened around me as we danced... oh wow.

  And the kiss.

  The way his lips fit against mine and the way his tongue tangled with mine, leaving his flavor on my taste buds. If I think hard enough, the sweet remains of the champagne on his lips fill my mouth.

  “Luca,” I whisper in the shower stall. Pressing a finger into my pussy, I imagine it’s his cock, and it’s big, and it's thrusting inside of me and taking my virginity. “Yes,” I hiss, wishing it had happened that night at the party. He would have bent me over, lifted my dress, and pounded inside me. He’d have stolen my mouth in a hungry kiss, leaving me famished for more. He’d have made me come first before coming deep inside me, clutching onto me as we came down from the heights of our orgasms.

  The last thought is all it takes for me to spill over the edge. The shower runs over my face as I throw my head back, spasming on my finger. “Luca,” I repeat his name, hoping, wherever he is, he can hear me.

  My body shivers from the hot water running out of the spout. Grabbing my robe that I leave on the shower door, I wrap it around my waist. Exhaustion hits me as I meander to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed and still dripping wet everywhere.

  I close my eyes, thinking of him—my dream man. I wonder what his life is like. Who is the man behind the mask? My mind takes me on a wild journey, conjuring up his way of life and all the ways it clashes with mine. Our differences don’t matter. We’re happy. We’re dancing. We’re laughing. We’re talking. We’re falling in love.

  I’ve never been happier. I don’t know what it is about Luca. Maybe it's how he made me feel special for the night—more special than anyone ever has since my mother died. Is it a crush? Am I just infatuated? Was he even real?

  I think of his dark blue eyes staring at me through his black mask. They remind me of sapphires, which are my favorite stone. His hair parts perfectly to the left, not a piece out of place. His jawline is so sharp, and I remember wanting to see if it would cut my finger. He has strong, distinguished features, the kind a woman can never forget.

  It’s hard to decipher any more considering everything that’s happened. Luca seems like another life. Something that never happened. Maybe he is only in my dreams, but I tell myself I don’t care. It’s a dream I will never stop having, and that's okay because I fall asleep with a smile on my face and flutters in my heart because of him.

  Chapter Five

  Luca

  “Mom... Please stop. Enough already,” I groan, spinning back and forth between my chair as she and my father team up against me.

  My father, King Luca Addington III, places his hands on the table, glaring at me with his blue eyes. The throne has aged him. He has salt-and-pepper hair, and wrinkles around his eyes, but still the same hard, warning look he always gave me growing up. “Do not talk to your mother like that. Apologize.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I am. I’m a grown man, though. I’m not marrying someone just be
cause you think it’s a good idea. I understand you are worried about me not having a queen, but we don’t have to worry about that for a while. I’ll find someone. I refuse to settle when I know I can love, okay?”

  “We are just worried for you, Mon Amour. I’m worried for you. Ever since you have come back from America, you have been mopey.”

  “Have not,” I mumble, probably sounding like a teenager again. I pat my pocket to make sure the bracelet is still there. It’s been the one thing that makes me feel connected to Rosie. I never thought I would miss someone I hardly know, but here I am, missing her like a lovestruck teenager. I never believed in love at first sight, but Rosie… she has me considering it.

  “You have, Luca. What’s wrong? Talk to us," my father demands, crossing his arms over his chest. I know that look. He is using the ‘I’m the king, and you will tell me what I want to know’ look.

  Well, that’s too bad.

  “Nothing is wrong.” I stand up, walking over to my mother and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “It is sad that Mr. Caldwell passed away that evening, and I never got the chance to talk to him about business. I feel like I let you down,” I say as I swing my eyes from my mother to my father. It isn’t a lie, but it is better than telling the whole truth.

  The future King of Belgium is in love with someone he doesn’t know. I romanticize her, clutching onto her bracelet when I need to be close to her. I think about her all the time. Her beautiful brown eyes, her hair, her pink lips, her soft voice, the way her body feels against mine—I think of everything. If I tell anyone about this, they will think I’m crazy because I don’t even know her last name. I know nothing.

  And that makes her absence sting even more.

  My father slaps his hand on my shoulder, frowning as he makes me look at him. “You could never disappoint me, Luca. I just want to make sure you are okay. I want to make sure my favorite son is happy.”