Coup D'etat (The Alpha Prince) Book 3

by C. T. Sloan

  The Prince leans in and whispers into my ear, “I don’t take every girl to Paris.” Prince Julian kisses the back of my neck. I look back at him and a tear rolls down my cheek. We hug. For the first time, I realize that our relationship is serious. The Prince defies his most powerful citizens to maintain a relationship with me. He protects me at every turn. Somehow, I feel like I have to do more for him.

  “I wish I could make all of your problems go away,” I tell the Prince.

  “A Prince will always have problems. I may only be 30 years old but I have been a Head of State for almost ten years. My biggest fear is that my confidence will morph into arrogance,” Prince Julian says as he runs his fingers through my hair. Then he looks deep into my eyes, “Many rulers have lost everything because of arrogance and hubris. It take a special confidant to guide a leader on the right path. I feel that I can trust you. If you ever feel that I am crossing into a state of arrogance, you must tell me. Especially in these times when people are aligning against me, I need someone I can trust.”

  “You can trust me with all of your heart, Your Highness.”

  Prince Julian kisses me on the lips. I swear it is the longest, deepest and most meaningful kiss we have shared since we met. It felt like more than just a show of affection. It felt like a sign of trust. We get out of the tub and walk into the master bedroom with the hotel’s plush robes wrapped around our bodies. As the Prince gets dressed, he hears a knock on the door. Prince Julian seems a bit caught off guard by the sudden knock. But like the pro that he is, the Prince gets himself perfectly dressed and walks to the door with the grace of Royalty as he answers the persistent knocker.

  Prince Julian opens the door and is met by several well-dressed men who bow before him. They enter the hotel suite and hand a leather portfolio to the royal ruler. “Your Highness, I apologize for disturbing you. The treasury minister has requested that he speak with you about the final fiscal budget.”

  The Prince opens the portfolio and deeply exhales. “Oh yes, I have been putting this off. Tell the minister that we’ll will commence the conference call within the next fifteen minutes.”

  “Very good, Your Highness,” one of the men says as they both bow and leave the Presidential Suite.

  Prince Julian turns to me and playfully throws his hands up in the air. “Ah, State Business awaits,” the Prince says as he tries his best to console me with his puppy dog eyes.

  “I understand, Your Highness.”

  Prince Julian walks up to me and grabs both of my hands. “I have to take this meeting. I was supposed to deal with this before I left for Los Angeles. If you want, you are more than welcome to take a little stroll around Paris. The meeting should take no longer than 90 minutes.”

  Of course, the last thing the Prince needs is to have his girlfriend hang around while he deals with important state business. Besides, I am so excited to be in Paris that I can’t even wait to see what’s out there. “I would love to tour the city. I’m just sad that Your Highness is unable to join me.”

  “Oh trust me. I want this meeting to be over as soon as possible. I’ll have a couple of bodyguards shadow you while you are out. I’ll make sure that the men don’t crowd you. I want you to enjoy your first look of Paris in complete comfort,” Prince Julian says as he makes a call to his security team.

  The Prince hands me one of his credit cards and encourages me to buy, “to my heart’s content.” I assure him that I am more interested in the “sights and sounds” of Paris than any possible shopping spree. Prince Julian turns to his men and orders them to, “Keep an eye on Amy but don’t breathe down her neck.” The two very beefy and imposing men bow to the Prince’s command.

  ***

  I walk out of the Ritz with the bodyguards keeping a mindful distance from me. Though I feel all alone, I don’t feel vulnerable. And right now, my security is just about the last thing on my mind. I am in freaking Paris! I don’t even know where to start. I had this same exact feeling when I was 12 and walked around New York City for the first time. There are so many news sights and sounds around me that the feeling is intoxicating.

  The people all seem to be really glamorous in that, well to do, European sort of way. Lots of women in designer dresses and impeccable hair. The men are scruffy and cute. But what really catches my eyes is the architecture. Every building has its own personality, unlike LA where most structures seem prefabricated. I walk down the street and notice an abundance of scooters on the road. I remember seeing lots of scooters in Mondorra. But the small streets of the Principality were more congested with supercars than anything else on the road.

  I walk down Rue De La Paix until I reach a large imposing and beautiful structure at the intersection of several criss-crossing Parisian streets. I have no idea what I am looking at but the building in front of me is one of the most incredible structures I have ever seen in my life. The top of the structure features several golden angels flanking a copper dome. I notice several tourists walking around the building. Hopefully one of them speaks English so they can tell me what I am looking at.

  “Excuse me. Do you speak English?” I ask one man with a camera around his neck. He answers me in a language that sounds German. Alas, he does not know English. I ask a few more people about the building. Alas, everyone I ask is either German, French or some other language that makes no sense to me. I walk around looking for some sort of sign that would help me identify the structure.

  “This is the Palais Garnier. It is known as the most famous opera house in the world,” a man says behind my back.

  I turn around. He is a tall, well-dressed man, in a dark blue tailored suit. He looks a little too well-dressed to be a tourist. Also, the man’s English voice has that distinct Mondorra accent that has become familiar to me. I wonder if this man was sent by the Prince to escort me around the city. “Hi, did Prince Julian send you to show me around Paris?”

  “No. Can we talk for a while?”

  “Um, sure. I guess.”

  “Excellent.”

  As we begin to walk, the Prince’s two security guards immediately begin to flank the well-dressed man. They grab him and pull him to the side. What the fuck is going on here? I watch as the two guards ask the man several questions. They pat him down. Are they checking this guy for weapons?! This is all too bizarre for words. After watching the Prince’s guards manhandle the gentleman, the three men return towards me.

  The well-dressed man seems unfazed by this incident. “I must compliment Prince Julian’s men. They are rather vigilant. Now, can we speak in private?”

  “I am not sure we have been introduced,” I say nervously.

  “My name is not important. What is important is that I speak with you.”

  “Alright,” I say as I look at the guards who appear at the ready to protect me if anything goes wrong.

  All four of us walk to a cafe. We take a seat outside where the warm Parisian air helps to cool my nerves.

  “I must apologize for approaching you the way I did in front of the opera house. It was the only way I felt I could approach you in confidence.”

  “And why would you need to approach me in confidence?” I ask.

  “The Prince usually doesn’t fly his American girlfriends to Europe. And he certainly almost never flies his girlfriends to the Palace. It is not considered good form for a Prince to take a woman into his official residence, which is not his wife.”

  “Oh please. What century are we living in?’ I ask.

  “I will be blunt. The wealthy families of Mondorra do not approve of your relationship with the Prince.”

  “That is not news,” I say bluntly.

  “Well, this is,” the gentleman says as he carefully reaches into jacket. He pulls out an envelope and places it on the table. “In this envelope is, well, an enticement for you to break off the relationship with the Prince. It should be sufficient enough to finance a comfortable lifestyle for the rest of your days.”

  I look at the white envelope.
I don’t even want to touch it. What the hell do they mean by “a comfortable lifestyle?” The gentleman pushes the envelope towards me. I look at it. Then I touch the envelope. My curiosity is killing me. I pick up the envelope and open it. Inside is a cashier’s check in my name. My eye wanders over to the amount - twenty-five million dollars.

  All the breath leaves my body. My hands start to shake. This is more money than I would ever see in my lifetime. I would never have to work another day again. I could take this check and go back to America, buy a nice house and relax by the pool. The Prince would naturally find some other girl to fuck. After all, he is a Prince. He would never miss me. I am sure the Prince fucks dozens of girls a year. It would be insane for me to turn down this money. “That is a cashier’s check. You can deposit it into your bank today and start your new life tomorrow,” the well-dressed gentleman tells me as I stare at all of the zeroes in front of me.

  My new life. What kind of life would that be? I would have a nice house. I could buy nice cars and not have to worry about any bills. My new life. A world where I can associate with the rich instead of serving them. I can hang out in LA with movie stars and moguls. I can be somebody instead of a nobody.

  Every time I look at this check, I try to think of the person or the people who wrote this check. Of course, this check is written by one of the wealthy families who hope to have one of their daughters marry into the Mondorra ruling class. Wealth plus power equals invincibility. All that stands in the way of these wealthy people’s ambitions is my relationship with Prince Julian. And if I take this check, I would live the rest of my life knowing that I put a price on love. It would be the ultimate betrayal, not only against my own heart but against the Prince who called me his confidant.

  The more I think about this check, the easier it is to come to my conclusion. I put the check back into the envelope and I hand it back to the well-dressed gentleman. “The heart of Prince Julian is not for sale at any price. If my relationship with the Prince should come to an end, it will be a choice between the two of us. No one else,” I say as I stare into the startled gentleman’s eyes.

  “For the sake of yourself, and the Prince, I strongly suggest you reconsider,” he intones.

  “There is nothing to reconsider!” I say with a rage in my eyes. “You take that check back to whomever gave it to you and tell them to fuck off!”

  I stand up from the table. The Prince’s two bodyguards walk towards us. The well-dressed gentleman seems genuinely upset and even a little bit afraid. He looks at the two bodyguards. Then he nods his head slightly to all three of us while forcing a smile. “I will relay your message to my people,” the gentleman says as he walks off.

  The bodyguards look at my reddened face. “Are you alright, Miss Rousseau?” one of the burly men asks me.

  “I’m fine. I need to see the Prince right away.”

  ***

  We walk back to the Ritz. Instead of seeing the beauty of Paris, I walk in a straight line, trying my best to keep my emotions in check. The bodyguards have a hard time keeping up with me. I feel agitated, upset and, yes, a little scared. When we get to the hotel, the bodyguards call the Presidential Suite and announce our imminent arrival. They ask if the Prince is done with his meeting. The bodyguards inform me that Prince Julian should be done with the Treasury Minister in about ten minutes. I’m too anxious. I wish I could just speak to him as soon as possible.

  We arrive at the Presidential Suite. The security men, at the door, tell me to relax in the main parlor. I walk inside and find a bottle of chilled red wine and a couple of glasses. I think about pouring myself a glass. However, I am sure that the bottle is reserved for the Prince. The last thing I need to do is get a couple of drinks in me. Or perhaps getting a little wine buzz would be the best thing for a moment like this. The doors to the master bedroom open. I see the Prince take a deep exhale. “The Treasury Minister didn’t need to give me every line item of the budget,” Prince Julian says as walks up to me. The Prince gives me a nice, wet kiss on the lips. He immediately notices my agitation. “What happened, Amy? You look distressed?”

  “Your Highness, I was approached by a gentleman on the street.”

  “He did not try to harm you, did he?”

  “No, Prince Julian. He knew me by name. He was from Mondorra,” I say as I take a seat. The Prince sits down next to me, holding me hands. He can tell I am visibly shaking. He tries his best to keep me calm while I tell him the story. “He was sent from someone in Mondorra. Someone very wealthy. He told me that these wealthy people did not approve of our relationship. Then he proceeded to offer me a bribe to leave you,” I say as a tear rolls down from my eye.

  The Prince giggles. I look up at him in shock. “Is that all?! Amy!” the Prince says while giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “There will always be people who will not approve of everything I do.”

  “I turned down the bribe, Your Highness.”

  “How much did they offer you?”

  “Twenty-five million dollars.”

  “Really? They want to break us up for that much?”

  “Yes. I think these people are really serious. I’m worried.”

  The Prince stands me up and puts his hands around my waist. “You honor me by turning down that bribe. I know how much money that means to you.”

  “Your Highness? Are you not afraid of someone with that much wealth and power who disapproves of your actions?”

  “No. Maybe next time they will offer you fifty million. That’s not much money to some people in Mondorra,” the Prince says as he opens his bottle of wine. He offers me a glass. I take it. He pours each of us some white wine that probably cost more than my monthly take home pay. The Prince raises his glass. “A toast. To love over money,” he says as we tap our glasses and drink. As much as I would like to enjoy this moment, a wave of fear hits me in the face. I think about what the Prince said to me in the tub just a few hours ago. He wants me to be his confidant. He wants me to be a voice of reason. At this point, I feel that I have to speak up.

  “Your Highness, remember when you told me that I should be your confidant. That I should not be afraid to tell you if you are being arrogant.”

  “Of course, Amy.”

  “Prince Julian, you are arrogant to think that this problem is to be ignored. These people voiced their displeasure. That was strike one. Then they offered a bribe. Strike two. In my country, there is a saying, ‘three strikes and you’re out.’ You are a student of history. How many times has a government been overthrown in the past one hundred years, in the past decade, in the past year alone? These people will not stop unless you stop them,” I say. All those words just spilled out of my mouth. I didn’t want to stop until I ran out of breath. So here I am, standing there breathless as I openly defy a man who is not used to being openly defied.

  The Prince looks at me. And it’s not the kind of look that I am used to seeing from the man who has been my friend and my lover. He looks through me. What is he thinking? For the first time, I am actually scared of being in the same room as him. For the first time, I see the eyes of a Prince in the Medieval. In his eyes, I see the 800 years of royal knowledge, cunning and ruthlessness penetrating deep into my soul.

  Prince Julian snaps his fingers. One of his men enters into the room. “Summon my Intelligence Minister and tell him to come to Paris at once.”

  The royal master grabs me and runs his strong hands through my hair. “Thank you for telling me what I needed to hear.” The Prince draws me closer until I can feel his heart beating against mine. He lifts me up like some sort of spoil of war. A possession. He kisses me on the neck. My head snaps back. The Prince carries me into his bedroom and kicks the door closed behind him.

  My royal lover throws me onto the bed. This is a different kind of Prince Julian. I am seeing his animalistic side. He tears open my clothes and ties me to the bed with my own blouse and bra. I feel him pull down my skirt and my underwear. I spread my legs apart as wide as they wil
l go. The Prince runs his hands up my inner thigh. My lips quiver in anticipation. “When I find out who it is that has turned on me, I will be merciless,” the Prince says as he runs his fingers into my pussy. I arch my back.

  “I will show you what a Prince does when he is angry,” my lover whispers into my ear and he fucks me with his fingers. The Prince licks and sucks on my nipples. He runs his tongue all over my chest. Then he turns me over and places himself right behind my ass. The Prince begins to spank me. Hard. I moan out my approval as every slap feels as though it will cut the skin. My hands still bound to the iron bed frame, I feel a helpless and exhilarated as Prince Julian continues to have his way with me.

  The Prince bites down on my backside. I moan and cry. I feel his mouth all over my ass. He gives me a rim job that makes me slam my head against the mattress. Then I feel something press against my anus. I feel Prince Julian’s finger. He penetrates my backside. I feel his finger slide into my ass. Oh fuck, this is a whole new sensation for me.