“It certainly looks as though you do.”
He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in a pointless bid at looking nonchalant. He looked anything but. His whole body was tensed up and a thin vein could be seen pulsing at the side of his temple. If I were being honest with myself, it was a nice change of pace to be on the receiving end for once.
“Why would I give a shit about some guy grinding his ass on you?” he asked.
I could see the anger in his eyes, could hear it in his voice. The feeling of his jealousy and anger gave me something I'd not had with Adam. It was the sense of power.
Down the hall, we could hear the girls continue to shriek and giggle, and from all the noise coming out of Christy's mouth, I guessed all the stripper's attention had now turned to her.
“I better get back to the party,” I said. “Or they'll all start gossiping about the two of us. Meet me later?”
He said nothing and just fidgeted with his watch band, making sure he didn't make eye contact with me.
“Whatever,” I said, secretly loving how uncomfortable he was. “Call me later if you want. Or don't.”
I walked away, feeling a whole foot taller. But after only a few steps, I felt him close behind me.
“Wait,” he said. “Before you go.”
His hand gripped my arm, firm but gentle, and pulled me toward him. With his hand around my jaw, he brought my face to his, pressing his lips to mine in a burning hot kiss that started at my lips and seeped down into my panties. I reached out to slip my hand up his shirt, but before I could he simply pushed me back and walked away.
“Enjoy your party,” he said.
I watched him walk into the elevator and disappear, my underwear soaking all the way through.
Philip
She was right. I was jealous, but why? I'd been with literally hundreds of girls and never felt this way about any of them before. So why her? I hardly even knew her for Christ's sake. Hadn't even gotten her into bed yet and here I was, getting all hot-headed over catching her with a stripper.
I stood in the elevator and caught my reflection in the mirrored wall.
"What's gotten into you?" I asked myself. "You’re behaving like a complete idiot."
The expression on my face was one I didn't recognize. If I frowned any more I would look like a Neanderthal. Deep lines were spreading out across my brow and I looked ten years older.
Being jealous doesn't suit you, I thought. It's making you ugly.
Stepping out the elevator on the first floor, I was immediately faced with a worried looking Stephen.
"Your Highness."
"Stephen? Everything okay?"
"I've been looking for you," he said. "Head of security at the hotel has called a meeting."
"With us?"
"Yes. He seemed eager to speak with you."
I didn't have time to ask him any more questions because he was marching me across the foyer toward the reception desk. Behind it, a golden door opened into the inner sanctum of private offices. We arrived in a waiting room covered in cheap tacky art prints of sailboats and seascapes that looked as though they were done by first year art students.
"Your Highness, " came a voice as a door creaked open.
Stephen and I looked up to see a guy no taller than five-foot-five with slicked back red hair and an orange fake tan. Even from where I was standing, I could see he was wearing blue contact lenses, the kind that made you look like an alien rather than sexy.
"I'm Norman," he said, shaking my hand.
It felt like a wet fish had slipped its way between my fingers and I struggled not to shudder.
"Nice to meet you," I said although it sounded like an obvious lie.
"The honor is all mine, Your Highness," said Norman. "Please, come inside."
He led us through to his opulent office covered in abstract paintings and framed photos of kids who, thankfully, looked nothing like him.
"Cute, huh?" he asked, noticing me staring at a triptych of baby photos in a golden frame.
"They're lovely," I said.
And for the second time that day I was swept away on a feeling I had never had before. It was warm and loving and grew more intense the longer I stared at the three cute kids with the giant Disney eyes and chubby cheeks.
Am I becoming broody? Is that what this feeling is?
Yet the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was coming around to the idea of having a child myself someday. Until now, that consideration was strictly off limits. Children were what other boring people like Henry had. Babies were fun-sucking parasites that gave you nothing but stress. But here I was wondering what a little Philip the Second would look like.
I placed the photos back down and shook my head as though I could rid my brain of the thought.
"Thank you for calling the meeting," said Stephen, eager to get down to business. "As I'm sure you're aware, we are most anxious to preserve the Prince's safety after the recent incidences on the island."
Norman nodded and clasped his hands together on his desk.
"We're eager to make sure the Prince is as safe as possible too," he said. "After all, this island is one of his homes."
"You do know I'm here, don't you?" I asked. "You don't have to keeping referring to me as ‘he Prince.’"
They both shifted awkwardly in their seats.
"Yes, my apologies, Your Highness," said Norman.
"Please, it's just Phil."
He smiled and nodded. The guy looked like a weasel hidden behind his desk. How the hell is this guy the head of security? I thought. He looks like he couldn't fight his way out a paper bag.
A knock on the door sounded and Norman jumped out of his seat to answer it.
"Please come in, Richard," he said.
I turned to Stephen and noticed a wary look in his eye.
"It can't be Richard the bar manager?" I whispered at him. "Why would he be here?"
My question was answered when the creep himself entered the room and slid his way over to me. He was looking slimier than usual. I could almost imagine a snail trail beneath him as he slithered over to the spare seat. The two of them made a sickening pair.
"Hello, Phil," grinned Richard.
"It's Your Highness," I corrected him.
He gulped and recoiled back in his seat.
"Yes, I'm ever so sorry, Your Highness."
Beside me, Stephen flashed me a wry smile.
"So," I said, crossing my leg over my knee to create a barrier between me and the men. "What's this meeting all about? And I hope you don't mind me asking but what's Richard got to do with my security? Don't you have a Martini to pour?"
Richard looked as though he wanted to give me a true piece of his mind but knew he couldn't, so he bit his tongue, took a deep breath and said, "As bar manager that means I am in charge of any safety requirements that have to be met at the bar. That, of course, includes any considerations surrounding you and your time in this hotel and the bar."
His eyes were moving all over the place and his forehead was growing slick with sweat.
What are you panicking so much about?
But more importantly, one question kept popping into my mind. Why did this little bar manager hold so much power over the hotel? He appeared to not only be in charge of the bar, but the penthouse suites too, and now he was also involved in security. He had to be the hardest working bar manager in history.
"Hmmm, " I said, eyeing him up.
Sensing the tension, Norman stepped between us eager to clear the energy in the room.
"As you're aware there have been pirates on the island," he said, perching on the edge of his desk. "It's shocking, I know."
"And they're nothing like the Jonny Depp variety either," laughed Richard.
We all just stared him, and he shut up and shrank back in his seat.
"Anyway," continued Norman. "We have been coordinating with the police as much as we can on the matter and of course with your own security team, Phil
. We have eyes and ears on every corner of this hotel, so it'll be virtually impossible to penetrate the building."
"Apart from the bar," I said. "Which was raided just last night."
"Yes, well, it appears that something malfunctioned I believe. A camera that should have been switched on had faulty wiring."
"What about the other cameras?" I asked.
"Excuse me?"
"You said they were on every corner of the building, and that only one camera had faulty wiring so how come the robbers weren't caught on the rest of the CCTV?"
Norman opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out apart from the noise of rushing air.
"I demand access to the footage from all the cameras from last night," said Stephen. "Within the hour."
"Within the hour?" asked Norman.
"Is there a problem?"
"Well, I mean we can't just-"
Stephen stood up --ll six-foot-six of him -- and leaned over Norman.
"It's not like I'm asking you for the moon now, is it? Like you said, there are cameras on every corner so that must mean there's footage on all those corners, and we're demanding to see it. It's a simple request, Norman."
Norman looked close to passing out, but he remained obstinate.
"Impossible," he said. "We can't give you all of the footage."
"That's right," interrupted Richard. "All the files are encrypted. There would be hundreds of them to go through. Not to mention the ones from the bar will have been deleted by now."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Stephen raged. "Someone robs the bar and the CCTV files that show them doing it are deleted? And one of the cameras wasn't even working? What kind of a shit show amateur hour is this place!"
For a moment, I sat back and enjoyed the drama of watching the two men cower beneath Stephen. At times like this it felt as though I was in the possession of a pet grizzly bear.
"Please," said Norman. "We can assure you that-"
"I'm not finished," blasted Stephen. "You need to answer me something. How are you supposed to keep Prince Philip safe when you can't even take care of your own CCTV system?"
The men didn't have an answer and the room descended into an awkward silence.
"I asked you both a question," continued Stephen. "Should I assume you don't have an answer, or you simply don't want to tell me?"
The awkwardness intensified as the two men remained silent.
What a fucking joke, I thought. The two of them call us in here and just make themselves look like gibbering idiots.
"You should both start looking for new jobs by the end of the week," I said. "I can't have incompetence like this in one of my family's hotels."
"Oh, please, Your Highness. That won't be necessary. We have all the steps in place to implement the best safety measures."
"But you clearly don't," I told Richard.
I still couldn't figure out why he was there. His beady eyes made their way up and down my body like he was sizing me up for a weak spot.
"I think we're done here," I said, standing up.
"Oh, please, Your Highness I'd very much like..."
I didn't even bother to listen to whatever bullshit was going to come out of Norman's mouth. Walking away with Stephen in tow, I cursed myself for wasting precious drinking time on these guys.
As I reached the door, the two men scuttled behind us and I decided to play my last trick I had up my sleeve.
"Oh, by the way, Richard. Did you have a good night?"
"Excuse me, Your Highness?"
"Did. You. Have. A Good. Night?"
His hands were beginning to shake, and he thrust them inside his pockets to hide his trembling fingers.
"I beg your pardon, but I don't seem to know what you mean."
"Huh. So I didn't see you hanging around the bar outside lurking in the shadows waiting for someone in the middle of the night?"
It couldn't have been possible to make his face grow any whiter. I could see how the breath became frozen in his lungs as he stopped moving like a frightened rabbit.
"It was you, wasn't it?"
"Yes," he said, "I was out at the beach bar waiting on a... waiting on a delivery!"
"Hmmm."
He glanced away, knowing full-well he had just delivered a pathetic lie. Norman stepped forward and looked at Richard inquisitively.
"Wow," he said, turning to me. "Your security team have eyes and ears everywhere."
"No," I replied. "I do. Looks as though I'm doing a better job than your CCTV."
I walked away, leaving them there sweating in the office as Stephen and me headed outside.
"What a bunch of pathetic assholes," he said. "I've never seen anything like it."
"How did they get hired?"
"Who knows," he said, reaching for a cigarette. "But they'll not get hired again."
I leaned away from the smoke, waving my hands in front of my face.
"I thought you'd quit."
"I did. But I'm stressed now."
"That's no excuse. It's a filthy habit."
"We all have one."
That was true. Until recently, mine was women. Now my only addiction was Lizzie. I thought of her up there with that guy's muscles up close to her and her eyes almost bulging out of her face. She was loving every second of it. At least that's how it looked to me.
My mind turned to all sorts of scenarios where their meeting went beyond the confines of the party. I doubt a man like him had regular customers as attractive as Lizzie. Would he have wanted to see her again to give her a private show away from all her friends?
The thought made me want to punch a wall.
"I need a drink."
Stephen gathered the rest of the team, and we headed a few blocks down the main strip to an exclusive lounge where only movie stars and billionaires drank. They congregated beneath the dim light of the antique chandeliers and the private darkness of the mahogany walls.
The place reminded me of somewhere out of an old film noir where Humphrey Bogart would come sauntering out from behind the bar with a cigarette between his teeth to deliver a witty one liner.
I took a seat in a back booth and let the team spread out. I watched them sip their Shirley Temples while pressing their earpieces to their heads. This sucks, I thought, looking at them all. Once again, I was filled with the thought I'd been plagued with my whole life.
I'd much rather have a group of friends than a security team.
Of course, to an extent, they were friends, and Stephen was like a brother to me. He'd been shadowing me since I was a teenager, had had my life in his hands every waking minute of his day for well over a decade. But he was paid to be here, and just like every prince thinks at least once in their life, I wanted to know what it felt like to be normal. I wanted to know what it would be like to just kick back in a bar with some buddies and a few beers and watch a ball game and not have to worry that your safety was a matter of national security.
I raised my glass to Stephen, and he lifted his own in acknowledgment.
In the booth behind me, I could hear a deep New York accent fire rapid ideas into a Dictaphone. I craned my neck to look over and saw film director Donald Farlesi surrounded by empty glasses and an overflowing ashtray. He saw my face pop up over the booth wall and pressed pause on his Dictaphone.
"Well, well, it's not every day I'm in the company of a prince. Care to join me?"
"The legendary Farlesi asking me to join him? Are you kidding me?"
I leaped over the booth wall and plopped myself down in front of him.
"I've been a fan of yours since I was a kid."
"Really? Aren't my movies a bit, you know, violent for the royal palace?"
He winked and reached for his scotch. His fingers were arthritic and covered in liver spots as a cigarette balanced precariously between his fingers. He lifted it to thin, chapped lips.
I took a mental note of every line on his face and how his grey eyes stared off into thought below bushy eyebrow
s. This might be the last time I'm in his company, I thought. I've got to take everything in.
Sweeping a hand through his thinning hair, he blew out smoke and said, "I saw you in the papers, kid. What a night that must have been."
"Yeah, it was such a good night I've been sent out here to recover from it."
"Can't say that sounds like a punishment," he laughed, his voice coming out in thick, smoke-filled rasps. "It's not exactly Alcatraz."
"I can't complain."
He laughed and breathed more smoke out toward me. It stung my eyes and caught the back of my throat, but I didn't have the heart to tell him to stub out his cigarette. Nobody could tell Farlesi what to do. Not even royalty.
"Ever think of making a movie about your life?" he asked. "It could be wild. Really it could. Like imagine if Wolf of Wall Street was about Prince Phillop. I can imagine it now. Wall to wall sex and drugs and non-stop fun and, aw man. I can picture it already."
"Donald, my life would be complete if you ever made a movie about me."
"I'd cast Di Caprio himself as you although he kinda looks like a peasant compared to you."
He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray and watched the smoke rise.
"I saw you the other night," he said.
"You did?"
"With some beautiful little red head in the VIP bar at the hotel."
"Lizzie," I said with a grin.
"Now that is the look of a man in love."
"Woah, who said anything about love?"
"Don't kid yourself. No man looks like that over just any woman. Who is she anyway? An actress? I've never seen her before, and I'd remember a nice little hardbody with the face of an angel any day."
"She's not an actress," I said. "She works a real job. In an office and everything."
To both of us, the idea of sitting behind a desk all day seemed about as alien to us as flying to Mars.
"What a waste," said Donald. "She could really be something."
"I know," I sighed.
"Maybe even a princess?"
I said nothing. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered that too.
"Anyway," I said, eager to change the subject. "What are you doing in the Octavius Islands? You working on something new?"
He leaned in close, his thick, scotch-scented breath burning my eyes.
Royally Damaged Page 10
