I’d forgotten that paparazzi were a real threat for me in my home country, especially in Medralla, the minuscule capital city. No one recognized me in New York. Here, however, photographers from the handful of Ocaurian tabloid rags, as well as ones who worked for other European news outlets, were desperate to catch members of the royal family out in the wild.
At one point, back when I first went to the U.S. to attend graduate school, a newspaper had obtained a few pictures of me out at a party. From that point on, I was dubbed the “Playboy Prince.” Dad was outraged, but I kind of liked the label. Eventually, I grew into the moniker. I loved drinking and partying and women. Naturally, I couldn’t go around telling women I was a prince — I did enjoy my privacy in the states, and had no desire to compromise the quality of my peaceful, comfortable life.
I wondered if anyone knew I was coming back home. There were at least a few corrupt royal officials who would leak that kind of information to the press in exchange for a small sum of money. And I definitely wouldn’t put it past my Uncle Jasper to try to sabotage me, especially since my absence would give him unlimited power in the future.
I checked the time. It was getting late, and Gwen’s flight wouldn’t be arriving until the morning. I decided to book a room in the lone hotel near the airport for a night. As a precaution, I bought myself a cheap hat and some sunglasses in the airport gift shop. The cashier did a double-take when I approached, but then she seemed nonplussed.
As I was turning to leave with my purchases, she said, “You know, I thought you were Prince Carter. Has anyone ever told you that you look just like him?”
I grinned. “Prince Who? I’m just visiting from the Netherlands.”
The young woman blushed. “Oh, forget about it! I forgot to wear my glasses today. I’m sure you look nothing like him.”
I winked at her. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Have a nice night!”
Once I stepped outside into the cool, spring night, I was astounded by the number of stars I could see in the sky. Back in New York, it was impossible to get a good view of the night sky. Here, even at Ocauria’s sole international airport, there wasn’t enough light pollution to obstruct my view of the stars.
For some reason, the first thought that popped into my head was, I can’t wait for Gwen to see this.
There was something about her that made me feel silly for being a “playboy prince” for all these years. Perhaps it was her courage. Who else would have been willing to get on a plane and fly to a country they’d never even heard of to return a piece of plastic to a guy she hooked up with?
By the time I reached the hotel, I realized that I had forgotten to disguise myself. I matted my hair down with the ugly hat and put on the shades before approaching the door.
The lobby of the hotel was dingy and drab, and I assumed the rooms would be even worse. I instantly missed my swanky New York bachelor pad. Of course, I couldn’t complain too much. In a couple days, I would be back in the royal palace, and I would be staying there until this whole succession issue was straightened out.
“ID please,” the heavyset man behind the counter said as I approached him.
“Is that necessary?” I asked, irritated by his fairly innocuous request. “I’m paying in cash.”
“All guests must show proof of identification,” he said coldly. “No exceptions.”
There was no way around this one. I handed him my passport, and as he scanned it, I detected a slight smile forming on his face. Then, quick as a flash, his poker face returned.
“Thank you, sir. How many nights are you staying?”
The elevator was broken, so I was forced to plod up four flights of steps to my tiny room. I had a bad feeling about that guy at the desk — unless I was just being paranoid. It was a shame that paranoia was such a big part of being a royal. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to worry about being robbed, kidnapped, or assassinated when I was in my home country. The odds were slim, yet the threat of danger was ever-present in my life outside the palace.
I checked to make sure the room wasn’t bugged before flopping down on the bed. The soft mattress caved in under my weight. Even Gwen’s mattress had been better than this one. I anticipated a poor night’s sleep.
That is, if I could sleep at all. I had no desire to face my family right now, especially since I had no genuine interest in becoming king. However, the thought of seeing Gwen was something to look forward to. Too bad I would only be able to spend a single day with her.
I imagined her warm body, her gentle eyes, and the way I’d felt heart beating when I pressed my bare chest against hers. The sensations of our passionate evening hadn’t yet faded from my memory. I smiled when I realized that I still had a few scratch marks from her fingernails on my back.
If I played my cards right, Gwen and I would get to repeat that experience here in Ocauria. I closed my eyes and fantasized about giving her another night to remember.
7
Gwen
Dragging my suitcase through the airport, I blinked a few times. My throat felt dry, and my head was pounding. I wasn’t sure if it was because I barely slept on the plane, or if I still needed some time to adjust to Ocauria’s high altitude. Or maybe I was just coming back to reality after being pampered in first class overnight. I would have to thank Carter profusely for letting me fly in style.
I wondered where he could be now. I didn’t see him anywhere, and I knew I shouldn’t wander too far. Fortunately, it would be difficult to get lost in this tiny airport. I instantly noticed how faded and out-of-date this place was. The tacky colors of the walls and carpeting made it look straight out of 1985.
“Are you lost?” an airport worker asked me.
“Oh, I’m looking for my friend,” I said casually. If I’d wanted to brag, I might have added, “You may have heard of him — he’s a damn prince.” I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Hmm,” she said. “What does he look like?”
Her English was perfect, and she spoke with a slight accent that reminded me of a cross between British and French.
“Well, he’s tall. Dark hair. Fabulous body. Gorgeous eyes…” I realized that my voice was trembling. Yeah, I was definitely suffering from jet lag. I stopped myself before I could start describing his cock.
The woman laughed. “That’s quite a description! You’re a very lucky woman, aren’t you?”
“Lucky? Oh, no…honestly, we’re just friends…”
At that moment, she checked her watch, threw me an apologetic glance, and hurried off without another word, her heels clicking on the tile floor.
“Wait! I need to know…ugh. Never mind.” So much for customer service. I sighed, frustrated that there was still no sign of Carter.
“Gwen!”
I spun around at the sound of my name. The man approaching me didn’t look like the one who woke up in my bed. “Carter…is that you?”
He was wearing the ugliest hat I’d ever seen and a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses. His perfect body was hidden by a baggy sweatshirt and loose-fitting jeans. I began to question my taste in men.
“I’ll explain the get-up later,” he muttered, grabbing my suitcase. “Here, let me help you with that.”
I had been expecting a slightly warmer welcome. I was more than a bit startled by Carter’s coldness. He walked swiftly through the airport, forcing me to jog to keep up with him. Once we were outside, he ushered me into a cab.
“Medralla Hotel!” he said to the driver as he slammed his door shut and settled into the seat next to me.
“Do you want me to give you the ID now?” I asked abruptly. I couldn’t think of any other reason why he would be acting so strange. Perhaps I should have handed it to him the second he showed up, since it was so important.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said in a hushed voice. He leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear, “I have to be careful. Paparazzi can be anywhere.”
A wild grin spread across my face. It s
uddenly hit me that I was in a cab with an actual prince, and that he had to keep his identity a secret.
“Did they ever bother you in New York?” I asked curiously. “I mean, people must know who you are…”
“It’s different here,” he replied simply. Then, changing the subject, he pointed out the window. “See that? It’s Mount Medralla, the namesake of our capital city.”
In the distance, I saw a beautiful, snowcapped mountain framed by tufts of white clouds. “I can’t believe I never learned about this place in school,” I said mournfully.
“No one does,” he chuckled. “We should be in downtown Medralla in about twenty minutes. It’s a small city, but I think you’ll enjoy your stay.”
I noticed that most of the buildings we passed were run-down. I was tempted to ask Carter what he thought about his country’s economic situation, but I decided that bringing up such a sensitive topic might be considered rude.
When we reached Medralla, I was instantly charmed by the cobblestone streets and the stunning old buildings. The taxi stopped in front of a stately-looking hotel, and the driver helped me with my bags. Carter gave him a generous tip, and the man seemed genuinely shocked.
“Thank you…thank you so much!” he said.
I was touched by Carter’s generosity.
“That was a nice gesture,” I noted as we went into the hotel.
“People here don’t earn much money,” he explained. “If I can help someone anonymously, I will. By the way…this is the most expensive hotel in the whole country. This is where foreign diplomats and visiting celebrities stay.”
“And princes,” I murmured. “And…me.”
“And you!” he exclaimed. “The woman of the hour.”
The hotel lobby presented a sharp contrast to the sad-looking buildings we’d passed on the way to town. Everything looked like it had been dipped in gold. The floor was marble, and a massive crystal chandelier dangled perilously from the high ceiling.
“Hello, I’d like a room for two,” Carter told the woman at the front desk. “One night.”
The woman was austere but lovely, her icy blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. She glanced at me and blinked slowly. “One king-sized bed or two double beds?”
I was so out of it, I almost made a joke about a prince-sized bed, but I decided to keep my mouth shut.
Without hesitation, Carter responded, “Two double beds.”
For some reason, I was slightly disappointed by his selection. I was also confused about why he was staying at a hotel with me when he could be spending his night sleeping in a fucking castle or something.
“ID, please,” the woman said.
Carter grimaced at those words, and he reluctantly pulled his passport out of his pocket.
As soon as she examined his name and photo, the woman’s entire demeanor changed. She went from cool and distant to giggly and overly-friendly in a matter of seconds.
“Mr. Alliston, please let us know if we can be of service in any way! It’s our pleasure to serve you,” she said. Then she looked at me, and her gaze was questioning. “Miss, should you need any assistance during your stay, please let me know.”
“Thanks,” I said uncertainly. The way she was looking at us and flirtatiously fluttering her lashes made me wonder if she angling for a threesome or something.
Carter grabbed my hand. “Gwen, let’s go upstairs and put your bag away.”
The woman rushed around from behind the desk and reached down to grab my bag. Before she could pick it up, Carter intercepted her.
“We’ve got it. Thanks!”
As soon as we were in the elevator, he breathed a massive sigh of relief. “Gwen, you have no idea how long it’s been since I came home. I really don’t want everyone here making a big deal out of it.”
Our hands were still clasped as we soared up to the top floor. I squeezed his fingers gently and he turned towards me, as if he was going to kiss me.
Ding!
The elevator doors opened and, as if on cue, Carter let go of my hand. I followed him to our room. Carter slammed the door shut and, exhausted, I headed over to one of the beds to lie down. He sat down on the other one, ripping off his lame disguise and fixing his ruffled hair. Ah, much better.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and noted that I had no room to judge. I somewhat resembled a corpse right now, with my pale skin and wild, unbrushed hair.
“I think I need to rest for a little,” I sighed.
“Just for a little. Then I want to show you all of the sights.”
“Oh, before I forget…” I fished around in my purse and pulled out his ID card. “Take this.”
He put the card in his wallet and smiled mischievously. “All right. You can go home now. Back to the airport!”
I wanted to playfully toss a pillow at his head, but I was far too tired. “Shut up, Carter! I’m going to nap, okay?”
I closed my eyes. I heard the sound of Carter turning on the TV as I drifted off into slumber. I could make out the faint voices of a news anchor before I completely faded into oblivion: “But questions remain. King Carter insists that his eldest son, Carter II, will succeed him. But the king’s brother, Prince Jasper, says that only he is the rightful heir to the throne. This conflict could shape the kingdom’s politics for decades to come…”
8
Carter
“I’m so sorry, Carter…I had no idea I was going to sleep all afternoon.” Gwen cradled her head in her hands, leaning forward against the wooden table. She looked like she wanted to die of embarrassment. The moment our server returned, though, she sat up straight, back against her chair, and put on a big smile.
“Your dinner, madam,” he announced grandly, placing a huge platter of meat and skewered vegetables in front of her and an equally huge plate of seafood in front of me. One of the best things about Ocauria was the local cuisine and the notoriously generous portions at restaurants. If Gwen had had a little more time to research my country before her arrival, then she probably wouldn’t have ordered an entire entree for herself.
“You’re going to have to help me with this,” she whispered to me as she picked up her fork and knife. “And why didn’t you wake me up earlier?!”
It was adorable when she snapped at me.
“You looked so peaceful,” I explained. “Don’t worry. I can arrange a few guided tours for you this week, so that after I’m gone, you’ll have stuff to do.”
“When are you leaving?” Her voice rose anxiously. The way she scrunched up her nose indicated that she didn’t like the thought of me abandoning her. I couldn’t blame her. Here she was, in a strange land, and the only person she vaguely knew was about to bail on her.
“Listen, Gwen…if I could stay with you, I would. But I have royal business to attend to. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to come back to New York eventually.” I exhaled deeply, running my hand through my hair. “At the moment, I have no interest in being a prince.”
Gwen took another bite of food, followed by a sip of wine. She seemed lost in thought, clearly puzzled by my statement. Finally, she blurted out, “What’s so bad about being a prince?”
I mulled over her question for a few moments. “The truth is, I never asked for this life. Sometimes, I feel guilty that so much was handed to me at a young age. And then something big happens and I have to come back here, and it feels like the weight of the whole damn world is on my shoulders.”
She gazed at me sympathetically. “I see what you mean. But from my perspective, you have so many opportunities that other people don’t. There are a million things you’ve seen and done that people like me will never, ever be able to experience.” She laughed lightly. “That is, unless someone like you invites a nobody like me into your world.”
I immediately felt guilty for complaining about being the son of a king. Sweet, pretty, understanding Gwen was exactly the person I needed to help me see things in a new way.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be
so closed-minded,” I responded.
In the candlelight, she looked especially beautiful. Her makeup was minimal, and her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders in perfect waves. The black cocktail dress she’d thrown on in a rush fit her curves snugly and revealed a hint of cleavage.
I did my best not to stare at her chest, although the thought of her nude body triggered an intense excitement within me. She must have caught me checking her out, because her lips curled into a devious smile and her eyelashes fluttered.
“Are you staying the night, at least?” she asked in a slightly flirtatious tone. “I’d hate to spend my first night in Ocauria alone.”
“You know I wouldn’t abandon you like that!”
“Good.” She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. I wondered what she was thinking about. At long last, she said, “I heard something on TV before I fell asleep. Something about your family. Care to explain what’s going on? I feel completely out of the loop.”
I mentally prepared myself to tell her the long, sordid tale. “I’ll try to keep this brief.”
“Take your time,” she said patiently.
“Well…for starters, my father was the the first son of my grandfather, King Matthew. He had a younger brother, Jasper, and that was it. When Matthew passed away many years ago, Dad became the king. He and Mom had just gotten married. He was probably about your age. Wait, how old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” she said. “And wow. That’s a lot of power and responsibility!”
“Exactly. And things changed a lot once he took over. He was young and idealistic, and so was my mother. Together, they helped get rid of a lot of corrupt officials and started to turn things around for Ocauria. Believe it or not, my country used to be an even poorer place. Things are slowly getting better for the average citizen.”
“That’s great!” Gwen cried. “Your parents sound fantastic.”
I felt a little pang of sadness. “They are. Or rather, my mom was…she died a few years after my youngest brother was born.”
Playboy Prince: A Royal Romance (The Brothers of Ocauria Book 1) Page 3
