by Dark Angel
“Fuck no.” I shiver with the memory of them all, especially Melissa. “But I met someone. And I’m going to marry her … if I can find her.” I slump back in the seat, frowning.
“Sorry, Highness, you’re going to have to explain.”
I sigh. “I found a girl, fell in love almost instantly, though I didn’t realize at first that’s what I was feeling. I think she feels the same way because when I went to find her, she was gone; she came here to St. Albans to find me.” I give Travers more details, but still the short version of what happened, leaving out the details about our encounter in the strip club and the thong she left for me.
Travers looks stunned. Adjusting his glasses, he leans back against the seat as we get closer to the bridge leading to the palace. “I have to say, Highness, I’m impressed. I honestly didn’t know if this day would ever come.”
I chuckle. “Neither did I, Travers. Neither did I. But she’s something special. Just wait until you meet her.”
“She must be to have tamed someone like you.” Travers is nothing if not honest. “So, how do you plan on finding her?”
I scratch at my jaw. “That's the problem, isn’t it? She’s somewhere out here in the kingdom,” I spread my arms wide, “but I haven’t the faintest clue where to start looking.”
Travers goes silent for a long while, not speaking again until we climb from the limo at the palace. “Are you going to tell your father?”
I grimace. “I suppose he would love to hear it.”
Travers makes a sound in his throat that sounds like he’s not so sure. “He is highly disappointed that you haven’t chosen someone from the Court of St. Albans.”
I snort. “Not going to happen. You should know that.”
“I know that, but convincing him that you should be allowed to marry someone outside the Court, from another country, no less, might be a problem.”
Shaking my head, I give him a hard look. “I’m not wavering on this. He wants me to marry and rule the kingdom? Done. But it’s on my terms. And if I’m going to marry, it’s going to be Ella.”
I almost want to laugh at the words coming out of my mouth. A week ago, I definitely would've laughed in the face of anyone who suggested I’d ever say that. But Ella… I finger that thong again, so eager to see her again that I’m ready to hop on my motorcycle and start looking right now.
Travers nods. “If a woman has affected you like this, she has to be the one. I’ll speak to your father on your behalf.”
“That’s great, Travers, but first I need to find her.”
“About that,” he says. “I was thinking on the ride over, and I may have a solution. What if we have a ball?”
I squint at him in confusion. “A ball?”
“Yes,” he says, growing more excited. “A Royal Ball, where every eligible maiden in the kingdom attends. From all stations, high and low. We get the word out, make sure your Ella has plenty of chances to hear about it. Then on the night of the ball, you will greet them one by one. If your lady is there, you’ll know.”
Yes. It’s perfect. I’ll know her instantly. There’s no way I could ever forget that face, those eyes.
“Travers, you’re a genius. That’s a fabulous idea.” I grin, getting excited, feeling more hopeful than I have so far. I know I’ll find her now.
“Yes,” I say, “let’s do it. Let’s have a ball!”
Ella
The flurry of activity going on in my hotel is mimicked everywhere across the kingdom. Everywhere I go, all anyone is talking about is the Royal Ball.
My first couple of days in St. Albans amounts to a bunch of frustration and worry. I think I might never find Derek. Then suddenly, announcements are trending everywhere. Every social media site posts of nothing else. The Crown Prince of St. Albans has returned and is hosting a Royal Ball to choose a wife. Every single lady in the kingdom is invited.
It’s unheard of, everyone says. Unprecedented. And completely shocking that the kingdom’s playboy prince is settling down to marry.
At first, I don’t know what to think. Have I been wrong all this time about Derek? Or does this mean something more? Is this his way of seeking me out in St. Albans? I have to hope so.
Walking down the streets, I see all kinds of young ladies, what seems to be all of them in the entire kingdom, preparing for the ball. Salons are full of girls getting their hair done and buying push-up bras in hopes of their assets grabbing the prince’s attention. That one makes me laugh. I already have exactly what Derek is looking for. He showed me just how much he loves my tits, and I certainly don’t need a push-up bra to get his attention on them.
There are even waxing parties going on, every girl certain they’ll be the one he picks, wanting to be bare and smooth for when they get to fuck the prince. Sorry, ladies, I want to shout, the only one getting a piece of him will be me!
The day of the ball, I take a break from my own preparations to grab a drink at the hotel bar. My blonde hair is already in fancy curls, makeup applied by an elite makeup artist. I wonder what Derek will think of my blonde hair. He’s only seen me in that brown wig.
How will he react when he sees me? I sip on my wine and imagine what it will be like. Will he sweep me up in his arms, carry me off into his palace and fuck me all night long? God, I hope so.
Will we dance the night away? Hopefully my kind of dancing, if so. The thought makes me need to press my thighs together to relieve the pressure building. I know one thing. There will be plenty of orgasms tonight.
Suddenly, I’m hit with a terrifying thought.
What if he doesn’t recognize me? Surely he will. He’s my soul mate. He has to know me on sight. Right?
A hundred different scenarios play out in my head as I drink my wine, lost in a perfect daydream of my happily ever after with my prince.
“You must be dreaming about the ball tonight.” A girl nudges me with her shoulder, pulling me from my fantasies, a smirk on her face.
She’s all dressed up, too. Her and hundreds of other girls around the kingdom.
“Yes, I am,” I say with a naughty grin, thinking this girl has no idea.
“Well,” she huffs. “Don’t even bother.”
I frown. What the fuck? “Why not?”
“I mean, of course everyone’s going to go. How could you miss a chance to go to a real royal ball at the palace? But let’s be real here.” She cocks an eyebrow at me, her gaze telling me just how much of a chance she thinks I have with Derek.
I want to stand up and set the bitch straight, but she just keeps right on talking.
“Here’s the thing. Yeah, they’re having a ball, and yeah, they say the prince is picking a woman to marry. But I don’t buy it. I think it’s all just publicity. They’ve already picked out who he’s going to marry way ahead of time.”
I think about that for a second. Could that be true?
“But really,” she keeps right on going, “in what universe would a royal family that’s had a dynasty for more than fifteen hundred years ever agree to let the prince marry a commoner like any of us?” She gestures around at her group of friends and I, apparently lumping me into the commoner category.
She wouldn’t be wrong, but I don’t like the way she’s so matter-of-fact about it. It reminds me of what the lady in the hotel lobby said about this old royal family that the kingdom prides themselves on. What if this girl here is right? What if they won’t allow Derek to marry outside of their elite society? Where does that leave me?
A knot forms in my stomach. I feel sick. It can’t be true … can it?
The girl grabs the wine the bartender just set down in front of her and clinks it against my glass with a laugh. “My advice? Go to the ball, have fun, eat and drink as much as possible. Enjoy an amazing night in the palace. But don’t get your hopes up.”
I slide from my barstool as she tips her glass back, unsteady as I make my way back to my room. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Was coming here crazy? Did Derek only come
back here because he has to get married to someone who has been waiting for him all along?
It feels all wrong, our night together burned into my memory so clearly that I don’t see how anything other than us ending up together could be possible. But I just don’t know.
I sink down onto the plush overstuffed chair in my room and tuck my knees up to my chest. My entire world has been thrown off kilter since Derek walked into my club. My earlier fantasies of how this night will play out are suddenly replaced with doubts and fears. Should I even go to the ball?
What if coming to St. Albans was one huge mistake?
Derek
I shift from foot to foot, already tired from receiving the endless line of guests arriving at the ball. This is going to be one long night.
So far, I’ve seen no sign of Ella. Not a trace. I’ve searched the face of every brown-haired girl with big tits. And nothing. My heart can’t take it if she doesn’t show up.
Another brunette steps forward in a tight evening gown that dips way, way low, revealing a massive expanse of flesh, her tits so huge they look like pumpkins. I frown. I mean, I love tits—a whole fucking lot—love to lick them, suck them, shove my dick in between them, cum on them—but fucking hell. Those are a bit much.
She comes up to me and all I can think about is Ella, wondering when she’ll arrive. I go up on my toes, trying to peer over the heads of the women lined up before me, but this chick gets right in my line of sight, draping herself all over me, whispering in my ear all the obscene things she’d like to do to me.
All I can do is push her away in disgust. That goes to show what Ella has done to me. I only want her. I’m like a whole new man.
“Next,” I grumble to Travers, who sighs and gestures for her to move along. I ignore the whine and pout she gives me.
“Your Highness,” Travers murmurs, leaning in close, “you must pick someone. There are plenty of lovely ladies here.”
I give him a death glare. “She has to be here, Travers. I’m not going to pick just anyone. It has to be her.”
“Look, I know you think you’re in love with this woman, but your father only agreed to this if you choose someone tonight. No more games after this. His patience is wearing thin.”
His patience? I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my own skin I’m so anxious for Ella to show up.
“Travers,” I grit out, “she will be here. Have a little faith.” I say it as much to boost my own confidence as his. Because honestly, I’m starting to have my doubts. I figured she’d hear about the ball, know that I was doing it for her, and then be one of the first to appear. But this has been going on for hours already.
Maybe this idea was a long shot, the chances of her hearing about it and coming being too slim, what with her not being from St. Albans.
“All I’m saying, Your Highness, is that there are plenty of eligible ladies here to choose from. Like this one,” he says, gesturing to the next girl in line.
I look down and want to just turn and stalk out. It’s fucking Melissa.
“No,” I hiss at Travers. “Not this one. I’m in love with Ella, and she’s the one I’m going to marry.”
I don’t know if Melissa hears this or not. It’s hard to tell if that’s a scowl on her face because she’s pissed about what I said or if she has a permanent resting bitch face.
“Why, Derek,” she coos, pasting a fake smile on her face when she realizes I’m looking in her general direction. It makes me want to hurl. “I’m so happy you’ve returned. Finished sowing all your wild oats, have you?”
She trails a finger down my neck, causing me to shudder. It’s like having a brush with the Grim Reaper. Fuck. Someone needs to get her out of here. I just stare at her blankly.
“I’m so glad,” she continues, her voice so saccharine it makes my stomach seize. “I knew one day you’d get it all out of your system and realize that we belong together. Now we can get started with our life together.”
I scoff in disbelief. She’s fucking unbelievable. A real piece of work. “How many ways do I have to say I’m not interested, Melissa, before you get the hint? How dense are you?”
Her eyebrows draw together and a hint of the evil bitch inside surfaces for half a second before she schools her expression into what she must think passes as pleasant. A fake laugh trills from her throat, but it sounds like a death gong to me. “You’re so silly, Derek. Always making jokes.”
“Not joking. Like, at all.” I sigh, turning to Travers. “Get rid of her. I need a drink.”
“But, Highness,” he stammers, “there are more ladies waiting.”
“Let them wait,” I say, already headed away. But I turn back and point at Melissa. “Make sure she’s gone by the time I get back.”
She turns that death glare on me again, all pretense of being semi-human falling away. “You’ll regret this, Derek. Make no mistake.”
I spin on my heel, tossing over my shoulder as I walk away, “The only mistake was you, Melissa.”
I make my way to the bar and the waiting glasses of Cristal, then find a huge column to hide behind for a minute. I need some breathing room.
Downing the champagne in one gulp, I rake my hands through my hair. “Fuck.”
I don’t even know what to think now. It looks like Ella might not show after all. I didn’t want to admit it, but I can only hold out hope for so long. Maybe I need to ask the cops to get in on this and start searching the kingdom for her or something. I’m that desperate.
I have to find her. That’s all I know. I need her.
Dropping my chin to my chest with a sigh, I slump against the column and cross my arms over my chest, my heart heavy.
Suddenly, I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up, an awareness that I’m not alone sweeping over me. A hand rests on my shoulder as someone leans in, soft breath tickling me as a sweet voice whispers in my ear.
“You’re just standing there with your arms crossed, looking awfully glum, Your Highness. Maybe we should break your arms. You’d make a very handsome Venus de Milo.”
Ella
Okay, I’m not a millionaire VIP stripper because I curl up in a ball and give up on my dreams! Even if shit doesn’t work out for me, I have to keep going strong … and I have to do it dolled up, of course.
After I hit my funk, I knew some salon therapy and beautification were the best courses of action.
So I spent all day in the salon making sure my hair was perfect. I had the stylist create a cascade updo. I had my nails sculpted just the way they were the night my life changed forever, sprinkled with silver dust to add that special shimmer to them.
My dress is a midnight blue chiffon mermaid cut ball gown that I brought with me from New York made by my favorite designer Valentino. I get warm and fuzzy inside remembering the Valentino slacks that Derek wore the night he came … I came … and he stole my heart.
The back of my perfect dress plunges low, so I made sure to have my body dusted with a soft gold shimmer body powder.
My necklace is a dainty little number from Cartier, a diamond on a thin platinum chain. It's so thin it gives the illusion that the diamond is suspended in thin air. My shoes are a special edition Givenchy pair of ankle strap peep toe heels.
I ordered a rental car, rather than hiring out a driver. I wanted the distraction of focusing on driving, and since I’m a Manhattan girl, that was a lot of focus required. My ankles and insteps are more equipped to handle transportation because I walk everywhere in my city. But you can’t exactly just walk up to a palace.
The castle estate of the crowned Prince of St. Albans sprawls across 10 acres of lush green lawns as far as the eye can see.
The marble-paved driveway leads to where the valets stand in their tuxedos sharply pressed, black dress shoes perfectly shined.
Here we go! My stomach is doing cartwheels. I don’t know if I’m scared, excited … both. I’m both right now!
As I draw closer to the valet, my heart starts to skip beats
, and the butterflies in my stomach threaten to steal my voice. I’m driving myself, so the valet approaches me in the driver’s seat.
The door to the rental car opens, and a courteous gentleman sticks his hand out for mine. “Ma’am,” the valet greets me.
He escorts me to the bottom of the staircase, where I hand my keys to him, and he bids me farewell.
“Thank you,” I say with a polite smile. I have to gather my nerves just like I summoned my voice there.
My nerves are taking over. I should leave! I think to myself in fear. But, no, I shake it out of my head.
I have come so far to find my perfect guy, and he could be right on the other side of these massive cherry wood doors.
As I climb the massive stairs the doors slowly open, and a well-dressed butler introduces himself as Travers, personal secretary to the prince. He welcomes us all to the royal estate before ushering all of us into a foyer, an enormous chandelier hangs over the top of a spiral staircase that is lined with waiters and waitresses holding gold platters that hold sparkling glasses containing red and white wine as well as flutes of bubbly champagne.
We follow the spiral staircase up until it stops in front of a pair of etched glass doors, and from inside the doors are pulled open to present us with a massive ballroom with gorgeous hanging chandeliers. I counted six strategically placed through the ballroom. Soft music fills the room as we make our way through the entryway onto the exquisitely polished floor.
At the top of the room, I can see a high-backed throne. As I continue to scan the ballroom with my eyes, I spot a balcony that wraps around one side of the room. I wonder if this is where Derek will watch, scanning the crowd before he makes himself known. I imagine he’ll look over the room and make a strategic decision about where to go, and that’s a good possible vantage point.
I take in the beauty of this room and the many women who fill it. I can feel them staring at me — the girl that no one knows. I slowly move through the sea of women making my way to the bar that I spotted in a back corner. I empty my champagne flute in a moment, and then trade it for another. Just as I'm starting to feel my anxiety start to wane, huge brass bugle horns sound off. It sets me on edge, jarring as the sound was before I remember this is a good thing. Those horns are for my man.
