Chapter 3: 3


    It took the taxi thirty minutes once it left the city limits to reach the destination. The taxi pulled in front of


    a massive three-story mansion. It looked like a small pce. The exterior was tanned stone walls with


    tall windows with warm lighting from inside. There were balconies on both the second and third


    floors. The front door was frosted ss withrge y nters on either side filled with beautiful


    flowers.


    Kinsley signed the slip that billed the taxi to LA’s Angels, which would be passed on to the client. She


    got out and watched the taxi drive away. Kinsley took a deep breath and ran her hands over her belly-


    ttening out any wrinkles she might have gotten on the drive over. She pulled on the skirt of her


    powder blue cocktail dress. She wore it often when she went clubbing. It had a short skirt and a low


    bust line. Every time she wore it, she got countless free drinks. She hoped the Prince liked it.


    Walking up to the door, Kinsley ran the doorbell and waited. She was feeling a little anxious. She really


    hoped she could do this. She was hoping the Prince was not some ugly out-of-shape forty-something


    kind of guy. She did not know that there were still monarchies in this world. The only royal family she


    knew of was the one in Ennd, and she was praying this Prince was nothing like Prince Charles.


    The door opened, and arge man with short blond hair and a ck suit looked her over. His


    expression was unfriendly, and she wondered if they spoke English. “LA’s Angels sent me,” she said.


    The man stepped aside and let her in.


    As he closed the door, she heard him speak to someone telling them the Prince’s entertainment had


    arrived. That was when she noticed he had a very small earpiece in his right ear. “I have to search


    you,” the man said. “Make sure you are not concealing a weapon.”


    Kinsley gave him an odd look. Her dress was skin-tight, and her handbag was only big enough to hold


    a condom, her ID, and her keys; just where did he think she was hiding a weapon? Kinsley held her


    arms up and let the man pat her down and check her handbag. He then asked her to follow him.


    The man led Kinsley into arge room adjacent to the spacious foyer. The room was very beautiful with


    white walls and wood trim with tall Tudor-style windows. The floor was hardwood, and there was a


    firece. Above the firece was a mirror with small wall-mountedps on either side. There was a


    white rug on the floor and three contemporary white couches set up with the firece as the room’s


    focal point. There was a ss coffee table with candles and a few books on it. Around the couch ends


    were bi-level brass end tables. There was a wooden chest with sliding brass doors on the front against


    one wall behind the centred couch with ss sks filled with dark liquors. There was a painting of the


    ocean on the wall above it. The ceiling was white like the walls with gilded crown moulding and a


    chandelier.


    This ce was very extravagant — just the kind of ce one would expect royalty to lie in. Kinsley


    made to sit down, but the moment her bottom touched the couch, another man walked in. He was not


    dressed in a suit, but his clothes were clearly expensive. He was a tall fit man with short blond hair and


    dark eyes. He looked like he was in his thirties maybe, and she wondered if this was the man she had


    come to see. She stood up as the man came over. “You, the girl the service sent over?” He asked.


    “Yes, are you the Prince?” She asked.


    He chuckled. “No. I work for his majesty.”


    “What do you do?”


    “Anything he asks,” he said. “My name is Octavius.”


    “Kinsley,” she introduced herself and then instantly rethought. Maybe she should have given a false


    name. Oh well, toote now. She’d just have to remember it next time.


    Octavius looked Kinsley over as if trying to judge whether or not he thought the Prince would like her.


    “Ok, follow me,” he said and walked out of the room.


    Kinsley followed Octavius out into the foyer and up a set of winding white marble stairs with a gilded


    railing. They made their way up to the second floor and then up another set of stairs to the third. Every


    hall was decked out with fine décor and beautiful paintings. When they reached the third floor, they


    walked down the hall. To a closed door. “You will address the Prince as Your Majesty,” he instructed as


    he knocked on the door. “Just wait here a moment,” he then went inside.


    Kinsley could hear muffled voices, and then Octavius rejoined her in the hall. “You may go in now,” he


    said, stepping aside to let her pass.


    N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Nervous, she took a calming breath and stepped into the room. Once she cleared the door, Octavius


    pulled the door closed to give them privacy. The room wasrge and dark, lit only by the soft flickering


    lighting from the firece. There was arge king-sized bed, and by the firece were two plush


    light grey armchairs and a brass end table with a ss of brown liquor and an ashtray.


    Rxed in the chair next to it was a man she could only assume was the Prince. He was a tall, broad


    man. His long powerful legs stretched out casually before him. His strong muscled body was dressed in


    expensive tanned cks and a dark purple button-up dress shirt that looked like it was made out of a


    material that cost more than her rent. Oddly enough though he was barefoot, he lounged in his chair


    like a man who was used to power and privilege and was bored with both. In his hand, a half-smoked


    cigar. His shirt was left open, and she could see the well-defined muscles of his t-toned abs.


    Her gaze travelled up that tight-toned body to the face of the man lounging in the chair watching her.


    He was very tall, even in his rxed seated position. His dark chestnut hair was just long enough to


    hang in his eyes… amazing smouldering smoky grey eyes that were taking her in with interest. His jaw


    was strong and shadowed with short day-old stubble. His nose was straight, and his lips were full.


    This man was in shambles, looking like he was a wreck and did not care. But even in this shabby state


    of unkempt, the man was handsome. He was young, much younger than she was expecting. If she had


    to guess, she would not think he was much older than her.


    Kinsley stood there, watching him smoke his cigar and look her over. She did not know what he was


    waiting for. How did this work?