Stealing Cinderella(10)
“They’re only five-minute slots.” He laughs. “Who gives a fuck? You might even get your cock wet if you play nice.”
“We have to talk to them.” I stare at him as though he doesn’t know me at all. “What the fuck am I supposed to say to a group of gold-digging socialites for two hours?”
“Climate change.” Calder smirks. “I don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll think of something. Regardless, it won’t matter. They’ll be too busy fawning all over you to speak much.”
“Not likely,” I growl.
“They won’t know who you are,” he argues. “Behind the mask, you’ll just be a prince. When they choose their line, they’ll have no idea who’s waiting for them.”
“I may as well start writing refund checks now.” I close my eyes and rest my head against the seat.
“Or maybe you could make an effort,” Calder nags, mimicking our father’s voice.
“Don’t remind me.”
“It’s either this or go back home to find another princess waiting at the palace.”
“Perhaps you could just carry the burden of producing all the heirs,” I reply. “Who knows, you may have a few running around already.”
“Ha, very funny,” he answers with a cagey sharpness to his voice. “But you won’t be laughing when Father springs a wedding on you.”
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
The pilot’s voice crackles over the speaker, announcing our descent into London, and my chest feels like a vise is squeezing it. I’m already counting down the hours until we can leave again.
Prince Aston greets us the moment we step off the plane. “Thorsen. Calder. Always a pleasure to see you.”
“The pleasure is all yours,” I answer testily.
“Ah, yes, I know you’d probably rather sit at home washing your royal hair,” he says with a laugh, “but it’s for a good cause. And if that isn’t motivation enough, there will be some hot women there. I vetted most of them myself.”
“We better make a pit stop at the service station,” I tell him. “Calder will need a bulk-sized box of condoms.”
“Not necessary.” Prince Aston pulls a handful of foil packets from his coat. “I came prepared.”
I tug at the collar of my dress shirt, itching to loosen my tie. “Aren’t we going back to the palace?”
“Palace schmalace,” he says. “I’m taking all my lads to the castle tonight. It’s ours for the evening, and I have a spread you won’t want to miss. Booze, poker, and tits galore.”
“Sounds like my kind of evening.” Calder slaps him on the back. “Let’s get this party started.”
The drive to the castle goes quicker than I’d hoped, and once I’m there, amongst all my royal peers, I find myself a secluded chair and a glass of whiskey. Calder makes the rounds, charming everyone as he always does. I spend the evening replying to emails and glaring at every woman who dares to come my way. There are an abundance of them, and God only knows where Prince Aston dug them up. If I had to guess, I’d say they were escorts, but who the fuck knows.
“Hey, you’re that prince.” A drunken brunette stumbles over to me. “The Norwegian one, right?”
I stare through her, hoping she’ll get the point, but she doesn’t.
“You know, everyone always says how horrible you are.” She offers me a sly smile. “But I bet they’re wrong.”
“They aren’t wrong,” I answer dryly.
She frowns, twirling her hair around her finger. “I could suck your dick if you want. I bet that would put a smile on your face.”
For a minute, I consider the offer, just to give me something to do. But when her eyes betray the wheels turning in her mind, it smells like another scandal waiting to happen. She wouldn’t be the first woman trying to be sneaky by recording me, or snapping a photo, or going to the media when it’s over. Selling their story about how I took advantage of them, broke their heart, mistreated them, or whatever wild tale they can spew to the press that day.
“Go find someone else to please.” I wave her away. “I’m not interested.”
In a flash, her face morphs from doe-eyed to spiteful, proving my point. “You are an asshole!”
“That’s right,” I call after her as she turns away. “Tell all your friends. Tell the tabloids too while you’re at it.”
After all, I have a reputation to protect.
4
Ella
“I’m here,” Charlotte whispers as she taps on my door. “Is the coast clear?”
Pivoting away from the mess on my bed, I use the heels of my hands to wipe away the evidence of my tears. But it’s too late.
“What’s wrong?” She pushes her way inside, rushing over to me.
“The dress.” I point at the scraps of what’s left lying on the bed. “I spent all week piecing it together. It was so beautiful, but then... Lavinia and Magnolia found it.”
“Oh, Ella.” Charlotte pulls me in for a hug. “I’m so sorry. They are wretched, evil women.”