Natalie Vs. Prince

“That’s what Natalie and I have been doing for the past few weeks,” I try to tell her, but the way she looks at me makes it pretty fucking clear that she doesn’t give a fuck about what I’m going to say. “You know, I’m just wondering why you haven’t mentioned the latest polls; the good press I’ve been getting from the media is making the Constitutionalists lose a lot of support in the Senate. They’ll never manage to push this referendum bullshit through.”

“You don’t know that, Connor,” she tells me, completely ignoring me. I don’t know what bug crawled up her ass, but Nadia has been insufferable since we hired Gage Price’s services. “I think that whatever you’re doing with that girl Natalie, it isn’t working. We need something else, and we need to do it fast.” That girl Natalie... The way the words come out of her mouth make me see red.

“Oh, is that so? You think you’d do better?”

“I know I’d do better, Connor. I used to work for a fashion magazine; we don’t need any help cleaning up your image. You know how your brother feels about letting outsiders work on family matters.”

“Don’t presume to tell me what my brother feels,” I tell her, my lips a serious straight line. “I don’t like where this conversation is going. I really don’t, Nadia. So choose your words carefully.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Connor. But as Royal Secretary I have to act on your family's best interests. And this is not your call to take,” she starts to say, an explicit threat in every single word of hers. I can’t believe she’s trying to fucking outmaneuver me. What’s her fucking endgame? “It’s very simple, Connor. Just fire Gage Price.”

“It’s not Gage Price you want me to fire, is it? It’s Natalie,” I tell her, grinding my teeth together as I get up from my seat. Her two assistants seem to shrink in their seats, looking at each other and then back to me.

“I’m just taking care of your interests, Connor,” she continues, insisting on that fucking bullshit. What the fuck is her problem?

“The fuck you are,” I hiss. “I don’t know whose interests you’re looking out for, but they sure as fuck aren’t mine.”

“See? You’re losing your temper. Do you think you’ve changed? You haven't. You’re just one step away from bringing down the whole Royal Family. So I’m going to make this very simple for you: you either fire Gage Price or --”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll go back to your brother, tell him that whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and you know that he’ll have no choice but to disown you. He’ll take your title and all the Royal Family ever gave to you. You’ll be out on the street. You’ll have nothing, and you’ll be nothing.”

“Fucking hell… You’re fucking evil, Nadia,”

“Maybe. But all this boils down to one thing: Gage Price is out, one way or another. You either fire them, or your head will roll.” Fuck this shit. Does she think I’m going to take this lying down? No way in fucking hell I’m going to let Nadia walk all over Natalie and I.

I walk around the conference table and, leaning into Nadia, I whisper at her. “You don’t want to pick a fucking battle with me, Nadia. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but if you come against me, my family, or Natalie… I’m going to bury you. I fucking swear it. Leave us the fuck alone.” I pause for a second, looking into her eyes, and then continue. “Also, Gage Prince stays, and so does Natalie. It’s my call, and it’s final.”

I smile at her, and adjust the knot in my dark silk tie, then turn on my heels and storm off of the conference room. Who the fuck does she think she is? I don’t care if she’s the St. Alban’s Royal Secretary or the President of the United States; no one threatens me like that. Fuck, you know what I need right now? I need to see Natalie. I need to hold her in my arms, my lips pressed on hers…

That’s what I fucking need.

15

Natalie

"Is it just me, or does this Andouille sausage look like a you-know-what?" Christine asks, laughing.

"Girl, get your mind out of the gutter," I joke. "I think you just need a good booty call."

"Not all guys are made alike," she says. "We can't all be so lucky and have a hot Prince in our lives."

"You know I didn't choose that."

A waiter approaches our table and refills our water glasses. My lemon wedge jostles with the ice cubes in my glass and I watch as the pulp from the citrus clouds the water. I once heard that you should never put the lemon wedge from a restaurant in your glass because apparently it harbors some of the most germs.

But whatevs. I like lemon water, so I risk it.

"You look happy," Christine says. "A lot happier than before. You have a glow about you or something, girl."

I have to admit that she's right. But she doesn't look bad herself. The whole night I've been secretly admiring the new lipstick she's been wearing—an unapologetic pink that is bold and more magenta than pastel. It's bold and badass and I make a mental note to find a shade just like that.

"It's true; I feel like a whole new person," I reply with a smile. "I've been seeing Connor … a lot lately."

Christine takes a sip of her drink and chuckles.

"I figured that much," she says, smiling. "Does that mean you two are … serious?"