I picked up the phone and called down to the front desk, ordering one of everything on the breakfast menu, a pot of coffee, and a carafe of orange juice. I snuck past the bedroom into the other room where I kept my clothes and picked out something casual but upscale. Not that I owned anything other than upscale. Once dressed, I went into the bathroom and started a condensed version of my morning routine, wanting to look suave but not intimidating, especially since she would no doubt look ruffled when she woke. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable or self-conscious at all before I handed her the news.
Telling someone you are a prince was nerve-racking enough for the other person, not to mention dropping a marriage proposition on the table. I gelled my hair into the perfect, coifed masterpiece and brushed my teeth. Then I flashed myself a smile and headed for the front door, having heard the elevator ding outside.
One by one, the employees quietly rolled in carts of food, from strawberry tarts to crepes filled with all kinds of different butters. They set them out on the large dining table and placed place settings at two of the seats, assuming that I had another guest with me in the suite. I guess they were starting to get to know me here. Although I rarely had a woman actually sleep over, unless I was too drunk to shoo her out afterward.
I looked over the table, feeling satisfied with such an amazing arrangement. Surely, this was not normal for a girl like Adriana and would far surpass her normal breakfast of granola bars or boxed cereal. As I sat down at the table, I looked up to see her shuffling from the bedroom, the satin sheet wrapped around her amazing body. My cock immediately got so hard it was almost painful. I reached down and pressed down on it. Now was not the time.
“Good morning,” she said, yawning. “I am starving.”
“Excellent,” I said.
I poured her a glass of orange juice. She pulled out a chair to sit down. She wrapped the long sheet underneath herself.
“How did you sleep?” I asked.
“Oh my God,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Better than I ever have, I’m pretty sure in the history of my existence.”
I laughed and watched as she served herself crepes and fruit, adding sugar to her coffee as I poured it. There was a small part of me that really enjoyed this girl. Between her spunky personality and the way she fucked, I started to think that a year of servitude with her wouldn’t be that bad. I grabbed a croissant from the rack of pastries and nibbled at it, knowing I needed just to come out and tell her.
“So, now that you have enjoyed my company, slept well, and all that, I have something I would like to tell you,” I stated. She stopped chewing and looked up at me curiously. “So, as I said, I do come from an affluent family, but it is a bit more complicated than that. My name is Milos Dobromil, Prince of Silesia. Well, to be correct, soon to be King of Silesia.”
“What?” Her face was priceless, and she sat with her mouth slightly hanging open. “Wait, you’re a prince? Like royalty? Like His Highness?”
“Yes,” I said, chuckling and placing a napkin in my lap. “A real, bona fide royal prince.”
“Where is Silesia?” she asked.
“It’s a small country just a few hours plane ride from here
,” I responded. “It’s mostly countryside, and everyone lives in the Capital where the palace is.”
“The palace? Is that the place you got lost in the stables?”
“Oh, heavens no. That was at the manor house in the country, where we took a holiday.
She shrugged her shoulders like she was talking to herself. It was actually quite amusing. She shook her head and put her fork down, after finally swallowing her mouthful of crepe.
“My mistake,” she said, looking down at her coffee.
“Look, it’s really not that big of a deal,” I said, trying to calm her nerves.
“Not a big deal? I came home with a prince and fucked him in his royal bed, and now I’m sitting in his penthouse wrapped in a sheet.” She sounded slightly panicky.
“Adriana,” I said. “That isn’t why I’m telling you this. I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition,” she repeated, as she looked up at me with one eyebrow raised. “What kind of proposition, because I’m pretty sure we already covered sexual favors.”
“Not that kind of proposition,” I said, chuckling. “My father passed away just a few weeks ago. Before he passed, he told me that in order to inherit the throne and everything with it, I had to get married. If I do not, the royal line will dissolve, and the entire fortune of our kingdom will go to charity. Obviously, I am not currently attached to anyone, and I don’t plan on doing so. I want you to marry me, plain and simple. Marry me and live in the lap of luxury for one year, until I have my mother off my back and the crown on my head. Then, you are free to go, and I will pay you a hundred thousand pounds, as a thank you for your service to my kingdom.”
“Wait,” she said, shaking her head and wiping her mouth. “You want to bring me to your castle, make me a fake princess, have me fake like I love you for a year, and then pay me a severance and send me on my way?”
“Pretty much, yes,” I said, realizing her way of explaining was much less complicated. “Although, technically, you will be actual royalty. There’s nothing fake about that.”
“Would I get a partial payment up front?” she asked.
I could see she was thinking about something, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
“We can do that,” I replied. “We could do five thousand after the first month, and every month after, with a lump sum of the remainder paid at the end.”