Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Kaitlyn Kevette

  "Oh no, sweetheart. I'm quite fine just standing here."

  "Mrs. Bradford. Beverly. You're older than my mother. And you want me to sit while you keep standing? No way."

  She pulled on the governess's hand and made her sit in the chair next to hers.

  "There's something I want to ask you," the princess said in a mock whisper.

  "Yes, honey," replied the old woman, sitting on the edge of the chair, as if she were doing something wrong - as if she weren't worthy.

  "Bev, how do you manage when there's too much work to be done?"

  The governess thought for a moment.

  "I do what's important first."

  "And if there are two things that are equally important?"

  "Even if both are equally important," replied the gentle woman.

  "You can do only one at a time."

  "So?"

  "So you do any one, usually the more important of the two."

  "But…" Addie stopped.

  "Yes, I know, my child," whispered Mrs. Bradford.

  "If both are equally important, check which one is needed first."

  That made sense to Addie.

  "Okay, thank you, friend."

  The old lady rose and went about her errands, leaving Addie to solve her dilemma. Now she knew what to do. She would focus on her poetry recital first; she would worry about the visit to Prince Kenrick's chambers later.

  She had an early dinner, asked Mrs. Bradford to retire, and went to her study. It was a large room lined with bookshelves, with an anteroom dedicated to working. There was a priceless vintage work desk and a few chairs. Her governess had informed her that this part of the chambers was never used much. She liked the study for its quiet – it helped her concentrate.

  Addie brought her MacBook Air, iPad, iPod, and a writing pad with a few pens – and placed them all on the desk. Out of habit, she arranged them neatly, with the open laptop and writing pad next to her. Then she set out to work.

  This was Addie's typical way of working. While her focus would be on writing, she would reference stuff off her laptop. She would write for the better part of an hour, then she would take a short break.

  She would listen to something on her iPod during that time – mostly classical – and maybe play a game or two on the iPad – mostly word games. The break would last five or ten minutes, and then she would get back to her writing. By then, her fresh mind was ready to churn out more prose.

  And there was a lot to do for Addie.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "Kenrick."

  Kenrick was lost. Pat had been calling him, but the prince was somewhere else.

  "Kenrick?"

  At last he turned his head and considered Pat without answering. Pat looked at his friend for a long time… their eyes locked and stayed that way for minutes.

  "Kenrick," Pat said at last, hesitating.

  "I'm thinking of leaving."

  He expected an earthquake. Kenrick never liked him to leave, no matter how many days he had stayed over.

  As a matter of fact, Pat did not enjoy his stay with Kenrick this time. It was not often that he stayed with him in the manor. Mostly it was in seven star hotels in different parts of the world. This was perhaps only the second time that they were together on royal property (the first time was when they were still in their teens).

  More than anything, he could not stand Kenrick's boorish behavior. The prince was always aggressive, always wearing his royalty on his shoulder, but right now Pat thought he was going overboard. This was, after all, the modern age, and democracy was what prevailed the world over; royalty was a relic of the past. That it was still prevalent in a handful of countries was itself a wonder, but even there it merely coexisted with elected governments. Yes, the royalty had power, but its wings were severely clipped – a reality that seemed to have been lost on Prince Kenrick.

  Now, as Pat was telling him of his travel plans, Kenrick just looked away. Pat realized that something was amiss. In fact, Kenrick had not been his real self ever since they returned from that disastrous meeting with Princess Adelaide. He knew his friend too well to imagine that something else was the matter.

  It was more than clear that the Princess had a role in this transformation. The normally boisterous Kenrick was now withdrawn into his shell. Gone were his arrogance and highhanded behavior; in its place was a meekness and diffidence that refused to go with the personality of Prince Kenrick Royce.

  "I'll take the morning flight tomorrow," announced Pat, expecting to elicit some response.

  Kenrick maintained his silence. And that worried Pat. Was his friend, sole heir to the kingdom's throne, descending into a massive pit? If yes, it needed to be curbed right now, and as the prince's friend, Pat felt responsible.

  He got up and sat next to Kenrick.

  "Hey," he said, making his tone more jovial than usual.

  "Is all well with you?"

  He put his hand on Kenrick's shoulder. The latter just pushed his hand, got up from his chair and walked towards the large window.

  "Come on now," said Pat, following him.

  "Tell me what it is. Surely you can share it – whatever it is – with your old mate!"

  It made for a great picture. Kenrick, with his incredibly amazing features, was standing by the intricate Victorian style window, the light from outside highlighting his chiseled face.

  No wonder he could get any woman he wanted, thought Pat.

  Suddenly, he realized the reason for this melancholia. Was it a woman Kenrick could possibly never get?

  "I know why you're upset," tried Pat, in spite of his better judgment.

  He knew that perhaps this was an inappropriate thing to say, but he said it anyway.

  "Is it Princess Adelaide?"

  Kenrick turned to glare at his friend.

  "Of course it's Princess Adelaide!" barked Kenrick.

  "What else did you think it was, you bastard?!"

  In a flash the real Kenrick surfaced, and at once Pat was regretting bringing up the name of the princess.

  "It's all right, Kenrick," Pat persisted, trying to pacify him.

  "With some women, it just takes a little time. She'll come around… sooner or later."

  "You wally!" Kenrick snarled, all of his pent-up feelings now escaping him.

  "Don't you think I know that! I know that better than you, you bastard! You're teaching me, you prat, you're teaching Prince Kenrick Royce?"

  "Kenrick. Kenrick. Hold on, calm down! There's nothing the matter. Why are you yelling?!"

  "Nothing the matter? There's nothing the matter? There's this bitch disrespecting me; me – the mighty Prince Kenrick, sole heir to the throne of this great kingdom – and you say there's 'nothing the matter'?"

  "Kenrick, please understand. She's a commoner. She's used to a certain freedom. She must hate royalty. Give her time!"

  "Time? You say time, you bastard??" Kenrick was spitting fire.

  "My cock is hard as a ramrod right now. And you want me to give her time!"

  "But Kenrick! She's your stepsister!"

  "So what do you want me to do? Forget about fucking her?"

  "No, but at least speak about her in more civil terms!"

  "Why civil – she's not my sister, is she? If my old man is horny and gets a cunt for himself, and with it comes a smaller cunt for free–"

  Here he broke down and laughed uproariously.

  "What do you expect me to do, my dear Pat?"

  Pat was grateful for this sudden defusing of tension. Whatever it was, the way he steered the conversation, it deflated Kenrick's anger. He was even laughing now!

  This was the best time to tell him...

  "Kenrick, I told you I'm leaving on the morning flight."

  "You're going, right, you're going," said Kenrick through his guffaws. The laughter had not subsided yet.

  "Okay, then go! Leave me like that and scoot, you bastard, like a bandicoot!"

  "Why Kenrick, are you in love
with your stepsister?" mused Pat.

  "Love? Did you say love?" Kenrick laughed again, the laughter of a cynic.

  "I don't even know what that means. Love – that fancy four-letter word that poets coined when all they wanted was a right royal fuck. Love – that fantastic pseudo feeling which can make women swoon and bare their bosom. Love – that beautiful creation with which men entrapped stubborn ladies over the centuries. Love? Not for me, my dear friend; give me lust any day or night, for me and my tingling loins… Lust, lust, lust is what I need – lust is what runs the world."

  Pat was overwhelmed at this soliloquy – it was worthy of a Hamlet or Macbeth.

  "Kenrick, what an eloquent orator you are!" Pat said sincerely.

  "Is that what you use to 'entrap stubborn ladies' with?"

  The prince laughed.

  "My dear Pat," he said.

  "My tongue is just one of the many organs I employ to fulfill my grand pursuits."

  "I suggest," said Pat.

  "You employ another organ – the one inside your head – to figure out if this thing between you and the princess is love or lust. Because Kenrick, I'm yet to come across someone who's lust-lorn or lust-sick."

  "Oh cut it out, Pat!" snapped Kenrick.

  "I just want that bitch from behind. And then from the front. And then in her mouth. And then everywhere. I want her on top of me, I want me on top of her. I want her, I want her, I want her. Period."

  "Okay, Prince Kenrick," stated Pat, resigned.

  "I leave you to your machinations and manipulations... Seriously, I need to get going, Kenrick."

  "Agreed," replied the prince.

  "You carry on. And I'll see if I can lasso this dame here."

  Chapter Seventeen

  "I like this one too," Cate was saying to Addie, as they sat in their favorite corner in the café.

  She had just read the eighth poem penned by Addie – and they were trying to choose one for the big Annual Day.

  "But Catie," laughed Adelaide.

  "You like all eight! Now what to do?"

  Cate chuckled.

  "Yeah, but seriously," said Addie to Cate.

  "We need to choose."

  "Can you not read out more than one?" Cate asked.

  "I don't think they allow that," replied Addie.

  "After all, there are others out there, too, wanting to showcase their talent."

  "In that case, my dear poetess, I leave that tough decision to you."

  "Some mate you are," teased Addie.

  "What! I can't take the pressure. What you should do is, after supper today, spend some time with each of your eight masterpieces. Go with your gut. Eliminate the ones you think fall short. Then you'll arrive at the right one."

  "Thank you Catie," responded Addie.

  "That advice is most helpful."

  Cate was not sure if Addie really meant it, or if it was tongue firmly in cheek. Eventually, however, that was what Addie had to do. She had written six poems the previous night, and had taken two from an earlier collection. She'd chosen these eight for what she thought was relevant to students like herself, to the youth of the day, and to society in general.

  Her poems were not about painting a rosy picture about life; she was not a romantic. Addie had seen life in the rough, so she would never sugarcoat reality. Her words portrayed the truth, the way it was – nothing more, nothing less.

  Addie believed that poetry had to emanate from personal experience. And when it did, the feelings were genuine and the expression rang true.

  Her early poems reflected her life as a child, the world as seen through the eyes of a ten-year-old. All the innocence of that little universe was captured faithfully in her words.

  Her childhood was not particularly tough. It was ordinary, minus any frills, the kind of life her mother's meager income could afford. But how was it that a mere child could understand the vagaries of the world, the problems that existed, and the societal discriminations? Her tiny heart yearned for things easily accessible to the rich. And for her father.

  These were the outpourings of a little girl. And they flowed straight from her aching heart – a streak that never changed through her growing years. That was also why her poetry touched a chord.

  As she grew into her tweens and teens, her poetry matured. It now started to mirror teen angst; not just hers alone, but that of her entire generation. She would send her poems to youth magazines, and later to poetry websites. Then of course she started her own blog to chronicle her writing, which extended beyond poetry. And the blog, It All Addies Up, became one of the most popular young adult blogs as per Alexa's analytics and ratings.

  Now, as she was about to graduate, her life had taken an unexpected turn. And that found a resounding echo in her poetry. Here was a girl next door who became, overnight, a princess. Stuff straight out of fairy tales. Stuff that would have thrilled many a commoner, but not Addie.

  Because Addie was an uncommon commoner.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It'd been two days since Pat had gone. And it'd been two days since Kenrick had stepped out of his chambers. It was perhaps the first time in his adult life that he stayed put indoors for such a long duration.

  Was he truly in love? The man who had famously derided the most noble of emotions – was he now going to succumb to the selfsame emotion?

  That was ridiculous. Women were no strangers to him; worse, he could have virtually any female he set his eyes on. And he preyed on them indiscriminately, to the point of just using them – their bodies, to be more precise – and throwing them away as if they were dead to him. Rightly enough, looked at it one way, they were indeed dead bodies to him, of no more use and hence, discarded at the earliest.

  For the prince and the sole heir apparent to the throne, it was indeed a problem of plenty. From his position of power, the women just multiplied. The more he had, the more they appeared, as if falling from the sky.

  The only problem with this kind of abundance was Kenrick never valued its availability. He started taking things for granted. He felt as if the female race was made only to satiate his desires, his animal cravings. He felt like an animal himself.

  When Kenrick saw a woman, he never saw a human being. He only saw an outlet for his wild side. For him, a female was nothing more than a receptacle for his semen. And some rigorous, beastly sporting action till he reached there.

  Until he saw Princess Adelaide.

  Here was a girl who, for the first time in his life, was inaccessible for him. Who was this young woman, where did she come from, why was she wreaking havoc in his easygoing life? What was so special about her that, in spite of the sudden upgrade in her social status, she refused to play ball with him?

  Kenrick knew that this kind of thing transpired perhaps once in a century – a commoner entering the royal family. And when it happened, it was a national event. It was all over the media and now the Internet. It was the celebration of a lifetime for those who were fortunate enough to shake off their lowly social status and climb to the highest stratum in society possible.

  When history repeated this time, everything was predictable. It had captured the public imagination as always, it was splashed everywhere, it became the toast of the nation. With one notable exception.

  The commoner that became princess was not suitably impressed.

  It was a complete mystery to Kenrick. What ordinary mortal would not be thrilled by such an unexpected turn of events? Who would not love to live like the royalty? What kind of a person would want to stay back in the life of drudgery that middle class was known for?

  That was it. This girl, Adelaide something, who turned into Princess Adelaide Royce, was a mystery. It seemed, Kenrick was convinced, that she was no ordinary mortal.

  Could she be an angel? Could she be of superior intelligence to loathe royalty so much? Could she be so special that not even the most eligible bachelor in the country did not appeal to her?

  The more he thought about Princ
ess Adelaide, the more he was attracted to her. It was more than the craving for the forbidden fruit, it was a necessity for his fast beating heart. It was a no-exit situation for Kenrick; there was no option for him but to get her, by fair means or foul.

  But, given their respective positions – she was also princess in her own right, now holding almost an equal rank as him – any foul method was likely to kick off a scandal. Which meant there was just one option open to him: He had to win her over.