by Mia Ford
Before my father, King Yasen, died, he told me that if I didn’t choose a bride and get married, he would dissolve the royal line and donate all of my inheritance, which was the whole of the royal fortune, to charity. The Parliament would then become the ruling force of the land, a group of men hell bent on seeing me poor and in the dirt. Let’s just say my antics over the last thirty-five years of life have not left them with a good taste in their mouths. My father was so intent on forcing me to settle down, that he was willing to kill a 700-year royal reign to see his kingdom end in prosperity. I mean, part of me, the sober part, understood that he was terrified of me squandering the royal fortune like my uncle had done, before my father took the throne from him. But that wasn’t my plan. You couldn’t really impress the chicks with no money in your pocket.
When my father passed away two weeks ago, I thought I was in the clear, but my mother was just two steps behind him, telling me she would make sure my father’s wishes were fulfilled, even if it was the last thing she did as queen. On the one hand, I did not want to settle down. That life was not for me. The responsibility of an entire kingdom on my shoulders and a wife and kids to deal with were not enticing in the least. On the other hand, there was no way I could keep up with the elite clubs and hot girls without a penny in my pocket. I was a good-looking guy, but damn if my pocket change wasn’t what kept the girls throwing themselves at me. But how the hell was I supposed to pull off both of these?
I poured another shot of whiskey and took it down hard, wincing at the burn in my chest. All this thought of marriage and my father was really starting to get to me. However, even cloaked in an extreme amount of alcohol, my brain started creating a solution to this little problem of mine. I glanced up at Brat, who was still staring at me with judgmental eyes. I waved away his attempts to woo the drink from my hand and turned toward the red glowing lights of the stage. I took a sip of my drink and sat back watching as Ms. Tutu danced off the stage with an arm full of euros. That must be a month’s worth of bills for that girl, I thought to myself, chuckling. I started to pick my drink back up when a golden goddess walked into the lights. Her long blonde hair bounced around her, and her body was curvy in all the right places. I leaned forward as the music started and watched as she strutted down the runway, just like a queen.
My mouth, normally curved up in a devilish smile, hung open as I watched this Golden Goddess. She made her way to the end of the stage, turning and shaking her ass for the crowd. The men went wild for this girl, but all I could think of was the plan I had just cooked up in my devious little mind. I slammed the full glass of whiskey on the table and turned to Brat.
“Get me some coffee,” I said, watching exasperation cross his face.
He stood and walked off to find a waitress. I sat and watched as this girl ruled with a golden body suit. Men fell to their knees in front of the stage and threw money at her. The fierce look on her face screamed control, and I instantly had to know more about this girl. She was gorgeous, and her blue eyes sliced through the red lights, piercing right into my chest. She glanced over at me as I sat watching, probably wondering if I was going to come tip her. Not yet. I really wanted to see what this girl was made of. Was she just a coked-out drama queen like the rest of these girls, or was she really as poised and regal as she seemed to be? If she was, then all I could think was: how the hell did she end up dancing at a strip club in Prague? Girls that held themselves like that were usually rich snobs, looking for their next husband, like Brat’s sister, Zlata, who thought I was oblivious to her attempts at gaining the crown by marrying me.
The thing about girls like Zlata was they were born with the same silver spoon as I was. They thought they were slick with their sweet smiles and cute jokes, but I knew a raging bitch was lurking just under the skin. One thing worse than getting married was marrying some controlling cunt who was going to nag me about everything in our lives. I could see my future now if I married Zlata. I would have all the riches in the world, but I would be locked down so tight I’d never see the inside of a club, or another woman, for the rest of my days. I would be reduced to a fancy placeholder in the throne room, waving at my staff and smiling during parades, secretly thinking about pushing my wife from the moving car.
I looked back up and stared at the girl on stage. She pulled her jumpsuit down, dancing along to her rock music and letting men stick euros down her cleavage. If she could con some drunk assholes out of money, using nothing more than an angry stare and her breasts, she could totally run a country.
Brat walked back to the table. I grabbed the coffee from him and attempted to sober myself up. I needed to think clearly, and the damn whiskey and shots were making it impossible. Maybe there was a benefit to a few moments of sobriety, like my mother kept trying to tell me. Either way, I had concocted the perfect deal in my head, and I could only hope this Golden Stripper, from God knows where, would be down for the ride.
I reached over and topped off my cup, taking another sip of the hot liquid, wishing the caffeine would hit my brain faster than the alcohol was. I leaned back and relaxed, realizing there was nothing I could do at that moment, except wait and watch. She would get some of my Euros real soon, but they came at a price.
As I sat there gazing upon this amazing creature, my father’s words played over and over in my head.
Marry or lose the Kingdom.
Chapter 3: Adriana
My hips moved with the beat of the music, and I lifted my arms high in the air, opening my eyes and staring off into the distance. Instantly, my gaze fell upon a man in the back section of VIP. As I danced, I stared him, and heat rose in my chest. His dark skin and dark eyes were haunting, and I immediately felt uncomfortable. I’d never felt anything for the men gawking from the shadows.
I kept the idea of being a queen in mind as I strutted across the stage, watching the adoring peasants at my feet, tossing money as tribute. Intimidation wasn’t really something that entered my mind when I thought of a queen, but, as I danced, he watched my every move, every flick and every shake. I hoped he would come up and tip me during my first set, but I ended up disappointed as he sat in the back behind the allure of the velvet ropes, just gazing at me.
When my song ended, I collected my money and my clothes and went back stage to change. I felt shaken from my normal stance of confidence, but I didn’t let it show on my face as Sveta passed by, hitting my elbow. Reg had decided on some weird hip hop dance montage for Sveta’s outfits tonight. She walked out on stage in tear-away pants and a ripped shirt that allowed just enough of her breasts to hang out to curl the boys’ toes. Seeing what she was forced to wear, I winced as I picked up the two-piece gold bikini and held it in front of me. There was literally enough cloth to cover my nipples and half of my vag. I shook my head, and I pulled the strings over me and tied them in a loose bow at the back.
Sveta’s second set wasn’t as long, and I could see the exhaustion on her face as she exited the stage. Several girls had quit over the last few months, tired of Reg’s bullshit, no doubt. That left Sveta and me to pick up the slack. At first, we were all about the extra money, telling Reg not to hire more girls. But now, as the nights wore on, we were dying for a break.
I took a deep breath and stood at the edge of the curtain, ready for my next song. As soon as the beat started pumping, I strutted out on the floor, trying to ignore the incredibly hot man staring at me from the back. But that proved impossible. As I swung around the pole on stage, I watched as he stood and walked through the ropes and up to the stage. He watched my every move like a hawk, not letting anything slide. I was used to rich assholes hunting me down on stage, but for some reason, this guy brought a different kind of feeling to the pit of my stomach.
My eyes shifted from him to the others, and he pulled a large roll of money from his pocket and started tossing it at my feet. I looked down as I moved my hips, and realized he was not tossing single Euros. He was tossing hundreds.
As the song wore on, my nerves l
it on fire, and I watched as the mysterious man unfolded the wad of hundreds and began tossing them two at a time. There was enough money at my feet to cross Europe twice. Heat bubbled in my belly, and I tried to push my strange attraction to the back of my mind. I stepped forward closer to him, giving him a good view of what he came to see. His mouth curled into a devilish smile, and he stepped back, tossing the bills from a distance. I couldn’t figure out what this guy wanted.
The intensity of his stare was so strong, I could barely lock my gaze with his. The small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth made me feel like the queen I had walked out here, pretending to be. It made me want to dance harder and longer, but just for him. Maybe the gold outfit wasn’t so bad after all. Although, I think I could have come out in a jumpsuit, and this guy would still be standing here. He didn’t watch me like he was devouring my body. He watched me like he was about to devour my soul, but in a really good way. I closed my eyes for a minute and felt the beat moving through me, knowing he was glued to the end of the stage. I needed to get my head straight. There shouldn’t be a single person in this place that made me lose my cool, not even Mr. VIP sexy lips.
When the song finished, I picked up all the bills and looked up at the man. He bowed his head and walked back toward the VIP, stopping and talking for a moment with Reg. I hope he wasn’t one of Reg’s boys, not that he had many friends with money like that, but they were always douche bags, trying to stick their fingers where they didn’t belong.
I ran backstage and dropped the hundreds on the table, stacking them quickly, knowing I had to get out on the floor. I could almost not believe how much cash I was holding in my hand. I stuffed it into the envelope and into my drawer for now. I had to turn it in to Reg later on tonight. The bright lights backstage and the darkness of club blinded me for a moment. I fixed the straps on my bodysuit, definitely not wearing the string bikini out on the floor. As I walked along winking at the men in the chair, Reg motioned for me to come over to him.
“You have a VIP request to join the party, have fun with His Majesty,” Reg said with a coy smile, before slapping me on the ass and pushing me toward the ropes.
I glared back at him. He laughed before walking forward and smiling at the bouncer. I slowly approached the table where the dark-haired man sat. My heart picked up in speed, and heat rose in my belly. He motioned for me to sit, smiling kindly at me in a way I wasn’t used to. Awkwardly, I shuffled to the side and sat down in the booth, crossing my legs and leaning forward, trying to remember he was waiting for my seductive side, not my clumsy, young girl side.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, motioning to the table.
There were several bottles of vodka and one bottle of whiskey lined up across the table. I made it a point to never drink alcohol with the customers, something Reg hated, but put up with. I shook my head. He pulled a mug from behind the ice bucket and poured me a cup of Turkish coffee. I felt slightly sheepish, but took the mug and sipped from it, happy to have something warm in the cold club air. I smiled awkwardly over my cup as he sat there staring at me. Was I supposed to give him a lap dance? I put the coffee down expecting that to be the next thing.
“What do you like to do for fun?” His dark eyes cut right through me.
“Oh,” I said, surprised by his question. “I like to travel, hike. Pretty much anything outdoors.”
“Traveling, I like that,” he said nodding his head in approval. “Where have you been?”
“I backpacked from Liverpool to here,” I replied. “But had to stop for financial reasons.”
“Your family, they don’t miss you?” His questions bordered on too personal, but I shifted in my seat and smiled sweetly.
“No, they have their own thing going on,” I replied, looking up at the clock. “You know, I really should go get ready for my next set.”
I put my hands on the table and stood up, looking down at my coffee. I guess I should thank him, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I smiled and turned to walk into the back.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, grabbing my wrist. “I have paid a thousand pounds to your club owner for your exclusive company for the evening.”
I could feel electricity move from his hand through my body, and I was taken back by how overwhelming the feeling was. I liked his hand on my wrist, and I liked his sexy dark features and the way he stared at me. I shook the feeling away, knowing that I absolutely could not have those feelings for a customer. His hand tightened on my wrist, so I yanked it away, pissed that Reg would think it was okay to sell my services off to some stranger.
“Despite what you might think goes on in a strip club,” I said cutting my eyes at him. “I do not, nor will I ever, sell sexual favors for money.”
I raised my hands to my hips and looked at him with attitude.
“No, no, no,” he said, laughing. “Please, sit back down. I have never in my life had to pay for sex, nor would I start now.”
I looked at him curiously, not understanding what it was that he wanted from me. I didn’t fully believe that he wasn’t expecting any kind of favor, but since he had paid for my company, I figured I should probably sit down. He was an interesting man, obviously rich, but he had a way about him that was sexy and mysterious. I was not excited to be having these feelings for a customer at the club, but they weren’t something I could shake. I watched as he whispered something into his friend’s ear, who was standing close to the table but allowing us privacy. He sipped his coffee and looked back at me.
“But don’t mistake my words for lack of interest. If I were ever to pay, you would be the girl.” He smiled. “However, I can’t imagine there is a sum high enough in this entire country that would be sufficient for the honor of your, what do we call them, personal services.”
Heat shot through my chest, and I couldn’t control it. He had paid a stripper the best compliment he probably ever could, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the coffee, the pile of euros sitting in my desk drawer, or even his extremely expensive clothes and jewelry that made him attractive. It was the way he moved and the way he talked that did it. His eyes prowled over me as if he looked at a fine piece of art, too beautiful to touch, but too valuable to push away.
I could tell he came from a good family. His manners were impeccable, even in a place like this. His hair was styled just right, as if someone meticulously placed each strand of hair before setting it, and his skin was soft and smooth looking.
I sat back down at the table, knowing I should walk away, but feeling like it was just impossible at this point. There was a shimmer of mischief in his partially crooked smile that both scared and aroused me at the same time. I could feel the heat in my stomach as it moved down between my legs, and I crossed them as a warning to myself. There hadn’t been a man yet that could get me that easily, and it definitely wasn’t going to be some rich guy in a strip club while I pranced around in a gold spandex leotard. He scratched his chin and laid his hands in his lap as he fiddled with the button on his very expensive Armani dress shirt. Who was this guy, some kind of prince or something?
Chapter 4: Milos
Everything in my carefree soul wanted to reach down and grab her perky tits and wrap my hand around her blonde hair. But now was not the time. I had to let her see my regal side, the side I had been born and bred with, the royal side of me. I needed her to realize that despite the fact that I wanted to fuck her brains out, I was charming and refined, worthy of her attention. If I was going to get this girl to spend at least a year of her life as my wife and queen, I needed her to like me.
Sure, I could definitely see myself enjoying several hot sensual encounters with this sexy, bronzed babe, but I was still not going to cave to one woman for my deal. Besides, variety was the spice of prince hood, and I was not going to take that for granted. I did know that whatever I needed to do to secure this blonde bombshell by my side, I was going to do it. My inheritance and future depended on it.
I watched as she sat there,
letting the hot coffee wash across her pouty lips before taking a sip. There was something innocent hiding under that sex kitten gaze, and either she truly didn’t sell her body, or she was really good at acting, which was good since I needed her to go from the pole to the throne. In fact, her indignation was turning me on in a way I hadn’t felt before, and though I appreciated her modesty by keeping her sexuality protected, I sure as hell hoped she was stern on that deal. I might not be looking to buy that pussy, but I was definitely looking to buy her charm, wit, and ability to walk through a room like a queen.
This girl, I was going to have to work at, though, and that was okay because without her, my plan will never work. I was going to have to seduce this girl with my charm and candor, not my crown, and though the crown was usually the easiest way, I could tell this girl didn’t give two shits about royal status. No, I was going to have to bring out the big guns for this one.
“What is your name?” I asked, pouring more coffee. “If you don’t mind telling me that is. I find it hard to believe your mother named you The Golden Goddess, though it does have quite a ring to it.”
“No,” she said chuckling, finally smiling and relaxing her shoulders. “My name is Adriana, but I don’t usually tell people that, for safety reasons.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Well, I promise you are safe with me.”
“What is your name?” she asked, and stared strongly at me, making it known she wasn’t down for games.
“Milos,” I replied, leaving it at that for now. Silesia was a small country, and the likelihood of her ever hearing my name was miniscule, but I didn’t want to take the chance. She wasn’t the typical no brain bimbo I was used to seducing.