The provocative prince

Ride on

Seated

Ride on pls

Episode 3 Hi, beauties! This ^ is the new portrayal of Vincent. Y'all have no idea how hard it was to find someone that fits this asshole, but Adam will do just fine. Vincent As the Prince of Wales and Duke of York, I knew that I would eventually have to bring an heir into this world. With that future destined for me, I made a mental note to myself that I would allow my child to do whatever they wanted, so long as it was legal, particularly for their birthdays. No matter the age, a person's birthday should be a day solely dedicated to them. They should at least be allowed to do the one thing that they found peace in doing. For me, that was being in the air. I found so much peace with being in the air. Whether it was being in a hot-air balloon, para-gliding, or my personal favorite, flying a helicopter. The latter gave me control, something I seem to lack in my daily lifestyle. But it wasn't just me that didn't lack control. My 17-year-old sister, Genevieve, and 24-year-old brother, Rodney, lacked just as much control over their lives like myself. I was... a fairly obedient heir, particularly regarding my Royal duties and maintaining a good image in the eyes of the public. However, there was only one thing that I asked of them to ignore and that was my sex life. But, of course, my parents never listen when I asked them to mind their business. Like now, my father was standing over my shoulder watching me text a colleague. "Pa," I groaned and immediately locked it once I noticed his looming presence. I wasn't texting anyone secretly, just Griffin, a fellow friend from the Royal Air Force that undergone training along with me. "Stay out of my phone," I warned as he chuckled and went around the length of the table. Today was Valentine's Day, and my 27th birthday. God, I was aging faster than whole milk spoils. I remember when I first turned 18, and I could finally drink. My father brought every alcohol brand he knew; nothing cheap, of course. I was born a Prince for a reason. And for that reason, he felt that I deserved top tier quality. "I'm just making sure you aren't messaging any of your whores," my father replied jokingly, finally sitting his arse down somewhere. I eyed him, my eyes shrinking into narrowed slits. My eyes were already small, to begin with, thanks to my father, but now he has me glaring slitted daggers at him while he laughed at my expression. Nothing was funny about what he just said. "Happy Birthday, Your Royal Highness," I heard a light feminine voice greet before me. Her presence took me out of my aggravation as she set a tall, rectangular box in front of me. "Thank you, Abby," I thanked her and took the present. "Where is, Griffin," I inquired as Troy, my guard, took the present from me. "He's almost here, I'm certain," she replied sweetly. Abigail Finch was one of my... friends; one of my long-lasting friends. She had a milky pale complexion from the cold winter that England's weather brought in, but her hair was a fiery red color. It was a beautiful contrast. Her eyes were hazel, with very visible green flecks adorning her beautiful irises. Her neck was long and constantly reminded me of the many times I've left a hickey on her slender throat. Abby had an impressive body, she wasn't too skinny, but neither was she too big. She was perfect and every time I had sex with her, I would secretly thank Griffin for blessing me by introducing this woman to me. I'm sure she felt that she was most likely to become my wife because we've been fucking for five years now, but there were a few issues. One, my parents hated her. Even now, my mother was blatantly glaring at Abby and my father sat beside me with a hard frown as I held Abby's hand. Second, Abby was not Royal material. Her father was the Duke of Swindon, but just because her father had a life peerage title didn't mean that she was fit to be a Princess or a Queen. She was just sloppy. Very sloppy. She's been on the news countless times for DUIs, getting into arguments and constantly saying some questionable things on her social media. Even I had to side-eye her sometimes. STORY CONTINUES BELOW Third, Abby was in a public relationship with Andrew Garrison, an older English actor that I didn't pay too much attention to. He was actually at this party as we speak, but I didn't see him so it didn't matter. "What are you doing tonight," I meddled quietly, slowly releasing her soft hand. "Nothing important," she insisted slyly until my father loudly cleared his throat in irritation. I gave him a quick look before turning back to Abby. "I'll text you, Love. Tell Andy I said thanks for coming," I told her, receiving a sensual smirk in return. When she was no longer in earshot, my father felt the need to comment. "You're lucky he's just an actor and that you're my son. Otherwise, he would have given you a run for your money for sleeping with his woman," my father surmised. "He won't find out, Pa," I waved off as I stared at the large crowd mingling and conversing in their formal attire. The night was ending soon, and I couldn't wait to get away from this crowd. "Sure he won't. When are you going to get rid of that hag?" My father interrogated with a stoic frown. "What for," I chuckled. I knew he was serious. The public never caught me with a woman on my arm, but my family and the castle staff assumed I slept with over twenty women. And I can assure you, it's really a lot more than that if we're counting since I've been sexually active. I wasn't as bad as I was when I was in my early twenties. Now that I think of it, it was a day where I fucked two women; one in the morning and the other after lunch. Followed by a threesome with a beautiful Victoria's Secret model and her best friend later that evening. Don't ask me about names because I promise I won't recall. "Vincent, you need to get married soon and bring a new heir into the family. Stop messing around with these women who don't respect themselves," my father lectured. "Or cherish the power between their legs," my mother quickly chimed in. "Mimi," my father hissed, using her nickname for Miranda. He was the only one I've ever heard call her that. "Am I wrong, Matt? Everyone knows that the power behind a successful King is a Queen with a powerful core." Were they flirting? My mother, Queen Miranda, was a poise and confident woman who wasn't afraid to inject her thoughts into any conversation. My father, King Mathias of the United Kingdom, was like her protector. I've seen his intimidating stature turn into jelly at the slightest call that my mother made. And it made me sick with envy because I wasn't certain that I'd have that with my future wife. "Well, let's see how-," I hastily interrupted them. "I'm going to go throw up now," I stated, not bothering to hide my disgust. They both glanced at me, remembering that I was there. "But Vincent, on a serious note, your mother and I want to see you experience fatherhood and marriage with a beautiful blonde Queen by-," I cut him off once again. "Blonde?" "Well, she doesn't have to be. She can be a brunette too," my mother retorted. "I'm confused. Does she only have to be white? Can she be Spanish, Asian... African? If I brought home a woman like that, would you lot be happy for me?" I quizzed them. I've been with so many women of distinct races and ethnicities, I wanted to know what their views were.1. Well, we would prefer for the British bloodline to stay pure so we would hope you aren't trying to... darken things." My father really tried to say that as non-offensively as he could. But despite how he said it, he was right. I wanted to keep the British blood pure.....

@coolval222-2 @delexzy01 @fb-dannyede @fb-hsdanieljago @fb-elijahadeyemo @stonez @hormortiyor @ladyG @royalgold @akhenabor @eneh @ciarajessy @director @hillariouz @sheegokeys @fb-mikeladebayo @kwinzuby @jessyjenny @prosperyeboahgmail-com @flames380 @johncmekuto @buloukeme @appleboi @fb-mustaphaadepoju @fb-itzreindy-2 @fb-jamesfelix @senatordaniel @fb-walemicheal @papacee @rhemychrix @danfavourer @istianplus-2 @olamibobo @kingd5757 @danxxyc @fb-abdullahmuhammed @jehliohn @jeri"

let go bro

Episode 4 understand," and I did. Keeping our offspring as pure Brits seemed to have been very important to my family, especially my paternal grandmother, the Queen Dowager. She was really the number one reason I made sure that I didn't act a fool in the media. She was always watching us, and her criticism was the worse I've ever experienced. And this is coming from the Prince of Wales, Duke of York, and King of assholes. She was the only person who made me cry, angrily. But I still respected her, she was my grandmother, after all. And to tie back to it, I couldn't see myself being married to a woman outside of my race. Spanish women were very sexy, but way too feisty. With how quick-tempered they are, I don't think it would work with everything my wife would have to do, as a Princess and as a Queen. Asian women were too soft and meek for me, and I didn't want a meek woman to be by my side. She needed to be outspoken and be able to defend herself ad hoc. Black women... oh man. How do I word this one without sounding like a dick? Oh, to hell with it, Black women were an aggressive breed of women. I couldn't sleep with a Black woman because every time I had the chance, the attitude written on her face steered me clear of her. And I didn't need an intimidating Queen; I needed someone that people loved, not feared. And that's why finding a wife was such a hard task for me to do. My parents wanted me to focus more on courting women instead of just screwing them, but I just couldn't. There wasn't a woman that I've met that possessed that regal factor or one that I really liked. They usually had beautiful and very useful bodies, but not the personalities that would be compatible with mine. It was going to be very difficult to find a woman that was Queenly but could also match my asshole energy in private. "I appreciate you for understanding," my father suddenly remarked, yanking me out of my thoughts. "I do what I can to make sure we don't look bad," I replied somberly. "And in case you're thinking about it mum, I'm not interested in tainting our British bloodline," I assured her. She seemed to look tense beside my father until I told her that. Her features visibly softened at my words. My phone suddenly vibrated within my blazer's inner breast pocket. I took it out and glanced at the message Griffin sent. Griff: We're here, mate. Come outside it's cold as bullocks out here "Mum, Pa," I proclaimed as I stood up to stretch. "I'm going to call it a night. I loved the celebration and I really appreciate the staff's efforts, but I am truly beat," I convinced as I kissed my mother's cheek and pat my father on his shoulder. My siblings, Rod and Genny, weren't present, but I'm sure they won't miss me. "Vincent," I heard my mother calling after me as I stepped down the raised platform they set our table upon. I loved her, but Griffin was bringing me a damn good gift tonight and I wasn't trying to miss it. I already spent a good six months without sex at the Air Force base, so I deserved this. I left through the emergency exit door of Waterloo Chambers and hurried to the end where Griffin had been waiting. "Griff," I raised my arms proudly as I made my way over to his car, a huge grin on my face. "There goes the cheeky bastard," Griffin greeted as we clapped our hands and pulled each other into a brotherly hug, patting each other on the back. I pulled away from him and examined his attire. "You look like the same annoying bastard I've been dealing with on Base for the past six months. Don't you know I'm sick of seeing you by now?" I joked as he chuckled. My eyes averted from him and landed on a beautiful woman that had been leaning against his Mercedes. "And who is this...," I took her hand and spun her around, noting her very ample breasts and her slender figure. "Gorgeous woman," I finished as I bit my lip, amused and horny. She was a beautiful, Olive-toned woman with long, dark curls that cascaded down her backless blue dress. Her lips were full andand pink, while her eyes were a deep brown. And fuck me... were those freckles on her cheeks? This woman was a goddess. STORY CONTINUES BELOW "Anais. Anais Moretti," she answered in the hottest fucking Spanish accent I've ever heard. "Anais," I tried out her name on my English tongue. "Very fitting," I chuckled hoarsely as I pulled her into my arms. She batted her eyelashes sensuously as she bit her lip. "Alright, you two. Let's go; you can fuck when we get there," Griffin reminded. "Floyd said he's almost there and Jennifer just picked up the goods," he stated, walking over to the other side of his car. "Griff, I'm not doing that coke shit anymore," I reminded him as I opened the door for Anais to get in. "Why not?" "I didn't like it the first time I took it. And besides, you fuckers put me up to it," I reminded them as we settled into his car. "Peer pressure, my friend. You either apply pressure or take the heat," he retorted as he drove off of the castle's property. On our way to Floyd's Estate, just outside of Slough, Ana lit a blunt and began passing it around the car. Luckily, Griff's windows were tinted enough because I couldn't even imagine the amount of trouble I'd be in if I got caught. The Prince of Wales, Duke of York, and Flight Lieutenant for the Royal Air Force got caught smoking weed on his birthday. My family probably would disown me, but who knows. They have never caught me doing half the shit I already do now. We eventually made it to Floyd's Estate, getting there at the same time as Jennifer, and notably, Abigail was with her. We all greeted one another; Abby with a kiss to my neck as she eyed Anais with jealousy. "Abby, Love, there's more than enough to go around. No need to get jealous," I cooed and interlocked her hands with mine. I planted a quick kiss on her forehead for assurance, feeling the high from the Cannabis beginning to take its effects. "Don't worry, mi amor... I like women too," Anais informed with a confident wink and a blow of a kiss. Oh, she was my type of woman. We all finally headed into the house. Unlike Floyd and Griffin, I didn't agree to come out here to do drugs. Griffin promised me a hottie, and Floyd supplied the place for all of this to safely go down. I really appreciated the effort that my family and Royal Household did for my birthday. But being in bed with not one, but two beautiful women was my ideal way of spending my 27th birthday, or any birthday, for that matter. Abby and Ana were a literal match made in heaven. I stared at them from the large bathroom mirror that had a great visual of the bed. The two women were kissing; Ana being the more dominant one as she broke the kiss and feverishly began sucking on Abby's milky breasts. Watching her do it made me want to remind myself of what her bright pink nipples tasted like. I finished examining my bloodshot eyes and made my way to join them. Just as I settled on the bed with the two naked women, Abby changed their positions, giving Ana all the pleasure this time. I grabbed Ana's smooth jaw as she tilted her neck back in ecstasy. My finger found its way between her pink folds as I sucked on her neck. Her loud moan was a good sign that I easily found her sensitive area. This is usually how my threesomes went with Abby. We would tag-team the third party until they came first. And that's exactly what my little Spanish Princess did. She came, loudly screaming as she threw her head against my shoulder, her back leaned into my chest. I pulled my fingers out of her wet center and brought them to her mouth to taste. She did so, sucking on my fingers like I imagined she would a cock. "You like that, baby," I moaned into her ear before planting light kisses along her neck. But then, she suddenly turned her head in my direction. Woah! Did she try to fucking kiss me? Was this woman mad?! There was only one woman that I kissed rarely, and that was Abigail herself. Besides her, of all the countless women I've fucked, I have kissed none of them. Not a single one. Kissing women was like giving them the false hope that you two would pursue a serious relationship. It's a very intimate moment, but with Abby, it was nothing like that. She understood what she was to me and what I was to her. Five years in and we had no problems with this. But for most women, you kiss them and they throw the 'what are we' question. You're a good lay, and I'm out of here. That was the response I gave to the first few women that I made that kissing mistake with. Abby was a consistent lay; Ana was a one-hit-wonder. That's the difference. If you really knew me, you'd know that one-hit-wonders don't deserve kisses. I backed away from Ana as she leaned in to kiss me again. She apparently didn't get the message as she tried to lean in, for the third time, until I shoved her back by her shoulders. "Abby, did you or did you not tell Anais what to never do while in bed with me," I challenged sternly. Abby pulled away from Ana's left breast to stare at me, befuddled. "Oh, oh my. Ana, he doesn't like kissing," she revealed, startled as she realized the situation. "What," Ana objected incredulously, "are you bi?" "What? No. I don't kiss one-hit-wonders though," I retorted until I felt a stinging slap assault my cheek. Instinctively, I shoved her off of me, unintentionally pushing her into Abby. "What the fuck is your problem," she spat angrily. "You fucking hit me, you fucking whore," I shouted back. "Hey, calm down! Both of you," Abby tried diffusing the situation. "Te lo mereciste, cabrón," I heard her shout furiously in her mother tongue as I rose out of bed to grab my robe. How the hell did I deserve that? "No, bitch ! You deserve to get kicked the fuck out," I yelled back. I was too high to deal with this shit. "What's going on," Griffin questioned confused as he busted into the room, causing both women to cover up with the duvet. "Griff, get her the fuck out of here before I toss the slut," I threatened dangerously, knowing well that my usual blue eyes were a fierce grey. I was no longer in the mood to get my dick wet. Tonight was just clear cut proof of my premonition of Spanish women; they're too fucking feisty....

Episode 4@coolval222-2 @delexzy01 @fb-dannyede @fb-hsdanieljago @fb-elijahadeyemo @stonez @hormortiyor @ladyG @royalgold @akhenabor @eneh @ciarajessy @director @hillariouz @sheegokeys @fb-mikeladebayo @kwinzuby @jessyjenny @prosperyeboahgmail-com @flames380 @johncmekuto @buloukeme @appleboi @fb-mustaphaadepoju @fb-itzreindy-2 @fb-jamesfelix @senatordaniel @fb-walemicheal @papacee @rhemychrix @danfavourer @istianplus-2 @olamibobo @kingd5757 @danxxyc @fb-abdullahmuhammed @jehliohn @jeri" understand," and I did. Keure Brits seemed to have been very important to my family, especially my paternal grandmother, the Queen Dowager. She was really the number one reason I made sure that I didn't act a fool in the media. She was always watching us, and her criticism was the worse I've ever experienced. And this is coming from the Prince of Wales, Duke of York, and King of assholes. She was the only person who made me cry, angrily. But I still respected her, she was my grandmother, after all. And to tie back to it, I couldn't see myself being married to a woman outside of my race. Spanish women were very sexy, but way too feisty. With how quick-tempered they are, I don't think it would work with everything my wife would have to do, as a Princess and as a Queen. Asian women were too soft and meek for me, and I didn't want a meek woman to be by my side. She needed to be outspoken and be able to defend herself ad hoc. Black women... oh man. How do I word this one without sounding like a dick? Oh, to hell with it, Black women were an aggressive breed of women. I couldn't sleep with a Black woman because every time I had the chance, the attitude written on her face steered me clear of her. And I didn't need an intimidating Queen; I needed someone that people loved, not feared. And that's why finding a wife was such a hard task for me to do. My parents wanted me to focus more on courting women instead of just screwing them, but I just couldn't. There wasn't a woman that I've met that possessed that regal factor or one that I really liked. They usually had beautiful and very useful bodies, but not the personalities that would be compatible with mine. It was going to be very difficult to find a woman that was Queenly but could also match my asshole energy in private. "I appreciate you for understanding," my father suddenly remarked, yanking me out of my thoughts. "I do what I can to make sure we don't look bad," I replied somberly. "And in case you're thinking about it mum, I'm not interested in tainting our British bloodline," I assured her. She seemed to look tense beside my father until I told her that. Her features visibly softened at my words. My phone suddenly vibrated within my blazer's inner breast pocket. I took it out and glanced at the message Griffin sent. Griff: We're here, mate. Come outside it's cold as bullocks out here "Mum, Pa," I proclaimed as I stood up to stretch. "I'm going to call it a night. I loved the celebration and I really appreciate the staff's efforts, but I am truly beat," I convinced as I kissed my mother's cheek and pat my father on his shoulder. My siblings, Rod and Genny, weren't present, but I'm sure they won't miss me. "Vincent," I heard my mother calling after me as I stepped down the raised platform they set our table upon. I loved her, but Griffin was bringing me a damn good gift tonight and I wasn't trying to miss it. I already spent a good six months without sex at the Air Force base, so I deserved this. I left through the emergency exit door of Waterloo Chambers and hurried to the end where Griffin had been waiting. "Griff," I raised my arms proudly as I made my way over to his car, a huge grin on my face. "There goes the cheeky bastard," Griffin greeted as we clapped our hands and pulled each other into a brotherly hug, patting each other on the back. I pulled away from him and examined his attire. "You look like the same annoying bastard I've been dealing with on Base for the past six months. Don't you know I'm sick of seeing you by now?" I joked as he chuckled. My eyes averted from him and landed on a beautiful woman that had been leaning against his Mercedes. "And who is this...," I took her hand and spun her around, noting her very ample breasts and her slender figure. "Gorgeous woman," I finished as I bit my lip, amused and horny. She was a beautiful, Olive-toned woman with long, dark curls that cascaded down her backless blue dress. Her lips were full andand pink, while her eyes were a deep brown. And fuck me... were those freckles on her cheeks? This woman was a goddess. STORY CONTINUES BELOW "Anais. Anais Moretti," she answered in the hottest fucking Spanish accent I've ever heard. "Anais," I tried out her name on my English tongue. "Very fitting," I chuckled hoarsely as I pulled her into my arms. She batted her eyelashes sensuously as she bit her lip. "Alright, you two. Let's go; you can fuck when we get there," Griffin reminded. "Floyd said he's almost there and Jennifer just picked up the goods," he stated, walking over to the other side of his car. "Griff, I'm not doing that coke shit anymore," I reminded him as I opened the door for Anais to get in. "Why not?" "I didn't like it the first time I took it. And besides, you fuckers put me up to it," I reminded them as we settled into his car. "Peer pressure, my friend. You either apply pressure or take the heat," he retorted as he drove off of the castle's property. On our way to Floyd's Estate, just outside of Slough, Ana lit a blunt and began passing it around the car. Luckily, Griff's windows were tinted enough because I couldn't even imagine the amount of trouble I'd be in if I got caught. The Prince of Wales, Duke of York, and Flight Lieutenant for the Royal Air Force got caught smoking weed on his birthday. My family probably would disown me, but who knows. They have never caught me doing half t

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Shadé My dad was in trouble. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew he was. I could feel that there was something wrong because he still hadn't come back. We were in March now, and my dad left for New York in late January. I've heard nothing from him on WhatsApp, and it was honestly making me very nervous. I checked my phone every day. One, hoping my father would reply to my messages, and two, because I applied for various jobs. I wasn't sure what the hell was happening in New York with our parents, but I didn't want to go in blind and broke. I had to prepare for anything in that expensive city. Ezra, however, was pissing me off with this lazy-bastard streak of his. He didn't bother to take initiative and get a job, and that's what's been in infuriating me the most about all of this. We'd been using our dad's emergency funds to pay for rent and utility bills, but eventually, that was going to deplete sooner than later. Or so I had hoped for later. I went outside to check the mail, feeling the cool air hit my polished dark skin. As I was checking the mailbox, I noticed one of our neighbors was staring at me from behind his curtains. I shivered, unsettled by the man's strange gaze. I didn't know how to decipher what his gaze meant, but I wasn't a fan. I speed-walked back into the townhouse and locked the door immediately behind me. "Ezra, there's mail," I announced, stepping into the living room as I looked through the mail. I sat down beside his sleeping body on the only sofa we had. My dad had barely furnished the place before he left. All we had in the living room was a three-seat sofa and a TV that sat on top of a plastic bin. In my room, I only had a mattress and thick comforter for these recent chilly nights. I opened the mail one by one, starting with the first envelope. It was from my father's employer. I scanned over the letter, recognizing that it was a notification of his termination from the company since he hadn't been back to the UK for over a month. This was even more proof that something was wrong. He didn't even notify his company of his whereabouts. "Ezra, wake up," I shouted, startling my older brother. "W-what," he grunted sleepily and very bewildered. "Daddy's getting fired," I informed him nervously. "Well, he hasn't been back for a while, Shadé. The fuck you expect," he replied as he stood up to scratch his upper back and head to the kitchen. "But the house," I mentioned as I went to the next letter. This one was from the landlord. Why would the landlord be sending us mail when we paid everything on time? I ripped open the envelope and read that letter. The more I read it, the more pissed I got at the fact that... we were late on rent for this month. "Ezra what the hell is this," I interrogated, moving the rest of the mail off of my lap and quickly stomping towards him. "Weren't you supposed to be using daddy's emergency funds to pay for this until we started working," I continued, waving the letter in front of him. "Who are 'we'? Shadé, I'm not staying, bruh," he shook his head in disagreement. "What's the point of contributing shit to rent and these bills when I'm not planning to stay here? They might as well kick our Black asses out," he nagged before drinking a cup of water. I slammed my hand onto the kitchen counter. He had me fucked up! "Do you know how hard it's going to be to get back on our feet in New York? We have to plan and prepare now," I pestered. "Daddy is not answering his WhatsApp, we don't know where Mama Grace is we have no fucking idea what's going on with Ma! Ezra, we will literally start from scratch." The fact that I had no idea where they were was fucking breaking me inside. "If you want to stay here, that's up to you, man. I'm going the fuck home. Fuck Ma, fuck Lisa, fuck everyone! Coming to this country was a fucking mistake, god-dammit," He shouted, slamming the cup onto the counter and storming upstairs. Why did he feel the need to bring up that bitch Lisa? He knew how much disdain I had for that evil ass broad. STORY CONTINUES BELOW

I didn't bother to follow him and instead sat on the couch to continue angrily searching through the mail. There was one last envelope I didn't open. I remembered because it had a different texture from the rest of the envelopes. "Stupid piece-of-shit," I mumbled to myself as I pulled out the shiny, burgundy envelope. My angry mumbles came to a stop as I realized that this-this... this was an interview request. By the British Royal Household. Oh my goodness, oh my goodness! They got back to me! I looked up from the letter and began fanning myself as I pulled out my phone to check my email. I saw in the letter that they also emailed scheduling a time for the interview. I wanted to get this done as soon as possible. I had so much time on my hands I scheduled the interview for tomorrow morning at 9 AM. The frustration that I felt earlier from Ezra's fucked up decision was replaced with gratitude as I replied to the email they sent me. It was the same letter as the mailed copy. "Well, considering all things, our sources have told us you recently had relations and an altercation with Anais Moretti. Is that true," I heard a female talk show host suddenly challenge. I completely forgot that the TV was even on. This is exactly why the bill is as high as it is now because he keeps the TV on all day. "Where the hell did Ezra put the remote," I murmured to myself as I looked on either side of my hips for the controller. "Pardon?" A very rich yet silky voice questioned. The deepness of his voice strangely commanded my attention, and somehow I was no longer looking for the remote anymore. As if my brain wanted to match a face to the voice, I snapped my head to the TV screen to see that the satisfying voice belonged to a man I wouldn't even give a second glance to. Oh hell, he was a White guy. Actually, he was a prince based on his name on the screen; Vincent, 'Prince of Wales'. Was this what buddy looked like? I somewhat knew of Britain's Royal Family, but I didn't know the King's son looked like that. He looked like one of those surfers from California with this combed-back blonde hairstyle and tanned skin. As cold as this stupid country was, I would've expected dude to be as pale as white-out. To be fair, he was okay though. I always heard the store clerks raving about him, but I never cared to see why. And now that I'm looking at him, I still didn't see why. His face to me screamed, 'I'm an asshole, I can do whatever I want'. And honestly, I wouldn't be shocked if he was a closet-racist. I heard from some Afro-Brits that they believed the Royal Family might be racist because the previous King removed his youngest son's title or something like that. Either way, those store clerks were going crazy over this man for nothing. His only redeeming factor was that he had a pleasant voice. I watched as he suddenly chuckled, more to himself, at something the host mentioned. He was definitely older than Ezra's 24 years. "I can assure you that any rumors that woman is saying about me are all lies. We did nothing," he assured, his forehead wrinkling as he raised his neat, dark brows. "Taliah, listen, Love. I'm in search of my wife right now." His words came out like butter. "She's probably watching this interview as we speak, not knowing that she and I are meant to be, and yet, here you here, blocking our blessings, aye." He contended, sounding sure of himself. Yo, he was so melodramatic! I could easily tell he wanted to change the topic, proving to me further that this motherfucker was lying. "He's lying. He did something with sis. I know it," I commented, shaking my head at his denial. I was acting like this was a reality TV show. "He fucked her right before coming to the interview, next case," I shouted the last part. I finally pulled away from the TV and gotten up to turn it off. The very next morning, was my phone interview. I nearly had to choke Ezra's ass to turn down his damn NY playlist. The interviewer already knew I was American by my accent, I didn't need her to hear Ezra's music and taint my chances. As an immigrant in England, there weren't many places I could work, but I knew that as a staff member of the Royal Household, I could get a work visa under their sponsorship. STORY CONTINUES...

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Nexty

Continue

Go On Bro

"I like you Folashadé," Janet, the interviewer, commented as the interview was coming to a close. "Do you think you can come in this afternoon, at... two o'clock to meet the King's Private Secretary," she asked, leaving me confounded. I knew Janet was a woman of color just by her voice over the phone, but I didn't know she was so eager to have me come in. "Y-yes, ma'am! O-of course," I stuttered unintentionally. "Perfect, love! I'll put that on his calendar. His name is Sir Christopher Lewin, please do not forget when you arrive at Windsor," she stated before she gave me directions to enter Windsor Castle and where I had to go within it. I graciously thanked her for the interview and she accepted as she wished me luck. Immediately afterward, I received an email with the confirmation of my two o'clock appointment. I rushed out of my room and into Ezra's as he was mumble-singing with his headphones in his ear. He randomly covered his face with his hands as he moved his body and bobbed his head to the rap music blasting in his ears. "She likes the way that I dance, she likes the way that I move," he sang, turning around to dance toward me. "She likes the way that I rock, she like the way that I woo," he continued to sing out loud as he did some weird dance move at the word 'woo'. Here he goes, reminiscing on New York music. I knocked his headphones off of his head and interrupted whatever hood ass fantasy he was having with himself. "She doesn't like the way that you don't do shit," I interrupted him as he frowned at me, his music still blasting from his headphones. "Sounds like a what... a hating ass broad," he retorted dismissively. "Whatever motherfucker," I shoved him as he laughed. "So did you get the job, sis," he inquired. I shook my head, only because I haven't received a decision yet. "Not yet. They want me to go up there today to meet the King's Private Secretary," I informed him as I stared out the bedroom window. I was really going to work as a secretarial assistant. "If it's a man, make sure that if he tries some shit, you spray that son-of-bitch like your life is on the line," Ezra replied, his voice laced in seriousness. "I don't think I can bring weapons into the castle," I wondered, now that I'm thinking about it. "Damn, that's some shit. Well, good thing you can fight," he chuckled. It was all because of the times Ezra and I used to throw hands at each other when we were younger, but now the height difference between us was too significant; he was 6'2" and I was 5'5". At this point, all he had to do was throw my ass across the room if he wanted to. "Good luck though. If you're deciding to stay, then you're going to need it," he shrugged as he placed his headphones back on. "She said she wanna pop one pill! Baby try two! Why would I fuck one bitch when I could fuck two!" That was the last thing I heard from Ezra before I closed the door behind me. ### I was sitting across from Janet Newton, Sir Christopher Lewin, and Vice-Admiral Marcus James. Janet was the Human Resources manager, Christopher was the King's Private Secretary, and Marcus was the Master of the Household. I only knew Janet's role and a bit of Christopher's but that's about it. I didn't quite understand why Marcus was there. "So Folashadé, we see that you are an immigrant from the States, is that correct," Janet searched, and I nodded along with a verbal confirmation. "Now, for you to work for the Royal Household, you must apply for a work visa. Work visas are good if you're an immigrant that wants to work but can't get citizenship. Depending on the length, it can last a year to five years," she informed me as I took in all the information. A year was all I needed, it was perfect!

I finished the rest of the interview smoothly. I was told that I will need to get fingerprinted and that if I am selected, I should receive a certificate of sponsorship from the Royal Household via email. As I was leaving the office of the Royal Household, I was unfortunate to learn that it was raining, terribly. A guard came to my side, presumably to escort me to the exit gate. "Come on," he motioned, preparing to step from the shelter we were under. He's got me fucked up if he thinks I'm stepping out into the rain. I may have had my hair pulled back into a low puffy ponytail, but the amount of gel it took to even get it to lay this flat was ridiculous. This hairstyle needed to last me a good four days at least. "Uh uh, I need an umbrella," I informed him, staying put in my stance. He turned back to me and tilted his head a bit. I tilted mine the opposite way. Did I stutter? "Listen, ma'am. I have a job I have to return to. It's just rain," he drawled, openly annoyed. "It's rain to you, but once I leave this castle I have to walk down that steep hill again while it pours," I defended. Was he not understanding where I was coming from? "Can we just wait for a few minutes, please," I begged in a softer tone. I didn't want my hair or the only suit I owned to get ruined in this rain. The man stared at me for a while as he tightened his lips and breathed heavily through his nose. "No, let's go," in one swift movement, the guard grabbed me by my wrist and began tugging me. "Wait," I bellowed. "Wait," a separate voice shouted. The guard and I turned our attention to the third voice. It was a man with long blonde hair that stopped at the base of his neck. His eyes were a piercing bright blue, and he seemed to walk with this strong elegance in strides. Was he a Royal? I immediately confirmed my suspicion when the guard unlatched his fat ass sausage fingers from around my wrist and quickly bowed. "Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness," the guard greeted as he tapped me to do the same. I nervously bowed the same way the shitty guard did and repeated his words poorly. "Good afternoon, Your Highness—." " Royal," the guard hissed. "Greetings, Your Royal Highness," I corrected myself. Are you happy motherfucker? I don't even have the job yet and this guy was already being a stick up my ass. I stood up the moment I saw the guard standing straight. The Royal figure, likely a prince, didn't look exactly like the one I saw on TV yesterday but he looked very similar and younger. "What's going on," he inquired, directing his interrogation to me. "I'm just trying-." "Sir. Begin your sentences with 'sir ' when speaking to His Royal Highness," the guard demanded, venom laced in his voice. "Hank, it's—." "Okay, well, how am I supposed to know that," I quickly shot back at the interrupting cow, giving him a deep scowl. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the alleged-prince. "Anyway, Sir ," I put emphasis on the word. "I'm trying to catch the next bus but as you can see, it's pouring down raining, and this guard doesn't have an umbrella to lend me," I explained, leaving out the part when the guy was about to force me into the rain. "And I assume, you're not going in this rain while your hair is exposed, correct," he hypothesized, and I confirmed with a nod. "Well, being the gentleman I am," he grabbed the umbrella that his guard had been holding. "And because I don't want your hair to get ruined, you can borrow mine," he handed me the umbrella. To be continued......

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please be adding episode numbers

Next pls

Ok, following

Episode 7 "Aww, thanks," I chimed, about to accept the umbrella. "Your Royal Highness. We can get her a different one," the annoying guard held the umbrella. "Hank, it's fine. I have plenty more," he snatched the umbrella out of the guard's hand and extended it to me once again. This time I quickly grabbed it. That bastard wouldn't try it again fucking with me. I wouldn't let him get the chance. "Thank you, Sir," I bowed, "I'll be heading home now." "Hank, come with me. John, please escort her to the exit gate. Ma'am, it was very nice meeting you," he confided as he took my hand and gently kissed the back of it. Oh, this was definitely a prince! He wasn't really my cup of tea, but that was flattering. I've never had a man kiss my hand like that before so I was definitely acting like a fangirl and embarrassing myself. "I mean... Mmm... I mean," I gushed sheepishly as he smiled. "Thanks, Sir. Same to you," I finally got out as I smiled at him. Well, shit, he was a little cutie. God, don't make me turn a Prince's world upside-down. He smiled even wider and nodded his farewell. I turned to leave the castle with the Prince's umbrella, their Royal insignia was visible on the handle. "Sir," I called to the new guard that was escorting me. "Which prince was that one," I asked, hoping to diminish my ignorance with some knowledge. "That was Prince Rodney, Duke of Sussex," he informed without a problem. "Trust me, neither of them are that nice," he chuckled. Damn, I thought I was a Disney Princess for two seconds. I guess reality's not meant for the weak-minded. When I finally made it back to London, it was still midday and pouring down with rain. Because it was still pouring pretty badly, I took a taxi from the bus stop since it was still a ways away from our townhouse. Once I arrived at the house, I paid the cab driver the fare and thanked him before rushing out of the rain. I unlocked the door and leaned against it with a sigh. My suit pants and the flats that I changed into were soaked. Even my purse's exterior was saturated from the rain hitting me sideways. What was the purpose of an umbrella if it didn't do its job against the rain? I left that question to float in the back of my mind and went upstairs to take a shower. As I approached my closed room door, I noticed a taped note. I snatched it off the door and read it thoroughly. The more my eyes registered every word he wrote, the angrier I felt. Shadé, You're going to hate me and I understand why but I can't live here anymore. I'm not making any income here and it's really fucking with my mind that we don't know what happened to mom and pops. I really can't rest in this shit-hole without taking initiative to find out. Please don't follow me to New York until you're ready. I don't want you to get involved in what I may or may not do to make a living out there. But just know, I love you my G. -Ez I crumpled up the letter and immediately dialed his number. If he doesn't answer, then he just lost a fucking sister. "Shadé," he solemnly answered on the third ring. His background was very noisy. "You stupid son-of-a-bitch! I fucking hate you," I cried into the receiver. "Don't get loud with me, Shadé. I hate when people yell at me," he dared to reply with that. "You fucking left me, Ezra! I'm not in the fucking wrong here," I shouted, regardless of what he said. "Sis, you will be fine. You're a Black woman, the strongest kind of woman out here," he countered calmly as I dropped to the floor sobbing, my head in my hand. "Please don't follow me out here until you're financially comfortable," he begged as I heard an announcement for Group B to board a flight in the background. "But Ezra, why are you leaving me here? You're not fucking financially stable your damn self," I angrily argued, my voice beginning to rise. "Let me be the foundation, Shadé. When you come to New York, you'll have a place to lay your head. I promise," he affirmed, still maintaining his calm demeanor. "I love you—." I hung the phone and threw it across the room. The second it landed, I immediately went into an angry panic, hoping that I didn't break it. "Oh shit," I groaned as I picked up the phone, screen cracked and unresponsive. Great, Shadé, now we have to get a new phone. Just fucking great. I sat on the floor and leaned against my bed, thinking about what I was going to do. Ezra told me not to chase him, but it's easy for him to say when he just up and left. And I could probably leave as well but I didn't want to go back to New York in an even worse state than I was before. Unlike Ezra, I couldn't just go back and hop back into the drug industry. God, it pissed me off even more because he tried so hard to keep that hidden from me. Did he think I was stupid? "I'm going to start over." I made a promise to myself. By God's will, I'll get this job at the Royal Household, get a one-year work visa, and when the year is over, I'll return to New York and start from scratch. Will I see Ezra again? I don't fucking know. What about my dad? I hope so. Mama Grace? I wish. And my mom? I don't know how to answer that. I pulled my knees up to my chin and cried even harder as I heard another wave of rain pummeling the roof. I was literally alone.

Episode 8 Vincent Guess who came back like a fucking Hot-Pocket-Whore? Ms. Anais Spicy Moretti. I had the beautiful Spanish woman on my bed on all fours, ramming into her arse at a rhythmic motion. She moaned my name pleasurably as she clutched the sheets. I leaned forward a bit to cup and massage one of her large breasts. She arched her back, deep enough to lean backward and kiss my neck. I grabbed her chin and stared at her intensely, hoping she won't fuck up like she did last time. I honestly loved seeing the look on their faces while I fucked them but obviously some thought it as the moment to kiss. Provided that they don't make that mistake, it was almost like watching your favorite movie. You enjoy every aspect. However, like any old movie, it gets boring and you get the need to watch something else. I pushed her back onto her hands and fucked her harder, the sound of her arse smacking against my thighs was like music to my ears. "Uh uh oh! Vincent... ahh," she moaned as she arched her back deeper. I smacked her arse, leaving a lovely red bruise on her soft cheek as I held her down by her slim waist. As I felt myself about to come, I pulled out and gestured for her to turn around and pulled her hair out of her face. I quickly pulled off the rubber before pumping the long shaft of my curving dick. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, awaiting my load on her tongue. Her anticipation turned me on even more. I held her dark hair in my left hand and continued pumping the semen out of my cock with my right. It only took a few seconds before my cum went spewing onto her gorgeous face, her hair, and into her mouth. That's a lot of babies she's swallowing. I laughed at that thought and released my grasp on her hair. She licked the rest of my load off of her face before standing up and heading to the bathroom. I lied back on my bed and stared blankly at the ceiling of my canopy. As Ana stepped out of the bathroom with a clean face, she came into bed beside me and placed her leg over my abdomen. Her slender finger traced my abs as she kissed my chest. "Now that was an apology," she effused, very satisfied with my service. I looked down at her, duly noting that she definitely wasn't a wife. "I can agree. It's the only apology I'll take from a woman," I disclosed, bringing my forehead to hers before kissing her forehead. "So you forgive me, daddy," she moaned as she kissed my neck. "Of course, Love," I chuckled awkwardly, mentally cringing at the word 'daddy'. It was just something about that word that didn't sit well with me when women called me that. I looked at my phone's lock screen to notice the time. "Aww shit," I cursed as I hurriedly rushed out of bed. She smiled as she bit her bottom lip. "You don't want to go another round before you leave," she asked me sweetly. I didn't have a problem with sleeping with a woman more than once. I would've fucked her again if I didn't have an interview with Taliah Hendry in two hours. And even then, I still have to shower and get ready. "I'd love to, babe, but I have something very important that I must attend to," I informed, planting a quick kiss on her forehead. She pouted but nodded anyway. After a warm shower and Ana's departure, I called up three maids to get me dressed. I didn't need them to, but it was always optional, so why not take that option? The three maids were all brunettes. However, one of them stood out from the other two. I remember her pretty face all too well because I've slept with her in the past... a few times. Dammit. I know I remembered her name. It was Tina... no. Teresa...no, but I remember that name from somewhere. Tiffany! Her name was Tiffany.

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Nice one . Ride on.

Episode 9 Although she was a maid, I want to point out she was the only maid that I've ever slept with. I'm serious. I don't sleep with maids because I have higher standards for the women I sleep with. If you haven't noticed, I usually slept with models, the daughters of billionaires, and a few of the daughters from the House of Lords. These women were just as private as me and they had no problem with opening their long legs for me. The maidens, or housekeeping staff, are middle-class and basic women; at least that's how I've always seen them. Generally, I don't have an issue with these ladies. However, when they flirt with me, I try to decline their advances as politely as possible. At this point in my life, I'm not fond of bringing upon any drama when I know I should find a wife. I'm not the same 21-year-old man that I was, openly accepting women of any status. It definitely mattered now. Not only status but the personality also mattered as well and Tiffany was a very lackluster person to talk to. Believe it or not, but I really love talking and listening to what the other party has to say. The first time I tried to strike up a conversation with Tiffany, her response was so dim-witted, I felt like I was losing brain cells as I listened to her elaborate on her experiences in the castle. She had only been there for six months at the time so I thought I'd get more out of her, but I guess not. I just concluded her as a decent fuck and never tried having a conversation with her again. Just fucking, no talking. However, I eventually had to stop fooling around with her. And ever since then, she's always given me this nasty glare. Sometimes I felt like she was thinking of murdering me in my sleep with a blunt kitchen knife, just to make it more painful. That explains why my bedroom door is always guarded. "Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness," they all greeted with a bow. "Good afternoon, ladies," I cleared my throat. "I have an interview at three, so I have to look exceptional," I informed them. I had to look good whenever I'm on television. Not only was it because I was the Prince of Wales, but because I was almost certain that my future wife could be watching the interview. As the maids were fitting me into my three-piece suit, I heard a knock from my door followed by Troy announcing that my uncle Landon was here. "Come in," I bellowed. The doors suddenly opened for my Uncle Lance and his wife, Antoinette, or Nettie. By blood, Lance was a part of the Royal Family and was my father's youngest brother after my uncle Edward. He didn't possess a Royal peerage title because he essentially gave up his Royal duties as Duke of Edinburgh to be with his wife in France. Antoinette was the daughter of the 20th Liberian President. They'd been together for over 30 years, even before my parents got married. They met at Oxford University, where Antoinette attended as one of the very few African students. If it's one thing I will mention about Nettie is that she aged like wine. She and Lance were the same age, literally sharing a birthday and all. Yet, she looked a good fifteen years his junior, making him look as if he is married someone much younger than him. Unfortunately, the Queen Mother and King Lionel, my grandparents, didn't approve of Lance's relationship. He died not approving of her, which caused some tension between the Liberian President and my family. But Lance, being the dignified man that he is, left the family by title and hadn't returned to England until King Lionel's funeral. Lance really shook the table when he came back to England happily married to Antoinette after so many people wished negativity on them. And just as happy as they usually are, their happiness together was radiating a lot of positive energy into my room. "Your Royal Highness," they both bowed before taking a seat in my lounge area. "How do you feel, Vincent," Nettie asked first, her voice was rather calm. "I feel okay, not quite nervous but you never know what bogus questions she'll as," I replied as I look at them both through the mirror. I haven't been in an interview the entire time I was at the Air Force base.

Episode 10 "Have you been adamantly looking for a wife," Lance challenged, rolling the damn boulder right at me. "I have, but they all end up sleeping with me too easily. If they're going to be that eager for sex, they can get that anywhere," I explained, annoyed at the realization. "Maybe you're not trying to get to know them. Women like to be heard, Vince," Nettie chimed in. "And I love to listen, as long as it's not rubbish. Yet every time I try, that's all that comes out of their mouths!" It exasperated me at this point. I didn't want to marry a damn bird brain. "How about this, the next woman that interests you in the slightest, you'll try to get to know her first before knocking the boots," Lance suggested. It wasn't a bet, and I knew that. It was a test of my self-control. Could I really court a woman before getting physical with her first? "You're challenging me again, uncle," I chuckled inwardly as I turned around to face them. "I have to. Your father won't do it," he mentioned most offensively as he laughed audibly. I joined him, realizing he was right. "Ladies, you're dismissed. Thank you," I announced to the maids as they lingered with their heads down and hands folded behind their backs. "Thank you, Your Royal Highness," the women chorused. This time, I was fairly impressed with the harmony. I watched as the three women prepared to leave and without a doubt, Tiffany shot me a menacing glare. I raised an eyebrow at her strange response. The moment they were no longer in the room, I joined my aunt and uncle on the armchair across from them. "One of those maids really hates me," I murmured irately. "You slept with her and left her in the dust, what do you expect," Nettie commented and Lance's eyes went wide. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized as she quickly gave me away. "I didn't mean to read you but your face tells me a lot, Vincent," she apologized sincerely. "It's fine, Nettie," I dismissed, but then something came to my mind. "If you can read my face, can you tell me about my future wife; if I'll even have one," I motioned impatiently. Nettie shook her head. What did that mean? Was I getting fucking married or not?! "For this one, I'll let her decide if she wants to deal with you or not," she laughed. Before I could respond, Troy came into the room to notify me that Taliah and her team are all set up. "We're not done here, Nettie," I pointed at her jokingly as I followed Troy out of my chambers. They set the interview in the King's Drawing room. As I entered, the entire room averted their attention to me and all sincerely bowed. "Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness! My name is Taliah Hendry and I'll be your interviewer today. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you," she introduced herself respectfully. We firmly shook hands before gesturing for me to have a seat. I sat in the off-white armchair across from her as we continued to have a brief conversation. She was a charming woman of some middle-eastern background; I would assume Indian if I had to guess. Once we'd gotten comfortable and Taliah's makeup had gotten touched up, the producer notified us they would go live in three, two, one. "Good evening, England! I'm Taliah Hendry and tonight on this episode of Talks with Tal, we have our very own Vincent, Prince of Wales," she introduced in a very charismatic tone. "Hi," I greeted as I kept my gaze on the bright TV host. She sent a friendly smile my way, and I returned it. "So before we begin, are there any questions off limit to you," she asked for verification. "Nope, shoot me with everything you've got," I leaned into my chair and clasped my hands. "Okay. Foremost, you've just gotten out of a six-month deployment from the Royal Air Force as a Flight Lieutenant. What are your plans now that you're back home?" She asked the first question on her card. That wasn't bad.

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Episode 11 "Just to clarify, I'm still on call for the RAF," I clarified for her as she laughed, embarrassed, and apologized for her mistake. "But to answer your question, my primary plan is to find a headstrong Queen that will stay beside me and help run our country. I'm three years shy of thirty and I'm ready to have a family of my own," I answered as she nodded understandably. "You seem to have been lying low for the last few years and we have noticed you're taking your Royal duties a lot more seriously with attending overseas meetings in place of His Majesty and doing a phenomenal job at it. Aside from that, how are you working to get people to change their perspective of you and take you seriously in finding a wife?" I didn't even know people weren't taking me seriously. What the fuck kind of question was that? "Well, Taliah... I don't need the approval of everyone. My wife will come to me no matter what my past was. It's about who I am now and I'm not the same man four years ago." "Well, considering all things, our sources have told us you recently had relations and an altercation with Anais Moretti. Is that true?" "Pardon," I tested, thrown for a loop that Ana literally fucked me just before this interview and dared to speak badly on my name. "I can assure you that any rumors that woman is saying about me are all lies. We did nothing," I continued assuringly. I didn't give a fuck that I was lying, the world didn't have to know who my dick was inside. "Taliah, listen, Love. I'm in search of my wife right now. She's probably watching this interview as we speak, not knowing that she and I are meant to be, and yet, here you here, blocking our blessings, aye." I protested, trying to persuade her to change the fucking topic. "Let's talk about more important things outside of my love life, shall we," I suggested, adjusting my tie as my anger was welling up. I finished the interview, feeling very annoyed that Ana really dragged my name through the mud. As Troy escorted me back to my room, I did a Google search on my name, Vincent Alexander. I groaned as the first article to come up proved that Ana was recently in an interview of her own, speaking on how I slept with her and that I was still sleeping with many women. 'His Royal Highness has not changed from his early twenties. Not one bit. He sleeps with countless women, threesomes, married women, you name it. The list goes on. I was supposed to be in a threesome with him and another woman but he raised hell on me because he doesn't kiss women .' I stopped fucking reading. She was tarnishing my name so badly I couldn't comprehend how to tackle the situation. What did I fucking do to deserve this shit? "Your Royal Highness," Troy stopped me, thankfully interrupting my thoughts. This was getting overwhelming. "Yes?" "I just received word that the Queen Dowager wants you to come down to Buckingham Palace... tonight." Fucking perfect! My grandmother was going to scold me. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck," I cursed, pinching the bridge of my nose and walking around in circles. I needed to breathe before I hit something. "Let's just go straight there. Fuck it." ### I was not looking forward to the wrath of my grandmother. I knew her calling me here had to be about the news articles because she definitely was never one to call me just to see me. "Your Royal Highness, Prince Vincent, the Prince of Wales, has arrived per your request," a guard announced from the outside of the Queen's Drawing Room. "Bring him in," I could hear her voice croaking from the other side of the door. Just hearing her voice sent a fearful shiver down my spine. The guard opened the door for me, allowing me to step through the large threshold. My grandmother was sitting with her back facing me, an empty armchair to her right as she watched the fireplace's flames burn the scented wood. I went around her chair to stand in front of her. "Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness," I respectfully greeted her with a bow. Elizabeth, the Queen Dowager, was my 85-year-old grandmother. Out of every critic that has criticized me over my actions, my grandmother was by far the worst of them all. She was well aware of that and felt that crying for a man was a sign of weakness. She's never heard me cry, and I never cried in front of her either. What benefited me was that she was blind; however, she could never see the painful expression on the faces of the people she criticized. She could only tell by their voices. "Is that the Crowned Prince of the Kingdom I helped his father build," she gloated, turning her head toward where my voice came from. "This is he, Ma'am," I confirmed anxiously. I was so nervous. I knew the onslaught was well on its way. "It can't be. No Crowned Prince in their right mind would allow his name to be associated with a whore like Anais Moretti," and there it began. Her spiteful tone was seeping in as she continued with her grimy insult. "Did you know she dabbled in the adult entertainment industry for some time," she informed me, and truthfully, I didn't know. Griffin introduced me to her on the night of my birthday. "Did you at least protect yourself?" "Your Royal Highness, I did not sleep with that woman. She is spreading false accusations about me," I lied through my teeth. "Sounds like the same lie your grandfather told me when I found out he was sleeping with his Private Secretary," she chuckled cynically as I froze. "Vincent, I'm going to give you four months...," she started. My eyes widened. Four months for what? "I'm going to give you four months to find your own wife and if by July 1st, you are still a bachelor, then the King, Queen, and I will find a suitable woman to be the Princess of Wales for you," she continued in such a pointed way. "Grand... uh... Your Royal Highness, my apologies. Four months is a bit close; why not six months or a year," I attempted to bargain. This woman was deranged if she thinks I'll propose to someone so soon. Four months was not enough for me to fall for someone! "No, Vincent. Four months. We've already given you seven years; from the day you reached the age of marriage and you have yet to find the right one," she argued. "And I was engaged to two different women within those seven years!" I was becoming upset. She couldn't do this to me! "And both women called the engagement off because of your stupidity and not being capable of keeping your hands to yourself! How can you call yourself the Prince of this Kingdom when you've been acting like this country's gigolo the entire time?" She insulted, yelling at me in infuriation. I blinked several times as my jaw clenched and unclenched, trying desperately to control my rising temper. "You had the audacity to go on TV and spew a load of bullshit. Do you truly believe that people would take a prince seriously when he's sleeping with every woman he comes in visible contact with?" She was taunting me, pushing me closer to my limit. "Keep up your track record and you'll get AIDS before you earn that crown." "That's enough, grandmother," I bellowed, using the one term she hated to be called. "Figures. Let's not forget you're the same Prince with anger issues," she laughed and laughed, and continued to laugh some more. I could no longer be around the hag, otherwise, I would've tossed her coffee table out the window for the fuck of it. Just to prove her right about my anger issues. I left the Drawing Room with my mind in a heated fury as I heard her aging vocals sing out, "Don't forget... July 1st!"

Episode 12 Shadé and Vince are at the top! Shadé I really tried to look on the brighter side of a situation, no matter the perspective. I may see a situation in one way, but the other party could also see it in a different light as well. One thing that seemed to trouble me day-in and day-out was finding out I didn't get the secretarial assistant position. Instead, they gave it to a young, White, and highly attractive woman. But it didn't stop there. They changed my application submission and put me under the position of a housekeeping assistant instead. Basically, a damn maid. I didn't even know about this until I thoroughly read my certificate of sponsorship and the position set was exactly that. I had called Janet to ask about the sudden change and she stated that it was because they found someone who was better qualified. Probably, someone who was better eye candy, I assume. But instead of denying me an offer, Vice Admiral Marcus hired me as a housekeeping assistant. It definitely didn't pay as much as the secretarial assistant that I was hoping for, but I should be able to save something up with the £9.50 an hour, it just wouldn't be as much as I expected. Either way, I was still grateful to have a job. I was lucky enough to get approved for the general work visa, however. And Janet was right, I could go up to five years, but I only settled for one. I wanted to challenge myself and see how much could I save up in exactly one year to settle in the U.S. And that was how I could sit inside one of the Staff Quarters' training room with four other women who were just given the same position as myself. I didn't know all of their names yet, but I believed one of their names was Hayley as I had recently had a conversation with her and then later heard her name being called. Today was just a job orientation and a task overview of our job. Two women, Whitney, a Royal Household representative, and Tiffany, an actual Housekeeping staff member, were doing a very well in presenting the overview of the job. They touched a lot on the benefits of working here. They provided us with a free cell phone that had its own contract with a service provider. Accessories for the phone were not included. Hell, even adding more storage to the phone was out of the benefit's scope. Another wonderful benefit that we received was free meals throughout the day and free housing. We had access to all amenities in the castle, the swimming pool, tennis court, gym, and more. It was almost like I was getting paid to work and live here. I honestly looked forward to working here. "The best benefit of all is that you get to meet and interact with members of the Royal Family," Tiffany exclaimed as the four other women exchanged looks with one another. I didn't quite understand how that was a benefit but to each its own. "However, Tiffany, I want to point out that should you interact with any member of the Royal Family, do not fall into any temptation," I heard the booming voice of an older woman come from the back of the training room. Every one catered our gazes to the authoritative woman that had spoken up. She was rather tall as she stood beside the Master of Households. She was a little heavyset, but not heavy as in fat; more so like muscle. Kind of like an auntie type of way. I know it made little sense. "Hi ladies, you have yet to meet me but my name is Georgina; please call me Gina," she introduced herself. "I have been the Lady-in-Waiting to Her Majesty for the past 29 years. As I mentioned, do not and I will reiterate... do not fall into the temptation of any of the Princes. Repeat after me ladies," she commanded. "Do not fall into the temptation of any of the Princes," we repeated after her. "Again," she commanded.

Do not fall into temptation indeed...next

Ok

Episode 13 "Do not fall into the-." "Stop," She suddenly bellowed as she put her hand up and looked at me. "Is there something wrong with your face," she was directing her question to me. I looked around the room, surprised that she was even talking to me. "Wait... me," I objected, a little taken aback. "Yes, you. You made a face as if there was a problem with what I said," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you think otherwise, Miss?" Oh, God. Did I really make a face? I had to; I always do that without even realizing it. It wasn't at what she was telling us, but more so at the fact that she had us repeating it like we were children. I stood up, feeling like it was the right thing to do, and bowed respectfully. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to make a face. I have a tendency to do that when I'm uncomfortable. I'm so sorry," I apologized as sincerely as I could. "Learn how to control your expressions before you serve the Royal Family. If the Queen catches so much as a grimace on your face, they will fire you," she scowled menacingly. "She's not bluffing, lass," the Master of Households commented by her side with his arms folded. "Yes, ma'am. Yes sir," I stated confidently before sitting down. I honestly couldn't afford to get fired from this job. I can only have one active work Visa and that needs to last me until my current one expires. I mentally reminded myself to be cognizant of my facial expressions when around other people. The presentation conducted by Tiffany and Whitney continued with ease as they went over meal procedures. Breakfast began at 8 AM, lunch at 12 PM, and dinner at 6 PM. Sometimes the Royals might request to have a snack in between, but it can vary between each person and what they are working on for that day. The four other maids and I were silently taking notes as they spoke on how we were to play a part in ending the day successfully. "Yes, question," Whitney pointed to the one woman who had her hand raised. "I wanted to ask this earlier, but who do we report to about sexual harassment? I've dealt with it a lot at a previous job and I would like to know who we can report to on that matter," the woman inquired, articulating her words very well. She and the other women really made me feel younger than I really was. "That's a brilliant question, Patricia," Whitney answered as she clicked through the slides until reaching the Important Contacts slide. "You can contact the Royal Household Safety and Security number. I advise you all to save all the numbers on this slide into your new phones please," she announced cheerfully as we copied the numbers into our phones. I wasn't sure how much longer I could take their high-pitched voices as they spoke so cheerfully. It was honestly driving me crazy on the inside but making me exhausted on the outside. I tried my hardest to keep my eyes open because I knew Gina was likely watching me. I hated that I'm unintentionally on her radar now. I glance in her direction and sure enough; she was glaring holes into the center of my puff. "Alright ladies, if there aren't any more questions, let's take a tour of the castle, shall we? You may leave your belongings here since we'll be returning afterward. Windsor is very large and there are over 1,000 rooms. However, we will only visit the ones that will apply to your daily activities. Please, feel free to explore the castle on your days off," Tiffany remarked, burning my poor ears with her voice. Great, my head had a hole in it from Gina's frown and my ears were burning because of Whitney and Tiffany's voices. The tour comprised us five trainee maids with Tiffany and Gina as the guides. The Master of Households left just before we began the tour along with Whitney and I was grateful for that. He was a rather intimidating man and hardly spoke, at most I could remember zero words leaving his mouth....

Episode 14 We entered the common area of the Staff Quarters as Gina explained that roll call began promptly at 7:00 AM every morning. This is also when and where she will give us our assignments for the day. To note who clocks in and out for the day, we're given magnetic cards that we keep on a lanyard. "I advise that you come on time because I promise, I will not adjust your time for you. If this machine says you clocked in at 9:15 but you're crying that you came in at 9:05, I will blatantly ignore you," Gina warned us before leading us outside the Staff Quarters. We had finally arrived at the State Apartments, which encompassed a beautiful galley kitchen for the cooks, a massive formal dining hall for the Royal Family, and the actual apartments which were where the Royal Family members lived. There were hundreds more, but we were only visiting relevant rooms to the Housekeeping staff. There was always something so intricate about each room that I would have liked to focus on more. But unfortunately, time was not in my favor. "These here are the Royal State Apartments. It's where the Royal Family lives and the many guests that visit year-round. You lot should remember which door belongs to whom because it is rather embarrassing to confuse one Royal member for another," Tiffany explained as we slowly walked down a long corridor. "Guards are on-duty 24/7 to ensure the safety of the Royal Family at all times. And although most guards do not speak, if you do anything that compromises our Code of Conduct, we will find out about it," Tiffany added. I watched as Gina sent her a silent glare, figuring that she wasn't supposed to tell us something. "This first room belongs to His Royal Highness, Prince Rodney, Duke of Sussex. He can sometimes be impatient and nitpicky, but he is a good-natured gentleman. Would you ladies like to meet him?" Tiffany inquired. A few of the ladies on tour nodded their heads. "Remember to address members of the Royal Family as His or Her Royal Highness. Understood? We should address only the King and the Queen as Your Majesty," Gina explained as Tiffany knocked on the door. "Not to be rude, Gina, but we know how to address the Royal Family," one maid commented. "Not everyone here is from the UK, Diana," Gina responded promptly. That was when the other four maids unanimously turned around to glance at me. I returned the stare from the four women and just shrugged my shoulders. I don't care if they already knew how to greet them. I didn't know all the ways to greet them and I wanted to learn. "I don't think His Royal Highness is here," Gina stated as Tiffany knocked on the door for the third time. "Let's move along. You'll receive a map of the castle that will show you whose chambers are whose," she declared as we prepared to leave the corridor and probably return to the Staff Quarters. That was until we heard one of those massive, polished doors open. "Gina," a deep voice called from down the hall in desperation. We all turned around to see a tall, blonde-haired man slowly walk down the hallway. He wore a royal blue silk robe that had a beautiful royal insignia on the left chest of the robe. His hair was wet and was falling into his face as he quickly made his way down the hall with an irritable confidence. The closer he got, the more I recognized him as the Prince from the talk show I watched a few months before starting here. Now that he wasn't on a TV screen, I could get a better look at the oldest Prince. This blonde on him was killing me because I could see his skin was naturally tan. He would look better with his natural hair color, in my opinion. He was remarkably tall, even taller than my brother, and he had the body of an NFL wide receiver. However, his calfs told me he definitely played soccer at some point in his life. His blue eyes were hooded with slightly arched and threaded brows. Trust me, they've been threaded because there's no fucking way his brows were that clean. He had a stubble of a dark beard and mustache that did nothing to hide his sharp jawline. And surprise, surprise, he had lips, everyone!...

Nice one, I can't wait to read another episode

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