e. She pulled out a chair to sit down. She wrapped the long sheet underneath herself.
“How did you sleep?” I asked.
“Oh my God,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Better than I ever have, I’m pretty sure in the history of my existence.”
I laughed and watched as she served herself crepes and fruit, adding sugar to her coffee as I poured it. There was a small part of me that really enjoyed this girl. Between her spunky personality and the way she fucked, I started to think that a year of servitude with her wouldn’t be that bad. I grabbed a croissant from the rack of pastries and nibbled at it, knowing I needed just to come out and tell her.
“So, now that you have enjoyed my company, slept well, and all that, I have something I would like to tell you,” I stated. She stopped chewing and looked up at me curiously. “So, as I said, I do come from an affluent family, but it is a bit more complicated than that. My name is Milos Dobromil, Prince of Silesia. Well, to be correct, soon to be King of Silesia.”
“What?” Her face was priceless, and she sat with her mouth slightly hanging open. “Wait, you’re a prince? Like royalty? Like His Highness?”
“Yes,” I said, chuckling and placing a napkin in my lap. “A real, bona fide royal prince.”
“Where is Silesia?” she asked.
“It’s a small country just a few hours plane ride from here,” I responded. “It’s mostly countryside, and everyone lives in the Capital where the palace is.”
“The palace? Is that the place you got lost in the stables?”
“Oh, heavens no. That was at the manor house in the country, where we took a holiday.
She shrugged her shoulders like she was talking to herself. It was actually quite amusing. She shook her head and put her fork down, after finally swallowing her mouthful of crepe.
“My mistake,” she said, looking down at her coffee.
“Look, it’s really not that big of a deal,” I said, trying to calm her nerves.
“Not a big deal? I came home with a prince and fucked him in his royal bed, and now I’m sitting in his penthouse wrapped in a sheet.” She sounded slightly panicky.
“Adriana,” I said. “That isn’t why I’m telling you this. I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition,” she repeated, as she looked up at me with one eyebrow raised. “What kind of proposition, because I’m pretty sure we already covered sexual favors.”
“Not that kind of proposition,” I said, chuckling. “My father passed away just a few weeks ago. Before he passed, he told me that in order to inherit the throne and everything with it, I had to get married. If I do not, the royal line will dissolve, and the entire fortune of our kingdom will go to charity. Obviously, I am not currently attached to anyone, and I don’t plan on doing so. I want you to marry me, plain and simple. Marry me and live in the lap of luxury for one year, until I have my mother off my back and the crown on my head. Then, you are free to go, and I will pay you a hundred thousand pounds, as a thank you for your service to my kingdom.”
“Wait,” she said, shaking her head and wiping her mouth. “You want to bring me to your castle, make me a fake princess, have me fake like I love you for a year, and then pay me a severance and send me on my way?”
“Pretty much, yes,” I said, realizing her way of explaining was much less complicated. “Although, technically, you will be actual royalty. There’s nothing fake about that.”
“Would I get a partial payment up front?” she asked.
I could see she was thinking about something, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
“We can do that,” I replied. “We could do five thousand after the first month, and every month after, with a lump sum of the remainder paid at the end.”
“What about sex? Do I have to have sex with you?”
“Again, I do not pay for sex,” I said. “Nor would I expect you to accept payment for sex. It will be completely up to you. Although with the passion we felt last night, I wouldn’t mind exploring that further.”
“What about my expenses while I am there? Surely, I cannot afford the royal lifestyle.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Everything will be taken care of, from your clothing to your wing of the house, and down to the expenses of the wedding.”
“The wedding,” she sighed. “We would have to have a full-out, royal wedding, wouldn’t we? And what about your mother? Surely, she would see right through this.”
“Leave my mother to me,” I replied. “She may be quick, but she knows it will bring a queen to the kingdom, and that is all she cares about. And yes, to the wedding. It is a tradition. That being said, you would be the future queen. Everything would be taken care of for you.”
“All of this is absolutely insane,” she said. She pushed out her chair and walked over to the floor to ceiling windows. “How do I get myself into these situations? I mean, you’re a good-looking man who happens to be obscenely rich and a member of royalty. Don’t you have some duchess or something that you can get hitched to, instead of a British stripper vagabond?”