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“Is it because she needs to get to the White House to hang with her brother?” Chloe asks. “’Cause I’m totally free to go there with her. I am her official chaperone, as you know.”
“Prince Alexander is no relation whatsoever to Princess Madeline as he is a member of the royal family of Ledonia and not Malveaux. Two entirely different countries,” Undertaker #1 says as though speaking to a toddler.
“Whatever you say, dude,” Chloe replies. She winks at me. “You're going to have to introduce me to Prince McHottie for sure.”
My thoughts bounce around in my head. Prince McHottie. Ledonia. Malveaux. Prince Nicolas abdicating.
My mom.
Panic slices through my belly like ice, my heart thudding, my breaths short and shallow, my head tight enough to explode.
Is this…really…happening?
Suddenly, I feel myself falling forward as though in a dream. Falling, falling, falling. And as everything turns black, the last thing I see is the gleam in Undertaker #1’s shiny polished shoes.
Chapter 2
Alexander
He wouldn't be our Lord of Lusciousness if Prince Alexander wasn’t seen out with a veritable bevy of American beauties at his beck and call. Last night's soiree at the White House saw him stepping out with a senator’s beautiful daughter. They looked happy and relaxed, but this royal correspondent wonders what happened to one Carlita Perez, the beautiful supermodel our Prince of Perfection was spotted enjoying a drink with only a few nights ago at New York’s Plaza Hotel. Poor Carlita. It looks like you've already been replaced. Such is life as a love interest of the future King of Ledonia.
#CrownAndSwoon
#OutWithTheOldAndInWithTheNew
#NotYourAveragePrinceCharming
Your favorite royal correspondent,
Fabiana Fontaine xx
I think I love America. Seriously. Although I can't quite be fully anonymous here, what with journalists following me from Ledonia on my official visit, it’s still a far cry from my life as Crown Prince back home.
What’s more, here in Washington DC, I can go sightseeing along with every Tom, Dick, and Harriet without being trailed by the entire freaking royal guard.
Of course Antony and Hans, my ever-protective, ever-present bodyguards, are watching my every move, but they're doing it at enough of a distance that I can chat with the pretty girl who asked me out when I met her at the White House last night without feeling like I'm on display.
“So, you're telling me that you're not only a prince but you're the first-born son, so that means you'll become king someday?” Freya, aka the pretty girl, asks me as we walk up an expansive set of steps.
“Yes, although personally, I think it should be the first-born regardless of gender. It’s very old fashioned that Ledonia still insists on the male line ruling. Malveaux changed their law back in 1983 so that the first-born child would become the monarch, regardless of their gender.”
“Sure,” she replies and I wonder if she's actually listening to me. “I can't believe you're going to be king.” She places her hand on my forearm. “I'm touching a future king. That's c-razy.”
I suppress a sigh. “Crazy indeed.”
She giggles. “You're so proper. ‘Crazy indeed’,” she repeats, putting on the worst imitation of my accent I think I've ever heard. And I’ve heard a few.
A change of subject is required. Anything to get her to move on from her delight in my royal status, which I'm quite happy to forget about on this sunny afternoon in the American capital.
“Remind me again why you get to go to functions at the White House?” I ask her as we come to a stop in front of a hugely oversized seated statue of a former president.
“I told you last night, silly. My daddy’s a senator,” she replies in that attractive southern drawl of hers.
Really, she could say anything and it would sound pretty. Anything but commenting on my status as a prince, that is.
“You don't know what a senator is, do you?”
“Don't they go around wearing white bed sheets, speaking in Latin?” I tease because of course I know what a senator is. My father ensured I studied world politics and history. As the heir to the throne of Ledonia, I need to know who's who when I visit a country, particularly on a PR junket like this one, trying to get more American tourists to my country. When you're a small principality on the large continent of Europe, you've got to do what you've got to do to survive.
