“Oh did she?” Macha asked.
“Yes. Healthy baby girl. Not sure the name yet. I’m gonna go bring her some food. Then, I’m off on business for a couple of weeks.”
“What? Where?”
“Not quite sure yet,” I lied, knowing full well where.
I didn't want to go. I wanted to sleep for a long time. I was used to padding the egos of older billionaires who saw me as a piece of meat. It was my bread-and-butter as the young one on the team. However, a wayward prince who couldn't even be arsed to remember my damn name was a new bit of fuckery. I wanted to sleep and ignore Prince Duncan and his fragile ego.
9
LEAVING ON A JET PLANE
DUNCAN
7 December
London Daily Times
Royal Correspondent Leo Hayes says Prince Duncan has “one final chance” to make things better. Prince Duncan's speech was generally well-received. He looked serious. People watching observed that he looked “earnest” and “remorseful”. Despite many approving of the Prince's performance and supposed dedication to national defense, republicans are calling for blood. They want to assure the monarchy’s days are numbered and this is just reason 1001 why the day has come to kill the monarchy for good.
Of course, those critics are never satisfied. The best the Prince can hope is that he is redeemable. When asked what would cement his arc back to beloved son of Queen Natalie, Hayes was quick to give some boxes he could tick.
“I think he could get a nice girlfriend—unless he has one already—and properly propose to her. There are a multitude of sins a royal wedding could cover up right now. Even better if she is younger. We need a royal baby!”
Iwas head-down when my private secretary interrupted our checklist. I spotted John in the galley.
“Miss Mills has arrived, sir,” John said. “So, we're all here now.”
Finally, I thought. She was five minutes late but better than never.
“I'll go greet her,” I said. “Give me a second, Mitchell.”
“Sure, sir,” my first officer said.
I put my headset down and pressed back through the galley to find Miss Mills chatting with John like an old friend. She had a beautiful smile. It was a bigger version of the meek grin she shot me the day before. I wished she saved it for me. Instead, as soon as she spotted me, she got serious and bowed like her life depended on it. She was American but her manners wereimpeccable. She was an enigma. What was her deal?
“Apologies, Your Royal Highness, for being late,” she said.
“Oh, no worries.”
“The train was delayed and they don't run consistently on Saturdays out of my station?—”
“You took thetrain?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, confused.
“Next time, we will send a car,” I said. “Why did we not send a car, John?”
“Probably because Abi was supposed to pick me up, sir,” Miss Mills said. “But no worries. I'm here. And Abi is doing well along with baby Sally.”
“Oh Sally? A girl, then?” I asked. “That's wonderful. John, let us be sure to send her a gift basket—booze, some nice things for the babies, and chocolates maybe? Does she like chocolates?”
Miss Mills smiled a bit. “Oh, yes. But you don't have to?—”
“I think bringing a life into the world deserves some proper booze and snacks, Miss Mills. Would you not agree?” I so badly wanted a wider grin.
“Oh, I won't disagree with you, sir.” Her eyes lit up a bit more.
