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Daphne opens her eyes and looks at me. Concern, or jealousy, or fear, or what the fuck I don’t know.
All I know is I’m standing there, like an idiot about to kiss fucking Daphne and I’m mumbling Alicia’s fucking name.
Fuck me.
Daphne’s eyes are wide. She’s studying me. I know I’ve fucked up and for once, I don’t have a fucking one-liner or a comeback.
I’m ready to take this – however it comes. Bring the fucking pain.
But I don’t get a chance to. The door opens and Sam and Pressly walk in. They’re carrying two suitcases each.
“Where should we put Miss Daphne’s clothes, Your Highness?” Pressly asks.
I don’t answer at first, but Daphne clears her throat and moves backwards. Our moment is done. It’s gone. Destroyed by yours truly. With his fucking anti-Midas touch.
“I’ll take them,” Daphne says as she leads Sam and Pressly to the first guest room in the hallway.
All I can do is watch her luscious fucking ass sway as she walks away.
I feel like a fucking idiot. Most likely because I am.
Alicia
As much as I hate to admit it, Derrick’s place is so much nicer than mine.
I mean, I always knew no matter where he lived was going to be luxurious. But I almost jump for joy when Mike tells me over the phone that he doesn’t want me coming in for a few days but to stay at home. “Besides, it sounds like you’re not far from your target anyways,” Mike says.
Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. After Derrick’ guys brought my suitcases in, I started unpacking in the guest room. I’m going to be staying here for a little bit.
You want to know something? You can’t tell anyone, okay?
Well, here goes.
So, I stayed in the guest room and focused on packing the whole afternoon. Derrick came by a few times but I pretended to be busy. But, the truth is, it was a lot easier to stay in the guest room because I wouldn’t have to face him. I wouldn’t have to face what was going on inside of me.
I mean, can you blame me? How messed up is this situation? Here’s a guy who’s a Prince. He’s an arrogant jerk. An asshole. And I somehow had the misfortune of growing up with him. So I got out of the country and went to college to get on with my life. Only I didn’t do a good job because I ended up dating a guy that cheated on me. Then I broke up with him. But then my apartment got ransacked. So I moved in (temporarily) with the asshole. Only I’m lying to him and pretending to be a stripper. Named Daphne. So I can write about his dirt.
But it doesn't end there. I almost kissed him outside a few hours ago! And I would have, if he hadn’t held himself back.
And said my name.
My real name.
Alicia.
When he told me that I reminded him of someone, I didn’t believe him at first. Then he said my name. I know, I know. Go ahead and roll your eyes. He was basically telling me I reminded him of myself.
Is he really thinking of me? Has he really been thinking of me? This whole time?
I mean, it's an understatement to say the man is easy on the eyes. That strong jawline of his, his luxurious hair, hell, the entire package.
Actually, speaking of package, I’ve had quite a number of times to check it out. Whether it's when he was showing me around the apartment, or when he came by as I was unpacking.
It looks just as large in person as it does on television.
I mean, come on, this guy is a Greek god when it comes to his body. The only thing that kept me from having my panties melt whenever I even thought of him was knowing that at least he was a real asshole.
But from jumping in the water to save a little boy, to coming to my rescue as well, he’s anything but an asshole. He’s a real life Prince.
