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Sveta ran over to the stairs and waved for me to bend over. I closed my eyes, and she blew a dusting of glitter on my tits. I turned and walked out onto the stage. The initial hit of the lights wore off, and the audience became clear. I posed, ready for the music to begin. The sound of the beating bass got the vodka kicking, and off I went down the runway, a spiteful sassy girl, wrapped up in a sexy kitten smile.
Chapter 2: Milos
I looked down at my expensive leather shoes as I shuffled down the sidewalk. Alcohol fogged my brain. The streets of Prague were packed tonight, and the clubs were bumping with loud music and beautiful women, just how I liked it. I could feel my knees wobble as I squinted at the signs, trying to find my way to the exclusive Caspian Cabaret, one of my favorite places in Prague.
There was nothing like ending my night with more booze and sexy girls, fighting for my attention, throwing their tits around just for the chance to have a private lap dance with the Prince of Silesia. Who fucking cared if they didn’t actually know where Silesia was? All they cared about was my stack of Euros and my entourage. Every girl dreamt, at one point in their life, of being a princess. So why not give them a chance to feel like one for a while, even if it was just while grinding on my dick?
The neon lights around me blurred. I stumbled down the street, trying to keep myself upright and moving in the right direction. Who could blame me for the way I behaved? I was born a prince and took everything that came
with that, including the huge allowance, the notoriety, and the ability to pretty much do whatever and whoever I wanted. The only people who ever questioned me were my parents, and even they were too busy with royal affairs to pay much attention, really. I learned at an early age that as long as I stayed out of the papers and out of the news, they stayed off my ass.
Of course, when alcohol entered my life, staying out of the papers was a little more difficult than I thought it would be. The media loved a bad boy. They loved the drama and suspense of not knowing what the Prince would do next. I kept it low key for a while, but I was addicted to the rich life.
“Watch it, man,” Brat said, steering me around the vendor in front of me.
Bratlay Zobrina was my oldest friend and one of the most eligible bachelors, besides myself of course, in all of Silesia. We had grown up together, fighting the crowds, drinking the liquor, and catching the women. Though not royalty, he was a member of one of the richest families in all of Europe, and he knew what that meant as much as I did. He ended up becoming more of a babysitter than a partier since he got older, always talking about settling down and having a family. His parents had finally gotten to him, and he no longer wanted to get wasted and wreak havoc at the clubs and bars.
He still came with me, but it wasn’t the same. Settling down and families were good for some people, but it was not my cup of tea. Although it pained me to think about it, I knew I would have to let him find his own way eventually. But for now, we were here, standing in front of the Caspian, waiting to get our drink on and our titties on. At least, I was.
The bouncer at the front grabbed my hand and brought me in close, patting me on the back. I loved how I could go anywhere in any of these cities and be waited on like a king. Because I was a future king. Or the king waiting to be crowned. Just the thought of the palace and the responsibility made me feel uneasy, but the perks were good.
I stumbled into the dimly lit club and went straight to the bar. I sat there for a moment, trying to collect myself with my jumbled-up, alcohol-induced brain fog. My father had really put me in a bind, making his dying request that I get married, settle down, and become the King of Silesia. Settling down was the last fucking thing on my mind when there were fast cars, loose women, and bottles galore at my fingertips. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my father well enough, but I didn’t want to be him. I didn’t find it fair that just because I didn’t have any brothers, that meant I was responsible for taking over when he passed. Talk about unlucky at birth.
“Hey, man, why don’t you slow down,” Brat said, leaning in and whispering in my ear. “We’ve already been kicked out of two high-end clubs tonight. There’s nowhere to go but home after this.”
I shoved him off of me and winked at the cocktail waitress as she passed, flashing her one of my killer smiles. Brat shook his head as I ordered bottle service and hobbled over to the VIP section, taking a seat and sitting back, watching the girl in the tutu bounce all over the stage. She was hot. Like smoking hot. But I was pretty sure I had already had several lap dances from her before. I looked up as the waitress smiled at me, setting down the whiskey, a bucket of ice, and two glasses. I poured a drink and turned my attention away from Brat, who was rolling his eyes at me. Who was he to judge me? He didn’t have a clue what kind of pressure had just fallen on my shoulders.
Before my father, King Yasen, died, he told me that if I didn’t choose a bride and get married, he would dissolve the royal line and donate all of my inheritance, which was the whole of the royal fortune, to charity. The Parliament would then become the ruling force of the land, a group of men hell bent on seeing me poor and in the dirt. Let’s just say my antics over the last thirty-five years of life have not left them with a good taste in their mouths. My father was so intent on forcing me to settle down, that he was willing to kill a 700-year royal reign to see his kingdom end in prosperity. I mean, part of me, the sober part, understood that he was terrified of me squandering the royal fortune like my uncle had done, before my father took the throne from him. But that wasn’t my plan. You couldn’t really impress the chicks with no money in your pocket.
When my father passed away two weeks ago, I thought I was in the clear, but my mother was just two steps behind him, telling me she would make sure my father’s wishes were fulfilled, even if it was the last thing she did as queen. On the one hand, I did not want to settle down. That life was not for me. The responsibility of an entire kingdom on my shoulders and a wife and kids to deal with were not enticing in the least. On the other hand, there was no way I could keep up with the elite clubs and hot girls without a penny in my pocket. I was a good-looking guy, but damn if my pocket change wasn’t what kept the girls throwing themselves at me. But how the hell was I supposed to pull off both of these?
I poured another shot of whiskey and took it down hard, wincing at the burn in my chest. All this thought of marriage and my father was really starting to get to me. However, even cloaked in an extreme amount of alcohol, my brain started creating a solution to this little problem of mine. I glanced up at Brat, who was still staring at me with judgmental eyes. I waved away his attempts to woo the drink from my hand and turned toward the red glowing lights of the stage. I took a sip of my drink and sat back watching as Ms. Tutu danced off the stage with an arm full of euros. That must be a month’s worth of bills for that girl, I thought to myself, chuckling. I started to pick my drink back up when a golden goddess walked into the lights. Her long blonde hair bounced around her, and her body was curvy in all the right places. I leaned forward as the music started and watched as she strutted down the runway, just like a queen.
My mouth, normally curved up in a devilish smile, hung open as I watched this Golden Goddess. She made her way to the end of the stage, turning and shaking her ass for the crowd. The men went wild for this girl, but all I could think of was the plan I had just cooked up in my devious little mind. I slammed the full glass of whiskey on the table and turned to Brat.
“Get me some coffee,” I said, watching exasperation cross his face.
He stood and walked off to find a waitress. I sat and watched as this girl ruled with a golden body suit. Men fell to their knees in front of the stage and threw money at her. The fierce look on her face screamed control, and I instantly had to know more about this girl. She was gorgeous, and her blue eyes sliced through the red lights, piercing right into my chest. She glanced over at me as I sat watching, probably wondering if I was going to come tip her. Not yet. I really wanted to see what this girl was made of. Was she just a coked-out drama queen like the rest of these girls, or was she really as poised and regal as she seemed to be? If she was, then all I could think was: how the hell did she end up dancing at a strip club in Prague? Girls that held themselves like that were usually rich snobs, looking for their next husband, like Brat’s sister, Zlata, who thought I was oblivious to her attempts at gaining the crown by marrying me.
The thing about girls like Zlata was they were born with the same silver spoon as I was. They thought they were slick with their sweet smiles and cute jokes, but I knew a raging bitch was lurking just under the skin. One thing worse than getting married was marrying some controlling cunt who was going to nag me about everything in our lives. I could see my future now if I married Zlata. I would have all the riches in the world, but I would be locked down so tight I’d never see the inside of a club, or another woman, for the rest of my days. I would be reduced to a fancy placeholder in the throne room, waving at my staff and smiling during parades, secretly thinking about pushing my wife from the moving car.
I looked back up and stared at the girl on stage. She pulled her jumpsuit down, dancing along to her rock music and letting men stick euros down her cleavage. If she could con some drunk assholes out of money, using nothing more than an angry stare and her breasts, she could totally run a country.
Brat walked back to the table. I grabbed the coffee from him and attempted to sober myself up. I needed to think clearly, and the damn wh
iskey and shots were making it impossible. Maybe there was a benefit to a few moments of sobriety, like my mother kept trying to tell me. Either way, I had concocted the perfect deal in my head, and I could only hope this Golden Stripper, from God knows where, would be down for the ride.
I reached over and topped off my cup, taking another sip of the hot liquid, wishing the caffeine would hit my brain faster than the alcohol was. I leaned back and relaxed, realizing there was nothing I could do at that moment, except wait and watch. She would get some of my Euros real soon, but they came at a price.
As I sat there gazing upon this amazing creature, my father’s words played over and over in my head.
Marry or lose the Kingdom.
Chapter 3: Adriana
My hips moved with the beat of the music, and I lifted my arms high in the air, opening my eyes and staring off into the distance. Instantly, my gaze fell upon a man in the back section of VIP. As I danced, I stared him, and heat rose in my chest. His dark skin and dark eyes were haunting, and I immediately felt uncomfortable. I’d never felt anything for the men gawking from the shadows.
I kept the idea of being a queen in mind as I strutted across the stage, watching the adoring peasants at my feet, tossing money as tribute. Intimidation wasn’t really something that entered my mind when I thought of a queen, but, as I danced, he watched my every move, every flick and every shake. I hoped he would come up and tip me during my first set, but I ended up disappointed as he sat in the back behind the allure of the velvet ropes, just gazing at me.
