44.1
Isabel
"This is so bizarre, and yet so exactly a Kensington kind of story," Summer says, her voice partially muffled on the phone as she turns to tell someone in the room to "hold on a minute." Summer did a stint in Africa, volunteering with another aid organization for six months while I was there. She's a free spirit, a hippie chick traveling across Europe with her boyfriend – and exactly the kind of outside perspective I need on all of this.
"Wait, why is this a Kensington kind of story?"
"Seriously, isn't this right up your family's alley?"
"We're not royalty," I say, dropping my tone to a whisper. "It's insane."
"But you're like, a real fucking princess," she says. "Soon to be, anyway."
"Yeah, right," I say. "That's the last thing I want to be. And you can’t tell anyone, Summer. They haven’t made an announcement yet.”
"Phoenix," she says, laughing as she calls for her boyfriend. "Isabel is living in a castle. Like, for real. With a king and shit."
"Shh," I say, cutting her off. "Seriously. That's not public knowledge. They're probably listening to my phone calls or something. I don't even have my passport."
"They're keeping you prisoner?" she squeaks. "That's fucked up, Isabel. You're an American citizen."
"Relax," I say. "I think it just got misplaced or something when they unpacked my bags, maybe. I have to go to the embassy and get a new one.”
"Do you want Phoenix and I to come pick you up?" she asks. "We're in Amsterdam for a few days. Venici wasn't exactly on our tour, but we're flexible."
"It's okay," I say. I can't even imagine the shitshow it would be if Summer and her boyfriend showed up at the palace. I adore Summer, but the thought of her walking inside the palace, reeking of patchouli and weed and admonishing the royal household for their gratuitous wealth, is enough to make me giggle. "Maybe it's good that I'm here for a little while. Derek has texted me about a million times."
"What?" she asks. "Screw that. Your ex-fiancé cheated on you with your maid of honor. You didn't respond, did you?"
"Of course not," I say. "I'm just saying that maybe it's good I'm not in the States right now. Maybe I should be here for a little while."
As I speak the words, I start to realize I might actually be considering staying for the summer.
"Venici," she says. "Isn't that the place – Phoenix, who's that prince, the one who's always in the news? Kevin. Prince Kevin. I remember his name because of the whole dick-piercing thing. Is he gorgeous? Are they all ridiculous?"
I groan. I haven't breathed a word about Kev to anyone. Not a single soul knows what happened in Vegas except Kev and I, and it's staying that way. "Yeah, I mean, I haven't really seen him much. I just got here. And, yeah. It's all pretty ridiculous."
"He's the prince with the pierced cock, you know," she says. "Have you ever screwed a guy with a piercing? It's pretty fantastic." She pauses, then laughs and whispers to her boyfriend. "Yes, Phoenix, I'm talking about you."
"No, I haven't done it with a guy with a pierced you-know-what." I sigh. I called the one person I thought would have never heard of Prince Kevin, and she knows all about him and his pierced cock.
"Well, you should," she says. "In fact, he’s what you should do while you're there. Shake off the cobwebs. You need a fling. Rebound sex."
"I do not need rebound sex," I protest.
Summer's voice comes back muffled. "No, Phoenix, remember, I told you her fiancé cheated on her." She pauses, then returns to the phone. "You know how Phoenix feels about marriage. And lawyers. He says good riddance to Derek."
"I can't believe you're telling me to hook up with a prince," I say.
"It's not like I'm telling you to marry him," she says. "Just have a good ol' fashioned fling. Hasn't he slept with half the women in Europe, anyway?"
"He's my new stepbrother," I say. I fail to mention the part where I've already married him.
"That makes it even more appropriate," she says, laughing. "Don't all the royals marry their cousins and siblings? Hey, I have to go. We're having lunch with some other people from the hostel. Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes, go," I reassure her. "I'm totally fine.”
"Fling," she says, laughing as the background in her room is suddenly filled with conversation. "Go have a fling. It'll be good for you. When is the last time you had casual sex?"
The phone cuts off before I can answer. Never, I think. I've never ever had a fling.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to start by screwing the biggest manwhore in Europe.
"Knock knock."
I whirl around to see Kev pushing open the wall panel in my room. "Are you kidding me with this popping-out-of-secret-passageways bullshit?" I ask. "You have no right to push your way into my room like this. I should scream for security."
Kev raises his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, luv," he says. "I come in peace. And I knocked on the wall. Twice. You didn't hear me?"
"Barging into my room through the passageway? Yeah, that's totally peaceful. And not at all completely creepy."
"I came in this way for a reason," he says, giving me an impish grin that immediately grates on my nerves. He flashes that grin around like it gets him out of everything. And the truth is, it probably does.
But not with me. Not even if the way he looks at me makes me want to drop my panties right this second.
