His Royal Secret Read Online Free
Author: C. T. Sloan
doesn’t bother to look or even acknowledge me. I just want to scratch her eyes out. This is supposed to be my Prince! The royal hunk - the Prince who will never be mine - continues to walk into the hotel. I slink back to my desk. No Prince for me. And soon, no job either.
I slump over the phone. For a moment, I can feel a tear run down my cheek. I think about wiping it off. Then again, who cares? So what if the manager sees me. At this point, getting fired will only relieve me of my misery.
Seriously, what was I thinking? Why would a Prince be interested in me when he could have any girl in the world. Here we are in LA where models, actresses and celebrities are competing for Prince Julian’s attention. I must be delusional.
Two hours go by as I stand over the phone. No calls. Nothing to do but wait for 11:00 p.m. to roll around. At 8:00, I see the blonde walk to the concierge area. She is walking right towards me. All the blood rushes to my face. Sadness. Anger. Jealousy. All of those emotions mix throughout my belly.
“Please cancel the Prince’s 9:00 p.m. dinner,” the blonde tells me in a European accent.
“Yes ma’am,” I say coldly.
Great. She’s not only gorgeous, she is probably some rich and famous European model.
As I pick up the phone to cancel the dinner, the woman begins to text on her iPhone. Then she smirks and puts the iPhone away.
I cancel the reservation in Malibu. The restaurant sounds clearly disappointed. The blonde looks at me and says, “I need to you to call the Santa Monica Airport and tell them that I will be arriving shortly.”
“Yes ma’am. May I have your name.”
The blonde looks at me as though I should know her name like it were a household word. “Of course, how would you know. I am the Romane, Duchess of Mondorra. You are the one assigned to serve my brother, the Prince. Please hurry. I do not want my plane to New York to be delayed.”
That’s his sister! Holy fuck! I almost jump up and down. I smile wide and call the Santa Monica Municipal Airport and announce the imminent arrival of the Duchess of Mondorra.
I hang up and the phone and smile at the Prince’s sister.
“I have relayed the message, Your Highness,” I say.
“You should address a Duchess as ‘Your Grace,’” the royal instructs me.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” I say. Hell, I’ll call her anything she wants as long as she is not fucking the Prince!
The Duchess stands around the lobby. I look at her with a sense of relief. A chauffeur arrives into the lobby and escorts the Duchess to her car. All of sudden, things are looking up. The Prince is in his Penthouse suite. However, I can’t help but wonder why he has cancelled dinner.
No sooner than I have that thought, the phone rings.
“How may I help, Your Highness.”
“Did my sister leave yet?”
“The Duchess of Mondorra has left for the Santa Monica Municipal Airport, Prince Julian.”
I hear a deep exhale from his voice. “Finally, I thought she would never leave.”
“Is everything okay, Your Highness.”
“My sister has been bothering me to finance some ridiculous movie that she wishes to make. She wants to be a Hollywood starlet. I think the whole ambition is silly. At least she does not aspire to star in a reality show.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, the Duchess is a very striking woman,” I say as I try to suck up to the Prince.
“She is already a model. Why can’t she be happy with that?!” the Prince asks.
“I believe LA makes people stir crazy for fame, Your Highness.”
“Indeed. My sister has drained all the energy from me so I will be dining in the hotel this evening. I would like to have a room reserved immediately.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
Yipee! Yes, I know the chance of me hooking up with Prince Julian is on par with hitting the Mega Millions Lottery but a one in twenty
I slump over the phone. For a moment, I can feel a tear run down my cheek. I think about wiping it off. Then again, who cares? So what if the manager sees me. At this point, getting fired will only relieve me of my misery.
Seriously, what was I thinking? Why would a Prince be interested in me when he could have any girl in the world. Here we are in LA where models, actresses and celebrities are competing for Prince Julian’s attention. I must be delusional.
Two hours go by as I stand over the phone. No calls. Nothing to do but wait for 11:00 p.m. to roll around. At 8:00, I see the blonde walk to the concierge area. She is walking right towards me. All the blood rushes to my face. Sadness. Anger. Jealousy. All of those emotions mix throughout my belly.
“Please cancel the Prince’s 9:00 p.m. dinner,” the blonde tells me in a European accent.
“Yes ma’am,” I say coldly.
Great. She’s not only gorgeous, she is probably some rich and famous European model.
As I pick up the phone to cancel the dinner, the woman begins to text on her iPhone. Then she smirks and puts the iPhone away.
I cancel the reservation in Malibu. The restaurant sounds clearly disappointed. The blonde looks at me and says, “I need to you to call the Santa Monica Airport and tell them that I will be arriving shortly.”
“Yes ma’am. May I have your name.”
The blonde looks at me as though I should know her name like it were a household word. “Of course, how would you know. I am the Romane, Duchess of Mondorra. You are the one assigned to serve my brother, the Prince. Please hurry. I do not want my plane to New York to be delayed.”
That’s his sister! Holy fuck! I almost jump up and down. I smile wide and call the Santa Monica Municipal Airport and announce the imminent arrival of the Duchess of Mondorra.
I hang up and the phone and smile at the Prince’s sister.
“I have relayed the message, Your Highness,” I say.
“You should address a Duchess as ‘Your Grace,’” the royal instructs me.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” I say. Hell, I’ll call her anything she wants as long as she is not fucking the Prince!
The Duchess stands around the lobby. I look at her with a sense of relief. A chauffeur arrives into the lobby and escorts the Duchess to her car. All of sudden, things are looking up. The Prince is in his Penthouse suite. However, I can’t help but wonder why he has cancelled dinner.
No sooner than I have that thought, the phone rings.
“How may I help, Your Highness.”
“Did my sister leave yet?”
“The Duchess of Mondorra has left for the Santa Monica Municipal Airport, Prince Julian.”
I hear a deep exhale from his voice. “Finally, I thought she would never leave.”
“Is everything okay, Your Highness.”
“My sister has been bothering me to finance some ridiculous movie that she wishes to make. She wants to be a Hollywood starlet. I think the whole ambition is silly. At least she does not aspire to star in a reality show.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, the Duchess is a very striking woman,” I say as I try to suck up to the Prince.
“She is already a model. Why can’t she be happy with that?!” the Prince asks.
“I believe LA makes people stir crazy for fame, Your Highness.”
“Indeed. My sister has drained all the energy from me so I will be dining in the hotel this evening. I would like to have a room reserved immediately.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
Yipee! Yes, I know the chance of me hooking up with Prince Julian is on par with hitting the Mega Millions Lottery but a one in twenty
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