Bad Prince: A British Bad Boy Romance

Rose: Meet And Greet I stood in line waiting. It was a long line veering from one end to the other like a well-laid stack of dominoes. The voices remained boisterous filled with glee and a hint of optimism for their future. What were all of us waiting for? It was the ultimate gathering. The Prince had declared a “meet and greet” for everyone in the city. All eligible bachelorettes were welcome to speak to Prince Bryce; the strong-featured and handsome son of King Charles. I wasn’t interested, but Wanda had dragged me to the gathering saying it was an “opportunity of a lifetime, ” and I didn’t feel like saying no. Wanda had been there acting as an older sibling and best friend even as I was bullied by other children at school. She was the one who showed up and shooed them away. Wanda was goofy, but she was protective. The red-haired Wanda was now fixing her makeup in a nearby mirror checking for imperfections. I had been watching from afar unwilling to consider taking a look myself. “You’re lucky with the beautiful brunette hair. I wish I had hair like that to show around to someone as handsome as Prince Bryce,” Wanda moaned still feverishly running her hand up and down to get her wavy strands to settle. For now, they were winning the battle. “I don’t care. I don’t even want to be here Wanda.” “Please. You’re the one who has a chance of getting to meet him. I mean who doesn’t like someone with curvy, tall, and beautiful features?” “Well, I don’t have time for all of this. Note it down that I only came here for you and that you owe me one.” “Yeah, whatever,” said Wanda now satisfied with her hair even though it had already moved back to where it was before. The line was moving slowly. The weather was pleasant in London for now. It was easy on the skin, and I didn’t feel like the sun was pummeling me. England in August was pleasant and agreeable as the sun peeked out of the clouds for moments here and there. I looked up into the heavens hoping those clouds wouldn’t sprinkle down as they so often did. “It’s not going to rain,” said Wanda determined to keep me alongside for the wait. “It probably will with my luck.” “Oh please. You’re such a bore. One of us could be the Prince’s chosen lady, and here you’re thinking about the weather!” “I don’t want to be a ‘chosen lady’ Wanda. I want to go back home and read a book. I can assure you that would be far more satisfying than waiting in a line that is never going to end.” “Oh, it’ll end. Just keep waiting,” she groaned frustrated at my unwillingness to show a lick of optimism. It was another two hours before we had the chance to get closer. The sun had started to begin its descent as the afternoon settled in. The weather was better, and most women were now covering themselves up as the temperature dropped to a mild chill. Wanda also began to shift around as her hair flopped down. “Who makes us wait this long?” I said after looking at her agitation. “Please, we’ll get there soon enough. I can already see the doors.” She was right. The large, wooden doors stating “English Royalty” glistened down with its golden elegance exuding a sense of importance. Two guards stood near the entrance. They weren’t moving and seemed to ignore all of the pestering from women around them who wanted to get in as soon as they could. One of the guards, a shorter man, was wearing a red uniform with a ghoulish hat that had feathers coming out from the top. It made him look rather silly as he scratched away while his partnered turned away. It was an uncomfortable get-up and one he must have been wearing for hours now. He looked up at us as we marched towards him. My dress, a golden outfit, flowed from the seams as the wind rustled. I managed to grab it before it veered upwards. He didn’t even bat an eyelid and pointed towards the entrance. It was time for me to walk in. “You wait for your turn,” he said as Wanda tried to follow behind me. Wanda remained behind waiting to go next with a sincere look of disappointment. “Good luck!” she managed as I began walking towards the door. “Thanks,” I managed with a groan. The halls inside were luxurious. A beautiful shimmering chandelier welcomed me hanging low from the endless ceiling. Sizeable lion statues were sitting on each side giving off a regal vibe as if royalty frozen into this state of sophistication. Red carpeting extended from the entrance all the way to an expansive doorway to the left. A lady, tall and prudish, pointed towards the door for me to follow. She was sweating apparently tired from her job of guiding women from one end of the palace to the other. I walked towards the door she’d pointed to. A guard stood outside and asked for my name. “Rose Swan.” “Alright, Miss Swan, please make your way into this room. Do not speak unless you’re asked to and please do not make silly remarks, which will lead to an immediate eviction from the premises. We do not take lightly to such misbehavior on the part of bachelorettes. Thank you,” he said with a dronish English accent that filled the hallway with each syllable causing me to yawn. “Sure.” “Go inside,” he said without looking at me. I quietly entered the room. It was large but empty with nothing more than the same red carpet from outside, a large coffee table, and two chairs. On one of those brown suede chairs sat a man. It was Prince Bryce I presumed. He was muscular wearing a black leather jacket, which hugged his torso revealing the bumps and valleys of his physique. He sat sluggishly for a Prince leaning back without a care for me or anyone else for that matter. His hair was slicked back, sharp black just like the rest of his features. “Hi, I’m Prince Bryce,” the man said with a rugged English accent, and a hint of royalty draped all over it. He stood up as I entered without having once looked at who had entered. His eyes moved towards me and stopped for a second. He gazed up and down before extending his hand. “And you are?” he asked with a sheepish smile on his face. “Rose Swan.” “Ah yes, someone mentioned that to me a few seconds ago. I must be getting tired from all of these meet and greets.” I stood there listening. “You can sit down,” he said pointing to the chair beside him. I sat down now paying attention to his eyes. They were deep like the ocean almost settling into a contemplative gaze as he kept them locked on me as I shifted to look presentable. “So you think the Royal Bride is something for you?” he asked as the awkward staring became increasingly uncomfortable. “Not really. My friend Wanda asked me to come.” “Your friend Wanda?” he laughed. It was a beautiful, gentle smile. His teeth were picture-perfect almost radiating as he grinned from one ear to the other. “Yeah. She made me come even though I didn’t want to.” “So you’re not into the little meet and greet then?” “Not at all.” “Well, that makes two of us then.” I watched as he slumped over almost happy I had said that. “You know I have to pay attention to all of these bachelorettes cause of my dad. He wants me to get married when I could care less. I mean look at me, I’m a 24-year-old man, and he says it’s time to find a wife.” “Why not just cancel it?” “King Charles is not as disconnected as you might assume. You see those clowns standing out there; they will report to him if I misbehave,” he said with a groan pointing towards the same dronish man who had welcomed me in the beginning. “Well, the line is getting longer by the minute. You might want to think of something to get out of this.” “Any ideas?” I mulled over things for a moment. His eyes looked at me with anticipation clearly fatigued by the situation. “I have an idea.” He leaned in even closer. “MOUSE! MOUSE!” I yelled sending the Prince to squeeze back into his chair from fright as I got up and raised my hands pointing in various directions. The guard and woman from outside came running in. I kept pointing at random places saying the mouse was there. “I hate mice,” said the Prince now with a smile on his face at what I had done. He mouthed, “well played” in my direction. “I saw it. This is unsafe for the Prince,” I said. “Yes, I cannot participate in such conditions. Miss Swan is correct.” “But Prince, there are so many bachelorettes waiting outside for you and the line is getting longer. What will we say to them?” “Say, we’ve found someone.” “What?” the lady said now focused on him as he walked towards his seat to sit down. “Yes, I have chosen a potential bride and feel she is the one.” I started to walk towards the entrance as this unfolded. “Rose Swan is the one I wish to pursue.” I stopped dead in my tracks, shocked at what he had just said. When I turned around, he was standing beside me with an arm around my shoulders. “This Rose Swan?” she asked almost taken aback. “Yes.” “But Prince Bryce, you have many others to look for.” “Am I the Prince or you, Priscilla?” “You are.” “Good. Tell the women I have found a potential bride and wish to pursue her for now. They can all leave.” I looked up at him as he stood there. A whiff of musk came from his direction as he pressed tighter to me in a bid to convince the guard and Priscilla I was the one. “Are you crazy?” I whispered in his ear. “Yes. For you.” I pressed by hand against my face. This wasn’t going as planned. “Now what?” he asked Priscilla who was red-faced and confused at how quickly the Prince had made his decision. “I-I-I believe we shall set up a date between you two for later in the evening. Let’s say dinner?” she stuttered in response almost failing to regain her composure. The guard started looking for the mouse again. “Perfect. Is that fine with you Miss Swan?” “Yeah, I guess,” I said with a reluctant smile on my face wanting nothing more than to go home. “Right. So, Priscilla, please make the preparation and show Miss Swan to the room so she can enjoy what our palace has to offer.” “Of course, Prince Bryce.” I stood there perplexed at what had just happened. Priscilla pointed towards the entrance for me to leave the room and follow her. I followed.