Royal Arrangement

Annie I know I should've knocked. Knocking was always protocol, but this specific wing of the castle had been vacant since I started working here, in the Kingdom of Verilia as a maid two months ago. Verilia is a beautifully lush and rich country at the border of Hungary, nestled between Austria and Slovenia, a part of it directly bordering northern Italy. It benefits from both the Mediterranean climate and the cool European harvesting weather and is famous for its grain outports. With all it's beauty and culture, I just had to travel and explore but, I never expected to end up here. And I'm not talking about Verilia. I never expected that there would be someone behind the door I so foolishly barged in to. Let alone a man. A handsome man, a few years older than my 25 years of age and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. His muscled chest was wet, a single drop of water dripped from his abs and traveled lower...and lower...and lower...and oh my. I force myself to look anywhere but there. His dark eyes, the ones that are currently boring into my soul are framed by angled cheekbones, a sculpted nose and a sharp jawline. He is undeniably hot. And I am undeniably embarrassed. He says something in Verilian but he speaks so fast that I can't catch any of it. My confusion must had shown on my face because he switches to English. "You're an American." It was a statement, not a question. Of course, I'm distracted by his... everything. I feel my face heat up as I take a step back and ramble out an apology. "Oh my god! I am s-so sorry sir! I didn't mean— I mean I meant to but—" He runs a hand through his wet black hair and smirks. I'm frozen in place and my mouth snaps shut, not wanting to embarrass myself any further. I am screwed. "Mind if I ask you a question?" His voice is deep and smooth and I'm shaking and stuttering. Polar opposites. "Yes. I-of course sir." He raises a brow and crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you going to stand there, or can I get changed?" My blue eyes widen like saucers and my face must be the color of a fire truck because he chuckles. "Yes! Ah! I'm sorry! Oh my god..." I wheel my cart around and quickly try to dart out of the room. I turn from him and sigh in relief as I begin to walk, more like run, to the door. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his wet palm wrap around my upper arm. He spins me around. "I'm going to change in the bathroom. Stay here." His command is punctual, he sounds a little angry. Oh my god I am so fired. 2 hours earlier... The Verilian palace is nothing short of a fairytale. The high towers and walls are made of shining white stone and the windows that pepper the building are made of the finest glass that sparkles when the sun hits it. The castle intimidates me. It makes me feel small every time I approach it. I flash my staff badge at the security guard in the back entrance and smooth out my uniform. I check that my blonde hair is perfectly in place in a nearby mirror as he waves me down the hall. I'm an American in every sense of the word and my blonde hair and blues eyes look out of place from the brown haired brown eyed fellow maids and staff and everyone knew it. I anxiously smooth the black apron over my thighs once again and walk down the spectacular hallway, pushing my cleaning cart. My black mary-janes touch the clean white carpet as I try my best to avoid damaging the expensive paintings and artifacts when I begin to dust and clean them. The wheel snags on the carpet a little and I mutter a curse and continue to push it along. I don't hate this job, but it isn't my preference. I miss America and I miss the life I had back home. I never expected to be a maid in the Verilian palace but things don't always go as expected do they? My friend Aline called me up on the phone and offered a job. Her mother was no longer able to keep up with the cleaning duties and needed help. I hadn't seen Aline in ten years, not since she was my parents' exchange student, but I jumped at the idea. I wanted to see the world and my secretary job in America wasn't giving me what I wanted in life. That was two months ago. The job paid well and I was able to travel to nearby countries as well as spend time with my closest friend so it was a positive experience. I've become close to Aline and now I consider her my best friend. I didn't have many real friends back in New York. My phone buzzes silently in my pocket. I look around, making sure the coast is clear, before taking it out of my apron and checking it. Aline: Want to drink? Tonight? I giggle silently. Aline's English isn't great, but then again, neither is my Verilian. Me: Sure. 8? :) We both get off shift at seven. My phone screen buzzes again with her answer. Aline: Sure. Happy as an oyster! She tries. She really does. And I love her for it. Instead of correcting the misuse of her phrase, I send a simple smiley face back and put my phone back in the front pocket of my apron. Drinks would be fun. I can take my mind off everything and kick back. I can't wait. I think back to my home and my parents. I miss them dearly and I wonder what they're up to. The time zone is different and I'm sure they are still asleep. 7 am here is 2 am there. My mother is always worried and she is especially wary of my globetrotting. She is always calling to check up on me, making sure I'm alright and safe. She freaked out when I told her I was leaving for Verilia alone. She wanted to come with me. "Oh honey, you can't go by yourself. It's not safe." My mother's honey brown eyes were filled with kindness and worry. "Maybe I can go with you? Or what about your father?" I shook my head. "No Mom. I want to do this. I'm 25. It's time for me to see the world!" I smiled, excitement flowing through my veins. "Besides, you have Max to take care of. He's still in high school. I will be fine." Tears welled up in her eyes. "Ok. Just promise me you'll be safe." She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a warm hug. "And call. Call all the time. I need to make sure my little girl is ok." My dad sounded sad and I opened my arms, letting him into the hug. I would miss them both dearly but I knew I had to do this. The next day I was on a plane out of Boston, heading toward Verilia. I continue to push my cart down the hall until I enter the West Wing. The West Wing is always empty and I take solace in cleaning it. I don't have to plaster on a fake smile as I clean, bowing and curtsying as nobles pass. "Good morning my lord... good afternoon my lady..." blah blah. That is the only thing I hate about my job. I find it exceedingly difficult to remain polite and quiet around people that constantly look down their noses at me all because I'm different. I don't know if it's because I'm a maid or because I am an obvious American but it doesn't matter. They always make me feel small and unimportant. Which, I guess, compared to them I am. I begin to enter and clean the rooms as I go. The West Wing has about five rooms and I start at the front of the hall and clean as I go. I dust the shelves, paintings, chandeliers, and vacuum the carpets and scrub the bathroom floors. This is by far the best part of my job. Peace and quiet, and the rooms and suites are never lived in so they are easy to maintain. The suites are the epitome of luxury with velvet curtains, plush comforters over the large beds and elegant furnishings and light fixtures. I especially fell in love with the crystal chandeliers. I was mesmerized by the crystals and the way rainbows danced on the carpets when the light hit them just the right way when I first entered the suite on the first day. There is no doubt that the palace is opulent and beautiful and I love being able to see the intimate parts of it as a maid. I hum and quietly sing to myself as I continue to clean. I make my way to the final suite and open the door. Fast forward through the most embarrassing moment of my adult life... Daniel I close the door behind me and lean against it. I curse quietly. I never expected that a maid would have barged into my room, let alone a perky young American. Her blue eyes were so bright and the way that cleaning uniform covered up her tight body, her pert breasts, and her curvy hips made my c**k jump to attention. Her long toned legs were barely hidden by that skirt and those thighs. American thighs. Fuck. She's right outside my door. And I can't wait to get back to her. I pull on my discarded white button down shirt as fast as I can and stuff my erection back into my boxers and then into my slacks. All while that American consumes my thoughts. I open the door with a smirk, expecting her to be standing there in shock and fear just like before, but come to face an empty room. She's gone... I sigh in disappointment. Damn. I was really hoping that she would still be glued to the floor, her pretty face flushed in red and her bright blue eyes wide in embarrassment. I try my best to shake her from my thoughts. She ran from me when I specifically told her to wait. And those manners? Didn't someone teach her to knock? This would need to be dealt with. Thoughts of the maid, her round ass over my thighs as I punished her thoroughly fill my brain. Just thinking of her squirming and gasping as my palm came down on her ass was enough to make me hard again. Yes, she would be dealt with. But not right now. That would have to wait. Other pressing matters came to my attention. My father was announcing his pick for heir and since I'm the oldest of my two brothers I figured I was a shoe-in. Apparently, I figured wrong. Due to my past behaviors and scandals, court gossip says daddy dearest is planning on skipping over me and going right to my younger brother Michael. Even though I'm the rightful heir. It was bullshit. I hadn't been back home at the palace in ten years, but I came back to fight for my rightful crown. I was in line to be the next king and no one was going to take that from me without a fight. And oh, I would fight. I pull on a pair of socks and dress shoes and leave my suite. Apparently no one had stayed in this wing since I left ten years ago. The maid certainly didn't know that. I smirk at the memory. No. I don't have time for that right now. I will deal with my American later. Now, I need to confirm the rumors and I need see my mother. The Queen. I haven't spoken to her in years, but we were once very close. My father and I don't always see eye to eye, but I can always count on my mother. My mother, Queen Clarita is just as beautiful as I remembered. Her once brown hair is speckled with grey and her large green eyes are still bright with ferocity. She smiles at me from across the table and thanks a servant when he poured her tea with a regal nod of her head. Her small hands are pale and wrinkly and shake a little as she reaches for the porcelain teacup and brings it to her plump lips. "Daniel. I missed you." Her voice is warm and welcoming and I silently curse myself for staying away from her all these years. I smile back. "I missed you too, mother." She grins warmly behind her teacup and take a small, polite, sip. She places it back on the matching saucer with a small clink. "My dear, how have you been? How's Vanessa?" I clench my jaw. Vanessa. Stole my reputation. There was once I time when I didn't hate her, but she wanted more than I could give and went to the police saying I beat her. "Don't know. Don't care." She frowns. "Honey, you know you can talk to me." She studies my expression with her emerald eyes, trying to figure out what I'm thinking about. Too bad she'll never know. I sigh and force a smile. Great. Now I'm pissed. Vanessa is a touchy subject and my mother knows it. "That's actually why I'm here." My mother raises a brow. "Really?" "Yes. I need to ask you if the rumors are true. Do you know what dad's going to do?" If anyone knows, it's my mother. She knows everything about the palace and the nobles of the court. If you need information, my mother has answers. Her face softens into one of pity and I have my answer. Damn. So he really is going to give the crown to Michael. Michael's only one year younger than me at 28 and he already has a docile Verilian wife with the personality of a wet paper towel and two beautiful kids. Don't get me wrong, Cassandra is beautiful, with her Verilian brown hair and high cheek bones, but she is...bland. She never speaks her mind and stands next to my brother in silence, an obvious trophy wife. She knows when to shut up and exactly what to say to the cameras or to my father. And because of that, they love her. "I'm sorry Daniel. It looks like he's passing the crown to Michael." I clench my fists and try to fight off my anger. "May I ask why?" The look of pity on her face doesn't falter and I hate that. "Daniel. He's settled down. He has a wife and kids. I love you, but you've been gallivanting around the world while Michael has been right here. Committed." "Gallivanting?" I raise a brow. "If you want to be king, you need to re-calibrate. If this is what you really want, then you're going to have to work for it." She looks me in the eyes. "So Daniel, is this what you really want? Because if it is, you have to change. Maybe find a wife? Have some kids?" Her words stay with me. I've been groomed to become king ever since I was old enough to walk. It was always what my father wanted. What my mom even wanted. I'm the heir to the throne of Verilia and they expect me to behave as such, so when I was old enough to leave, I did. I had to go out on my own, find my own way. I've been everywhere, I remember everything and contrary to the opinions of everyone else, I don't regret my actions. I smirk to myself as I remember a certain mocha skinned beauty from Ibiza who could put both of her legs behind her head. And of course my thoughts roam to her. The maid. American Thighs. The solution to all the problems. I need to know her name so I continue to walk down the hall until I reach the staff desk. It's on the opposite side of the palace but I don't mind the walk. I'm determined to find out more about my little American anyway. When I got there, an older woman sat at the desk filling out some sort of paperwork. Her brown hair is pinned up in an intricate bun like American Thigh's was. It must be part of the uniform requirements. She looks up from her papers and nearly jumps out of her seat. "Oh dear! Your Highness. How may I help you?" She's clearly flustered. "I need to know the name of one of your maids," I snap. I'm no nonsense. I didn't have time for any of this. "Of course Your Highness! Who do you have in mind?" I'm clearly making her uncomfortable. "She's American. Blonde hair. Blue eyes." She sticks out. Women in Verilia didn't look like she does. She's all American. I picture her in red plaid and daisy dukes and chuckle to myself. "Oh! You're talking about Annie?" She smiles fondly. "What a sweet girl. Pardon me, Your Highness, but may I ask what this is about?" "No. What's her full name?" "Her name is Annalise Shaw." Annalise Shaw. Annie. I like it. My American Annie. "Perfect. Thank you." The lady smiles again, but this time it's clearly forced. She must not have liked my attitude. But I don't care. "Anytime, Your Highness." I walk away from the woman and back toward my suite in the West Wing. I open the door and sit back down on the bed. I turn on the television and it flicks to life showing a young reporter. She's clearly talking about me. About the next king. I turn it up. "Sources say that Prince Daniel will be passed over for the crown. Our independent source says that Prince Michael will inherit the throne. More on this as it develops I'm—" I turn it off and throw the remote against the wall in frustration. Great. Now the news channels have the story. I need to fix this. I refuse lose the crown. And I know just how to fix this. Annie. She owes me a favor. And I'm about to cash in. I ring the bell and call a servant. He runs to my side. "Yes, Your Highness?" I grin. "I want to see a lawyer in here immediately." The young man nods. "Of course. Right away Your Highness." He disappears out the door quickly and leaves me alone. I get off my bed and walk into the kitchen area. I pour myself two fingers of scotch and lean against the counter. Now all I have to do is wait.