Loving my Forbidden Prince

My life was very small and ordinary. I was in my last year at a public high school, where the classrooms were always either too chaotic or not, and the air smelled faintly of broken sewage, really old furniture and people. I always sat near the back, because it was easier to not be noticed. I was invisible, the dork, and the one always bullied. I took notes in class when I could, sketched doodles when my mind drifted away, and always counted the minutes until I had to rush off to my next class. I slathered fresh butter onto my dry, almost-burnt toast and took a big bite. The buttery, slightly cheesy taste softened the bitterness of the over-toasted bread as I swallowed and washed it down with orange juice. The toaster at home has always been unreliable, and using it meant accepting bread in every possible shade of brown, along with varying degrees of bitterness. It was an exceptionally bright Saturday morning, and I was done with my house chores. My brother, Micheal still snored away in bed, and my mother was out. Always. Money decided most things for us. My family wasn’t broken in any dramatic way, it was just tired and worn out. Since my dad passed away when I was little, my mother worked long hours and came home quiet, like she was always carrying something heavy that she couldn’t put down. She loved us, but it didn’t take me long enough to realise that love didn't pay rent. We lived in an apartment building which was five stories high, shared with ten other residents. Our place had three bedrooms, a living room, a small kitchen, and two bathrooms connected by a narrow hallway. My brother and I leaned mostly on each other for comfort, and support, and in doing that, we were able to create a safe space for my mom to come home to. I had to learn early how to manage my expectations. I was almost giving up on my college dreams when I came across Nina Stewart in Central Park. A stunning woman who looked like she had everything she wanted in her palm. I was slumped on an old park bench, sobbing my eyes out till I was tapped by a blue-eyed beauty. I could still remember her words. “I could show you where I made my dreams come true.” She handed me a card. I was skeptical, but I still tried. I wanted to make something out of my life. And that was how I found myself in Hidden Roses, a discreet agency where wealthy men paid for a few hours in the company of exquisite women who fit their fantasies. Think of it as an escort service for the elites, which was organised and entirely legal. To be honest, I had imagined it was going to be something so much worse, so the reality was a huge relief. As an escort, I was already saving up amounts of money I couldn't possibly dream of having in my bank account. My college dreams were finally within reach, and I had Nina to thank for that. With that being said, I kept it a secret from my family. It was an easily misinterpreted job, and the last thing I wanted on earth was to disappoint my mom. A loud familiar yawn snapped me out of my thoughts, and I glanced at the tiny clock on the wall in the small kitchen. It was eleven am. Yup, I needed to go soon. “What’s for breakfast?” My brother groaned, as he opened the fridge. “Toast and butter?” He groaned again, grabbed a bottle of milk, and turned toward the kitchen table. “What shade of brown?” I laughed softly. “Thirty-three” “That’s bad,” he said, dropping into a chair and shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. “Are you going out today?” “Yes, of course, right now even,” I said, finishing the last of my orange juice. I set the cup down on the table a little harder than necessary. “I don't want to be late,” “Your secret coven of witches, huh?” I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Still better than whatever you have going on,” I raised a brow at him. “Eleven am, really?” He snorted. “Coach has been pushing us really hard. You are not about to ‘mom’ me, okay?” “Fine,” I said and stood up, heading to my room. “Just do your own share of the chores,” * Nina showed up at my office that afternoon without knocking, already talking. “I need a favour,” she said, clicking her fingers. “A big one.” Not again. I closed my notebook. “What is that?” “My client for tomorrow night. I can’t go.” She said, her tone flat and business-like, with a hint of stress underneath. I inwardly rolled my eyes. Even though I was grateful to Nina for this job, it felt like she passed all the clients who weren't worth her time to me. I was grateful for the experience, and they weren't half-bad, but sometimes even the highest-paid escort had to have bad clients. “Hmm?” She pushed further, adjusting her wavy blonde curls. “I just covered for you last week. At the rate we are going, we could actually get caught,” I think I forgot to mention here that switching dates or covering clients for another escort was greatly frowned upon, and was absolutely enough to get you fired for incompetence. “We won't.” She said confidently, shifting in her seat, and fixing her gaze on me. Then she said hesitantly. “He's wealthy. He just seems dull. And he's harmless,” “I understand,” Her voice softened. “I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important,” “Yeah, I guess,” I said, forcing a smile. “It's just dinner.” She beamed at me. “Thank you, Ingrid. I owe you plenty,” That's the hundredth time you've said so. I thought aloud to myself. Saying no was still a luxury that I couldn’t afford. * So, Sunday evening had me dressed in a short blue floral evening gown, white heels, a string of pearls and my long black hair which was straightened for the occasion. Nina’s date was supposed to pick me up at Central Park's entrance, and I wondered why. Maybe he really was the dork she had said he was. I was stunned when a long black limousine pulled up in front of me. She had said wealthy, but this guy seemed incredibly wealthy. The door opened, and out stepped the dark-haired, emerald green-eyed man with a pair of nerdish glasses from the picture that Nina had given me. He was dressed in casual clothes, like he wasn't taking me out. He was too handsome to be a nerd, or maybe my taste in men was really questionable. But this was the dork? “Nina Stewart?” he asked. “Yes?” I managed, finally finding my voice. “You look,” he said as he scrutinised me carefully with his glasses. “different,” “I'm not sure what you mean,” I said, suddenly feeling overdressed and oddly shy. He opened the door wider. “Shall we?” “Of course.” When I climbed into the limo, I was surprised to find another man on one of the seats. I tried to hide it, knowing that Hidden Roses protected its escorts. He was more good-looking than his friend, with frizzy blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes, dressed in an expensive-looking black suit tailored to his physique. He looked really familiar. What in the world am I doing in a limousine with two beautiful hot men? Holy moly. I took a steady breath and sat beside him. The limo started moving, and I adjusted my dress, the silence becoming awkward to me. The man in the suit kept his gaze on me, not blinking. My palms started to sweat. “Champagne?” The dark-haired one offered me a glass. “No, thank you. I don't drink.” I heard a chuckle from the blond man beside me. “Really? That's impressive,” The dark-haired one continued. “I have heard quite a bit about you, Nina,” It's Ingrid! I screamed internally, but on the outside instead, I planted my best smile on my face. “I'm sure you do,” “I imagine things feel a little confusing to you right now,” he explained, with a laugh in his voice. “Actually, I'm not the one who requested your services tonight,” He nodded towards his companion. “He did.” I turned to the blonde-haired man, my heart beating faster, even though I wouldn't mind being kissed by him at the end of the night. Whoa, that was new. I blinked rapidly to gather my thoughts. “I wasn't informed. Does the agency know about this?” “They do,” the dark-haired man said for him, sounding mildly exasperated. “He just likes to keep his cover.” Then he sighed. “Come on, Aaron. Say something to the sweetheart.” What I heard next made my heart stutter. “Hello,” His voice was a deep baritone, smooth with a thick European accent, almost British. I felt it register in my brain which made me suppress a smile. He extended his hand. “I'm Aaron. Prince of Denmark, and Europe.” I swear, I nearly fainted.