Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) (9 page)

"Kenrick."

Kenrick
was lost. Pat had been calling him, but the prince was somewhere else.

"Kenrick?"

At
last he turned his head and considered Pat without answering. Pat looked at his
friend for a long time… their eyes locked and stayed that way for minutes.

"Kenrick,"
Pat said at last, hesitating.

"I'm
thinking of leaving."

He
expected an earthquake. Kenrick never liked him to leave, no matter how many
days he had stayed over.

As
a matter of fact, Pat did not enjoy his stay with Kenrick this time. It was not
often that he stayed with him in the manor. Mostly it was in seven star hotels
in different parts of the world. This was perhaps only the second time that
they were together on royal property (the first time was when they were still
in their teens).

More
than anything, he could not stand Kenrick's boorish behavior. The prince was
always aggressive, always wearing his royalty on his shoulder, but right now
Pat thought he was going overboard. This was, after all, the modern age, and
democracy was what prevailed the world over; royalty was a relic of the past.
That it was still prevalent in a handful of countries was itself a wonder, but
even there it merely coexisted with elected governments. Yes, the royalty had
power, but its wings were severely clipped – a reality that seemed to have been
lost on Prince Kenrick.

Now,
as Pat was telling him of his travel plans, Kenrick just looked away. Pat
realized that something was amiss. In fact, Kenrick had not been his real self
ever since they returned from that disastrous meeting with Princess Adelaide.
He knew his friend too well to imagine that something else was the matter.

It
was more than clear that the Princess had a role in this transformation. The
normally boisterous Kenrick was now withdrawn into his shell. Gone were his
arrogance and highhanded behavior; in its place was a meekness and diffidence
that refused to go with the personality of Prince Kenrick Royce.

"I'll
take the morning flight tomorrow," announced Pat, expecting to elicit some
response.

Kenrick
maintained his silence. And that worried Pat.
Was his friend, sole heir to the kingdom's throne, descending into a
massive pit?
If yes, it needed to be curbed right now, and as the prince's
friend, Pat felt responsible.

He
got up and sat next to Kenrick.

"Hey,"
he said, making his tone more jovial than usual.

"Is
all well with you?"

He
put his hand on Kenrick's shoulder. The latter just pushed his hand, got up
from his chair and walked towards the large window.

"Come
on now," said Pat, following him.

"Tell
me what it is. Surely you can share it – whatever it is – with your old
mate!"

It
made for a great picture. Kenrick, with his incredibly amazing features, was
standing by the intricate Victorian style window, the light from outside
highlighting his chiseled face.

No wonder he could get
any woman he wanted
,
thought Pat.

Suddenly,
he realized the reason for this melancholia. Was it a woman Kenrick could
possibly never get?

"I
know why you're upset," tried Pat, in spite of his better judgment.

He
knew that perhaps this was an inappropriate thing to say, but he said it
anyway.

"Is
it Princess Adelaide?"

Kenrick
turned to glare at his friend.

"Of
course it's Princess Adelaide!" barked Kenrick.

"What
else did you think it was, you bastard?!"

In
a flash the real Kenrick surfaced, and at once Pat was regretting bringing up
the name of the princess.

"It's
all right, Kenrick," Pat persisted, trying to pacify him.

"With
some women, it just takes a little time. She'll come around… sooner or
later."

"You
wally!" Kenrick snarled, all of his pent-up feelings now escaping him.

"Don't
you think I know that! I know that better than you, you bastard! You're
teaching
me
, you prat, you're
teaching Prince Kenrick Royce?"

"Kenrick.
Kenrick. Hold on, calm down! There's nothing the matter. Why are you
yelling?!"

"Nothing
the matter?
There's nothing the matter?
There's this bitch disrespecting me; me – the mighty Prince Kenrick, sole heir
to the throne of this great kingdom – and you say there's 'nothing the matter'?"

"Kenrick,
please understand. She's a commoner. She's used to a certain freedom. She must
hate royalty. Give her time!"

"Time?
You say time, you bastard??" Kenrick was spitting fire.

"My
cock is hard as a ramrod right now. And you want me to give her
time
!"

"But
Kenrick! She's your stepsister!"

"So
what do you want me to do? Forget about fucking her?"

"No,
but at least speak about her in more civil terms!"

"Why
civil – she's not my sister, is she? If my old man is horny and gets a cunt for
himself, and with it comes a smaller cunt for free–"

Here
he broke down and laughed uproariously.

"What
do you expect me to do, my dear Pat?"

Pat
was grateful for this sudden defusing of tension. Whatever it was, the way he
steered the conversation, it deflated Kenrick's anger. He was even laughing
now!

This
was the best time to tell him...

"Kenrick,
I told you I'm leaving on the morning flight."

"You're
going, right, you're going," said Kenrick through his guffaws. The
laughter had not subsided yet.

"Okay,
then go! Leave me like that and scoot, you bastard, like a bandicoot!"

"Why
Kenrick, are you in love with your stepsister?" mused Pat.

"Love?
Did you say
love
?" Kenrick
laughed again, the laughter of a cynic.

"I
don't even know what that means. Love – that fancy four-letter word that poets
coined when all they wanted was a right royal fuck. Love – that fantastic
pseudo feeling which can make women swoon and bare their bosom. Love – that
beautiful creation with which men entrapped stubborn ladies over the centuries.
Love? Not for me, my dear friend; give me lust any day or night, for me and my
tingling loins… Lust, lust, lust is what I need – lust is what runs the
world."

Pat
was overwhelmed at this soliloquy – it was worthy of a
Hamlet
or
Macbeth
.

"Kenrick,
what an eloquent orator you are!" Pat said sincerely.

"Is
that what you use to 'entrap stubborn ladies' with?"

The
prince laughed.

"My
dear Pat," he said.

"My
tongue is just one of the many organs I employ to fulfill my grand
pursuits."

"I
suggest," said Pat.

"You
employ another organ – the one inside your head – to figure out if this thing
between you and the princess is love or lust. Because Kenrick, I'm yet to come
across someone who's lust-lorn or lust-sick."

"Oh
cut it out, Pat!" snapped Kenrick.

"I
just want that bitch from behind. And then from the front. And then in her
mouth. And then everywhere. I want her on top of me, I want me on top of her. I
want her, I want her, I want her. Period."

"Okay,
Prince Kenrick," stated Pat, resigned.

"I
leave you to your machinations and manipulations... Seriously, I need to get
going, Kenrick."

"Agreed,"
replied the prince.

"You
carry on. And I'll see if I can lasso this dame here."

"I
like this one too," Cate was saying to Addie, as they sat in their
favorite corner in the café.

She
had just read the eighth poem penned by Addie – and they were trying to choose
one for the big Annual Day.

"But
Catie," laughed Adelaide.

"You
like all eight! Now what to do?"

Cate
chuckled.

"Yeah,
but seriously," said Addie to Cate.

"We
need to choose."

"Can
you not read out more than one?" Cate asked.

"I
don't think they allow that," replied Addie.

"After
all, there are others out there, too, wanting to showcase their talent."

"In
that case, my dear poetess, I leave that tough decision to you."

"Some
mate you are," teased Addie.

"What!
I can't take the pressure. What you should do is, after supper today, spend
some time with each of your eight masterpieces. Go with your gut. Eliminate the
ones you think fall short. Then you'll arrive at the right one."

"Thank
you Catie," responded Addie.

"That
advice is most helpful."

Cate
was not sure if Addie really meant it, or if it was tongue firmly in cheek.
Eventually, however, that was what Addie had to do. She had written six poems
the previous night, and had taken two from an earlier collection. She'd chosen
these eight for what she thought was relevant to students like herself, to the
youth of the day, and to society in general.

Her
poems were not about painting a rosy picture about life; she was not a
romantic. Addie had seen life in the rough, so she would never sugarcoat
reality. Her words portrayed the truth, the way it was – nothing more, nothing
less.

Addie
believed that poetry had to emanate from personal experience. And when it did,
the feelings were genuine and the expression rang true.

Her
early poems reflected her life as a child, the world as seen through the eyes
of a ten-year-old. All the innocence of that little universe was captured
faithfully in her words.

Her
childhood was not particularly tough. It was ordinary, minus any frills, the
kind of life her mother's meager income could afford. But how was it that a
mere child could understand the vagaries of the world, the problems that
existed, and the societal discriminations? Her tiny heart yearned for things
easily accessible to the rich. And for her father.

These
were the outpourings of a little girl. And they flowed straight from her aching
heart – a streak that never changed through her growing years. That was also
why her poetry touched a chord.

As
she grew into her tweens and teens, her poetry matured. It now started to
mirror teen angst; not just hers alone, but that of her entire generation. She
would send her poems to youth magazines, and later to poetry websites. Then of
course she started her own blog to chronicle her writing, which extended beyond
poetry. And the blog,
It All Addies Up
,
became one of the most popular young adult blogs as per Alexa's analytics and
ratings.

Now,
as she was about to graduate, her life had taken an unexpected turn. And that
found a resounding echo in her poetry. Here was a girl next door who became,
overnight, a princess. Stuff straight out of fairy tales. Stuff that would have
thrilled many a commoner, but not Addie.

Because
Addie was an uncommon commoner.

It'd
been two days since Pat had gone. And it'd been two days since Kenrick had
stepped out of his chambers. It was perhaps the first time in his adult life
that he stayed put indoors for such a long duration.

Was he truly in love?
The man who had
famously derided the most noble of emotions – was he now going to succumb to
the selfsame emotion?

That
was ridiculous. Women were no strangers to him; worse, he could have virtually
any female he set his eyes on. And he preyed on them indiscriminately, to the
point of just using them – their bodies, to be more precise – and throwing them
away as if they were dead to him. Rightly enough, looked at it one way, they
were indeed dead bodies to him, of no more use and hence, discarded at the earliest.

For
the prince and the sole heir apparent to the throne, it was indeed a problem of
plenty. From his position of power, the women just multiplied. The more he had,
the more they appeared, as if falling from the sky.

The
only problem with this kind of abundance was Kenrick never valued its
availability. He started taking things for granted. He felt as if the female
race was made only to satiate his desires, his animal cravings. He felt like an
animal himself.

When
Kenrick saw a woman, he never saw a human being. He only saw an outlet for his
wild side. For him, a female was nothing more than a receptacle for his semen.
And some rigorous, beastly sporting action till he reached there.

Until
he saw Princess Adelaide.

Here
was a girl who, for the first time in his life, was inaccessible for him.
Who was this young woman, where did she come
from, why was she wreaking havoc in his easygoing life?
What was so special
about her that, in spite of the sudden upgrade in her social status, she
refused to play ball with him?

Kenrick
knew that this kind of thing transpired perhaps once in a century – a commoner
entering the royal family. And when it happened, it was a national event. It
was all over the media and now the Internet. It was the celebration of a
lifetime for those who were fortunate enough to shake off their lowly social
status and climb to the highest stratum in society possible.

When
history repeated this time, everything was predictable. It had captured the
public imagination as always, it was splashed everywhere, it became the toast
of the nation. With one notable exception.

The
commoner that became princess was not suitably impressed.

It
was a complete mystery to Kenrick. What ordinary mortal would not be thrilled
by such an unexpected turn of events? Who would not love to live like the
royalty? What kind of a person would want to stay back in the life of drudgery
that middle class was known for?

That
was it. This girl, Adelaide something, who turned into Princess Adelaide Royce,
was a mystery. It seemed, Kenrick was convinced, that she was no ordinary
mortal.

Could
she be an angel? Could she be of superior intelligence to loathe royalty so
much? Could she be so special that not even the most eligible bachelor in the
country did not appeal to her?

The
more he thought about Princess Adelaide, the more he was attracted to her. It
was more than the craving for the forbidden fruit, it was a necessity for his
fast beating heart. It was a no-exit situation for Kenrick; there was no option
for him but to get her, by fair means or foul.

But,
given their respective positions – she was also princess in her own right, now
holding almost an equal rank as him – any foul method was likely to kick off a
scandal. Which meant there was just one option open to him: He had to win her
over.

Fair
and square.

Kenrick
just sat there thinking of Princess Adelaide. That was what he was doing those
two full days. He would have breakfast late in the morning, not even look at
his usual newspapers. He would have lunch towards evening, and he would not
even watch television. He would have dinner, if at all, by midnight. His entire
life had gone topsy-turvy.

This
was not Kenrick. This was definitely not Prince Kenrick Royce. The royal scion
who played with the lives – and bodies – of countless women, now suddenly at
the mercy of just one. Doomsday was near; what was never thought possible was
now coming true.

It
struck him that he knew nothing about Princess Adelaide. As far as he was
concerned, his new stepsister was a total stranger to him. She, on the other
hand, probably knew all about him. He was this celebrity, among the most
well-known faces of the times, and easily one of the top trending names on the
Web.

That
was it – he had to know about her. He had to get a complete lowdown on this new
woman in his life; well, not yet
in
his life.

But soon will be
, he assured himself.

"I,
Prince Kenrick, have to know her," he kept repeating to himself, like a
man gone crazy.

He,
who had never even bothered to know the names of the women he'd bedded, now
suddenly wanted to know everything about this one woman he had yet to bed – and
had not much hopes of bedding.

And
that woman happened to be his stepsister.

But
how to know her? She was so like a wall, so impenetrable like a rock.
How was he to know her?
Was there a way,
a shortcut, to understand this enigma called Princess Adelaide?

*****

Well
into the wee hours of the night, Kenrick lay in his bed, tossing and turning.
This was a new experience for him… he was forever the one who gave others
sleepless nights. And now he was at the receiving end. Some quirk of fate!

The
farther she was from him, the closer he wanted to go towards her. And the more
she detested him, the more determined he was to win her over.

That
was the challenge facing Prince Kenrick Royce.