Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) (12 page)

"And
the Queen's Special Shield for the most outstanding talent of the Annual Day
goes to… Princess Adelaide Royce!"

The
Queen's Special Shield, or QSS as it was called, was the most prestigious prize
of the Annual Day. The contribution of the royal family that honored the star
of the day, it was given away at the sole discretion of the chief guest, who
happened to be the prince himself.

But
there were no murmurs of dissent, no voices blaming nepotism – simply because
the audience there had witnessed the tumult that accompanied Addie's
performance. And no other event of the day matched up to her act in terms of
sheer talent, merit and presentation. Here was the brightest star of the
university, one who would well bring laurels for the country in the future.
Such a talent needed to be rewarded and encouraged, and what better way than
honoring her with the QSS?

To
give credit where credit was due, the prince recommended her name for the award
– despite the fact that the poem in question was actually anti-royalty. If
anything, it just showed the large heartedness of the prince; it was a definite
endorsement for free speech from the future king, no less. This important point
was also not lost on the audience.

So
when the big winner was announced, it was generally accepted as a fair choice.
For the media, of course, this was an unbridled feast; after all, one royal was
presenting a coveted honor to the other. And that was, of course, the prince to
the princess, the latter being a recent addition to the royal rolls. This could
be a record of sorts, truly history in the making, and not a moment to be
missed in the unfolding parade.

There
was Prince Kenrick holding the trophy, standing in the middle of the stage with
the dean next to him, awaiting the arrival of the winner.
 

Addie
could not believe what was happening.
Was
all of this true? Was her little poem worthy of all this hullabaloo?
She
pinched herself to ensure that it was all indeed real.

And
Cate, sitting next to her, was beaming. She had imagined that the poem would
create an impact, deliver a punch even, but this kind of rousing reception for
it and the eventual winning of the grand prize – this was totally out of her
imagination. She had guessed that it would win the special jury prize, but
bagging the QSS was straight out of a fantasy.

"Get
up, Addie, go!" Cate pushed her into action.

"This
is your big moment. And, dare we say, your fitting answer to that stepbrother
of yours."

That
was the kicker. Indeed, as Cate had suggested, this was her sweet revenge to
the prince, for all he had done and said, for all the insults that he had
heaped on her.

He must think the poem
was a result of that incident
, the thought ran through her head in a flash.

Well,
too late now, the deed was done and the shield won. Now all that was left was
to collect it.

She
got up and began her walk to the podium. A hundred cameras were trained on her
and thousands of eyes were riveted on her, with millions more glued to her from
around the world.

Strangely,
though it was her golden hour, she felt no animosity towards the prince. That
was then, this was now; that was how royalty behaved, this was how commoners
(or commoners-turned-royalty) responded. She felt at peace, and walked to
collect her shield full of positivity.

The
prince was gentility personified as she approached. She curtseyed as before,
and he responded with a nod and a bow this time. The shield was passed on to
the prince by the dean, and in his turn, the prince handed it over to Addie –
amidst more applause and the media going crazy.

The
award given, the prince extended his arm for the customary handshake. A moment
– would she take it, would she not – and she reached forward to take it. The
prince shook it with warmth, and the moment was over.

She
walked back, with the same humility in her gait as always. The applause had not
died down, the cameras were still purring away. Shutting it all out from her
ears and from her head, she went quietly and sat down in her chair next to
Cate. Her best friend was thumping her back, smiling a million watts, as the
media cameras were still trained on them, showing two friends in celebration.

The
ceremony over, everyone started dispersing. Even as the cameras were being
dismantled, they were covering her and Cate, as much as they were also hounding
the prince, who was still on stage.
Suddenly, someone came over and whispered something in Addie's ear.

"Oh?"
she said as she looked towards the stage.

The
prince smiled, and waved back at her. He wanted a minute of her time, and she
had to oblige.

"I'll
be back in a minute," she announced, thrusting the shield into Cate's lap.

She
waded through the crowd and reached the stage. The prince was waiting to the
side, his aides standing a little distance away. Cameras came alive as if by
magic, trailing her throughout, till she reached the prince; then they started
covering both of them.

"Hello,
Princess Adelaide," said Kenrick, a distinct change in his manner from
last time.

"Hello,
Prince Kenrick," Addie answered, taking care not to miss any of the
critical words as required by royal protocol.

"What
about my invite?" His voice was down to a whisper.

"Which
invite?"

She
could not place what he was saying – for an instant.

"And
there, ladies and gentlemen, the two royal siblings having a word with each
other!"

This
was the voice of a live announcer for one of the television channels.

"His
Highness Prince Kenrick is seen here congratulating Her Highness Princess
Adelaide on being the most talented student in the university… This, ladies and
gentleman, is a display of brotherly affection for his dear younger sister…
Yes, loyal listeners, the royals are as much human as the rest of us… And
here's a brilliant testimony to that fact…"

The
cameras focused on this stepbrother and stepsister displaying sibling
affection.

"You're
fascinating," whispered Prince Kenrick.
 

Kenrick
was not sure if it was love.

He found her fascinating, that was true. He also had a tender feeling for her.
But then again, he found a butterfly fascinating, too. And on a good day, he
could feel something tender for an alley cat. Neither of these meant he was in
love with such subjects.

His
wild attraction for her was a fact. And it was reinforced when he saw her that
evening at the university event. That was the first time he had seen her after
his infamous visit to her chambers; it was less than a week since then, but it
had felt like ages to Kenrick.

Another
thing. Though he met her that day in her chambers, it seemed to him that he had
not 'seen' her properly. It somehow appeared like an out of focus picture in
his mind. Only yesterday on the dais had he seen her up close. Her face was
inches away from his as he was whispering to her.

It
was there he studied her pretty features at proximity: They combined both grace
and oomph at the same time. And that voluptuous silhouette of hers was already
firing away at his loins, doing things to his testosterone.
 

Kenrick
was no stranger to women; in fact, he had taken the finest of them. The sexiest
of girls had succumbed to his charms, moaning in pleasure under his weight, or
screaming for more sitting over him. This was Kenrick, the emperor of the
orgasm world, the cunt worshipper, the cock conqueror.

This
was Kenrick the Great.

And
it was this same Kenrick who was bowled over by a simple, everyday, middle
class maiden. Was there some kind of message in here for the arrogant Kenrick?
Some kind of divine balancing out for all the aggression he had perpetrated?
Was the day of reckoning near and would justice be done for the countless women
that he had violated?

His
mind was in a kind of flux. And he did not know where to turn to, or whom to
share his turmoil with. If only Pat was here!

He
reached for his mobile phone and speed-dialed his number.

Pat
picked it up at first ring.

"Hey
Phantom!" came the familiar bubbly voice.

"How
have you been holding up, oh prince of thieves?"

"Hi
Pat." Kenrick came out more serious than he had imagined.

"Phantom
– something's the matter?"

Pat
was quick on the uptake.

"No…
I…"

The
prince was at a loss of words – for once in his life.

"What's
up, tell me!"

"Ah…
Pat, where are you?" Kenrick succeeded in saying one full sentence.

"I'm
in Warsaw – can you believe?" Pat sounded enthralled.

"Far
away from kings and queens. The cradle of the proletariat… the capital of
Eastern European revolution… Remember Solidarity?"

Kenrick
was in no mood to remember anything. Neither did it register in him.

"Pat,
I wanted to talk to you…"

"What?"
Pat did a double take.

"I
mean, about what?"

"About…"

"Princess
Adelaide?"

This
was why he was Kenrick's best friend, only friend.

Kenrick
could not say yes. Nor could he say no.

"Phantom,
I know you… Is your stepsister bothering you too much?" asked Pat.

"Yes…"

"Hold
on, what time is it there… four a.m.! Heavens, Phantom, whatever is the matter
with you?!"

Kenrick
was silent.

"I've
never known you to be an insomniac, Phantom! The picture in my head is you
sleeping like a baby after a round of heavy-duty fucking."

"I…
I'm all confused, Pat."

"You
know what you need, Phantom?" Pat tried to change track.

"A
huge, fulfilling royal fuck. That's what you need."

"No,
Pat, I can't focus…"

"Bring
it on, Phantom. Nothing like the good old in-and-out, in-and-out to lift your
spirits."

"Pat."

"Don't
ask me to come over, Phantom," said Pat, continuing to be jovial.

Kenrick
knew this was a favorite trick of Pat's. He would pretend to be disinterested
to get Kenrick back into his mood.

But
this time it wasn't going to work.

"I'm
in the midst of a rather important assignment," continued Pat.

"Oh."

This
was rare, coming from Kenrick. If he were his usual self, he would have ordered
– backed by the power of his royal might – to bring Pat's ass right there, from
wherever he was and irrespective of whatever he was doing.

And
it was not lost on Pat; yet he stuck to his fake sense of humor.

"I'm
checking out the local cuisine, Phantom – or rather, the street food
here," Pat informed.

If
he were face to face with Kenrick, he would have seen the glint of mischief in
Pat's eyes.

"And
I must say, it's rather delicious. She's right now sitting with my cock in her
mouth."

Kenrick
was silent.

"You
must be wondering," came Pat's voice again.

"Whatever
happened to my golden rule – never two people on my bedroll. Well, I amended it
recently – tonight in fact – to make some glorious exceptions."

"Oh."

"If
the girl is hot enough, and my dick is hungry enough, two people can just about
manage on my bedroll."

"Okay,"
responded Kenrick.

He
disconnected the line.