Page 6 of Bad Boy Neighbor

“Prince Charming,” I repeat, lost in my own thoughts.

Back home, my parents referred to Nicholas as the son they never had. Kind of a slap-in-the-face toward my brothers-in-law, James and Ryan.

Nicholas knew my father felt this way too, played all his cards right, and did everything my father asked of him.

Prince Charming, a cocky nickname he gave himself upon hijacking my phone the day before I left, is his so-called alter ego. We were seeing each other, or as my parents preferred the term ‘courted,’ for the last six months. It’s not serious. At least, I didn’t think it was considering most of the time he was traveling on some political trail.

But I was stupid to think my fathers silence meant me seeing Nicholas was giving his approval for just dating. He was keeping quiet to then drop the news of the arranged marriage.

Nicolas comes from a very wealthy family, plays golf like a pro, and has shares in his father’s business. Despite us only seeing eachother for a few months, we have known each other since middle school, though never romantically linked.

He’s always been extremely handsome and refined with dark brown hair, borderline black, perfectly combed to the side, and never a hair out of place. He’s not a playboy like his brothers. Nicholas is more interested in work than women, even though they throw themselves at him, desperate to be the next Mrs. King.

My father took it upon himself to arrange our marriage, and despite my feelings for Nicholas, finding out that Nicholas’ over-the-top proposal had my father written all over it. It was done at the dinner in front of both our families.

I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no.

I smiled and pretended to be in shock, needing time to process the news while I went away on this fake charity business my mother was quick to announce to everyone. Her eyes warned me not to mess this up.

I was already the black sheep of the family.

The only daughter who’s willing to question his decisions.

The real question is what will life look like being Gabriella Carmichael, ex-Carmichael heiress, and a homeless bum on the streets since I have nothing to my name?

Oh, I take it back. I have a college degree majoring in Business. My college degree meant nothing if I couldn’t use it to get an actual job.

My mother was quick to point out my social life, once I became the new Mrs. King, would be my only focus, and a career would simply be unnecessary.

Decisions, all of which were thrown at me and which were never mine to make. The path had supposedly been paved, and whether I liked it or not, I would be walking down it with Nicholas King as my husband.

My phone vibrates inside my white linen shorts pocket. Pulling it out, I quickly glance at the screen to see the name Prince Charming in a text message.

“Speak of the devil,” I mutter.

Lana waits in anticipation. She admitted over brunch one day that, as of late, life had all been about Sebastian and Ace, so girl talk was refreshing. She lived vicariously through my complicated love life.

Prince Charming

Did you get the gift I sent?

I sigh, raising the phone so Lana can read it. She purses her lips, pulling her hair out of its ponytail only to tie it back up into a messy bun.

“What are you going to respond with?”

Lana was out front yesterday when the cute UPS driver arrived with a very large package. I signed for it, made small talk with him, then opened the box. It was a stuffed pet pig. Since I was a small child, I’ve had this fascination with pigs. My mother said it was extremely unladylike to have a fascination with such a filthy animal. I remember pointing out to her that if she thought it was so filthy, why did she eat ham on her fancy sandwiches? I was banished to my room and punished by not being allowed to eat at the dinner table. The joke was on them—I hated dining with my parents anyway, and the maid brought extra ice cream to my room.

“I don’t know. The whole point of a break and me moving out here for the summer is to find myself. How can I find myself when Prince Charming is sending me a dozen texts a day, not to mention gifts?”

“Do you know what you need?” Lana questions, tapping her index finger against her lips. “You need to completely forget that the world back home exists. Do something wild tonight, something you’ve never done before. Once you get a taste of this so-called new life, chances are you probably won’t look back.”

Lana doesn’t understand my life back home. It’s nothing like this with fancy dinner party after dinner party, charity balls, and political trails. The list of wealthy social events goes on.

But I have, in the two weeks of staying here, gotten somewhat of a taste of this new life. I’ve spent most of my time on the beach reading, practicing yoga, and lonesome dinners attempting to cook. Harder than you think, considering I grew up in a privileged household, and our cook, Pierre, prepared every meal. I’ve mastered eggs—a small accomplishment making me prouder than I thought possible. “You’re right. I’m not tied down. Well, technically, Nicholas and I are on a break.”

“How very Ross and Rachel of you.” Lana giggles.

“You know what I mean.” I place my phone back into my pocket with newfound confidence “Can I ask you for a favor?”

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