Page 94 of Prince Charmless
I hear a rustle from the bedroom, then a pause, then the shuffling of feet. “Sometimes I find it a little complicated,” his voice says from right behind the door. “There are different types of soaps, and hard-to-reach places.”
When I turn the handle, Taylor stands in front of me with a white sheet wrapped around his lower half. He resembles a Greek god.
“Shower sex,” he states. “Yes or no.”
I grab a fistful of his toga and yank.
30
Taylor
The whirr of Melina’s hair dryer fills the room as I get dressed. I feel very clean, actually. I wasn’t sure how much showering I could get done in between fucking her up against the tile wall.
My phone buzzes against the wooden nightstand. Usually, I check my messages as soon as I wake up, but usually I’m not waking up next to a naked woman. The only warm-blooded animal that’s been in my bed the last couple of months has been Vinnie.
Tom:You didn’t tell me Melina was a model. Since when did you have that kind of game?
I text back a few question marks. “You’re a model?” I shout to Melina.
She looks over her shoulder and winks. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”
I don’t think she knew that was a question. I read the text a few times before opening Twitter. It doesn’t take long to find it. What soon fills my feed is the same image of Melina lying on a bed.
She innocently passes me to pick up her clothes off the ground. She’s shown me photos like this before, except they were all of other people. I must be a masochist because I don’t stop my thumb from swiping down.
They’re really going to make this slag a princess???Ninety-two likes.
I still think he’s gay.Two-hundred and nine likes.
Tous les hommes veulent la même chose mdr. #princessofstclaire.Seventy-three likes.
Wow, vaguely attractive rich guy likes leggy women. Why are we all giving a shit when our coastline is eroding by the minute? #ActOnClimate #Vote.Two likes now three because I liked it with my burner account.
As I scroll down, the vulgarity of the comments increase, and my post-sex, waking-up-next-to-a-beautiful-woman high fades. I feel like an idiot. Why would Melina ever think I’m worth this? What could I possibly give in return to justify her putting up with St. Claire’s bullshit? My whole life, I’ve been avoiding scandal, minimizing scandal, giving out statements to prevent scandal. I’ve become desensitized to the lifestyle because it’s all I’ve ever known. I didn’t even consider whether she wanted to deal with it.
“What’s going on?” Melina asks, adjusting the towel wrapped around her.
She can read me like a book. When I show her the post, she becomes completely still.
“Were you hacked?”
She shakes her head slightly. “It’s been on Rachel’s website for ages, I completely forgot.” Her tone of voice is dull and unreadable.
I let out a small breath, knowing this wasn’t a personal photo. Still, I’m livid that anybody could write something so horrible about her.
She scrolls through my phone, her eyes quickly scanning from left to right. “How did people find this? My name isn’t connected with the business at all. I’ve made sure of it.”
“They must’ve found out you and Rachel are friends.”
Maybe some journalists figured out we danced at her wedding together. Rachel could’ve captioned an Instagram post with Melina’s name, or someone did some old-fashionedresearch and asked around. Anything can be found on anyone these days, even if they’re not on social media. Somewhere in a royal watcher’s dungeon, there’s a bulletin board full of red string and printouts of any piece of media that’s ever mentioned the name Melina Ramirez.
“Why is everyone freaking out?” she asks. “I’m fully clothed. Kind of.”
I turn my head to the phone in Melina’s hand. Yeah, I would saykind of.Her large white T-shirt covers everything, but she’s in a pose that’s a little suggestive. Suggesting that she’s not wearing pants or a bra, that is.
“Anytime my family is involved with something that doesn’t represent the height of traditionalism people freak out.”
St. Claire so desperately wants an heir from their prince, yet becomes hysterical when I’m associated with sex, or in this case, something that vaguely resembles it.Do you know how babies are made?I should yell at all of them.
