Page 2 of Cheeky Prince
“Above my pay grade,” he returns with a shrug as he picks up a cigarette and clicks his lighter. I point to the external door, and he rolls his eyes, taking his filthy habit outside.
“What are the workers striking over?” I ask when the man finishes. He gives me a whole new list, which I jot down and assure him I’ll make some calls to try to work something out. The economy here is almost entirely reliant on its farming labor force. If they don’t work, Cassaco’s GDP will take a huge hit, and the impact will be far reaching. Our kingdom is made up of several small islands off the coast of the French Riviera. Due to our prime location, we’re also a wealthy nation, but only as wealthy as our ability to export our produce. If our workers don’t work, our economy stalls.Why isn’t my father on top of this? Why did no one warn me?
“Sit tight,” I say when I place the pen on the counter. “I’ll do what I can and call you back.”
The guy thanks me profusely before we disconnect, and I mutter to myself about being the prince with the shovel. This isn’t the first time I’ve been sent to one of our sovereign states under the guise of a ‘state visit’ only to walk into a complete mess. Sometimes I swear that I’m the only member of the royal family who actually does any work, while also being the one with the least resources at my disposal. It’s a pile of steaming bullshit.
I flick through my phone book and make several calls, arguing back and forth about the importance of maintaining a living wage and government provided healthcare for these farming families. I get some nonsense about the Riviera wanting to rent the islands to build more tourist resorts, and it makes the steam come out of my ears. Where are these people supposed to live if the land they work becomes a resort for the wealthy?
After hours of arguing, I hit a brick wall. There’s no budging on this.Then why did they send me?I throw my phone at the back of the couch and growl before I head outside to where Stefan is holding a party for one on the back deck.
“Have a drink, cousin,” he says, handing me a glass with about three fingers of whiskey inside. “You look stressed.”
I take the glass from him and sit down with a sigh. “I just wish there was some sort of communication with me before I get thrown into these things. I mean, what are they expecting me to do? Convince the workers that having their livelihood taken away is a good thing? These are salt of the earth men and women. They won’t all be suited to working hospitality, waiting hand and foot on rich-pricks.” I down the whiskey in a gulp and shake my head. “I fucking hate this shit.”
“Cousin, cousin,” Stefan says, refilling my glass. “You worry too much, and you work too hard. Who are you trying to please? It can’t be your father, he barely knows where you are on any given day.”
“Shockingly, I want to help the people.”
“Maybe you should try helping yourself for a change. Look at this place.” He gestures to the right of where he sits where the backyard turns into a private beach that leads to crystal clear waters. “For once, I think you should let one of your brothers clean up the mess and while you have some fun. And I have just the thing to help you relax.”
“Is there something inside that cigarette I don’t know about?”
He laughs. “No. But, I did make a few phone calls of my own. Booze, food,women. It’s time to have some fun, Dom—maybe getlaid.I think you could use the distraction.”
I scoff. “I don’t want a distraction. I want some fucking respect.”
Stefan laughs. “You’re the fifth prince of Cassaco, Dom. The people struggle to remember your name, let alone what you do for them. The credit for your hard work goes to everyone above you. I see it happen over and over again. You want a reward for your work? You have to take it for yourself. And as your best friend as well as closest relative, I’m taking it upon myself to give it to you.”
“With a party?” I roll my eyes. “I’ve never been a fan of parties. You know that.”
“Fine.” He lifts his hands in defeat. “No party. But I am definitely getting you some pussy.”
Jill
“Wait!” I call out as I rush for the gangway before the steward closes it off. “I need to get off too.”
“Cutting it close,” he says, stepping back as I bustle past him. “The group is already heading for the hotel.”
“I’m not going with the group,” I say. “Thank you for waiting.”
He nods but looks a little confused as I make my way onto the dock where the captain of the ship, Stephen, is holding a conversation in French with a man who’s gesturing at the ship while he speaks. Neither man looks overly happy, so I do my best not to interrupt.
“Jill,” the captain says, catching my arm on my way past. He excuses himself as he shifts us a few steps over for some perceived sense of privacy.
“Hi, Stephen.” I smile.
“I hear you aren’t joining us on the rest of the trip?”
I press my lips together and release a pent up breath. “No. And I’m sorry if that causes you any trouble, but that guy I was matched with…” I shake my head. “I don't want to spend another week with him.”
“I'm sorry you’re unhappy. The matchmaking system isn't flawless, unfortunately. But that shouldn't mean you have to walk away from your friend and the cruise. There’s still a lot of fun to be had. And not everyone is matched.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“The good ones are.”
He smiles. “Perhaps. But, I assure you, the crew can make sure Mr. Craig stays away from you. This isn’t our first matchmaking attempt gone wrong. You can still spend the next week enjoying yourself. Yes?”
“No,” I say. “I'm sorry. I’m too uncomfortable. I just want to go home.”
