Love For Hire

It took the taxi thirty minutes once it left the city limits to reach the destination. The taxi pulled in front of a massive three-story
mansion. It looked like a small palace. The exterior was tanned stone walls with tall windows with warm light coming from inside.
There were balconies on both the second and third floors. The front door was frosted glass with large clay planters on either side
filled with beautiful flowers.
Kinsley signed the slip that billed the taxi to LA’s Angels, which would be passed on to the client. She got out and watched the
taxi drive away. Kinsley took a deep breath and ran her hands over her belly-flattening out any wrinkles she might have gotten on
the drive over. She pulled on the skirt of her powder blue cocktail dress. She wore it often when she went clubbing. It had a short
skirt and a low bust line. Every time she wore it, she got countless free drinks. She hoped the Prince liked it.
Walking up to the door, Kinsley ran the doorbell and waited. She was feeling a little anxious. She really hoped she could do this.
She was hoping the Prince was not some ugly out-of-shape forty-something kind of guy. She did not know that there were still
monarchies in this world. The only royal family she knew of was the one in England, and she was praying this Prince was
nothing like Prince Charles.
The door opened, and a large man with short blond hair and a black suit looked her over. His expression was unfriendly, and she
wondered if they spoke English. “LA’s Angels sent me,” she said. The man stepped aside and let her in.
As he closed the door, she heard him speak to someone telling them the Prince’s entertainment had arrived. That was when she
noticed he had a very small earpiece in his right ear. “I have to search you,” the man said. “Make sure you are not concealing a
weapon.”
Kinsley gave him an odd look. Her dress was skin-tight, and her handbag was only big enough to hold a condom, her ID, and her
keys; just where did he think she was hiding a weapon? Kinsley held her arms up and let the man pat her down and check her
handbag. He then asked her to follow him.
The man led Kinsley into a large room adjacent to the spacious foyer. The room was very beautiful with white walls and wood
trim with tall Tudor-style windows. The floor was hardwood, and there was a fireplace. Above the fireplace was a mirror with
small wall-mounted laps on either side. There was a white rug on the floor and three contemporary white couches set up with the
fireplace as the room’s focal point. There was a glass coffee table with candles and a few books on it. Around the couch ends
were bi-level brass end tables. There was a wooden chest with sliding brass doors on the front against one wall behind the
centred couch with glass flasks filled with dark liquors. There was a painting of the ocean on the wall above it. The ceiling was
white like the walls with gilded crown moulding and a chandelier.

This place was very extravagant — just the kind of place one would expect royalty to lie in. Kinsley made to sit down, but the
moment her bottom touched the couch, another man walked in. He was not dressed in a suit, but his clothes were clearly
expensive. He was a tall fit man with short blond hair and dark eyes. He looked like he was in his thirties maybe, and she
wondered if this was the man she had come to see. She stood up as the man came over. “You, the girl the service sent over?”
He asked.
“Yes, are you the Prince?” She asked.
He chuckled. “No. I work for his majesty.”
“What do you do?”
“Anything he asks,” he said. “My name is Octavius.”
“Kinsley,” she introduced herself and then instantly rethought. Maybe she should have given a false name. Oh well, too late now.
She’d just have to remember it next time.
Octavius looked Kinsley over as if trying to judge whether or not he thought the Prince would like her. “Ok, follow me,” he said
and walked out of the room.
Kinsley followed Octavius out into the foyer and up a set of winding white marble stairs with a gilded railing. They made their way
up to the second floor and then up another set of stairs to the third. Every hall was decked out with fine décor and beautiful
paintings. When they reached the third floor, they walked down the hall. To a closed door. “You will address the Prince as Your
Majesty,” he instructed as he knocked on the door. “Just wait here a moment,” he then went inside.
Kinsley could hear muffled voices, and then Octavius rejoined her in the hall. “You may go in now,” he said, stepping aside to let
her pass.
Nervous, she took a calming breath and stepped into the room. Once she cleared the door, Octavius pulled the door closed to
give them privacy. The room was large and dark, lit only by the soft flickering light coming from the fireplace. There was a large
king-sized bed, and by the fireplace were two plush light grey armchairs and a brass end table with a glass of brown liquor and
an ashtray.
Relaxed in the chair next to it was a man she could only assume was the Prince. He was a tall, broad man. His long powerful
legs stretched out casually before him. His strong muscled body was dressed in expensive tanned slacks and a dark purple
button-up dress shirt that looked like it was made out of a material that cost more than her rent. Oddly enough though he was

barefoot, he lounged in his chair like a man who was used to power and privilege and was bored with both. In his hand, a half-
smoked cigar. His shirt was left open, and she could see the well-defined muscles of his flat-toned abs.
Her gaze travelled up that tight-toned body to the face of the man lounging in the chair watching her. He was very tall, even in his
relaxed seated position. His dark chestnut hair was just long enough to hang in his eyes... amazing smouldering smoky grey
eyes that were taking her in with interest. His jaw was strong and shadowed with short day-old stubble. His nose was straight,
and his lips were full.
This man was in shambles, looking like he was a wreck and did not care. But even in this shabby state of unkempt, the man was
handsome. He was young, much younger than she was expecting. If she had to guess, she would not think he was much older
than her.
Kinsley stood there, watching him smoke his cigar and look her over. She did not know what he was waiting for. How did this
work?