His Royal Secret (3 page)

“Oh yes,” the Prince says as he gets up from his chair. I quickly grab his beach robe and offer it to the hunky Royal. He turns his back on me and raises his arms. Of course, he wants me to put it on for him. Well, I don’t mind getting
really close
to Prince Julian. I slowly slide the terrycloth robe onto the Prince’s tan and tone body. Then I walk around to Prince Julian’s front side and tie the robe onto his perfect body. The Prince takes my hand and kisses it. “Excellent Amy. I shall see you when my affairs are done.”

I am absolutely beaming. “If there anything you need, I am ready and waiting by the phone, Prince Julian.”

The Prince smiles and walks off with his men. I am so turned on right now. My body is overheating with sexual urges. I swear I just want to go home and touch myself. Hell, I may not even make it back to my apartment. I need some
alone time
right now!

I go to the employee area at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel with my wet uniform and exchange it for a clean one. When I get to one of the dressing rooms, I strip off my clothes, down to my underwear. I am so hot and bothered, I can’t help but rub myself.

Oh my God! This is so crazy. I have never been this horny in my life. I sit on the little bench and spread my legs wide. I look up at the ceiling and imagine the Prince between my life. My breathing starts to increase. My face begins to sweat. “Fuck!” I moan as I push my hand into my underwear.

I rub myself until my toes curl. I cum. Then I lean back and feel my muscles relax. Damn, that was better than any fuck I’ve had in the past year. I look in the mirror and see myself in my bra and panties. Then I slowly get dressed.

As I leave the dressing room, I almost forget that little white blouse and skirt. I walk back inside the dressing room and pick up the other uniform. When I turn to leave, I see my manager standing right outside the employee uniform area. Great. Now all my horniness has just fled my body!

“What are you doing?!” the hotel manager says as he stares at me with the white tennis outfit.

“Prince Julian insisted that I wear a casual uniform as I gave him a back massage.”

“And where is our guest right now?” my boss asks sternly.

“He is currently en route to a meeting in Century City.”

“Make sure you stay by your phone. I don’t want you missing any phone calls from the Prince.”

“Yes sir.”

The hotel manager marches off. I exhale deeply and hurry back to my station.

For the next few hours, I sit by the phone like a girl waiting for that cute boy to call. Five o’clock. Six o’clocj. Nothing. I should be happy. I just got paid two hours work for doing absolutely nothing.

At 6:30, I see valet boys and bellhops run to the front entrance. I follow them and see the massive Royal motorcade making its way back to the hotel. I stand at attention as the line of Rolls-Royces make their way to the entrance. One of the bodyguards opens the door. The Prince exits with an attractive blonde. My heart sinks. I can feel tears ready to roll down my cheek.

My lower lip begins to quiver as I see Prince Julian with this six-foot tall Nordic goddess on his arm. That massage. Our little conversation and sweet talk at the pool was really nothing. Dammit. I was being delusional.

The Prince walks up and smiles at me. “Hello Amy. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Prince Julian.”

“Excellent. I will be dining at the Pier per your recommendation. I have heard wonderful things about that restaurant.”

“I am sure it will be an excellent dining experience your Highness.”

While the Prince and I talk, the blonde doesn’t bother to look or even acknowledge me. I just want to scratch her eyes out.
This is supposed to be my Prince!
The royal hunk - the Prince who will never be mine - continues to walk into the hotel. I slink back to my desk. No Prince for me. And soon, no job either.

I slump over the phone. For a moment, I can feel a tear run down my cheek. I think about wiping it off. Then again, who cares? So what if the manager sees me. At this point, getting fired will only relieve me of my misery.

Seriously, what was I thinking? Why would a Prince be interested in me when he could have any girl in the world. Here we are in LA where models, actresses and celebrities are competing for Prince Julian’s attention. I must be delusional.

Two hours go by as I stand over the phone. No calls. Nothing to do but wait for 11:00 p.m. to roll around. At 8:00, I see the blonde walk to the concierge area. She is walking right towards me. All the blood rushes to my face. Sadness. Anger. Jealousy. All of those emotions mix throughout my belly.

“Please cancel the Prince’s 9:00 p.m. dinner,” the blonde tells me in a European accent.

“Yes ma’am,” I say coldly.

Great. She’s not only gorgeous, she is probably some rich and famous European model.

As I pick up the phone to cancel the dinner, the woman begins to text on her iPhone. Then she smirks and puts the iPhone away.

I cancel the reservation in Malibu. The restaurant sounds clearly disappointed. The blonde looks at me and says, “I need to you to call the Santa Monica Airport and tell them that I will be arriving shortly.”

“Yes ma’am. May I have your name.”

The blonde looks at me as though I should know her name like it were a household word. “Of course, how would you know. I am the Romane, Duchess of Mondorra. You are the one assigned to serve my brother, the Prince. Please hurry. I do not want my plane to New York to be delayed.”

That’s his sister! Holy fuck! I almost jump up and down. I smile wide and call the Santa Monica Municipal Airport and announce the imminent arrival of the Duchess of Mondorra.

I hang up and the phone and smile at the Prince’s sister.

“I have relayed the message, Your Highness,” I say.

“You should address a Duchess as ‘Your Grace,’” the royal instructs me.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” I say. Hell, I’ll call her anything she wants as long as she is not fucking the Prince!

The Duchess stands around the lobby. I look at her with a sense of relief. A chauffeur arrives into the lobby and escorts the Duchess to her car. All of sudden, things are looking up. The Prince is in his Penthouse suite. However, I can’t help but wonder why he has cancelled dinner.

No sooner than I have that thought, the phone rings.

“How may I help, Your Highness.”

“Did my sister leave yet?”

“The Duchess of Mondorra has left for the Santa Monica Municipal Airport, Prince Julian.”

I hear a deep exhale from his voice. “Finally, I thought she would never leave.”

“Is everything okay, Your Highness.”

“My sister has been bothering me to finance some ridiculous movie that she wishes to make. She wants to be a Hollywood starlet. I think the whole ambition is silly. At least she does not aspire to star in a reality show.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, the Duchess is a very striking woman,” I say as I try to suck up to the Prince.

“She is already a model. Why can’t she be happy with that?!” the Prince asks.

“I believe LA makes people stir crazy for fame, Your Highness.”

“Indeed. My sister has drained all the energy from me so I will be dining in the hotel this evening. I would like to have a room reserved immediately.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

Yipee! Yes, I know the chance of me hooking up with Prince Julian is on par with hitting the Mega Millions Lottery but a one in twenty million chance is better than no chance. I call our hotel and announce that the Prince will be dining on our property.

Not ten seconds after I hang up the phone, the entire switchline explodes with various hotel employees instructed to “stay on their toes” and meet the Prince’s every need.

I sit by the phone and relax. It’s 10:15. In forty-five minutes, my shift will be over and I’ll be free to go home, get naked and pleasure myself to that mental image of my hands all over Prince Julian.

Time flies by. It’s ten minutes until 11:00. Robert, the night shift concierge, is already here and ready to relieve me. Technically, I can not leave my post until 11:00, so we just stand together and begin to talk about the Prince.

“So is the guy an asshole?” Robert whispers to me.

“The Prince is a really nice, down to Earth guy.”

“No crazy requests?”

“Well,” I say with a smile. “He had me give him a rubdown by the pool.”

“Oh please. I hope he doesn’t ask me to do that!” Robert exclaims.

“Hey, if the Prince wants a rubdown at 3:00 a.m., you can wake me up at my apartment and I will be down here in ten minutes,” I say with a laugh.

11:00 p.m. Time to clock out. As I walk away from the desk, the phone rings. I am almost tempted to grab it just to wish the Prince a good night. As I am about to leave the lobby, Rob calls out to me, “Amy, the Prince would like to speak to you.”

I look back at Rob. Perhaps, Prince Julian still thinks that I am on duty. Of course, why would he know my schedule. I walk back to the desk and pick up the phone. “How may I help you, Your Highness?”

“The previous concierge just informed me that you are off-duty. Perhaps you would like to have a drink with me.”

I don’t say anything for a moment. I am wondering if I having some sort of daydream.

“Hello?” the Prince asks. “Are you there.”

“Your Highness?! Of course, I would love to have a drink with you.”

“Excellent. Why don’t you join me at the balcony to my suite.”

“I shall be there as soon as possible, Your Highness,” I say as I hand the phone back to Rob.

“What happened?” Rob asks me.

“Um, I think the Prince just invited me up to his suite.”

My colleague leans into me and warns, “You know it is strictly against policy to have any relations with any guest at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.”

I freeze for a moment. This could get me fired. Then again, the manager told me that I should never reject anything the Prince requests.

I look at Rob and tell him, “I’m just fulfilling a request from the Prince.” I nervously walk on over to the elevators and get inside.

I take the elevator to the Penthouse floor. The doors open and I am met by several members of the Prince’s security detail. They seem well aware that I was coming up to see the Prince. They nod as I walk down the hall to the Presidential Suite.

I nervously knock on the door. After a few seconds, the door opens. I am shocked to see that the Prince himself has opened the door.

“Good evening, Your Highness.”

“Hi Amy. Welcome inside.”

I walk into the suite and instantly feel at ease. And why not, I am technically off duty. Of course, I am still at my place of employment so things still are a little awkward. The Prince welcomes me out to the balcony where a candlelit table awaits.

“May I get you something to drink?” the Prince asks me.

“Your Highness. I should be the one offering you a drink.”

“Nonsense. You are no longer on duty. You are my guest,” Prince Julian insists. This is so weird. The Prince is standing there
awaiting my orders.

“I would love to have what you are drinking,” I say.

“Great choice. I am having a fine bottle of Domaine de la Romanée Conti Montrachet 2008,” the Prince informs me as he pours me a glass. I have no idea what kind of wine this is but I am sure it costs more than my car.