Prince Head Romane & Geschichten

“In case everything I said didn’t make sense to you earlier, Thalia Blackwood,” the Prince knocked me out of my thoughts. I stood back there, shackled and filthy, trying to ignore the way my wrists burned where the chains rubbed against raw skin. I didn’t have time to dwell on the pain. Not with *him* staring at me like that. Callum Silvermark, Crown Prince of Kyrador. His sapphire-blue eyes were fixed on me, cold and calculating.

Izabella replied, followed by a headshake. The Prince was speechless.

“You have a visitor, sir.” “I’m not expecting anyone at this moment. And Storm might be stuck in traffic.” “Sir, it’s a prince.” A what now? Then a well-built blond in a black suit walked in. “May I present, His Royal Highness, Prince Camren Thayer Aleksei Keoni Gattewarde Braynburd of Triberis Capria.” “That’s a mouthful, Lud,” That must be the Prince in a well-tailored blue suit and light purple tie dismissing the blond, his protective detail.

He is Prince Declan. . .

The prince was a fool. A charming one, maybe. One with good hair and better instincts than most gave him credit for, but still a fool. He had no idea how to disappear properly, no understanding of how to move without leaving crumbs behind. The only trick he’d figured out was that cash was king when you wanted to go undetected. And sure, he hadn’t used his credit cards since arriving in Lenweil… but he’d made the fatal mistake of keeping the same damn phone. And phones? Phones were goldmines.

Adrian’s raspy voice sounded in my ear. My jaw clenched as my eyes flickered over my iPad and the latest headlines. “ Ex-wife of the CEO of the Benoit empire has been allegedly spotted around the eccentric streets of Manhattan with none other than Europe’s hottest single monarch. The one and only Prince Adrian the third. As speculations rise regarding the young monarch's upcoming coronation, the masses can’t help but think if Elsida might just become the next Princess of Spain or if this is just some ploy to have a taste of Royal D.

The sun was just starting to come up the next morning when I finally turned on the television in my living room to clear the silence, the screen instantly flashed with a bright red breaking news banner across the bottom while a reporter stood outside the corporate headquarters downtown. The news anchor looked directly into the camera and announced, "We are coming to you live because hockey superstar Declan Kingsley is about to hold an emergency press conference to address the devastating scandal involving his university reporter.”

“Today’s theme is 'Modern Royalty'. The first look is a dark velvet coat with satin slacks. The shoot will start in fifteen. We've already briefed the lighting and backdrop team.” I didn’t respond. She led me to the makeup room where two artists were waiting. I sat in the chair and let them go to work. Brushes grazed my cheeks. Someone dabbed concealer under my eyes. My brain tuned out everything. My body was there, but my mind wasn’t. It kept circling back to him. That stupid, quiet, tender human. The one I shoved away. The one who never shoved back. By the time makeup was done, I stood and changed into the outfit. A deep navy velvet coat, tailored and rich against the skin. I looked like a