I'll Protect You (Original Version)

Have good taste in ties; kings like that

Vengeance will be served.

My smile turned from a new discovery to a malicious grin at the thought of getting my six years worth of waiting revenge. Someone better be praying for this boy, because after I'm through with him, he'll have wished he'd never been so cruel to me.

He finally brought his eyes down to meet my own irises. He narrowed his at the sight of my bright smile. Trying to get as far away from me as possible, he shoved past me, almost dislocating my arm from my shoulder and strode into the kitchen. Before I set off to follow him, I grabbed his burgundy tie off the floor of the bathroom tiles.

"Well, where specifically is not here?" he barked as I caught up to him.

"An Italian restaurant or a steak house?" I said, attempting to recall a conversation throughout all their laughing and rendezvousing. There had been the mention of food for sure. "It's a place with food for sure," I added.

"You don't say?" he snapped out of irritation.

"You know, for someone of your status, you're awfully rude to the princess," I pointed out, shrugging my shoulders in a hinting way.

"Okay, listen," he suddenly said. "I don't know what kind of prank my parents set you up to, but you're certainly not the princess of Cimeria. Even in your own home you act really weird and stupid. Plus, you have red hair, not brown hair. So out with it. What exactly are my parents up to?"

At this I began laughing. Not just any laughing. I collapsed, straight forward, my knees unable to hold me and my hysteria. Logan caught me in an instant and was overwhelmed with my delirium. I found his theory absolutely crazy and hilarious. So crazy and hilarious that tears were spilling out of my eyes. They stained his black dress shirt as he continued to hold me up.

Finally, I moved away from him, my laughter subsiding and slipping away while I wiped away salty droplets that clung to my lashes. There was a broad grin on my face as I stood up straight, my dark eyes gleaming mischievously.

"You ever heard of a wig, Cross?" I snorted.

My long fingers reached up to pull the elastic band out of my red hair before it spread through the knots in the braid. The red strands tumbled to my chest. And, with a deep and heavy breath, I pulled off the wig. Down came my dark chocolate hair, falling in straight layers, reaching my very waist. My arm, the one that carried the wig that hid who I was in this town, weakened and rested at my thigh.

This felt new, wearing my brown hair in Paradise except for a few certain people, such as my father and my boss (who was, granted, also my cousin). This felt different. This wig protected me from melodramatic paparazzi and magazine reporters, shielded me away from the general public. And, it kept me hidden from someone who desperately wanted to kill me.

I was just a normal girl, hated and casted out by society. But with it off, I wasn't a normal girl anymore.

I was Princess Park Mai Elizabeth Sparrow, a girl who hosted Oscars and sat with the President. A girl who could own anything with a snap of her fingers. A princess who was a role model to all little girls searching for their own real life fairy tales. A girl who was a target of a crazy psycho who wanted my family and me dead so she could take the throne.

You can tell why I liked the wig.

I caught the expression on Logan's face. It was like he had fallen into a deep, intoxicating trance. His fingers reached up to pick up a strand of my dark hair. His pupils moved from piece of hair to my eyes where his lips parted from one another.

"No way," he breathed. Logan cursed and backed several feet away. He moved away, into the kitchen, and I followed him nervously, afraid he might have a heart attack or something. As I leaned against the doorway, he leaned against the counter-tops, his eyes scrunched close with the most frustrated look on his face.