The dinner was, ironically, eating me alive. All those meals and those fake, rich, perverted people. Somehow, every single one of them managed to equally piss me off.
My grandma, who wasn't even looking at me straight, and some other men were really getting on my nerves. You know, those nerdy ass teens who try to start a conversation with you by showing off their academic skills even though they can't really flat-out flirt with you because their fucking fathers are members of Parliament?
"...So I went to the United States and I studied in Harvard..." That was legit the only thing I heard.
"Hm." I faked a tiny smile, I could care less about his academic process. "Hey, have you ever tried weed?" I asked, attempting to see if he was someone interesting. But he was kinda shocked at my question and quickly ended the conversation with me. "Piss boy." I whispered as he walked away from me.
I sighed in boredom as I glanced around the room I was in. Now I fully understand why my dad ran away with one of the maids.
He could've taken me with him, but no... what a bloody twat.
"Grandma, I wish to go to go home." I said in an imperative tone as soon as I got up to her table. I even used fancy wording, in order to show off my incredibly advanced language skills to the Prime Minister, for some reason.
Mate, you're elected. I'm dynasty.
"What do you mean, my boy?" she said, getting up and excusing herself from the table. She walked with me to the side, and looked at me. "Mitchell, as heir to the throne you cannot leave just yet."
"But this fucking sucks, I'm sorry." I apologized before saying any more "swear words". "Grandma, this is not the life for me! Please, I really need to go. I uh, I have a huge tummy ache." I lied. "Ugh Grandma really..." I panted some moans in pain, all made up to see if she would fall in the trap.
"Good Lord, you're a disgrace. Just go, tell Mario to drive you, but tell him to come back here." I nodded and I left, jumping like a fifth grader with a new toy.
"Let's go, young man. Drive me home." I said as I entered the limo and lied down on the huge seat, placing my feet on it and grabbing my phone. As I got home, I left the car and made my way inside, not looking back to see if he actually went back there.
Funny. There were no guards around nor were the surveillance cameras showing that blinking red light.
******
I went up to my room and took a quick shower in my private bathroom. I put on some purple boxers, a pink shirt (1) (opened, of course. That place is hot as fuck.) and I worked the top knot. I love my side fringe, but a top knot is just my brand new thing.
As I jumped on top of the bed, I crossed my legs as I reached for my book but, shortly after I started reading it, I had to hide it again. I heard a noise coming from downstairs.
I ran down the stairs quickly, shouting the name of all the maids. I don't even know how, I only know about Charlotte and that's because she's often a sweetheart. No one answered, but a second noise echoed and it was coming from Grandma's room.
I reached for the doorknob and twisted it slowly, just to feel a firm hand covering my mouth and pulling me back.
"Be a good boy and be quiet..." a sexy American voice whispered and I felt my back being pushed against a firm chest. Slowly, the hand left my mouth, but was still with his arm around me and his ice cold hand pressured against my warm chest wasn't really a good sensation.
This was a robbery. Someone was actually brave enough to be robbing the royal palace. Where are the guards?!
Funny enough, it was only one person. The person who grabbed me. I turned around to see him but all I could see were eyes. Such blue eyes, sky blue. Beautiful, in a invader's way.
"You're the heir, right?" He said while I stared in his eyes, he didn't seem to be too young nor too old. I simply nodded. "Future king Mitchell Grassi..." his hand drove to his back and quickly drove to my forehead but, instead of a hand, it was a gun barrel pressed to it. "Aren't you gonna say something, posh boy?"
"It's Mitch. My name is Mitch." I said while his eyes covered every inch of my body. "Are you gonna rob the place?"
"Oh of course not. I'm here to milk the fucking cows, love. What do you fucking think!?" his sarcastic voice mimicking my British accent sounded strange coming from behind the mask. "I can't waste time with you. This only happens in movies: the prince of the United Kingdom talking to a robber."
Mitch please: don't be a dickhead, I thought to myself trying not to lose my shit as I heard a little laugh. "Why are you laughing?"
"You're insane, aren't you?" he placed himself right in front of me. "I could shoot you dead right now. I'd be known as the dude who lodged a bullet into Britain's lovable heir."
"You wouldn't do that." I smiled.
"And why's that? Are you going to show me your kung-fu skills, posh boy?" He went quiet for a minute. "If I hear police sirens, you can bet your ass I'll kill you."
"So...?" I raised an eyebrow. "Mate, you're robbing the Royal Palace and you have a gun pressed at the heir's forehead. Pick your poison, you'll end up in jail regardless." I said as I heard a car parking outside. "FUCK, they're here! You need to fuck off." Well this just contradicts everything I said. Disregarding the gun pressed against my forehead, I slammed my hands in his chest for him to back off and I jumped out of the desk. He stared at me, I'm guessing surprised, as he lowered his arm. "What, do you actually want to go to jail?" he shook his head. "Then you better come with me." I pushed him towards the maids' exit door, the one place with no surveillance cameras nor guards. "You can leave through here. There's only you, right? I can't really go-"
"Shut the fuck up, I can't decode your accent." He said as he rolled his eyes. I looked at him, a bit selfconscious regarding my thick posh accent. Great, insecurity unlocked. "Are you fucking insane? Do you have a deathwish?" he said, facing me.
"Why do you ask?"
"Why??" He looked visibly confused at my question. "You're helping me escape and I just fucking robbed your ass and left a barrel branding on your forehead!"
"Well, if I'm being for real... I admire what you do." a smile escaped and he swallowed a laugh. "Tell me your name."
"Of course not, you can very well get me fucking killed."
"I just saved you from actual death. And still, one scream out of me and you're dead in a second!" He tilted his head slightly and I could see his arm getting ready to be raised and his gun being pointed at me again. "Why would I put you in danger now?"
An awkward silence settled among us. It seemed like he was thinking about my words.
"My name's Scott." he said, I smiled. "Scott."
"Last name?" he sighed, angry. He was about to refuse, but my loud inhale made him change his mind.
"You're a fucking brat. Hoying."
"That's quite a cute name, Scott." I said. "Let me see your face." he shook his head again. "What, do you want me to repeat all that "I'm not gonna fuck you up" speech from a minute ago?" I asked, not even noticing he was already removing his ninja mask.
He had one of the most beautiful faces in the world. He was blond, his beard needed a trim, his facial expression was a bit sarcastic and his eyebrows were so blond they appeared to be in camouflage.
"Happy now, prince?" he asked in a ironic tone - that again mocked my accent - and I nodded.
"Very much so. Now go, before someone sees you." I pushed him towards the exit as he put his mask on again.
"Wait just a minute." he lifted his mask a bit. "Aren't you-"
"I'm not afraid." I winked at him and immediately kicked him to the bushes, closing the door immediately after. I stood there on guard for a solid minute, glancing through the window as he ran away from the premises and quietly cheering for his survival.
As I saw him leaving the property to safety, I quickly ran upstairs to my room and pretended I was asleep. Jake almost caught me, but that old bastard is so slow that I could easily do a sudoku puzzle and he'd still be on the first step of the staircase.
I heard my door opening and I quickly closed my eyes. I knew he was only there to check if I was lying about the tummy ache, but he didn't have any proof that I didn't have one. So, I guess I'm safe.
Scott Hoying... what a cute robber. I'm not usually this lucky. I hope I see him again, someday. I stared at the ceiling and, with my fingers, I drew imaginary things until I fell into a deep sleep.
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(1) http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=155804869