Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 68691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
TINA
It was surprising meeting Prince Kristian. I hadn’t wanted to approach him because he looked so much like Karl and Kato, the resemblance eerie and astonishing. It was like being in an episode of the Twilight Zone, and I felt weird, discomfited, a tingling sensation crawling over my skin.
But my friend was too fast.
“Come on Tina,” said Millie, grabbing my elbow and practically dragging me across the room. “Let’s meet him before other people do.”
And I understood why she was jumping the gun. Again, we need to marry rich men, and those guys are usually really old. There were precious few first-born sons set to inherit fortunes large enough to save our families, so Millie knew a good catch when she saw one. She dragged me, wriggling, across the floor, even as I tried to pull back, look a little less eager.
“Millie,” I gasped, “Kristian probably has girls throwing themselves at him all the time!” I protested. “We don’t want to look desperate.”
“Seriously Tina,” she said, shaking her head, stopping for a moment to look me square in the eye. “We are desperate. If we don’t land someone like Prince Kristian, we’re going to end up with someone like Sumner Redstone.”
And I giggled because Sumner Redstone, the entertainment mogul, was probably a good comparison. The tycoon was ninety, rich as Midas, and still dating ladies right and left. Heck, my parents would probably be ecstatic if I ended up with someone like him, but eeew! The thought of his gnarled, wrinkled hands touching me made my skin crawl.
Anyways it was too late because we were already in front of the prince. And I had to admit, up close he was positively gorgeous, even better than from across the ballroom. His features were masculine, chiseled, dazzling, with a tall, imposing physique. And god, but the resemblance to Karl and Kato was even more striking from a few feet away, those same deep blue eyes, the particular set of the jaw.
He looked amused when the two of us landed in front of him, huffing and puffing.
“Hey,” he drawled laconically, “and you are?”
Millie made the introductions as I tried to look calm, even with my heart beating a million miles an hour, revving even faster as the Prince looked me up and down. Because this was a man who wasn’t holding back, obviously interested in my curvy form, my brown curls. So I almost jumped when he took my wrist and kissed it on the inside, like we knew each other already. I could feel the whisper of his breath across my sensitive skin, my cunt moistening from his touch.
“Beautiful,” he breathed under his voice, for my ears only, and I flushed, my body tingling with delight. I half-expected to be swept off my feet right there, but somehow we got talking about the Roma people, the underclass of Europe.
It’s always been a thing of mine, these poor, disenfranchised people, and my interest in them stemmed from my childhood, when I first saw a little Roma girl standing on a street corner in Andorra begging.
“Daddy,” I said, tugging my dad’s sleeve. “Shouldn’t we give her something? Maybe a lirah or two?”
And my dad, to my shame, turned his face away.
“They’re just gypsies,” he said, ignoring the child’s dirty face, the big eyes that implored us. “She’s probably faking it.”
I couldn’t believe it, that someone so young would fake destitution, hunger even, but as I got older I realized that a lot of Andorrans and Europeans shared my dad’s distaste. The Roma were rumored to be con men, petty thieves teaching their children the “art” of begging, one hand extended for food and alms while the other picked your pocket.
But I ended up getting involved because the Roma have a long history in Andorra and my interest in my country ran deep. So I volunteered last year with Roma Outreach, helping loan officers do outreach in the community, providing capital to appropriate borrowers. And I loved it, loved every second of working with the community, getting to know their hopes, dreams, and aspirations as legitimate small business owners, trying to make it in a society that was hostile to them.
And I was surprised when Prince Kristian evinced an interest. A lot of people will listen politely as I prattle on about my cause, make a plea from the heart, but he was more than that. He was genuinely interested and actually knew quite a lot from his experience patronizing charities and working on behalf of his country. So I was grateful when he offered to help.
“Maybe I can set something up for you,” he offered, his eyes looking me over.
And I hesitated because I’d just met him, unsure, biting my lip, but then took a deep breath. Beggars can’t be choosers and non-profits have to take whenever help is offered, especially from such a promising source.