Kay

7. The Royal Bitch Slap

Chapter seven and you're still here? If you are please feel free to message me with your opinion I'd love to hear from a reader.
Above is a picture of how I envisioned Prince Griffin Vincent Malloy.
Have a great day.

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The car rolls up on to the drive with ease and silence, where as I sit in the leather seat with a queasy stomach and shaky legs. My headphones are shoved snuggly in my ears blaring a mix CD Rachaelle made me way back when. My phone vibrates in my hand once, twice, three times. I glance down at my screen three messages from Xavier. It buzzes once more; it's a message from September. I open September's message ignoring Xavier altogether. Three words from September:

Im so sorry.

My stomach drops, jumps, and then takes a dive. Sorry? Sorry for what? Flirting with me? My mind races. I like September, he makes me laugh, he understands my geekiness, and here he is telling me he was sorry for what? Being kind? I begin to grow angry at him, at myself, at the whole damned world for getting me screwed up with yet another guy right before meeting my husband to be. I don't even bother replying, this isn't the time to care, not mere seconds from finally meeting my destiny. My mind is racing a thousand miles an hour and then it just stops. Every thought is gone every worry is wiped of my brain, and I sit staring out the window at the most beautiful house I've ever seen.
Saying it's a house is like saying Doctor Who is easy to explain. It was like something from a dream. Imagine Catherine the Great's palace, the one in St. Petersburg, but take off a few hundred rooms and you have the estate I am staring up at now. All my life I have dreamt of running away from the heat of Arizona and moving somewhere where the grass is green and the sun doesn't make my skin blister in under an hour. Here I sit staring up at a fresh cut lawn glistening in morning dew driving down a granite lane flanked by soaring trees casting cooling shadows over the vehicle as it moves towards the estate. The marble columns spanning the entirety of the estate gleam white in the early morning sun; the floor to ceiling windows shine from what seems like a fresh wash. I roll down my window and smell the most fulfilling sent I could ever think up, the smell of a fresh cut lawn, moist nutritious black dirt, the smell of rain storm rolling in, and the sweetness of something not visible yet to me. I begin to laugh, like a small child who has just received a puppy; not psychotically, but out of pure joy, because I'm falling in love with this house, I haven't even met my husband to be and I'm already in love with the way he lives. As we grow nearer to the estate, I see a line of people standing in front of the grand entrance and I lean forward in my seat so my head is inches from Magnus's shoulder.

"Who are they?" I ask like an innocent child peering from the arms of their father.

"The staff." Magnus smiles down at me from the driver seat.

"No shit? I've got a staff now?" As soon as the words escape my lips, I am quick to cover my mouth with my hand. Magnus's body shakes with a rich laughter, and I begin to giggle along side of him. As we roll to a stop I see the faces of the staff standing, awaiting my arrival. Four men and seven women; all of which range in ages from mid twenties to late forties. Magnus puts the car in park and opens his door and slides out. I wait patiently for him to open my door, and when he does I slip not so gracefully out of the leather seat. In the time it takes me to exit the car five other people exit the estate and stand in line with the rest of the staff. The entire line is bent at the waist, heads towards my tiny body. A nervous titer escapes my mouth as I examine all the bowed heads. Of the five that just recently arrived three are men, one head is dusted with gray, one is chocolate brown, and the other is honey brown. I know that honey brown head, and when I realize this my stomach becomes twisted once again. The staff line and the other five people raise their heads to face me. September looks at me his eyes full of ashamed sorrow. The oldest of the staff members, a man with white hair and an extended stomach steps out of line, and thrusts his shoulders back and opens his mouth wide.

"Introducing his royal highness, Prince Griffin Vincent Malloy." September steps towards me, places his right hand across his waist and his left arm behind his back and lowers his head towards the ground. When he returns to a standing position he opens his mouth to speak.

"You can call me Griffin." He reaches his hand towards my shaking body.

"You son of a bitch!" I'm not thinking, my body is moving faster than my head I lunge forward towards him, arm cocked back and smack him, bitch slap him, right across his perfect face. Then everything slows, it's like one of those trippy sci fi movies you see where you watch the bullets fly by in slow motion. I see everything happening around me: the reverberation of my hand smacking September/Griffin's face; the gasps of the entire staff; the older man with the gray dusted hair stepping towards me; Magnus pulling me back; and September/ Griffin putting his hand on the older gentleman's chest. Then time caught up to me once again. My adrenaline drains from my mind and I realize I just slapped the crown Prince of the British provinces. "Holy shit, I'm so sorry." I scramble forward and September/ Griffin just laughs.

"I expected worse honestly."He smiles at me apologetically. "I'm sorry. I should have told you when we were in the assignment room. Or at the palace yesterday." He looks at me like he wants me to say its okay.

"Holy shit," is all I can give him in my state of shock. At this the whole group of people is shaking with suppressed laughter. A woman steps forward she's maybe in her late twenties, she's wearing semi formal attire. Her dirty blonde hair is swept up in a high perfect bun, that makes her seems turn, but her mouth forms a soft sarcastic smile, that I instantly know I will love in the years to come. Her eyes look like Griffin's but lighter like the sky before a storm rolls in; her skin has a rich tone to it but is still lighter than Griffin's sun kissed tan.

"My brother is rather a large arse if I do say so myself." Her voice flows like a master pianist running his fingers over the keys. "My name's Guinevere Avery." She says it with so much authority I blush a deep crimson. "Most people call me Gwen," she smiles.

"I like Guinevere if you don't mind," I grin. "I'm Kay Lynn Smith, but I figured you already guessed that." Guinevere laughs softly and smiles as I glance around nervously. Griffin senses my nervousness and reaches forward to lace his fingers through mine and my blush deepens. The gentleman with chocolate brown hair steps forward, his jade eyes have a tinge of mischievous humor as he pushes his hair back away from his eyes. His muscular chest is covered with a dusty blue v-neck shirt and his jaw line is dusted in a fair amount of stubble.

"Gareth Malcolm," he reaches a tan hand toward my hand that isn't occupied. I shake it tightly and he lets a small laugh escape his pink lips. Another woman steps forward, she looks the same age as Guinevere, but has the same bright jade eyes as Gareth along with his rich dark hair. She's bubbly like she just drank five cans of mountain dew, and three extra large pixie sticks. Her hair is kinked with curls of every shape and size and clothes are bright with little flowers over everything.

"Gwendolyn Athena, I go by Lyn, or Gwendolyn whatever you prefer, doesn't make a difference to me." She laughs as she speaks, and embraces me in a tight side squeeze before pulling back. The man with the gray hair clears his throat to get the attention of the group. His shoulders are wide spread and his eyes are gray like Griffin and Guinevere, but his hair was once chocolate brown like Gareth and Gwendolyn. His skin is a warm tan with crows feet next to his eyes, he looks not older than thirty- five but I know that is highly improbable. I wait for him to introduce himself, to outstretch his arm like the others but he just looks at me with a generic smile as if he's waiting for something.

"Introducing his majesty, King Malachi Demetrius Malloy." The white haired staff member bellows. I nearly faint at the idea that I was waiting for him to be polite and greet me. In unison the whole group bows at the waist towards his majesty.

"You may call me Demetri," when he speaks he sounds like an old British narrator from those documentaries I had to watch in my high school history classes. Now he stretches his hand but not in a way as if to shake my hand but as if he wishes to caress it. I lay my palm against his and he pulls my hand to his full lips and lightly kisses the back of my pale hand.

"Figures, I travel half way across the world from the desert to a land of green grass and I'm still the whitest person here." I say as I pull my hand back. The whole group erupts in laughter and I jump at the sheer volume of the laughter surrounding me. Griffin squeezes my hand tightly and smiles down at me.