Reign

1. Arrivals

Hello everyone and thanks for choosing my story! "Reign" is a project I am processing for quite a long time, with love, patience, and diligence. First of all, I have to mention that this is a contemporary story. It happens in our days, so, please, don't confuse it with historical fiction.

                                  1. Arrivals

"Sir, it is time to rise," the well-groomed man announced formally, but in a polite tone. Dressed in a strict tuxedo, he was standing exactly in the middle of the huge murky room, with his hands behind his back. A few seconds later, the other male figure that was lying on the king size bed, lifted his hand from the tangled sheets and nodded unwillingly and indolently.

"Sir," he repeated and the first drops of sweat appeared on his forehead. "I think it's time to wake up. It's 11:42. Everyone will be waiting for you...again."

"Ah, they always wait for me, Hudson," he replied sleepily and turned to the other side, revealing a small part of his toned shoulders somewhere between the covers. "That's their job, isn't it?"

"Yes, your Highness, of course, but... hmm... Your father arrived a few minutes ago, and he asked to see you. He said it is urgent. "

The words faded in the background as an annoying buzzing sound deluged his ears. He shouldn't have drunk those tequila shots and cocktails the previous night.  Now, his head was spinning and his stomach was like a whirlwind.

"I'm sure he can wait, too... Come again in an hour or so."

"I'm afraid it would be too late, Sir. They are expected to arrive in exactly sixteen minutes."

"Shit! Hudson, you should have told me earlier! What were you doing all morning?"

 The tall and lean figure jumped out of  the bed only in his boxer briefs and walked rapidly towards the bathroom, as the royal attendant opened the heavy brown curtains, illuminating the vast area. That was their daily ritual: the assistant was vainly trying to arrange every obligation, but the Prince was refusing to cooperate.

"Damn you, Boeotian woman! You haven't even come, and we are already in trouble," he exclaimed furiously through his teeth, as the bright September morning light irritated his already worn-out eyes. He slammed the door behind him, and he entered the shower, forcing his personal assistant to look anxiously at his watch. Punctuality was everything in today's meeting.

Twelve minutes later, they were descending the grand marble staircase that led to the main foyer. Alexander, the prince of Redmond, was a considerably good-looking man, in his late twenties, with dark blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was tall, athletic, with broad shoulders and chiseled arms, the most desirable bachelor, not only in the whole country but also in a global scale. The media were calling him a "heartthrob" as many women had passed from his bed through the test of time. 

"And what am I supposed to know about that co-princess?" He asked with wittiness, with the irony evident in his voice. Just refreshed, he looked dapper and elegant in a simple navy blue two-piece suit and a powder blue shirt.