The Provocative Prince (BOOK 1)

Chapter 7: A Jealous Prince

Vincent

Tomorrow was June 1st. I had exactly one month to find a woman to propose to, and I had absolutely no one in mind that I thought could take that title as my wife. And trust me, I had been looking. I would have never thought in a million years that the Crowned Prince of a wealthy country would have trouble finding a wife. I understood that this generation differed from my father's and grandmother's, but they don't think the same as my siblings and me. Yes, I wanted to get married, but I wanted to find someone that was the best fit for me.

I could definitely understand the stress that my parents saw in this situation. Women were always ready to open their legs for me, but none wanted to make a commitment to me. Now I had never been one to blatantly come out and say 'will you marry me' to one of my previous lays. But I have asked every one of them if they felt like they were ready for marriage, not with me, but in general. Giselle, the last woman I was with, gave me such a whorish answer. I sent her home immediately afterward.

"Vince, I'm trying to get all the fun out of my system. If I'm forced into marriage, I already know that won't change me wanting to sleep with other men."

That was her response. You cannot tell me it wasn't off-putting. All the women I slept with wanted to enjoy their twenties, and I couldn't blame them. I would love to do the same, but I suppose it was a disadvantage to being born into a Royal Family.

And there were a lot of disadvantages of being born into this Royal Family, the British Royal Family. It was a certain standard of women we deemed acceptable. That was the white, beautiful, tall, and prestigiously educated woman. If she didn't fit that standard, then not only will my family look down on me, but so will the entire country. My reputation needed repairing, and that came with marrying a woman that would make me and my family look good to the public.

But yet, here I was, thinking about that nameless Black woman, who I dubbed as Ms. Conspiracy. I couldn't stop thinking about her, ever since she scolded me for yelling at my father. In all my years, I've never had a staff member scold me for anything or genuinely ask me if I was okay. I felt like I owed her for pulling me out before things got bad; which ended up getting worse, but she didn't need to know that.

I rubbed my neck, knowing very well that it was still red and bruised from where my father choked me. I had to actually refrain myself from fighting him back because I knew I could kill him if I really want to. But now that I see the damage he's done to my neck, I regret being so complicit.

"Good afternoon, son," I suddenly heard my mother cheerfully greet me. She sat across from me on the patio that faced toward Windsor's extensive golf course. I almost didn't come out here to meet her because of what happened the last time I'd seen her.

"Hello, mother," I lazily greeted her.

We heard footsteps and a cart approach from behind me, causing me to turn around to see who was approaching us. It was Tiffany and Ms. Conspiracy bringing us a chessboard, cold beverages, and some snacks that I couldn't really see. Or I didn't care to see them at least. I was staring at Ms. Conspiracy the entire time.

I couldn't understand why, but her presence seemed phenomenally captivating. She could be silently walking into a room and her presence alone would have onlookers staring at her awestruck.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty. Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness," they greeted simultaneously with a bow. I wanted to stare at this stranger forever if I could. I wanted to hear her talk in her American accent every day. But I knew that would never happen. If I would have met her in my rebellious stage, I definitely would have made a move on her, regardless of my initial statement of Black women being aggressive.