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I’m Shagging on a Jet Plane…Don’t Know When I’ll be Shagged Again…
Will Banks
On Royal One Private Jet Somewhere over the Atlantic
“Are you nervous?”Arabella, my beautiful girlfriend, props herself up on one elbow and rests her other hand on my bare chest.
“About what?” I ask, lifting my head off the pillow and giving her a quick peck on the lips.
We’re snuggled into the massive bed on her family’s private jet for our overnight flight from my home on Santa Valentina Island in the Caribbean to her home—the kingdom of Avonia (a tiny island just north of Belgium and slightly to the east of England). Her father is the king which makes her a princess (obviously), but trust me, she’s not the dainty, stuffy kind. She’s more of the elegant, well-spoken, compassionate, kick-arse-when-needed type of princess.
We fell in love while filming a nature docu-series/survival show a few months back and have been inseparable ever since. Just to give you an example of exactly what a renegade she is—she had to sneak out of the palacein the boot of a carso she could escape to Zamunda for the show because there was no way her family would have let her go. See? Daringanddetermined. And did I mention how beautiful she is? Oh, I think I did.
She’s literally the best person I know. Just staring at her right now fills my entire being with a sense of happiness and contentment I’ve never experienced in all my thirty years. She’s it for me. She’s my one and only. (Which is a little insane because if you had asked me six months ago if I’d ever fall in love, I would have said ‘not likely.’ And if you’d asked me if I’d ever want to build a life with a princess, I would have laughed out loud.)
Anyway, we’ll be spending the next two months in Avonia promoting our upcoming television show.Ourshow. That’s odd to say. The whole ‘we’ thing is totally new for me. It’s something I never thought I’d have, and I’m shocked at how quickly I’ve grown accustomed to it.Wejust spent a few shag-o-delic weeks together sailing around the South Pacific.Weprefer sunrises to sunsets.We’replanning on spending the rest of our lives together.
Well, I’m pretty sure we are, anyway. I haven’t asked her yet, but that’s only because we’ve been together twenty-four seven, which hasn’t exactly left me any time for ring shopping and planning the perfect proposal. One simply does not ask for a princess’s hand in marriage without finding the most romantic of settings possible and a spectacular ring—like Hope Diamond-spectacular.
The woman bought me a yacht, for God’s sake. And that was only a ‘we should give this relationship a go’ gift. So, there’s a wee bit of pressure on the proposal front, especially for someone without a Hope Diamond budget.
She’s giving me that skeptical look she’s mastered, with one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised while she waits for me to figure out why I should, in fact, be nervous right now. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe because in exactly six days, the show is going to air and it could be a giant flop, thus ending your career.”
Shrugging, I say, “It won’t.”I hope.
Narrowing her eyes, Arabella says, “How about facing the Avonian media as the utterly unsuitable boyfriend of the king’s only daughter?”
“The press loves me, and they love you, which means they’re going to love us together almost as much as I do.” I reach up and tuck a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. “And if they don’t, I really couldn’t care less.”
She gives me a conciliatory nod. “How about meeting my disapproving family for the first time? Surely that must make you feel the slightest bit squeamish.”
My stomach flips, but I ignore it. “Are you kidding? Give me ten minutes with them, and they’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand. Figuratively speaking, of course. I wouldn’t want people eating off my palms. That would be a little gross, really.”
“Not to mention slightly demeaning for them.”
“Exactly.”
Arabella pauses for a second and tilts her head. “But you’re really notat allworried about meeting my father—a well-known nasty monarch—or my brother, who could ruin you with one phone call? I can count on one hand the number of people he actually likes in this world.”
“I thought your brother was a huge fan of mine.”
“That wasbeforeyou started shagging his little sister. Now, not so much, I’m afraid.”
Oh, bollocks. That’s not good. “He’ll get over it when he sees how happy I make you.”
I let my lips hover over hers for a second, then give her a slow kiss in hopes of putting an end to her line of questioning, because truth be told, some of this bravado is indeed on the false side. I’m actually more nervous than I’ve ever been, but since part of my charm is this whole confident, adventurous, nothing-bothers-me thing I’ve got going, I can’t exactly tell her that, now can I?
I’ve made my career as a professional adventurer/nature show host, meaning I managed to convince the Avonian Broadcast Network (ABN) to pay me to do all the insane stunt stuff I love in the most remote places on the planet. And Arabella is a princess who has had one of the most sheltered, dull upbringings of all time. But you know what they say about opposites attracting each other…
“You’re always so confident. It must be so nice to be you,” she says, trailing her finger down my abs.
I give her a naughty grin. “At the moment, it is very nice to be me.”
Her smile widens, then she gives me a thoughtful look. “No, but seriously, nothing ever rattles you. How do you do it?”
I pretend. “It’s simple, really. I only do what I like, and since worrying is absolutely no fun, I don’t do it.” I lean over and kiss her again, trying to loosen the knot in my stomach. The truth is, there’s about a ninety-percent chance her family is going to hate me on spec, and about a two-hundred-percent chance they’ll hate me when they find out Arabella wants to go Megxit so we can have a life of adventure.
