In for a penny, in for a pound…
Raising my voice, I say, “That’s obviously not an official UN slogan, but it could work as our own secret slogan to propel us forward in our mission. The truth is, as women, we caretoo much—about what men think and about what each other think…” I glance at Dr. Highbrow, who looks scandalized. “We worry about making sure we fit whatever mould our families and society deem acceptable. We concern ourselves with the happiness of everyone else in our lives without giving thought to what would makeusfeel fulfilled.”
I pause and look around, seeing some nods in my direction. Taking a deep breath, I decide to really go for it. “And…and, frankly, it’s all so stupid. I mean, think about it, if more women throughout history had found the guts to say ‘fuck it, I’m going to do whatIwant,’ men would be far more responsible, and children, far less helpless.”
Yes, I’m stealing from Gran, but I promise to include my own thoughts here as well. “If every woman in history hadn’t taken a backseat to every man, don’t you think the world would be a slightly better place? With more equality, more justice, fewer wars, and fewer weapons? I say the answer is yes, which is why I also thinkFuck Itis the attitude required by the times. Obviously, we could massage the wording in public, but the sentiment must remain. Because when our entire existence revolves around the fear that we might offend someone or that we won’t be liked by everyone we meet, or that we’re not thin enough or pretty enough, it leaves very little room in our lives for doing anything of consequence. Trust me, I know this one by heart because all I’ve done in my life is obsess over what other people think of me. Well, that, and follow rules laid out for me hundreds of years ago by the men in charge. I’ve been a very good princess, always doing what I was told instead of what I wished to do.
“In fact, this entire conference, I’ve let the fear of being criticized by all of you—women who are far more accomplished than me—stop me from participating because I was afraid of making a fool of myself. No more, I say. Fuck it!” I shout, this time being met by scattered cheering.
“Yes, fuck it! I refuse to do what countless generations of women have done—stay in my designated safe zone, trying to never offend anyone. I need to hear my own voice and speak my own truth and stop listening to my father or my brother or any of the dozens of senior royal staff or the media with their opinions on every aspect of my life, or worrying about what Dr. No Brows – err, Highbrow – here has to say about me. Fuck it. I don’t really care what you think.” I look at her. “You’ve been most unwelcoming of me this entire time and I don’t appreciate it. Your judgment of me is both harmful and hypocritical, so fuck off because I’m going to go out there and live a great, big, juicy life filled with adventure and fun and celebration and laughter. I’m going to do important things and help other women who decide to rise up to their true destinies as laid out by no one else but themselves.”
I draw a deep breath, and smile as applause breaks out around the auditorium. I soak it in for a moment before realizing I’m going to miss my flight. “Thank you. Thank you. Now, I must run because I have a plane to catch and there’s no way I’m missing it because I haven’t seen my super hot boyfriend in weeks and I need to go get some.”
A few people cheer and others seem slightly offended, so I hold up one finger in the air as though punctuating a great speech and raise my voice again. “But I’m not rushing home becausehe’sexpecting sex and I want to please him. I’m rushing home because sex is exactly whatIwant to do today!”
With that, I drop the mic and stride up the steps of the auditorium to the back doors where Bellford is waiting. Women in the aisle seats high-five me as I go, and I shout, “Yes, ladies! Fuck it!”
I stop so one of them can get a photo with me. “I refuse to let anyone plan even an hour of my life again! From now on, it’s my way or the highway!”
I run up the last few steps, push the door open, and rush out with Bellford next to me. Once we’re alone, I say, “Oh my God, I can’t believe I did that! What did you think? Too much cursing?”
He tilts his head and opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “You know what? Don’t answer that. Turns out I don’t actually care. No offence.”
“None, taken, Your Highness.”
“Oh good, because I’d hate to offend you. You really are so dear to me.”
“Of course, Miss,” he says as we hurry down the long hall. “But, may I say what a pleasure it was to see you break out of your shell like that?”
“You approve, then? No, doesn’t matter. Anyway, that felt amazing! Honestly, I knew I had some grit to me when I was in Zamunda. I mean, I really was quite fierce by the end, but it’s easy to be fierce in a life that’s not your own and entirely another thing to be fierce in a setting like this. This is high stakes, Bellford,” I ramble on as we near the front doors. “This is me bidding farewell to the timid, people-pleasing princess I used to be once and for all. I just dare anyone to try to tell me what to do from now on. They’re really going to have it coming.”
24
The Best Laid Plans (For Getting Laid…)
Will
Okay,so things haven’t exactly gone the way I hoped, but that doesn’t mean tonight’s not going to be incredible. As it turns out, one cannot simply pick up a princess and take her on an overnight date in his rented Mercedes. At least not without said car being given a one-hundred-point inspection by a royal mechanic, which, due to the hour, would’ve meant Arabella and me waiting until the head mechanic could finish his dinner, then drive back to the palace. Rather than delay things, I opted for the alternative, which was to borrow one of her family’s many vehicles. Apparently, the only one they were willing to part with for the night is a very boring sedan, even though there are three Porsches, one classic Mercedes Gullwing, and a Lamborghini sitting in the massive garage. Not that I’m complaining about driving a Rolls Royce, mind you. But they’re not exactly sexy, are they? Also, borrowing a car from your girlfriend’s father so you can take her out is beyond demeaning for a man in his thirties. I could almost imagine my voice cracking as I say, “Don’t worry, Sir, I’ll have your daughter home before curfew.”
The other thing that happens when you take a princess out is that you must bring along chaperones. In our case, this includes her head bodyguard, Bellford, and her regular armed driver, Norm, who are following in a Mercedes. Behind them, another car bearing the two nightshift guards, who will be periodically checking the property and outside of the house throughout the night, but will otherwise remain in their vehicle overnight, which is just plain weird, not to mention unnecessary, if you ask me. I’m pretty sure I can keep her safe in a house, for God’s sake. We’ll be inside having the most romantic night of our lives while two men wait outside. The entire thing has me slightly nervous and I keep checking the speedometer to make sure I’m not going even one click over the speed limit.
All of this seems very natural to Arabella, who has her head leaned against the seat with a contented expression on her face as she rests her delicate fingers on my thigh. But for me, it’s awkward AF.
I’m going to have to figure out a way to forget they’re out there so I can give Arabella one-hundred percent of my attention, if you get my meaning. But honestly, just knowing they’re going to be out there the entire time (and that they’ll know what we’re doing) gives me a squishy feeling, like one gets when you watch a video compilation of guys getting bagged.
Okay, none of that, Will. Buck up.After tonight, we’ll be on our way to freedom from her family, and our perfect new life can begin.
Smiling over at her, I pick up her hand and give her a kiss on the knuckles. “It’s so nice to be able to do that.”
“Agreed. These last couple of weeks have been absolute torture,” she says. “Especially with that awful fight and not being able to make up with you properly. Let’s hurry up and get wherever we’re going so I can show you exactly how sorry I am.”
It’s been so long that my entire body reacts to the thought of her showing me anything. “You have no idea how badly I want to speed right now.”
“Then do.”
“No way. Not with the men in black following us,” I say, glancing in my mirror again. “They’ll definitely rat me out to your father if I’m endangering your life.”
“They will not,” Arabella says. “Bellford’s a good egg.”
