The Provocative Prince (BOOK 1)

Chapter 9: Chink In His Armor

Vincent

What kind of man would I be if I would have just gone in and kissed her? A man that was looking for something more than just being acquaintances. But I wasn't looking for that. She was a beautiful woman, but I had a feeling she might be a bit too young for me. I had a hunch she was close in age to Genevieve and just that thought alone was leaving a sour taste in my mouth. She definitely had the most well-developed body I've ever seen, but yet, she had a weird womanly-youth about her face. I don't think I'm explaining this to myself very well.

I was honestly testing myself when I had pretended to go in for a kiss from her. Could I get that close to a woman, literally a breath's hair away from each other's lips, and not kiss her? Somehow, I could, despite always thinking I couldn't resist attractive women. I felt proud of myself, but disappointed that I hadn't gotten the chance to taste her lips. Her full, beautiful lips with that perfect cupid's bow.

Relax! She's probably too fucking young, anyway.

"That American maid needs to get fucking fired for the way she spoke to me today," Floyd suddenly commented as he leaned against the pool table. It was later in the evening and my colleagues had not left the castle yet. Instead, we were playing pool. Well, Rodney, who was home from training, and Floyd were playing pool. Griffin was on the balcony, having a phone call with Jennifer, likely relaying what happened to Floyd, and Abby was taking a nap on my lap while I sat on the couch watching the two men play pool.

I know I shouldn't have, but I felt a strong sense of disappointment as I recalled myself silently witness Folashadé yell at me and my colleagues about holding Floyd accountable. I wanted to punch the lights out of Floyd when I found out everything that had transpired, per his and Abby's explanations, although they both explained it as if it were a joking matter. Trust me, the temptation to touch her is always there whenever she serves me and my family our meals, yet I always knew I had to have enough self-control for myself and respect for her to not touch her in that way. I couldn't understand why Floyd made it seem like he needed to put his hands on her at all.

Instead of doing what I initially felt the urge to do, I pressed Floyd to apologize to her. Yes, his apology was definitely half-arsed, but it was a good start to getting him to apologize, something he hasn't done since he was a child.

"What exactly happened today? I kept hearing about you getting told off by a maid," Rodney snorted, more likely at the fact that Floyd missed.

"Bloody hell," Floyd cursed under his breath. "All I did was tap her arse by mistake," he sugarcoated.

"Rodney, he slapped her arse," I corrected from my lounging position on the couch as I stroked Abby's fiery red hair.

Floyd waved me off as he recounted the incident from his perspective.

"The only reason she's even still here is that she's good eye-candy," he reckoned, once he finished telling the story from his view.

What the fuck was he talking about? She was fantastic eye-candy, 'good' was a measly understatement. If it's one thing that Windsor had that Buckingham Palace and Kensington Palace didn't, it was her. She was a part of the reason I hadn't left for the two other palaces after my father and I got into our altercation. And who knows, maybe every castle had a magnificent piece of eye-candy. But she was like eye-candy that you couldn't look at for too long. Otherwise, and God forbid she caught you staring, her expression alone will give you so much attitude you'd think she read you for filth in her head.

"I'm back," Griffin told me as he sat in the lone armchair. "Is she knocked out," he gestured to a sleeping Abby. She had a pillow on my lap as her body faced toward the settee's backrest.