Duched(15)

 

 

 

"Who's the unfortunate victim this evening? Actress? Model? Prime Minster's great niece?"

 

 

 

"The states don't have a Prime Minster, idiot."

 

 

 

"Oh I'm the idiot? When we were in school you could barely name five states in America let alone remember they had a President and not a Prime Minister."

 

 

 

What can I say? Geography became my favorite subject the minute I was allowed off the island unsupervised.

 

 

 

"By the way my comment was a joke-"

 

 

 

"Not a good one," I whisper.

 

 

 

"But the way you redirected the conversation has me curious. That's not the way you typically handle that question."

 

 

 

Instead of denying his accusation, I slide my wallet into my pocket, grab my watch to put on, and motion my head for Swiss to know it's time to head out.

 

 

 

"In fact, you normally can't wait to brag about who you're about to bag," he continues on as if he's actually deducing something.

 

 

 

Which you and I both know he's not. There's nothing there to sort out. She's just not one of the types he's listed, and it's more fun to picture his brain running on a squeaky hamster wheel than to let him rest easy. Ha. Of course I'm an asshole. I'm the younger brother. It's what we do.

 

 

 

"What's wrong with her? Does she have an extra nipple or gold teeth? Perhaps six toes she hides poorly in her high heels?"

 

 

 

His descriptions scrunch my face. "Now I know it's past your bed time. You're starting to sound insane."

 

 

 

"Yet you didn't deny any of those."

 

 

 

"Why are you still up?" I fasten my watch while walking. "It's after midnight. Don't you and the misses usually have a romp, some tea, and then turn in promptly at ten?"

 

 

 

Kristopher grouses, "Can't believe I actually look forward to those nights."

 

 

 

The elevator doors close and I ask, "You're serious? You enjoy that?"  

 

 

 

"I know it's hard to wrap your head around, Kellan, since pint induced comas are your favorite-"

 

 

 

"Sometimes vodka-"

 

 

 

"But yes. I enjoy nights where the only things I have to truly care about are getting my beautiful wife off and having her favorite type of tea to make afterward."

 

 

 

Sensing what's bothering him, I give Swiss a quick glance, and question, "Do we need to talk alone?"

 

 

 

"No," he lets out a heavy sigh. "No. It's fine. It'll be fine. It always is, more or less. However, I will say, father has denied your proposal once more for sharing at this season's annual brunch."

 

 

 

Four times a year several socially privileged countries get together to compare tiaras and diamond cuff links or at least I'm assuming since I've never actually been invited to attend one by our father. He swears it would be social embarrassment that we would never recover from as a country. Yes. He is just as overly dramatic as Kristopher. Where do you think he inherited it from? Believe it or not, generally speaking, it's always been the women who are the calm, level headed ones in this family. Correction. Somewhat level headed. Soph did demand we stop serving figs at every breakfast by covering them in hot sauce when she thought no one was watching. Anyway, these gatherings are held and multiple financial as well as social opportunities are presented right alongside the garlic roasted red potatoes. We're talking investment chances for personal gain. New companies developing. Old companies that'll be up for buying and revamping. Charities and other programs that warrant attention, attention that if just the right amount of people give enough of it to, could tremendously make a huge fucking difference. Like my non-profit for example.

 

 

 

I clamp my jaw shut as I walk out of the elevator with Swiss on my heels.

 

 

 

"Don't pout, Kellan," my brother insists. "I pushed for it this time. I really did. He just-"

 

 

 

"Went with your proposal instead?"

 

 

 

His silence is all the admission necessary.

 

 

 

And this is where actual sibling rivalry is an issue. You see, if it's what the oldest prince wants versus the younger, the oldest wins. The oldest has more to lose or gain. The oldest actually matters. Why else do you think it's so easy for me to get away whenever I've had enough of the palace walls? Fuck whoever I want with little to no scoldings?