5,023Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
My love to Pinkaquaclouds for the beta-ing. :)
Chapter 2- Shoot Me Now
Somehow, I find my room- I'm sure it's mine this time- and I stumble in, heading straight for the bed to sit down and calm my racing heart.
I am panting, still horrified, and I can't believe what has just happened.
I could not have climbed into the prince's bed… I just couldn't have. The very thought is absurd.
Still, because I sometimes have masochistic tendencies, I replay the horrifying moment in my head. I see the prince's shocked face, his mouth slightly open, his brows furrowed while he has one hand on the lamp that he has just turned on. His green eyes are intense, and his hair is messy like he's just been fucked…
Fucked…
My God, has he always been that gorgeous?
Of course I have seen images of the prince before, in tabloids and gossip magazines and all that. I won't lie, tabloids are my guilty pleasure. I know most of them are exaggerated, but they are all so juicy and entertaining… and cheap.
I have always found Prince Edward handsome, but I've never cared much for him as a person. He doesn't party as much as the other elites of the country, and I always thought he was a bit stuck up. He rarely ever does interviews and whenever the paps get a shot of him, his face is blank. I don't even know when the last time I saw a picture of him smiling was.
I mean, the guy is twenty-two years old. He is still insanely young but he acts like he's forty. It irritates me for some irrational reason. The guy is a prince, for crying out loud. A prince. He has the country at his disposal (kind of), a ridiculous amount of money, and every single mayor's daughter on his dick. So why hasn't he taken advantage of it?
It's almost like his ego is so big that he feels he's too good for all the money and chicks. He wants more, more, more, and he is never happy with anything he gets.
The prince bothers me, he really does. The worst part is that I can't understand why.
Still, I can't deny that the man is hawt. Not just hot, but hawt.
Like, I-will-gladly-drop-my-panties-for-a-piece-of-that kind of hawt.
He is blessed with good looks, and I somehow resent him for it. He gets everything handed to him on a silver platter, probably encrusted with diamonds and rubies or something, and yet he can't even act the least bit appreciative.
There are people out there who are starving and who have to work their asses off to eat. There are people who have to put their children to work in one way or another, so that there will be food on the table. Yet here is the prince, who gets everything he wants, miserable as hell for no good reason.
Okay, so maybe I'm being a little unfair. I don't even know the guy. Really though, if he's going to show his face in public with all the paparazzi, he can at least smile.
I abruptly shut my thoughts of the prince off and fall back onto the bed, suddenly wide awake. I have no idea what time it is, so I search for my phone and glance at the screen.
It's four in the morning and I have three hours until I have to go into servant mode. I am unable to sleep so I decide to turn the light on and personalize my room.
I start by taking all the clothes out of the dresser and rearranging them how I'm used to. The bell-hoppish men have left certain things in the suitcase, like picture frames and girly accessories.
I pull out the only three pictures that I have framed; one is of me and my mother when I was three, just a few months before she passed away from ovarian cancer. The second is of me and my dad on a fishing trip when I was twelve, and the third is of me and my best friends Jessica and Angela on my eighteenth birthday.
Jess and Ang had been absolutely stunned when they found out I was moving into the royal family's manor. Jessica called me a lucky bitch and Angela was sad that I was leaving them. I promised to call them as much as I possibly could, but I didn't let myself cry until I got here.
Now, I look at the picture with a small smile before setting it down on the side table. I then take out all my other personal items: the minimal makeup I own, cute little perfume bottles, stuffed animals, books. All things that remind me of home, and all things that don't fit in with the décor of the room.
When I am done with trying to personalize the room as much as possible, I pull back the curtains and see that dawn is breaking. My windows show part of the massive gardens, and I already see a few workers heading out to get started on whatever labor they have to commence.
The gardeners' uniforms consist of black cargo shorts with dark purple polos. Purple and silver are apparently the royal family's color theme, so I assume that my uniform will be purple as well.
To kill time, I head into the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth.
Thankfully, the toilet being out of order has nothing to do with the functioning of the shower. I take my time in attempting to appreciate the marble tiles of the bathroom, all the while feeling awkward and out of place.
The shower head is shaped like the head of what looks like a baby- though it's probably supposed to be an angel- and it squirts water out of its mouth. It is beyond creepy. I feel uncomfortable as I lather the shower gel over my skin, glaring at the shower head as I do so.
Still, the water is hot and it feels amazing. The hot water only lasted for a short amount of time back home, and Charlie and I had to time our showers so that we both got hot water and so that the water bill didn't get too high.
Once I am done showering, I pull on my robe and head back into the bedroom to change.
When I enter the bedroom, I jump a foot in the air and choke on a scream as I put a hand on my racing heart.
There is someone there.
She is small, the biggest grin on her face and clothes over her arm. She is at least a foot shorter than me and her black hair is all over the place, like she's been electrocuted except electrocuted in a very… stylish way.
"You must be Isabella!" she says, and her voice reminds me of Tweety Bird.
"Um, yeah," I say. "I prefer Bella, though. Are you Alice?"
"Yep," the girl says, jogging over to grab my hand and shake it. "Alice Brandon."
"Hi." I feel shy and slightly taken aback by this girl's energy, especially so early in the morning. I notice a small travel bag on her bed, and there are also some clothes lying on mine. "Is that my uniform?"
"Sure is," she says, walking back to her bed and unzipping her bag. "You're really pretty."
I blink at her. "Thanks."
"Yeah. I think you'll be able to pull off the uniform. It just swallows me."
I look at her and yes, she's right. The black pants and dark purple polo shirt with the silver emblem are too large for her.
"It's the smallest size," she tells me. "They won't even let me alter it."
"Did you just get here?" I ask, pulling the towel off my head and rubbing my hair with it.
"Yep, I came in here just when you went into the bathroom."
I nod, not knowing what else to say to the girl but also immensely grateful that she wasn't some psychopath.
"If your uniform doesn't fit, let me know," she continues. "Though it probably should. Kate is good at looking at people and guessing stuff about them."
I walk over to my bed and run my fingers over the embroidered emblem. It's silver, and I know it's the Cullen Crest. It's been around for as long as they have.
"You really don't want to be here," Alice says quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed.
I look at her and sigh. "Is the word 'miserable' written on my forehead?"
She laughs. "No, but I can just tell. You'll love it here, trust me."
I snort. "Highly doubt that."
She cocks her head to one side. "Why?"
"Lots of reasons; I just don't want to get into them now."
"I understand. Well I'll be here if you want to talk. It's early, but I should probably head downstairs now. I'll see you in half an hour, right?"
I nod and smile at her, because she's so nice and because her grin is infectious.
Once she leaves, the room feels colder and I feel lonelier. With a sigh, I disdainfully eye the uniform before putting it on.
It's a perfect fit. The polo shirt is snug and loose in all the right places and the pants are perfect. It's almost freakish how accurate Kate was in guessing my size, and I assume that she may have had to stare at me to figure it out. The thought creeps me out.
I brush my hair and pull it into a ponytail before trying to figure out what shoes to wear. I should have asked Alice. I opt to wear my purple Chucks, because they match and because they're comfortable. I hope Kate doesn't give me any shit for it.
I take a deep breath before leaving my room, a little irritated that I can't lock it since I don't have a key. I doubt that anyone in the manor would go in and steal my shit, but the thought still unnerves me.
I try my best to not get lost as I make my way down to the basement where the servants hang out.
The prince is still on my mind the whole way there. I wonder what he did after I left, if he laughed or if he didn't care and just turned the light off and went back to sleep. I wonder if he was pissed off, because I have heard rumors about this supposed temper that he has.
The second I reach the basement, I hear the buzz of voices. It's actually pretty loud down here, and the sound is concentrated in that one room where everyone is supposed to meet for roll call.
"There she is!" Kate says when I enter, and I see that she is holding a clipboard.
There has to be at least fifty people in the room, all of them various ages and sizes and races. All of them wear the same uniform I do, and they stand in small groups, chatting and stuffing their faces. The tables in the room are covered in breakfast food, and my stomach growls as the scent of fresh donuts and bacon drifts over to me.
"Bella!" I see Alice waving me over from across the room, and I walk over to her, making sure to grab a donut from one of the boxes.
"Hey," I say, smiling at her. She's munching on a chocolate donut with sprinkles. "Is there always food in here?"
"Only at mealtimes," she says cheerily. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all in here."
"When are mealtimes anyway?" I ask with a mouthful of donut. It's bad manners, but I'm ravenous so I could care less.
"It depends," she answers, daintily nibbling on her breakfast. "Everyone has a different schedule, but we all have breakfast together at seven. Kate will tell you."
"Fresh meat," a deep voice from behind me rings out and I whirl around to look at the large chest of someone. Looking up, I see his face, his ultra white teeth standing out against his tan skin and jet black hair.
"Um, excuse me?"
He laughs and holds out his hand. "Don't be offended. I'm Jacob, by the way. You?"
"Bella," I reply, marveling at how my hand looks minuscule in his.
Jacob has two donuts in his other hand and once he lets go of mine he takes a huge bite.
"So, what's your position?" he asks, though he butchers the words because his manners are as bad as mine.
I shrug. "Not sure yet. I don't have an official position."
He nods, swallowing. "I fix shit."
"Fix shit?"
"Yeah. If something's broken, or not working, I'm your man."
"Really? My toilet is out of order; do you think you can take a look at it?"
He raises an eyebrow at me. "What's wrong with it? Did you take a dump too big?"
I wrinkle my nose at him and smack his arm. "Ew! No, you nasty. It was like that when I got here."
Jacob snorts. "Yeah, okay."
"I'm serious! I don't know what's wrong with it since I wasn't curious enough to lift the lid, but you should check it out. You know, since you fix shit and all. Wow, that was a cheesy joke."
Jacob laughs and Alice chimes in with her two cents.
"Um, change of topic please?" she says. "Chocolate donut here."
"Sorry, short stuff," Jacob says, reaching out to ruffle her hair as she swats his hand away.
These two are so friendly that I want to dish and tell them about what happened with me crawling into the prince's bed. I am still recovering from the after affects, so I refrain.
"Did you guys hear?" Alice says. The tone of her voice makes it obvious that she's about to deliver gossip, and I'm immediately intrigued.
"Hear what?" I ask.
Alice lowers her voice to a whisper. "Someone hit Prince Edward's car last week. We've only just found out about it."
"What car?" Jacob asks. "He has, like, twenty. Twenty that he actually uses, that is."
"The silver Volvo," Alice replies.
I can feel the blood drain from my face.
Oh no…
"No way," Jacob says quietly. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. He had it parked in Port Angeles and someone hit it before just driving off. He was pissed."
Oh my God…
"They're saying it was probably an accident," Alice continues. "But honestly, I think someone did it on purpose."
My eyes widen and I gape at her. "Why would you think that?"
Alice shrugs. "A lot of people don't like the prince. I don't see why, he's perfectly nice whenever I have to do something for him. People that don't really know him think he's all stuck up and stuff, so it could have been an act of hate."
I try to laugh, but the sound is choked since I am so nervous. "Alice, that's… that's a little much, don't ya think?"
Jacob and Alice look at me like I have no idea what I'm talking about.
"Um, it's perfectly possible," Jacob says. 'The prince has got enemies. Like, a lot of them. Even if he doesn't deserve them. People are just so quick to judge…"
"But what if it was an accident?" I say, trying to make myself feel less guilty.
"Then that would piss the prince off even more," Alice states. "One thing he hates is when people don't have the balls to take responsibility for their actions."
"You seem to know him so well," I mumble, staring at my feet.
Alice shrugs. "I probably know him better than most. I've had to do things for him, put his laundry away and all that. We've chatted and stuff, he's a pretty decent guy for a prince. But it pisses him off when people can't own up, you know?"
Oh, great.
"Isabella, over here please," Kate's voice relieves me from the stress and guilt and I hastily make my way over to her.
The second I reach her, she hands me a small blue card. It looks almost like a schedule of classes, with the time and location on one side and the chore on the other.
"That's your schedule for the day," she informs me. "They're going to need help cleaning out some of the guest bedrooms; the king has guests who are coming over for dinner and then spending the night. Then I need you to help Andrea with the horses in the stable, her assistant is sick. Make it back here for lunch and then you need to help out in the kitchen with dinner-"
"I get to see my dad?"
"Yes. He said you have a fair amount of experience in the kitchen, so you will do whatever is asked of you down there."
"Are you sure?" I ask nervously. "I go from cleaning bedrooms to horses to cooking… How do you know I'll be good at any of that stuff?"
"If you are unable to do what is asked of you, we will find another job for you to do. Simple as that. Now, once you are done assisting with the preparation of the dinner, you will serve it to the Cullens, Hales, and their guests."
Shit…
I swallow. "Um, serve? How do I do that? Doesn't that require some fancy training…?"
"Alice will help you."
"But, but…" I trail off and Kate looks at me, her expression stern.
"Do you have some kind of objection?"
Yeah, I don't think I can face the prince after crashing into his car, getting into his bed, telling him I have to pee, and then running away, scared shitless…
"No. Just wondering, though, who will be at this dinner exactly?"
"What does it matter?"
"Just curious," I mutter.
"If you must know, it's the entire Cullen and Hale families, plus the Smiths of Texas and the Kensingtons of Florida."
Okay, so the prince will be there. Maybe I can pretend to be sick…
"Is that all?" Kate asks, one eyebrow raised.
"Yeah," I mumble, and she turns away to keep handing out the little blue cards.
I am going to be so screwed.
The day goes by faster than I would have liked. Cleaning out the extravagant guest bedrooms is a piece of cake, and I wonder what the king and queen's bedroom looks like if their guests (and servants, for that matter) have such fancy rooms. By the time everything is vacuumed, dusted, and wiped I am exhausted and looking forward to lunch. Then I remember that I have some stupid horses to take care of.
Andrea, one of the chicks that takes care of the horses, is super nice and doesn't make me clean up the horse shit or anything like that. All I really have to do is groom them, and I find that it is relaxing to run the brush through their manes.
"I don't know if I'll ever get used to this," I vent to a pretty white horse that I am grooming. "It's so different here. They keep throwing me all over the place to do such different things that I swear I am going to lose my mind. I kinda wish I had an actual position, ya know, horsey? It would be more predictable and not so nerve wracking."
The horse lets out a sound of contentment and I smile.
"You kinda stink," I tell him… or her. I don't know the sex. "Do you have a name? I think I'll call you… Snowflake. You're white, after all. God, I have no life. Look at me, talking to a horse and naming it. I'm losing my damn mind, I tell y-"
I stop speaking when I hear a throat clear behind me. I jump a foot in the air and let out a loud squeak, whirling around to see who has interrupted me.
It's Sir Jasper.
His blonde hair is covered by a cowboy hat and he wears one of those outfits that horse riders wear. His lips are pulled up into an amused smirk and I feel myself go red.
Shoot me now, please.
I also notice, in my ten seconds of startled staring, that he looks different from how he does in the tabloids. He looks more… human? I can't think of another word. He's handsome, yes, but now he looks real. It's so odd…
"Am I interrupting something?" he asks, and his voice is friendly.
"Um, uh, n-no… sir," I stutter, and he smiles.
"I'd like to take Stevie out for a ride," he says. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all," I say, taking a step back. "Snowflake- I mean, Stevie… is all ready for you."
He walks over and I instinctively take another step back. He's not threatening but being so close to royalty is putting me on edge.
"Snowflake?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he pets the horse.
"I didn't know he had a name," I explain, blushing and looking down at the brush in my hand.
"Stevie Snowflake," he says, chuckling. "I think I like it."
I watch as he starts to pull the horse out of the stall, and once the two are outdoors he effortlessly leaps on and rides away.
I stand there, alone in the stables, in shock.
I just spoke to royalty, and he just spoke to me.
And he was actually nice.
Holy shit…
It takes a while to sink in, and once it does, I manage to smile.
The kitchen is bustling with cooks, chefs, and servants, and I almost get knocked down within seconds of entering. There are so many different smells, and it's all so wonderful that I have to stand there and inhale for a moment.
"Bells?"
I hear my dad's voice and crane my head over the organized chaos to see him sautéing something in a pan.
Realizing how much I've missed him over the past twenty-four hours, I make my way over and try not to trip or get anything spilled on me.
"Dad," I say, pulling him into a fierce hug.
"Whoa, careful there, honey, hot pan," he warns, hugging me with one arm. "You here to help?"
"Sure am," I say. "What can I do for the master chef?"
He laughs. "Henrick is the master chef; I'm just the lowly Italian cook."
"Nah, come on old man," I tease, nudging him with my elbow. "You're more than that."
"Bella, we need you here," someone calls me over from the other side of the kitchen and I sigh, smiling at my dad before weaving through the flurry of workers as they move about.
Much of my time in the kitchen is spent by getting this or that for the cooks or chefs, and occasionally getting to stir this or measure one thing or another. It's all enough to distract me from the task I am supposed to do after I am done in the kitchen.
Unfortunately, time doesn't slow down for me.
"Bella, hurry," Alice says, waving me over. "We have to serve now."
My stomach clenches nervously and I feel nauseous. I can feel myself break out into a cold sweat and I slowly walk over to where Alice is standing.
Another server, Valerie, is lining the rest of us up and handing everyone a plate or dish to walk in with. We have practiced before, and I have to remember in which direction to walk, who to serve, and how to serve.
Thankfully, I would be serving one of the Kensingtons and not the prince.
"Oh, Bella," Valerie says. "Switch dishes with Brianna; you're serving the prince."
Or not…
"What?" I screech. "Why? I thought I was serving Mrs. Kensington?"
"Yeah, but she's not sitting where she was supposed to, so Prince Edward ended up taking her seat. Brianna has his dish. Switch with her."
I am horrified and I feel like throwing up. "Why can't I just switch places with her?"
"It'll ruin the whole lineup," Valerie says impatiently. "Just do it, Bella."
My hands are shaking as I switch dishes with the Brianna girl, and when the doors to the dining room open, I feel faint with anxiety.
You can do this. All you have to do is put the plate in front of him and lift the lid. That's all.
I give myself a pep talk in my head, but it all stops when I step foot into the grand dining room.
He is the first person my eyes land on.
Prince Edward is engaged in conversation with who I assume is either Mr. Smith or Mr. Kensington. He's wearing a navy blue, pinstriped blazer over a dark maroon button down, and he looks delicious. His hair is its usual casual disarray and I am glad that he doesn't notice me as we make our way around the room.
I am supposed to move to his left and set the dish in front of him with two hands, lifting the lid with my left so I don't accidentally hit him in the face. Then I am supposed to take a step back and hold the cover with two hands in front of me until they are all done eating and it's time to bring the next dish in.
I swallow nervously and my hands are shaking as I stand beside Prince Edward and set the dish in front of him. I am standing so close to him that I smell his cologne, and it is heavenly.
I lift the lid with my left hand, as practiced, and then he speaks to me.
"Thank you," he says, glancing up at me, and I am frozen.
For one thing, I can't take my eyes off of his lips and his jaw, that lickable jaw.
Secondly, his voice is so smooth and velvety that I get chills… good chills.
And thirdly, with the way he is looking at me, I know he remembers what happened the night before.
My face grows red.
His gaze is curious and speculative, and I am so lost in his eyes that I don't even realize that I am the only one still standing by the person I am to serve and staring at him shamelessly.
The prince cocks an eyebrow at me and someone clears their throat. I glance up, horrified, and slowly step back with the cover of the dish clutched tightly in my hands.
The people at the table continue their conversations after an awkward pause, and I am so horrifyingly embarrassed that I just stare at my feet until us servers are supposed to carry the dishes away.
Since I am standing a few feet behind the prince, I don't feel as shameful staring at the back of his head. His copper colored hair looks so soft, and I imagine what it feels like to run my fingers through it.
I take the time out to observe the other members of the royal family. King Carlisle is very handsome as well, his blonde hair classically slicked back. Queen Esme is a beauty, her caramel colored hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders as she sips wine and chats with Mrs. Kensington. Prince Edward is across from her, since the king is at the head of the table, and he is still talking to Mr. Whoever, who is next to him.
Sir Jasper seems to be holding a group conversation with the Smith and Kensingtons' daughters. They seem smitten by him, blushing and giggling, and then my gaze falls on Lady Rosalie.
She is staring at me.
Her piercing blue eyes hold mine and I am slightly freaked out. She narrows her eyes at me and I look away and at the floor, feeling my face heat up again.
I am so bad at this…
I hear the signal that they are all done eating the first course, and I quickly step forward to recover the prince's dish…
Except I almost elbow him in the face since I use my right hand instead of my left.
He quickly moves his head back and dodges my elbow, leaving me horrified again.
"Sorry," I squeak out, and he nods once, curtly, his expression blank.
I take his dish away and hurry into the kitchen, wanting to puke.
I have no time to be any more embarrassed because we have to quickly get the next dish and take it back into the dining room.
I take a deep breath before reentering, and when I walk in the prince is watching me. It makes me nervous and as I approach him I am more anxious than ever.
Don't screw this up, for the love of God…
That's when I trip… and spill the entire contents of the dish onto Prince Edward's lap.
FUCK!
"Fuck!" I cry out loud and the prince hisses as the hot soup or whatever it is drenches the entire front of his pants.
There is some kind of commotion and I don't know what is going on. All I know is that I have to fix it.
"Oh my God," I say frantically, grabbing the nearest napkin. "I am so, so sorry!"
I don't even realize that I am about to try and wipe the front of his pants (where his dick is), until he grabs my wrist.
His grip is warm and firm and I can feel static currents run across my skin.
"It's all right, I've got it," he says, and his tone is totally frustrated.
"Bella, come on," Alice is tugging on my arm but I can't move because I am so utterly embarrassed and angry at myself.
"I really am sorry, sir," I say, tears springing to me eyes as the prince lets go of my wrist and stands up to clean himself off. "I didn't mean to, I just tripped and the dish just- oh god, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he says again, and he sounds even more irritated, even a little pissed.
"Bella," Alice hisses, and she jerks me to the side but I can't start moving and I can't stop talking because it's word vomit.
"I'm sorry about the Volvo too!" I blurt out. "It's just, it was parked in the most ridiculous space, and I was there first and it was hard to get out and I pressed on the gas too hard and next thing I know there's a dent and I freak out and oh my god, what am I saying?"
The room is silent, just like my tears.
The silence seems to go on for decades, and I can feel every single pair of eyes on me. My own eyes can't look away from the prince's face, his expression frozen in shock.
"That was you?" Prince Edward finally asks, and his tone is laced with absolute disbelief.
"I'm sorry," I squeak out again, because I have nothing else left to say.
I let Alice and someone else drag me out of the dining room and back into the kitchen.
Updates: I know this chapter went up a day earlier than planned, but I got bored and excited so I thought hey, why not?
Next Chapter: Friday, February 4th... at the latest. I might get bored and excited again.
Polyvore: The link to the workers' uniforms is on my profile.
See you Friday. :)