I’m standing in what is known as the gold drawing room, and I can tell you the room lives up to its name. The couches are white with gold trim, the tables, gold. The curtains–guess what? Also, gold. The sun pours in through the window as I set up my camera on a tripod to tape the first in a series of crap interviews designed by idiots and conducted by me (quite possibly an even bigger idiot, since it was my idea in the first place).

I practice reading the questions aloud while not glaring. Then I check my watch. Arthur is set to be here in five minutes, and the live feed on Facebook will start in exactly seven minutes. The fact that the interview will be live gives true transparency, since the viewers will know we didn’t edit anything out.

Although, it also means that if I fuck anything up, it’s live and will be out in the world forever. I’m cold-sweat nervous. I shake my hands and breathe deeply. No big deal, I’m only about to have my first exclusive interview of my career with a major, internationally known celebrity. And I’m going to ask him if he wears boxers or briefs. I take a deep breath and hear the sound of the door.

“Knock, knock.” Prince Arthur strides in, dressed in a light grey suit. He’s wearing a blue tie that brings out those amazing eyes of his.

I’m dumbstruck for a moment before I force my tongue into action. “Good morning. Are you all ready for the big interview?”

“Looking forward to it.” He grins. “I have to confess, I peeked at the Reddit forum to get an idea of the calibre of questions I’d be facing.”

“Hard-hitting stuff, I know.” I roll my eyes.

“Apparently, I have a few fans out there still.”

“Apparently,” I say. “I know the questions aren’t exactly cerebral, but I suppose it’ll give you a chance to show the people your fun side.”

“It seems they’re more interested in seeing my backside.” He points to the chair positioned across from the camera. “Right here?”

I nod. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“I have twenty-three minutes slotted for this, so we should be fine.” He sits down and checks his tie, and gives his jacket a sharp tug. Unlike me, this is not his first interview. He picks up the mic that is on the table next to the chair and fastens it to his tie (which is kind of a shame because I was sort of definitely hoping to do that for him). God, Tessa, you’re pathetic.

“It’s a live feed, so I’m going to sit next to you and control the camera via remote.”

“Excellent.” The smile on his face is nothing short of devious.

I stand behind the camera, focusing in on his face. His gorgeous, impossibly handsome, could-turn-a-girl-to-a-puddle-just-by-looking-at-her face. Huh, this whole camera thing could work for me. I can stare freely without seeming creepy. Yes, Tessa the pathetic stalker has a plan.

“Okay, are you ready, Your Highness?” I sit down, mic up, smooth out my skirt, and take one last deep breath.

“Yes.” He nods, then says quietly, “Don’t worry. You won’t fuck up.”

“Camera is rolling… now.” My cheeks heat up at his encouragement, and now I’m all tingling and warm right when I need to be cool as a cucumber. “Good morning, Prince Arthur. I’d like to thank you for agreeing to this series of ‘Ask Me Anything’ interviews.”

“Thank you for setting this up, Ms. Sharpe. It’s a rare opportunity to face questions directly from the public like this, so I’m looking forward to what I’m sure will be a worthy challenge. I’d like to make one request, however. Everything you ask me, I’d like you to answer as well.”

I freeze up and turn to him with my mouth hanging open like an idiot. Live feed. Great idea. I manage to close my mouth quickly and purse my lips together for a moment. “I’m sure your public will much rather spend the time learning about you, Your Highness.”

“I beg to differ. You’re quite a celebrity in your own right.” He grins at me, then the camera.

I plaster a fake smile on my face, even though I’m ready to ring his royal neck. I stare at the lens, my heart now so far lodged into my throat that I am unable to speak.

Arthur can, however. “Come on, Ms. Sharpe. Show the people your fun side.”

“Okay, then. We’ll start with the fifth most upvoted question and make our way to number one.” I glance down at the paper in my shaking hand. “Question five received three thousand two hundred and twelve votes: Has Prince Arthur ever considered that he might find love with a common girl, like, say a girl named Denise who works at the One Stop over on Broadmoor Street?”

Arthur smiles into the camera. “Seems like people are really rooting for Denise at the One Stop. Denise, I’m sure if we ever met, you’d be an absolute heartbreaker. As to the question of finding love with what you call a common girl, I find that hard to imagine, since almost every woman I’ve met is nothing short of a goddess.”

Oh, I am not even going to hide my disgust right now. I’m just going to wear it for everyone to see. “Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth. “That was nothing short of patronizing.” I turn to the camera. “So, Denise, if you’re out there watching this, he’s all yours, love!”

Arthur cocks his head toward me with a smirk. “So, Ms. Sharpe, have you ever considered that you might find love with a common boy, or girl, for that matter?”

I glare at him. “Someday, I hope to find a nice fellow, yes. Preferably, someone who lacks arrogance and cares about important issues, like the environment and human rights.”

“Do you mean to suggest anyone but me? Because I assure you I do care about important issues, both globally and locally. I sit on the board of three dozen charities, actually, and my family supports over two thousand more each year, providing millions in fundraising dollars each year. Without our work, many of them would have to shut down.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but you’d still not make a good candidate as far as I’m concerned.”

“Oh, the arrogance thing.” He looks directly into the camera. “She’s a real nut-buster, this one.”

Son of a bitch. He certainly knows how to make the most of this opportunity. Glancing down at my paper, I see the only hard-hitting question on the list is next. And it’s not even cleverly worded. “Question four has four thousand ninety-eight votes. ‘Why don’t you all just get jobs and stop sponging off all of us poor people?’”

The prince nods once, a conciliatory gesture. “I can see how some may view my family as leeches on society—I believe those were your words. But I would like to point out that my family provides very good jobs for over twelve hundred people each year. They have full benefits, nicely padded pensions, and enjoy job security that is hard to come by these days. In addition to this, and our charity work, I believe we have an important place in protecting the people through our veto power in Parliament. It’s not often that the monarchy exercises it, but on the occasion that we have, we’ve found the people were glad to have us act on their behalf. There was that whole matter of the bill to remove a woman’s right to file for divorce back in nineteen seventy-four. My grandfather stopped that in its tracks.”

“Yes, but that was over forty years ago. What have you done since then?”

“While it’s true that we haven’t had to step in for a long time, I believe that the knowledge that we are here to do so keeps our government leaders in check in some ways.”

Damn, he’s smooth. He doesn’t even look a bit ruffled. And that was the best thing I had.

He smiles into the camera. “I suppose I can’t ask you the same question, really, since you’re self-employed.”

“Correct, it would make even less sense than the last one.” My turn for a smug smile. “Question three has just over five thousand three hundred votes. What workout does the prince do to stay in such incredible shape?”

He grins over at me. I know my cheeks are pink because they certainly are hot right now.

“Thank you to the author of that question. Very flattering. Six mornings a week, I train with my head bodyguard, Ollie. He’s a former commando, and we do some boot camp-style stuff as well as mixed martial arts. He also makes me run. A lot. I could use something to help improve my pace, though. I’m looking to increase it by, oh, about twenty-percent or so over my next twelve runs. You wouldn’t happen to know of a product that would help with that, would you, Ms. Sharpe?”

I laugh, hoping it sounds even a little bit sincere. “You’re referring to the Shock Jogger, of course. Hilarious, Your Highness.” I smile over at him. “You’re welcome to borrow mine anytime. I’ll even help you set the pace.”

“You’re ever too generous. Now, your turn. What workout do you do to keep yourself in such incredible shape?”

“Running, preferably not with a cattle prod tied around my ribs. I also do yoga.”

“Yoga.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Keeps a person bendy, I hear.”

“Yes, you should try it.” I can feel a cold sweat under my arms. “Okay, we’re burning through these questions now. Number two is a two-parter and has fifty-five hundred votes. ‘How did you decide to get a pig, when most royal families have dogs? Also, how is Dexter and can we see some videos of him with the Prince?’”

“It’s a funny story, actually. A few years ago, I was dating a certain supermodel who fell in love with Paris Hilton’s teacup pig. Unfortunately, the term teacup is wildly inaccurate when it comes to pigs, unless you’re referring to the cups in that ride at Disneyland. She lost interest in both of us as soon as he couldn’t fit in her purse, but it all worked out in the end. He’s quite happy living here, and he makes a very good companion. Do we have time for me to bring him in here?”

“Sure.” Why the hell not? It’s not like I have any dignity left at this point anyway. Might as well bring in the barnyard animals.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “I’ll just ask his handler to bring him in.”

Oh, but wait a minute! Upper hand, here I come! “You pay a handler to look after your pig? That seems like a very poor use of taxpayer money.”

“Yes, it would be if the money came from the taxpayers.”

The door opens and Dexter squeals, running directly to Arthur. Arthur reaches down with both hands and scratches behind his pink ears. “Troy, we’re doing an interview right now. Would you like to come on and say something to the people out there? I think they’d be interested to know about the work you do.”

I watch Troy walk across the room and my stomach drops. The first time I met him, in the library, I was so distracted that I didn’t actually look at him. He very clearly has some form of intellectual disability.

Troy walks over and stands beside Arthur, peering into the camera and waving. “Hello, out there.”

I smile at Troy. “Troy, can you share with the people what you do here?”

He looks at me like I’m half-baked. “Right now, I’m talking into the camera. That’s what Prince Arthur asked me to do.”

Arthur reaches up his hand and rests it on Troy’s arm. “She didn’t mean right now. She’s asking about your job here with Dex.”

“Oh. You should have said then,” Troy says to me. “I take care of Dexter while the Prince is busy working all day. Otherwise, he’ll get bored and get into a lot of trouble. He’s a rascal when he’s bored. Or hungry. He once chewed up a set of candlesticks, the bottoms off a set of very old curtains, and the leg off a nice couch all in one afternoon. But that was before I started here. Now, he’s a happy pig. We go for long walks every day. And we watch some TV together. He loves the nature channel, but sometimes he’ll sit through a bit of a football match if I’m lucky.”

“Sounds like a terrific job.”

“It is. Except when I have to give Dexter a bath. He doesn’t like that very much, I’ll tell you.” Troy laughs as he says it, and I find myself laughing with him.

Troy takes a big breath and looks down at me. “I know you don’t like the Royal Family, but I want to say they’re nice people. The Prince here is real good to work for. My old boss at the warehouse used to yell at me when I’d make a mistake, and I make a lot of them. But Prince Arthur is always kind, even if I do somethin’ wrong.”

I feel a lump in my throat and tears pricking my eyes at the thought of someone yelling at this man. Pull it together, Softy. I clear my throat. “Thank you, Troy.”

Arthur winks at him. “Thanks, mate. We should finish the interview now.”

“Yes, you should. Mr. Vincent is standing just outside the door there pointing at his watch. Do you see him?”

Arthur tries not to laugh. “I did not. Thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem, sir,” he says as he walks away. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. That’s no fun. Come on, Dexter, buddy.”

Dexter trots off after Troy, and I have, once again, been proven wrong. Bugger. But nice, too, I suppose.

“Your turn. Do you have any pets, Ms. Sharpe?”

“A betta fish. Chester.”

“Is it betta fish that fight to the death if you put two together?”

“Yes.” Where is he going with this?

“A rather competitive choice in a pet, don’t you think? Chester–does not work or play well with others.” He grins at me. “Some say we choose a pet that is most like our own personalities.”

“And you have a pig who is very naughty when he’s bored or hungry. What does that say about you?”

Arthur laughs. “Touché, Madame.”

“This brings us to our last question.” I close my eyes for a brief second. “With over six thousand upvotes, ‘Which type of underwear does His Highness, Prince Arthur wear?’”

“Clean ones. You?”

“Also, clean.” Am I dripping with sweat? I feel like I’m dripping.

Arthur wags a finger at me. “No copying off your deskmate, now, Ms. Sharpe.”

Smug bastard.

“You’ll have to give another answer.”

“Girly ones.”

He raises one eyebrow. “Oh, my favourite kind.”

“To wear?” I purse my lips.

“Ha! I walked into that, didn’t I?” He’s speaking directly into the camera now. “I only like to see the girly ones, not wear them.”

“Okay! Well, that’s it for our first live interview!” I’m using that voice my mum used when the twins started asking about how babies are made. “Now that we’ve gotten the silly questions over with, perhaps people can put forth some more serious political questions. Please. Let’s not waste this opportunity to have access to the Royal Family by only finding out about pets and underwear.” I turn to Arthur. “Thank you, Your Highness, for being quite a sport today.”

“It was my pleasure. I rather like the fun questions. As far as I’m concerned, keep ’em coming! Oh, and I have finally gotten into the twenty-first century. You’ll find me on Twitter and Instagram as The Real Prince Arthur, so check it out because I’ll be sharing all kinds of fun pictures and secrets from now on.”

Twitter? Instagram? I sit, unable to move for a second, but then I finally remember to press the remote button to shut off the camera. I slump down in my chair, letting out a big sigh. “Well, that was humiliating on so many levels.”

“Why? I thought you came off as quite clever. You’re quick on your feet, you know. You could do television if you had the mind to.” He takes off his mic. “You’re certainly pretty enough. Very smooth voice.”

“Thanks.” I blush and my heart patters. “I’m sorry about implying that Troy’s wage was paid by taxes.”

Arthur shrugs. “No problem. It would be natural for you to assume as much. I’m on the board of a group that finds work for people whom some would consider unemployable. Everyone deserves the dignity provided by a good job, don’t you think?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Even people like me?” he asks.

“That’s different. Troy is earning his wage.”

“And I’m not?”

“Not the wage you’re getting.”

He folds his arms. “And exactly how much am I getting?”

“Well, since your family has been so tight-lipped about that, I can only guess. Probably a few hundred thousand a year.”

“Interesting guess. I don’t get paid, actually. Instead of a wage, I am allowed to live here, and I receive a clothing allowance. The majority of my expenses are covered by a blend of our family’s investments and real estate holdings. Only twenty percent of our annual income comes from tax dollars, which goes directly to pay for staff who work to promote tourism. This amounts to just over a million per year, but over the past twenty years, our family has generated over seventy million in tourism dollars. A more than beneficial investment for the people, don’t you think?”

“Why isn’t this made public?”

“Ahem.” Vincent stands at the door. “You are overdue to meet with the ambassador to Belgium, Your Highness.”

Arthur gives me a quick bow. “Thank you, Tessa. That was a hoot.” He winks and walks out the door.

I stare shamelessly at his arse and lick my lips while he walks away. When the door closes behind him, I check my armpits and see that, yes, they are indeed drenched through. Then I reach down my blouse and adjust my bra so that the underwire is no longer digging into my left boob.

“Aah.” Much better. I notice my cell phone blinking on the table across the room. I get up and swipe the screen.

Text from Nikki: FEED IS STILL LIVE! SHUT OFF CAMERA!

Seriously?