Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) by Kaitlyn Kevette

if there ever was.

 
    And I will end up being
the owner of this package , Kenrick declared to himself.

 
    Lost
in his fantasy world as he was, Kenrick almost missed her subtle curtsey to
him. In the nick of time, he had the presence of mind to nod and acknowledge
it.

 
    For
him, it all happened too fast. Blame his hyperactive mind; from a simple poetry
recital session, his superfast brain had raced to a whole different world. A world
of testosterone that he was familiar with; a world where all action centered
around his tingling loins.

 
    "The
Golden Cage." Princess Adelaide announced the title of her poem.

 
    She
had given a mini speech earlier – which Kenrick missed, lost as he was in his
own musings – in which she thanked the university for this opportunity, made
special by the presence of His Royal Highness, Prince Kenrick Royce. This led
to cheers in the audience. He also missed the subtle point that she never
referred to him as her stepbrother.

 
    Kenrick
was watching the audience, and in the front rows, he spotted a face he thought
he knew. Then he realized that it was the selfsame girl who was in his
stepsister's room that day when he had gone to visit her.

 
    The
poem recital began.

 
    Princess
Adelaide was an amazing orator of poems. This
must be one of her many gifted traits , thought Kenrick.

 
    The
poem itself was amazing. With each line, the audience went to raptures. Every
stanza was greeted with cheers. The students were roaring, and the media was
flashing away – their cameras were never idle. It was an electrifying
atmosphere.

 
    Kenrick,
amidst the uproar, caught a few lines of the poem – and they were not exactly
complimentary to the royalty. Little did he know that this was a poem of 'us
versus them' – singing paeans to the common folk while trashing the royalty.

 
    And
yet, the artistry in it was amazing. The words, the rhythm and rhyme, the
cadence – all of it was flawless. The play of phrases, and the meaning within
meaning, and the picture it painted, it was something Kenrick had never
experienced before. He never knew poetry could be so mesmerizing.

 
    Was this truly written
by a twenty-something girl?

 
    When
the recital ended, Princess Adelaide got a standing ovation. The crowd was in a
frenzy. There was thunderous applause, endless cheers, and even the media
personnel were seen clapping their hands. The professors in the front row, and
the dean, who was seated next to Kenrick, also stood up – Kenrick was the only
one left sitting.

 
    He
also got to his feet at once, and joined in the deafening applause. It lasted
well over five minutes.

 
    When
the last clap was heard, minutes later, it felt as if a thunderous hailstorm
had ended. And there were a few murmurs of applause still, here and there, like
drops of rain brought down by the wind from dripping branches of trees.

 
    Finally,
it was calm.

 
    And
all the while, Princess Adelaide was standing at the podium, in front of the
mike, nary an expression on her face, patiently waiting for the commotion to
conclude. Then she bowed to the audience and left the stage as quietly as she
had entered. The applause erupted once again, only to be quieted this time by
the master of ceremonies, and members of the audience settled down in their
seats.

 
    So that was a poem
panning the royals ,
the thought came back to Kenrick.

 
    Was it written to spite
him? He could not escape that obvious conclusion. Everything pointed to it.

 
    When
he had visited her recently, he was all pomposity and nose-in-the-air, and it
was not a pleasant meeting. To add fuel to the fire, he'd invited her to his
chambers.

 
    By
all reckoning, she was bound to know all about him, that he was a
cock-stock-and-barrel kind of guy. When someone like him came visiting, men
were advised to stock their fridges and lock their daughters – not a pleasant
reference by any yardstick. That reputation of his was sure to have