Too Damn Rich by Judith Gould Page A

tap on the study door of
his condominium high above Burghley's, he called out in German,
"Herrein!"
    The door opened and in came Josef, his thin,
precise secretary-cum- valet, who had been with him since his
youth, and who knew his every quirk and peccadillo.
    "Guten Tag, Your Highness," Josef greeted
formally in German. "And may I take the liberty of wishing Your
Highness a very happy birthday and many happy returns?"
    "Guten Tag, Josef, and thank you," returned
His Serene Highness, Prince Karl-Heinz von und zu Engelwiesen.
    Josef hovered. "Would Your Highness like your
lunch now or a little later?"
    "Later, Josef."
    "Very well, Your Highness."
    After Josef left, Karl-Heinz became lost in
his reverie once again. On this, his fortieth birthday, his stomach
felt hollow as he reluctantly faced the harsh realities of his
personal life. It was time he settled down, mended his licentious
ways, and secured his future—no easy task for a man in his shoes
...
     
    His Serene Highness, Prince Karl-Heinz
Fernando de Carlos Jean Joachim Alejandor Ignacio Hieronymous
Eustace von und zu Engelwiesen was blessed with an overabundance of
everything. Besides his fortune, which was larger than most; his
title, which was older and bluer than most; his aristocratic good
looks, which were more handsome than most; he also possessed a
libido which—what else?—was more overactively demanding than most.
He looked younger than his forty recorded years—recorded, because
for the past seven centuries not a single legitimate von und zu
Engelwiesen had been born without a trio of lawyers present, whose
duty it was to duly witness and certify in an ancient book of
bloodstock that the newborn infant was indeed the product of the
rightful von und zu Engelwiesen womb, the double loophole in this
archaic tradition being, of course, that as many lawyers as not are
unscrupulous, and even a triumvirate of them have been known to be
bribable. And besides—how could there be irrefutable proof of the
paternal sperm serene if lawyers were not present during
insemination?
    But be that as it may, there was no mistaking
Prince Karl-Heinz for anything but the genuine article. The result
of a carefully distilled pedigree, he exuded nobility from every
pore, not only carrying himself like a prince, but speaking and
looking like one, too. His nose was imperial, a true Roman nose:
narrow, long, and slightly irregular, with the same central bump
which all the ancestral portraits at Schloss Engelwiesen bore as
proudly as their dueling scars. His ears, small and flat and nearly
lobeless, were obviously a throwback to another of the many royal
houses of Europe, with whom von und zu Engelwiesens had
intermarried over the centuries. However, his eyes, slightly oval,
bright blue, and crinkled at the corners, had a whimsical and
definitely unprincely, mischievous cast.
    Since the age of fifteen, Prince Karl-Heinz
had bedded, but not wedded, the most beautiful women on five
continents. Yet his highly publicized playboy exploits were but a
small part of his character. Behind the libidinous facade there was
a core of diamond-hard toughness, ruthless business acumen, and the
kind of confidence that only absolute power and a serene birthright
can bestow.
    Ironically, that very same birthright was now
the root of his greatest problem—and that could be traced all the
way back to the year 1290, when his illustrious ancestor, Eustace,
had been rewarded by Charlemagne for services rendered, and made a
prince of the Holy Roman Empire.
    Deeded vast tracts of lands in what is now
Germany, Eustace was also awarded that plum of all plums—exclusive
rights to the papal mail routes for the entire western
Mediterranean.
    And it was that very same Eustace, the first
in a long, unbroken line of princes of the Holy Roman Empire, who
had laid down the von und zu Engelwiesen family laws governing
inheritance for future generations; strict, binding laws which
remained in effect to this very day,