Member-only story
The Bitch Strikes
Refuse to Lose
I wasn’t sure what I was doing when it came time to slay the businessman. All I knew was someone needed to save the kingdom. Nobody would have believed me if I revealed the young man’s true identity and intentions. After all, I was the storyteller of the family. It sucked not being taken seriously sometimes.
Everyone overlooked the fact that I practically ran the palace while my mother was on holiday in Turkey and my father was, well, off exploring the town pubs. I suppose building his image in the public eye was important.
We were seated at the table, spreading crushed tomato paste over bruschetta, eyeing the dreamy man to my left. He was 5’10 inches of tanned skin and lanky build. He had black wavy hair and deep chestnut eyes you could get lost in.
“What are your aspirations in life?” asked Eliza who was seated across from him. She was 5’4 inches of trouble beneath her tiara.
“Uh, I don’t know,”
“He’s 21,” I said. “What do you expect him to say?”
“Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” she asked, giving the wine in her glass a swirl. My beau nodded in reply, hoping to appease the cobra questioner that was my little sister.
This is why I don’t bring men home I took a swig from my own glass.
