Chapter Four
I delve into numerous fiction books, aiming to grasp the surreal nature of my current endeavor – riding pillion on a rented motorcycle with the Crown Prince of Spain.
Nonfiction, to me, seems like an extension of the reality I yearn to escape. I struggle to grasp why individuals opt for nonfiction instead of fiction.
Books transport you to unimaginable realms, offering a unique opportunity to live through extraordinary experiences. Yet, like all things, excessive reading detaches you from real-life moments and the creation of your own experiences.
Unlike my siblings, I never mastered the art of balancing reading and living during my school years. I wasn't one to fall in love often, go out with friends, break hearts, or join clubs. Instead, my days were spent at school, and my nights immersed in books.
I wholeheartedly believed that reading was propelling me toward extraordinary places, and it did. However, in my final year of high school, a conversation with a girl opened my eyes to the vibrant experiences I had missed, living predominantly in my imagination.
Rex's voice echoes through the wind, asking, "What are you thinking?"
I chuckle, admitting, "Books," defying the thrill of the motorcycle
ride with a touch of laughter.
A puzzled silence follows, broken by Rex's loud laughter and an exclamation, "Am I that boring?!"
I tease, enjoying the banter. "Yes, Prince Rex, you are, indeed, boring."
Rex protests, "How often do I have to tell you not to call me Prince Rex?"
I pretend to ignore him, replying, "I can't hear you."
"So, when am I going to meet Grace?"
"Never!"
"Ha, then you can hear me!"
I roll my eyes, yet a smile creeps onto my face. Despite my tendency to immerse myself in books rather than real life, it seems like I'm living in a book at this moment.
••••
"Why are we here?" I inquire, eyeing the infamous villa for rent. I can't help but wonder about the purpose behind being in a hotel.
Only the wealthy indulge in renting such exquisite villas, especially in Fairbanks – not the Aurora Villa, mind you.
My astonishment surfaces, "This villa must have cost a fortune."
The allure of this villa extends beyond its price tag; its secluded location amidst lush greenery is one of its key attractions.
Standing solitary, surrounded by trees and vibrant flowers, it feels like a scene from a dream – a place where encountering a deer emerging from the forest, adorned with birds and rabbits, would seem entirely plausible.
My mind fixates on one unsettling reason for our presence in this villa, a thought I'd rather avoid altogether.
Escape becomes the pressing question – how am I going to make it out of here if I already know the answer?
My mind races with stereotypes, but I trust Rex isn't that type. Repeating my question, I press, "Why a rented villa?"
Rex catches my tone; his eyes widen, assuring, "We're here for swimming, nothing more."
I gesture to my attire, realizing, "I don't have a swimsuit," recalling Grace's earlier comments. Doubts arise – if she's right about my outfit, why am I standing in front of the Prince like this?
"Also, this villa is probably rented by a rich family now," I shrug, trying to pull him away. "Just because you're the crown prince of Spain doesn't give you the right to kick people out for your enjoyment."
"It's mine," he chuckles. "Purchased it a couple of years back during a particularly drunken night."
Oh, to be rich and buy one of the most expensive villas in Alaska by accident.
"Do you visit this place more frequently?" I inquire, trailing him into the villa.
"No," he replies, shaking his head. "I rarely visit Alaska; I rent this place and donate to a different charity monthly."
His generosity leaves me speechless; Prince Rex is not just charming and humorous but also remarkably generous.
I smile, reminding myself to resist admiration. He opens the door, inviting me inside the breathtaking villa, explaining its spacious entrance designed for winter gatherings.
To the right, three closed doors stand, and stairs beckon to the upper floor. The first door reveals a bathroom; he closes it and proceeds to the second door. Upon opening it, a vast living room unfolds, adorned with a grand chandelier, pristine white sofas, and captivating wall decor. The frames showcase scenes of joy, family unity, and artwork by renowned artists.
Marveling at the beauty, I whisper, "So beautiful," as Rex smiles and leads me to the backyard.
He gestures towards the swimming pool with a nod, "This is the swimming pool."
"I don't have a swimsuit," I remind him.
"I don't care," he raises his eyebrows. "You can swim in your clothes. I have extras for you to wear after."
"I don't want to swim," I groan.
"It's a must," he insists.
I stick my tongue out, asserting, "I'm not swimming."
"Let's start with a quick tour," he suggests, raising his hands. "Then, we can discuss our plans, okay?"
I chuckle, trailing behind him into the living room. "This is the living room, right?"
"Correct," he nods, playfully rolling his eyes. "There's another one upstairs, but we use this more since it's closer to the kitchen."
Throughout my life, I believed royal families lived burdened lives, constantly shouldering responsibilities without ever truly experiencing a moment of respite.
Observing news on TV or social media, my heart resonates with empathy for those deprived of ordinary lives like ours—dictated on how to behave, speak, dress, smile, and exist.
"I never imagined the crown prince taking a break," I muse.
"Here I am, giving you a tour, and that's what you're thinking about?" he laughs. "First, books, now this?"
"I can't help it. My brain multitasks," I shrug.
"When my mind races, I turn thoughts into poems," he reveals.
"You write poems?" I gasp. "Read them to me, please!"
"What do I get in return?" he smirks, taking a seat.
"Nothing," I reply with a playful grin.
"Let's head to the backyard," he leads, and we find ourselves by the swimming pool again.
"I'm not swimming, Rex," I groan. I love swimming, but not fully clothed. I overcame my fear by learning to swim on YouTube after a near-drowning incident in a friend's pool.
"Oh, you're not?" he smirks, revealing his sculpted eight-pack as he removes his t-shirt. I resist drooling, managing to say, "No, I'm not," while repeating in my head the four words I tend to forget, "I have a boyfriend."
"Violet, be careful!" Rex shouts as he pushes me into the pool.
•••
Rex laughs heartily, tossing his head back. In retaliation, I splash him and exclaim, "Stop splashing me!"
"Why not?" he grins mischievously.
He splashes me once more, swimming away. Determined, I follow, trying to match his pace to return the favor.
"Let's play a game called chase," he suggests. "I'll be the shark, and you'll be the mermaid."
I burst into laughter at the unconventional game. "What kind of game is this?"
"It's epic," he insists, splashing me again.
"Are you sure you're twenty-six?" I retort, splashing him back.
"Denied!" He tackles me, and we plunge into the water. Emerging, I attempt to push his head down. "Take a seat!"
"Affirmative, sir!" He responds, then swiftly submerges, surprising me as he hoists me and hurls me across the pool.
As I draw a deep breath and lift my head, Rex startles me by appearing in front of me. "Trying to give me a heart attack?" I tease.
Rex rolls his eyes. "Yes, Violet. I am trying to give you a heart attack."
"Shush," I playfully stick out my tongue. "Any other siblings besides Diego?"
"Diego is my only brother," he splashes me. "I always wanted a sister, but mom had many miscarriages before and after giving birth to me. I was their miracle baby."
I smile in awe. "You're the miracle baby and the youngest? You two must have big fights."
He chuckles. "Many times. Our bond is broken. We don't get along anymore."
I furrow my eyebrows. "Why?"
"Diego thinks Dad chose me to be the Crown Prince because he calls me his miracle son," he explains. "But the truth is, Dad chose me because I'm responsible. I don't live a reckless life. Diego doesn't like it."
"Diego doesn't enjoy the royal life?" I snort. "If he didn't want to be the next king for so long, why fight for it now?"
"People don't appreciate what they have until they lose it," Rex reflects. "Dad begged him to get his life together for years. When I came of age, he made me the Crown Prince. Diego realized he lost what he had, and now, he's still fighting me over it."
"I like it," I mumble.
'People don't appreciate what they have until they lose it.'
"What do you like?"
"People don't appreciate what they have until they lose it," I repeat, staring into his eyes.
"Violet," he whispers.
"Hmm?"
"I want to kiss you."