“Want me to get rid of this one, sir?”
The head of palace security looks through his binoculars out to the Balearic Sea off the coast of Mallorca.
“Get rid of whom, Alejandro?”
“Well, it seems the paparazzi have resorted to coming by sea.”
“Pictures of your holiday are worth a lot of money on those gossip websites these days. I guess they’ve learned some new tricks from the American and British paparazzi.”
“If only they knew,” I say.
If only they knew how boring this life was. As the prince of one of Europe’s oldest ruling families my life consists of one formal activity after another. Dedicate an international aid building one day, christen an ocean liner the next. Attend military parades on the weekend. Shake hands at state dinners at night.
I’m not complaining about my life, but I sure do wish it had that spunk. That je ne sais quoi as the French say. But I’m neither French nor in their country. Spain is my homeland and Mallorca is the holiday spot the ruling family is expected to attend every year.
But we certainly aren’t expecting visitors…especially by sea.
“Is the guy in a boat?” I ask, wondering exactly how this guy is planning on approaching the coastline just off the Marivent Palace. There’s nowhere to dock, but then again he probably has one of those ultra long lenses so he’ll have no need to get close.
“Wait on second. One second,” Alejandro continues. “You’re not going to believe this, sir.”
“It’s not a man. It’s a woman.”
“And she’s not on a boat, or any kind of small watercraft.”
“What devices are they trying now.”
“Sir, it seems to be an…inflatable beach bed.”
“What? Let me see those,” I say and Alejandro hands me the binoculars.
I focus them in and see that he’s right. What the heck?
But he left out one very important part.
This woman is absolutely gorgeous…a bit out of her element it seems, but that only makes her seem more innocent, natural, and refreshing.
I can tell from looking at her that she’s not Spanish. She’s pale and I can’t tell if she’s American, English, or maybe even Canadian, Australian, or South African. But what I can tell is she seems to having a rough time out there, fumbling around on that bed quite a bit, but all in all she seems to be having a great time.
She’s smiling and rolling around left and right. Is she trying not to fall off? Those things can be tricky especially as far out as she is.
“I can send out a boat to get her before she starts snapping pictures.”
I look more closely. “She doesn’t have a camera,” I say. “I’m going to go out and take a look.”
“Sir, you can’t do that.”
“I have to do that,” I say. “Alejandro, how long have you known me?”
“Since the day you were born, sir.”
“And have I ever asked a favor of you? Ever?”
“Well there’s a first time for everything and today is that day. Can you cover for me?”
“Sir, the other guards will see you.”
“Just say I’m one of our guests.”
“I’ll do what I can, but please hurry back.”
I hand him the binoculars back and take off carefully maneuvering down to the shoreline and start swimming out to sea.
Those binoculars he had were pretty powerful, but she was beyond pretty. Something about her caught my eye and I have to know more about this young woman. What in the world possessed her to risk her safety out there to try to get close to the palace?
And why is she having more fun than me? And how did a woman so beautiful get on my island and no one told me about it?
I get introduced to all kinds of fancy and rich women all the time, but they just don’t do it for me. There’s something about this girl that’s different and I have to see for myself up close.
I paddle faster feeling an energy I haven’t felt in I can’t remember how long. A certain excitement from doing something I shouldn't be doing and meeting someone my handlers would never allow.
But something in my gut tells me she’s not someone. She’s…the one.