Page 2 of Powerful Prince
A laugh escaped my throat. If she was here, I’d hug her. But I said, “You don’t have to flatter me. I think the comments have a point.”
“You are not a hypocrite.”
No. I absolutely was not. Honesty was part of my Modern Life blog. Social media and vlogs were about facing everything, even when the truth hurts.
It was time for me to step up. Privacy was for other people, like my sisters. Not for me. This was something I’d have to answer now. I sucked in my breath. I had to figure out how to brace for this storm.
“Look,” I said, “I have to get my head on right for my meeting. Talk to you soon.”
My sister was awesome, but I only had a few minutes and I needed to draft what I’d say and how I’d talk about my choices.
We said goodbye and I opened my online drive to get a blank page.
Time to figure out the words for my answer. I closed my eyes and meditated on the question. Again, the wish to just stop my constant updates and disconnect hit me, but I let the feeling wash.
I’d never get that wish. I’d be no good at a nine-to-five job.
Once I could breathe properly, I opened my eyes and started.
Dear Reader,
I’m sure you read the comment and saw the video from Christiane. She was right about one thing. I am a virgin.
It’s a life choice I made long ago. I’m for sex if that’s your choice, and that’s still legitimate.
I have not indulged in sex because I believe my body is pure, and I have my amazing life because I honor that I’m a vessel and it’s my job to bring light to the world. And when I have sex, I want it to be with someone who also understands that his job is to bring light into the world. This is probably a little narcissistic, but maybe I just want that spark. I want the feeling that, whoever he might be, he is someone I want to have in my life, forever.
The truth is more basic, and I’m spinning circles right now. I want to make love because I’m in love, and not join physically with a guy for any other reason.
Another example to show what I mean: For clothes and shoes, I’ll refuse to wear 99% of what’s out there because I’m presenting my mood of the day to the world through what I wear. I can’t imagine being less picky when it comes to a guy, either. The worst part of the story, though, is that I’ve never felt that spark. At least not yet. I still have hope that one day, whoever he is, the right man will appear in my life. And if you have suggestions for who my partner might be, please let me know. I want to one day find the one I love.
Yours,
Nicole Steel
Owner of Modern Life
I hit “Save Draft” and glanced at my clock. Five minutes till my meeting.
I washed my face, grabbed my black pants, and ensured my pink cotton t-shirt, which read “Live Your Best Modern Life” over my website logo, was free of wrinkles.
Meeting a prospective client meant it was better to be branded. I checked that my ponytail was smooth and grabbed my laptop and cell phone.
I checked the contact info app again so I could quickly screen whoever this mystery client might be. My sister had hooked me up with an expensive instant background check app that just needed a name or a photo to identify someone quickly. I’d follow my gut with a little help from technology when I met with a stranger.
The Venetian hotel was large, but I always insisted on a public meeting. I found the coffee shop in the busy lobby of the hotel and set up my laptop as I scanned the area around me.
Most of the guests were dressed casually in t-shirts. However, an older bald man in a black suit and with a stiff, fast walk headed right toward me.
Was this older gentleman the client? I hoped so. His problems would be easier to figure out. Other clearly upper-class, older clients had contacted me, and I’d successfully helped a few of them reduce their carbon emissions and live healthier, happier lives. He tapped the seat back as he stood in front of me and asked, “Are you Miss Steel?”
I nodded and motioned for him to sit down and join me.
He followed directions, but his shoulders were rigid and I almost offered him a napkin to ensure the top of the table in front of him was clean. But instead, I closed my laptop and asked him, “Are you my new mystery client?”
He folded his soft, perfectly manicured hands on the table—he obviously moisturized—and said to me, “No, miss. I’m his butler.”
My eyes widened and I leaned closer as I asked, “He has a butler, in Vegas?”
