The Thrill Is Gone

He didn’t register what she said. Not right away. He was half asleep when he answered the phone. His eyes struggled to remain half open, while drool dribbled down the left side of his face, dampening his pillow, but when she repeated the statement for a third time, his eyes snapped wide open, and the exhaustion vanished. Someone had broken into her apartment. Some stranger had invaded her personal space, and as he came to understand what had happened, what she’d just been put through, he began to seethe with anger. How the hell did that happen? How was it that some asshole could break into his girlfriend’s apartment while she was in there sleeping? The more he thought about it, the angrier he grew, and the profanity flew from his lips. He used every curse word he knew, even using a few of the Spanish ones that she’d taught him over the last few months. He couldn’t understand how things had gotten to that point.

That apartment was meant to be secure. That was the one place where neither had to worry about anyone spying on them or criticizing their behavior, that was their getaway, but now some asshole had tampered with it. They’d tried to pollute it for their own personal gain, and when he got his hands on the man that had dared invade his girlfriend’s privacy, he was going to make him pay. But for now he cursed, for now he leapt out of bed, and slipped on his loafers. He wasn’t going to change out of his pajamas. The time it would take to put on jeans and a proper shirt were far too precious to waste, so he put on his loafers, he grabbed his coat off a nearby chair and ran out.

As he left his bedroom, he realized that he hadn’t even asked her how she was doing. He mentally scolded himself for having been so daft and then began to inquire after her well being. Was she okay? Had the asshole harmed her in anyway? Did the police take down a thorough report? Those were the questions he asked as he sped down the moonlit corridors.

The servants that were awake at that hour thought the young prince had gone mad. Where on earth was he off to? And in pajamas, no less! What could have possibly roused him from his slumber? They made attempts to find out where it was that Harry was going, inquiring time and time again if they should wake his father, or if perhaps they should get the driver ready, but Harry waved them off. He didn’t have time to stand around answering questions. He needed to get to Oxford as quickly as he possibly could. And so he jumped into his car, and sped off from Clarence House, eager to get to her apartment. He sped the entire way, going thirty kilometers over the legal limit. He didn’t care though, the police could stop him if they liked, but unless someone flashed their lights and turned on their sirens, he was going to continue his current pace, and thankfully for him, the roads seemed devoid of their usual patrolmen, and deserted of vehicles that would’ve forced caution on him.

When he arrived at the apartment complex, there were still two police cars parked out front, and there was a crowd of reporters and photographers, clustered together, waiting to ask the authorities as to what exactly had taken place inside the American’s apartment. Had Harry been in a clearer mindset, he would’ve thought twice about walking into the sea of photographers in his pajamas, but he was hotheaded and all he wanted was to see Paulina, to make sure she was alright. She’d told him that she hadn’t been hut, but his heart had him fearing the worst. No good ever came from men breaking into women’s homes. That was the premise of horror films, how rapes and murderers happened, and despite the fact that she’d told him that it was a reporter from News of the World that had broken into her apartment, Harry couldn’t help but think that maybe when the reporter was startled by Paulina, he could’ve smacked or punched her. He hoped that wasn’t true, that that was just his mind overreacting on him, but if it was true, if that man had laid a finger on her, Harry was going to do something rash.

Shoving his keys in his pocket, Harry threw open the door and stepped out of his vehicle. He tensed at the cold wind that nipped at his cheeks, but walked on, determined to get through the crowd and into the building with as little trouble as he could. The press had other plans. They immediately swarmed him, shoving cameras and microphones in his face as they asked if he knew what was going on, if he had any plans to press charges against the man that had been arrested. He tried to ignore them, not wanting to cause a fuss, but they pestered and pestered, and when he saw someone from the fucking tabloid that had sent a reporter to break into his girlfriend’s apartment, he lost it.

“Get out of my bloody way!” he bellowed at the photographers, but they didn’t budge, they kept snapping pictures. “Ya gonna fuck off now or not?”

His outburst, coupled with the crazed glint in his eyes, terrified the press. The reasonable part of their minds, urged them to give him space, let him through so he could get into the building, but the part of them that wanted exclusive pictures and dramatic headlines, demanded that they keep pestering him, because nothing could be better than a royal starting a fight with a member of the press. They could imagine the massive bonus their bosses would give them, the small fortune that would come with being physically aggravated by Prince Harry. And it was with that in mind that they continued to snap pictures, shouting at him to give a statement.

With each passing second, Harry’s restraint weakened. He hadn’t slept well in three days, he’d spent the entire night dancing and entertaining people that he honestly didn’t care for, and his girlfriend’s apartment had been broken into to. He was in a foul mood, and with each inquiry, with each flash of the camera, he grew ever closer to shoving someone so harshly, that they’d find themselves on the pavement, but thankfully for him, two policemen jumped to Harry’s aid. They ran down from the apartment’s main entrance, where they had been stationed, and positioned themselves on either side of the prince, shouting for the press to give them space as they led him into the building.

Hurried words of thanks were spoken to those whom had assisted him, and then he was on his way, dashing up the stairs and then sprinting down the corridor to get to the apartment at the end of the hall, where the police were just finishing up their report. They took longer than they normally would have, paying extra attention to detail due to the importance of the young woman. She was Prince Harry’s girlfriend, and as such, she was treated as an extension of his royal highness.

“We’ve finished our report, Miss. All that’s left is to file it, and to have you come down to the station to give a sworn statement. Given that you’ve already given a statement, we can – if you so desire – wait until morning to obtain your sworn statement.”

“What would you recommend?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Should I just get it out of the way now or do it in the morning?”

“That is, of course, up to you, Miss.” Detective Rao replied. “But since you ask for my opinion, I would personally get the statement out of the way. That would ensure that the nights events are fresh in your mind, and that during the course of the hours you would sleep, you would not forget any details. I understand that you do not wish to walk into the crowd of photographers, but rest assured that my men and women will ensure that you make it to and back from the station as undisturbed as possible.”

She took a moment to think about it. He was right about it being best to give the statement at once. That way she wouldn’t have that pressing down on her, but she didn’t want to go through the crowd. It had been growing steadily over the last hour. Word had gotten out that a member of the press had broken into her home and invaded her privacy, and the press’ reaction was to camp out to ask her questions about it. They were ridiculous. She’d just been put through hell, and there they were, waiting to put her through even more of it, but there was no avoiding them, and she knew she had to give the statement. At least she’d have the officers there to protect her.

“In that case, I’ll go down to the station. Should I get changed?”

“That depends on what you want to wear to get your picture taken.” He made an attempt at a joke. “Sorry. That wasn’t funny was it?”

“Not really, but I appreciate the effort.” She forced a smile. “I'm gonna grab my coat, and then I’ll be ready.”

It was as she went to grab her coat that the apartment door was opened. It had been locked so as to keep anyone from snooping around, but Harry had his own key, and opened it with ease. When he stepped inside, everyone began bowing and curtsying, greeting him in the style his rank demanded, but Harry paid no attention to them. His eyes were set on her figure, watching as she grabbed a charcoal grey coat off the bed. She was tired, that was made obvious by the manner in which her shoulders hunched, the way she carried herself. And as he stared at her tired figure, he felt his rage intensify. How could someone put her through this? How could they think it was a good idea to break into her apartment in the middle of the night? Especially while she was in there! They should’ve had the decency to do it while she was out, but no, they thought so little of her that they felt it was fine to break into her home while she was in it.

Paulina was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the police greet Harry. It wasn’t until a gust of wind coming in through the broken window, blew his cologne towards her that she realized he was there. With tears in her eyes she turned around, gazing up in disbelief. She didn’t think he’d be there, not that quickly. In her mind, he had to get dressed, call Alistair to accompany him on the drive over and then wait for Alistair, but Harry hadn’t done any of that, he’d run out of the house in his pajamas, and when she saw his messy ginger hair and those pajama bottoms she hated so much, she felt her heart skip a beat. He was there, and for the first time ever, she was happy to see his Arsenal pajamas.

“Henry,” she choked out, tears blurring her vision.

He stepped forward, closing all space between them, and gently took her face in his hands. “Did that bastard hurt you?” he asked, eyes burning with rage as noticed the bruising. “Did he do that to your eye? I swear I’ll find him and –”

“It’s from rugby,” she told him in a soft voice. “All the bruises are from rugby.”

“You sure?” he asked, staring intently into her dark brown orbs.

She nodded. “He didn’t touch me. I'm the one that h-hit him. Got him with a baseball bat, clear across the back,” she rambled, the tears spilling over.

A sense of helpless overtook him at that moment. He was at a loss as to what to do, what to say, and so he stood there, baffled by her outburst, distraught at his inability to figure out how to respond, and absolutely furious at the man and corporation that had done this to her. He parted his lips, trying to string together some sentence, but his mouth just sort of hung open in his confusion. What could he say to make this better? What could he do to fight off those tears? He didn’t know! He wasn’t the kind of man that was perfectly in tune with his emotions. There were men that could go off on passionate spiels, the sort that great authors wrote of, but he was still feeling his way around the realm of emotions, and felt more comfortable with actions than with words.

And in his desperation to act, he took her into his arms, pulling her in close until her face rested on his chest. Her hands instinctively wrapped around his lower back, holding onto him tightly out of fear that she was only imagining that he was there. She was afraid that if she blinked, she’d find herself standing in the middle of her apartment, surrounded by police officers whom were busy jotting down notes. She’d never felt more alone in her life than she had before Harry arrived. The police may have been doing their best to put her at ease and make her feel safe, but the lack of a familiar face took its toll on her heart, and it wasn’t until her beloved güerito arrived that she felt like someone was truly there with her. And with his arms around her, holding onto her protectively, she felt safe enough to cry. She cried into his chest, staining the fabric of his coat with her salty tears. She’d been holding back those tears ever since she saw the man standing over her desk. At that moment, all she’d wanted to do was lock herself in the bathroom and cry as she called the police, but she’d pushed on, done her best to take charge of the situation, and now, over an hour after the man had been arrested, she was finally letting the tears out.

He buried his face in her dark curls, doing his best to be in control of himself. He hated seeing her cry. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right. She was meant to smile. Smile and laugh. That was what she was meant to do. And scold him, can’t forget the scolding, she was meant to smile as she scolded him, and laugh when he grumbled at her. But there was no smile on her face, no laughter to warm his heart, or scolding for him to pout during. She was crying, crying because the damn media had taken it too far, crying because he’d made her life a mess.

If he’d just left her alone, she wouldn’t have been going through any of that. She would have been free to live her life, to be just another student that drank with her friends and crammed for exams, but he’d fallen for her. It was the way she smiled that drew him in, the twinkle in her eyes that captivated him, and he’d been selfish enough to pursue her, despite the fact that he knew what a royal romance entailed.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered into her ear. “This is my bloody fault.”

She pulled away from him, only enough to lift her face. “It’s not,” she said, sniffling.

“If I hadn’t . . . what I mean to say is that if I were different, someone normal this wouldn’t have happened. The press wouldn’t be paying you any mind. No one would’ve tried to tap your mobile.”

“Güerito, listen to me,” she lifted her hand and touched the side of his face. “This isn’t your fault.”

“But I –”

“Look Henry, you’re really important to this country, and that means that people are gonna obsess over you. They’re gonna want to know everything they can about you, and by extension, they’ll want to know everything about who you’re dating. I get that. I understand why they want to be nosy, you’re a fucking prince and I knew the risk I was taking when I said yes to going to the match with you. Believe me; I’ve weighed the pros and cons of being with you.”

“You have?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I'm a Rhodes Scholar. It’s only natural for me to think things through with a critical mind. And I’ve stayed up countless nights thinking about whether dealing with those fucking people is worth it, and whether or not having to be look presentable and photo ready, whenever I leave my place is worth it. And you know what?”

“What?”

“It’s worth it.” Her voice welled with emotion. “You’re worth it.”

“Even this?” he asked.

She let out a soft sigh. “Even this,” her tears finally subsided. “But don’t let the press know that. I'm planning on making an example of that prick that broke into my place. I'm gonna show them that I am not a bitch to fuck with.”

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“Of course I do.” She smiled softly, and then placed a kiss on his lips. “Thanks for driving out so fast. I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“I’d have been a prat to not come as soon as you called.” He ran a hand through her hair. “I should’ve been here though, should’ve cancelled that bloody appearance, and I would’ve taken him, shown him not to mess with my bird.”

“I think its better you weren’t here.”

He shot her a look.

“Let’s be honest, you would’ve beaten the crap out of that guy, used way more than reasonable force and then you would’ve gotten sued by him.”

“How can someone sue the person they tried to steal from? That makes no bloody sense. I would’ve been defending you and myself. Can’t get sued for that,” he declared.

“You can if you use more than reasonable force. That’s why I only hit him that one time, so in case he tries to sue me, he won’t be able to win.”

“That’s mental though. I can’t believe he could sue you for hitting him. He broke into your fucking flat. Where can he get off on suing you? That’s idiotic.”

“It is, but I was within my rights, and I’ll be fine. I just need to get a lawyer to sue him for attempting to tap my phone.”

“Don’t worry about contacting those. I’ll settle that.”

“Henry, no,” she said.

“Just let me help. Yeah? I’ve already dealt with something similar. A few years back, Wills and I had our phones hacked by News of the World. Some blokes helped themselves to our voicemails, and it was a proper mess, but we sorted out.” He paused. “Please let me call the barristers and solicitors we used. They’ve been through it once already.”

She was touched that he offered to provide her with lawyers, but she didn’t want people to think she was mooching off him for her legal representation. She already had a lawyer in mind, and she knew that the lawyer would jump at the opportunity and possibly do it pro bono.

“Güerito,” she spoke softly. “I really appreciate your offer, but I can’t accept it. I know you want to help that way, but I don’t want people to think I'm mooching off you.”

“To hell with what they think!” he exclaimed, his shout echoing into the hall outside the apartment where the police offers had retreated to give them privacy.

“They hate me enough without my adding taking financial help from you.”

“But it’s not financial help, its legal counsel.”

“And legal counsel has to be paid.” She took his hand in hers and lifted it to her heart. “I know you want what’s best for me, you want to make sure I don’t get screwed over, but believe in me when I say that I can get an amazing lawyer.”

“None better than the one’s I’ve got.” He argued.

She smiled, but didn’t comment on that. “News of the World is owned by Rupert Murdoch. Rupert Murdoch owns Fox News. Democrats hate Fox News, well not just democrats, but anyone who’s on the left or is a lover of facts. There are people who on a daily basis look for ways to get at Fox News or Rupert Murdoch, and I think that once word spreads to America, I'm gonna have lawyers wanting to help. That’s why I'm planning on contacting Gloria Allred.”

“Who’s that?”

“She’s a really well known attorney that handles a lot of controversial cases. She does a lot with women and I think that she might take this case on, given how high profile it is, and since it’s not exactly her area of expertise, I think she’ll . . . well, I don’t know, but she’s always lining up to handle cases that are controversial and some asshole broke into my apartment to tap my phone for a tabloid paper, I think that counts as controversial.”

“But why chance it? Why risk not having a proper lawyer when I can provide that? I'm the bloke aren’t I meant to protect and provide and all that?”

“You do protect me,” she said softly, gently caressing his hand which was still resting on her chest. “Every time we go out in public, you protect me. It’s the way you hold me close, how sometimes you take off your jacket even though it’s raining to make sure I don’t get to wet and they don’t snap clear pictures. You’re always protecting me so don’t feel less than just because I want to do this differently than you do.”

“But I want to help. I need to feel like I'm doing my bit.”

“Henry . . .”

“Please.”

“I . . . ah, well you could make an official statement. I'm sure your dad had one done when they hacked yours and William’s phones. You can condemn his breaking in as a gross violation of privacy or something like that.”

“That’s not enough though!”

“Yes it is. If you were to make an official statement then it would be widely circulated. Every paper, well not every paper, I'm pretty sure one wouldn’t print it, but almost every paper would probably put it on the front page, so I think that’s a huge help. But there’s also another one.”

“Which is?”

“Don’t get into any fights.”

“I can’t make any promises.” He pulled his hand away. “Not with them the way they are right now. Ya should’ve seen them when I made my way in. If it hadn’t been for the police escort, I would’ve –”

“I know what you would’ve done,” she cut him off. “And I don’t want you doing that. I don’t want someone suing you, because of me. Can you imagine what that would do? Your grandma already hates me. I don’t want to add anymore reasons for her to dislike me. And also if my parents were to see you –”

“Your dad wouldn’t be upset. He’d just think I was defending your honor.” Harry smiled smugly.

“Okay, maybe he wouldn’t, but I want to do this right. I want to show every single one of those people that think little of me, that I'm better than them.”

“I’ll make an effort, but if anyone tries to break in here again, I’ll take a stand.”

“And I’ll hand you the bat.” She said, smiling gently. “But for now, I have to go down to the station and give a statement. Now come on, the sooner I give that statement, the sooner we can come back.”