"Bleeding Christ! Pax, can you hold on for a tick? A madwoman just barged into my bathroom uninvited." Cordie put her slightly damp hand over her phone's receiver. "Melody, what the hell are you doing here, and how did you get the key to my apartments?"
"I snagged it from Rhys." Melody waved her hand. She acted like it was completely normal to ambush one's sister-in-law when she was naked and in the tub. "Why does everyone in the family have a key except for me?"
"Golly gee, I wonder," Cordie replied dryly.
"Oh, I'm sorry." The airhead finally seemed to take notice of the phone in Cordie's hand. "Who are you talking to?"
"A friend," Cordie responded shortly. She had said his name already. It wasn't her fault that Melody hadn't been paying attention. Besides, it was none of her business anyway. "Is there anything I can do for you, Melody, or were you just invading my privacy for kicks?"
Melody snapped her fingers. "Oh, right. Rhys and I are doing a goodwill walkabout in Ireland tomorrow, and the only Irish jewelry I own is that tacky shamrock broach your mum gave me."
First of all, that 'tacky' broach was made out of silver, diamonds, and flawless emeralds, and it was worth close to half a million pounds. Second, Melody didn't 'own' it. It had simply been loaned to her for the duration of her lifetime. The shamrock was a piece that actually belonged to the famous Crown Jewels collection, the pieces of which that weren't regularly worn and/or used resided in the Tower of London. They belonged to the Crown and the British people.
"Is there any way I could borrow that diamond and emerald Celtic cross necklace of yours? The one your dad gave you for your eighteenth birthday."
Cordie raised an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. "That necklace was made in America, in a city you find to be white trash." For walkabouts, the royal rule was to wear local designers whenever possible. If Melody wore an American necklace that was designed in the Celtic style, the politically correct media would tear her apart, and she would probably piss off a lot of people in Ireland. She would have warned the future queen, but Cordie knew the older woman wasn't prone to listening to good advice.
Melody nodded. "Yeah, that one."
Jesus. If the woman was any slower, she would be going backwards. Cordie told Melody to grab the necklace out of her jewelry box in her bedroom just to get her to go away.
Once the Princess of Wales was gone, Cordie returned her attention to her phone. "Pax?"
"I'm still here, darlin'. Family trouble? I hadn't realized the whole royal family lived together." Pax laughed.
"We seriously don't," Cordie chuckled. "A lot of us live on the grounds of Kensington Palace, but we don't live together," she explained. "My brother, James, has his own small cottage, and I have my own suite of apartments. My older brother, Rhys, does as well. His apartments are on the opposite side of the palace, so his work-shy wife has to go out of her fucking way to irritate me."
Pax burst out laughing. "I've discovered a few things about you today, sweetheart," he playfully informed her.
"And what, exactly, have you discovered?" Cordie was genuinely curious.
"I've learned that you're surprisingly shy and insecure for a princess. I know you like me, but you're also kinda scared of me too." All of this was shockingly accurate. "I know you're one hundred percent a lady, but you've got the mouth of a truck driver in private, and I find it sexy as hell. I know you're a virgin and that you can't stand the Princess of Wales. Oh, and I know that you're as naked as the day you were born right now."
"How the holy fuck?!" Cordie blurted out.