A/N- Thanks for all the reviews. Keep 'em coming! Anyway, a lot of you asked me how old Michael is in this fic, and it says in this chapter. I hope the explanation makes sense.

Chapter 2

Mia's POV

I was sitting in the limo with Michael on the way to the Plaza. Grandmére got it into her head that I need lessons to be a princess. I mean, come on it's not like I'm going to insult the Prime Minister of Japan to his face. Credit me with a little more common sense than that.

But anyway, I was sitting in the limo, and I was a little curious. "Hey, Michael?"

He turned to me and smiled. "Yes, princess?"

Ignoring the title, I continued. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

Whoa. "That's…really young."

He laughed and said, "I know. My entire family is in the bodyguard business. My grandfather was head of the secret service in the Eisenhower administration, My father and his brothers are the bodyguards for the British royal family, my mother is head of security of the French government, and I have a distant cousin who's a bodyguard for Britney Spears."

"Are you serious?" I asked in awe.

He nodded. "My parents trained me ever since I could walk, then they sent me to military school when I was five. By ten, they figured out that I was pretty special. They made me out to be some sort of kick ass prodigy. Then they started training me and after eight years of survival training, technique lessons, computer programming classes, and emergency simulations, I joined the family business."

"So you never finished school?"

"I did. I just had private tutoring. My parents had made a bundle off of their jobs, and besides, I was a fast learner."

I paused to take all this in. I'd love to see him kick ass. He must be really sexy when he does. "Did you always want to be a bodyguard?"

Michael looked serious for a moment and said, "Well, I actually always wanted to be a musician. I still play the guitar, but my father said that it was impractical. It was very unlikely that I'd ever get famous, and I should have a safe career."

I smiled at him. So his career dreams were smashed by his family too. "I bet you're a great guitar player."

"Thanks."

Michael's POV

I told Mia my story. My life's been pretty boring up till this point though, I don't see how she could find it interesting. But she did.

"What about you? What do you wanna be when you grow up? Er…well, what did you want to be?"

She blushed and said, "Well, to tell you the truth, I don't know. I've never had any talents to hone, so I've never had an idea of what I've wanted to do with my life."

"Oh, I don't believe that. You're probably more talented than you think."

"Ha, no."

And she just sort of left it at that.

We got to the Plaza and we were greeted by the concierge when we walked in. I quickly escorted Mia to the elevator, without any questions. As part of my contract, I was told not to reveal her royal status until she came out to the press. This meeting with the dowager princess was to discuss that occasion.

When we got to Clarisse's suite, Mia kissed her father on the cheek and sat on the plush couch. I stood by the door, like a bouncer.

"Amelia," Clarisse addressed her as she walked in. "I trust you arrived here in good health?"

"I didn't get molested or kidnapped if that's what you mean."

I smiled. She's funny too.

Clarisse, however, was not amused. "See, this is why you need princess lessons! You're so vulgar, so common! We cannot possibly present you to the Genovian public in your present condition! We need to refine you, we need to culture you."

I shook my head but said nothing. She's not a pearl. She's a person with thoughts and feelings and opinions. And besides, she's got more common sense than most other teenagers. She's not gonna say the molesting and kidnapping thing to the Prime Minister of Japan if he ever happens to ask the same question.

Mia just sat there, listening patiently. "Okay, Grandmére. Get on with the culturing then."

"Humph," Clarisse grunted. "First though, we must talk about your coming out to the press."

"I figured we could just have a little debutante ball thingy, like on Gilmore Girls, and I invite everyone. Or I could have a quinceñera, like the Spanish. Or a bat mitzvah, like the Jewish."

"First of all, you are neither Spanish nor Jewish. Second of all, debutante balls are for the lesser of society, trying to become part of long established inner circles. No, we're going to introduce you to the press and the public in our own little Genovian ball."

"When exactly are you planning for this 'little Genovian ball' to happen?"

"Three weeks from now."

Mia gulped audibly as her face turned a pasty white.

So Clarisse began teaching her about etiquette. I thought I was a fast learner, but I got really confused and lost in all the different types of forks.

My heart went out to Mia. I could tell she would rather be anywhere else than there. But nevertheless, she regurgitated everything Clarisse had taught her right back.

When it was finally over, Mia was informed that she was to come back there again for more princess lessons.

"WHAT!" She exploded. "I thought it was just for today!"

Prince Philippe took her aside and said, "Please, Mia, I'm begging you. I need to get her out of my hair for a little while."

"No way. What makes you think I can handle her when you can't?"

"I'll pay you. A hundred dollars a day. Just to get away from her. Please? I'm being driven out of my mind."

"She's your mother. You're supposed to have a closer relationship with her. You know, Oedipus, Freud and all that."

I stifled a laugh.

"Look, Mia, it'll just be for three weeks, until this ball thingy. I promise."

She heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine. But instead of giving those hundred dollars to me, I want you to donate it to Greenpeace."

Figures. Vegetarian, environmentalist, humanitarian…she's really generous. Most teenagers would just keep the money. But I guess it's not like she really needs the money, considering she's worth like…three hundred million dollars.

Mia's POV

Ugh. I'm so gonna kill dad.

I'm supposed to put up with Grandmére and her damn princess lessons for the next three weeks.

Great.

At least Greenpeace will benefit from my distress. So seven days a week, times three…that's twenty-one days, times one hundred, so that's two thousand one hundred dollars. That's got to save like, what, twenty whales at least.

You know, the only perk to this whole princess thing is Michael. He's such a nice guy, and he's really sweet. On the way home from the Plaza, I wanted to stop for ice cream, and we did. He even paid for mine. How nice is that? Seriously.

And he's so not unapproachable. I figured that he was older than eighteen, like twenty-five or something, and I wouldn't have anything in common with him. But I found out that he's got a little sister my age living in London, and he's got this embarrassing Star Wars obsession. I mean, I don't think that it's embarrassing, especially considering I'm a Star Wars fan myself, so I told him so, and we got into this argument over who's cooler: Princess Leia or Queen Amidala. Considering I have Amidala print underwear, I argued the latter.

It was eight when I finally got home. I figured mom would be there, but I found a note taped to the door.

Hey Mia,

Sorry sweetie, I couldn't tell you in person, but I'm going on a date. I taped some money to the fridge, and the takeout numbers are in the drawer. Make sure that your bodyguard stays with you tonight, I don't want you to be alone. And be sure you finish your homework too.

Love you,

Mom

Huh. I wonder who the guy is?

"Sorry, Michael. I have to make you stay with me tonight."

"Oh, no problem. I was gonna offer to stay anyway."

My heart fluttered at the thought. "Well, um. Let's go in." I knew I was as red as a tomato, and I was grateful for a chance to look away from such godly perfection.

I opened the door to the loft and he walked in. "I know it's not much—" I began.

"Wow!" He exclaimed as he looked at all the eccentric paintings on the walls. "Where did you get those?"

"Oh, mom's an artist."

"She's really good!"

"I know. She's got a few shows downtown. My father even bought some of her paintings. Lately though, she's been donating a lot of them to school. They even offered her a teaching position, but she turned them down. She said that art is not taught, it is simply done."

"What about technique and all that?"

"She says that technique is developed through time and maturation of the artist."

"That's deep."

"She's just got a lot of time on her hands." I walked into the kitchen and pulled out the sheet of numbers. "What do you wanna eat for dinner? Chinese, Italian, or…Greek?"

"Uh, Chinese's good."

I dialed the number for Number One Noodle Son and got some sesame noodles and the vegetarian platter for myself. Michael wanted orange chicken and broccoli and beef.

Great. Another carnivore. Maybe I could convince him to stop killing animals for the benefit of his stomach.

While waiting for the food, I pulled out my books and started working on my Algebra. Michael peeked over my shoulder and asked, "Whatcha doing?"

I smiled at him and said, "My Algebra homework, which I totally don't get."

"Well I'm pretty good with Algebra. Want some help?"

I breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Please, I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing." I spread out all of my work and notes and my book across the coffee table.

He helped me out until the delivery guy buzzed. I brought the food in and we sat on the couch and ate while talking about everything from Britney Spears and her marriage with Kevin Fetterline to J. Lo and Mark Anthony.

I never knew that I could find a person that I related to so well other than Tina. And then again, she gets screechy and hard to understand sometimes. Michael's just so…cool. And laid back.

At ten o'clock I gave a huge yawn and announced, "I think I'm gonna go to sleep now. Thanks for the help, you were great."

"Thanks for the food." He replied.

"Uh, if you wanna go to sleep too, you can have the guest room. It's kinda bare right now, but I could put some sheets and pillows on the bed."

"Oh, no that's okay. I'm gonna stay on the couch. I can hear intruders better when I'm closer to the door."

I smiled and said, "Good night." And went upstairs to do my usual before bed ritual.

Before falling asleep, I imagined Michael taking me up in his strong, muscle-y arms and kissing me passionately on the lips.

Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

Michael's POV

She's an awesome girl.

She really is. And she's a Star Wars fan like me, so we've got lots to talk about. And she's really well rounded. Like, she could talk to some random guy on the street and start up a conversation. She knows a lot.

I pulled one of those funky yellow and blue knit things that was on the easy chair next to me over my body and fell asleep.

Two hours later, I was awoken by her mother, Helen Thermopolis. I sat up groggily and gave her a sleepy smile. "You must be Helen Thermopolis. My name is Michael Moscovitz. I'm your d-daughter's b-bodyguard." I said while trying, and failing, to stifle a huge yawn.

"Hi, Michael," She said with smile somewhat reminiscent of her daughter's. "Where's Mia?"

"Oh, she went to sleep two hours ago."

"Did she eat? Did you eat?"

"Yes, ma'am we both did."

"She finished her homework?"

"I helped her with her algebra."

She gave me another smile and said, "Thank you." She patted my knee and said, "I'll call Philippe and ask him to bring the limo over to bring you back to the Plaza."

"Oh, if you don't mind Ms. Thermopolis, I'd like to stay here for the night. You know, just to make sure that no one tries to take her in the night."

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm perfectly sure."

"Well, at least sleep in the guest room. It's kinda bare right now, but I could put some sheets and pillows on the bed."

I smiled, recalling that Mia had said the exact same thing before she went to bed. "No, I'm fine, really. I'd like to stay closer to the door, just in case an intruder comes."

She smiled and said, "You know, it's nice to have a guy on the couch to take care of this kind of stuff." She patted me on the shoulder and said, "Thanks. Good night."

I smiled back, nodded, yawned and lay back down. She turned the light off in the living room and walked up the stairs.

I woke up the next morning to sizzling sounds coming from the kitchen. I saw Ms. Thermopolis in a nice satin bathrobe with embroidered flowers on it. "Morning, Michael!" she said cheerfully. "How do you like your eggs, scrambled or sunny side up?"

"Uh, scrambled, thanks." I rubbed my eyes and said, "Do you need any help, Ms. Thermopolis?"

As I set the table, Mia came downstairs in her school uniform, rubbing the sleep out of her beautiful silver eyes. She was already fully dressed in her plaid school uniform and navy blue blazer with AEHS embroidered in gold on the breast pocket.

"Morning, Princess," I greeted her.

She gave me a strange look and grunted, "I thought I told you to call me Mia."

I smiled apologetically. "Sorry…Mia."

Ms. Thermopolis put a stack of pancakes on the table and poured me some coffee. "Thank you. I'm gonna go downstairs and see if Hans is there."

I took my coffee and walked out of the loft, with Mia's innocent, soft, and sleepy figure still fresh in my mind.

Mia's POV

After Michael left the loft, my mom turned to me and said with a huge smile, "He's cute."

"Mom!" I yelled. I turned bright red, mainly because I don't want my mother of all people realizing how truly gorgeous Michael is. "He's like, a guhzillion years old," I lied.

I finished my breakfast then asked while putting my homework in my backpack, "Who was your date?"

She paused for a long time before deciding to answer my question. "Mr. Gianini," She replied without looking me in the eye.

Pause. Then, "WHAT!"

Mom gave me her pleading puppy dog eyes. "Mia, I know it's way awkward for you, but Frank is a really nice guy. He opened the door, pulled out my chair, he even laughed at my Michael Jackson joke!"

Which is a pretty big deal. Because anyone who hears that joke leaves my mother's presence with a twitch.

I mean, it's nice to find a person who likes my mom so much. But my ALGEBRA TEACHER?

Still too shocked to speak in full sentences, I got up and said in a soft voice, "School…go…bye…" and walked slowly out the door.

Waiting outside with the limo was Michael. I hate those people who get out of bed looking absolutely perfect. He, sadly, is one of those people.

He must have been able to sense something was wrong because he looked at me with concern and asked, "Mia, are you okay?"

"My mother went out with my Algebra teacher last night," I said shortly. Michael took the hint and we rode to school in silence.

A/N- Tee hee, be sure to review!