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ao719 · 4 months

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What's Already Mine

A/N: This is a part of my Us Again series. Submission for @choicesflashfics using prompt #2. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Title Inspiration: Already Mine - Us The Duo

Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x MC (Katherine)

Rating: G • Warnings: None.

Word count: 2500

Catch up here

Both my suit jacket and arm are draped over Katherine’s shoulders as we walk back towards the hotel from her old bar where I found her.

We’ve walked in silence for a few blocks and it’s deafening despite the bustling city around us. We’ve seemed to have only a silent understanding of the situation; neither of us has said a word.

My mind is too muddled to speak. I don’t know what to say because there’s so much to be said but nothing all at once. I don’t want to ask if she’s alright because obviously she isn’t. I don’t need to ask what’s wrong because I know. I know why she was there. I know why she broke down when she saw me.

Despite knowing, I don’t know what to say … and I hate myself for it.

I glance down at her when I hear a sniffle; she’s staring at the ground as she walks holding my jacket securely around herself. I watch her hand poke up from beneath the lapels to wipe a tear from her cheek and I feel my heart break a little more.

I want to tell her it’s ok, that it’ll be ok, that we’ll be ok. I want her to tell me the same. But I know that neither of us can say that right now with certainty.

So we continue to walk … in silence.

****

Once back at the hotel, Katherine and I step inside our suite. I shut the door behind me and start to follow her as she walks into the bedroom; now that my arm isn’t around her, I notice that she’s a little wobbly on her feet thanks to her slightly tipsy state. She didn’t have much to drink, only a couple of glasses of wine at the gala, and based on the tab I paid at the bar before leading her out, I’d surmise no more than two drinks there, but I know she’s barely eaten anything today which is doing her no favors and she’s always been a bit of a lightweight as it is.

When I enter the bedroom steps after Katherine, I see her draping my suit jacket on a chair. She then reaches back, attempting to grab the zipper of her gown, but she can’t quite reach it. When she becomes frustrated, evident by the small huffs of breath she keeps releasing, I step up behind her and gently cover my hand with hers. She goes completely still. After a moment, she glances over her shoulder; her eyes are rimmed red and still misty when she meets my gaze. I give a soft nod, and she slowly lowers her hand as she looks straight ahead again.

As I lower the zipper of her gown, I let my thumb graze her spine, and I swallow thickly. When was the last time I touched my wife like this? The last time that my fingers brushed against her bare skin? I think back … it’s been a year. We were in Ramsford for the Beaumont Bash and we both had a lot to drink that night. I vaguely remember stumbling into our room, my hands tugging at the fabric of her dress and her arms wrapping around my neck as I kicked the door shut. Before that night, it had been months since we’d last been intimate, and before that, even more months. When we woke the next morning, we showered and dressed without a word, and when we arrived back at the palace, she went to the east wing while I headed to my study. It was awkward in a way and treated like it never happened. I think that’s when the deteriorating state of our marriage started to slowly consume my thoughts.

Once her zipper is lowered enough, Katherine takes a step away and turns to face me, holding the front of her gown against her chest so it doesn’t fall. I slip my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her because I don’t know if that’s something I’m allowed to do anymore. We stare at one another, and my eyes are silently pleading with her. Talk to me. Please. Talk. To. Me. I can swear I see a similar plea in her own eyes. I open my mouth to speak but quickly snap it shut because I still have no idea what to say.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Of course,” I nod in reply. After staring at me almost expectantly, she lets out a soft breath and turns. “Katherine, I …”

She stops and looks back at me; I see a flicker of something … of what I think is hope mixed with desperation and worry. “Yeah …?”

I hold my breath and her gaze for a moment before shaking my head. “Nothing …”

Her breath subtly hitches in her throat as she drops my gaze and nods. When she disappears into the bathroom, I hang my head, squeezing my eyes shut in disappointment.

Disappointment with myself, where we are, and my inability to grasp how to fix it.

I begin to loosen my tie, but I freeze as my eyes shift to the bathroom door when I swear I hear a muffled cry from behind it.

Where did it go? The love I once knew? It’s lost in the dark The light can’t shine through Where did we go? I can’t see it now I’m fighting the night To find you somehow…

*******

My fingers are steepled over my lips as I stare out the window of my study. My mind is in the same place as it has been for the past week since returning home: my marriage. Hell, my mind was here before our trip, but now, it’s all I can think about morning, noon, and night.

Katherine and I have yet to speak about what happened in New York. The morning after finding her in the bar, we sat through a silent breakfast followed by a few appearances that were scheduled before heading to the airport for our flight home. On the jet, I almost said something but decided against trying to have that conversation 35,000 feet in the air with no escape if we needed one.

In hindsight … maybe that wouldn’t have been the worst idea.

Since we’ve returned home, things have gone back to exactly how they’ve been. I work through the day and go to the east wing for our nighttime routine with the children. But instead of leaving the moment they go to sleep to go back to my study or the west wing … I’ve lingered. I think she believes I’m just waiting to be sure the children are asleep before slipping out, not realizing I’m there for her. I’m trying to give myself the courage to bring it up, but I find an excuse every damn time. It’s not good timing. It’s late. The kids are there. Whatever my mind can conjure up, it does. My fight or flight has turned to strictly flight; I flee every time. And either she’s having the same thoughts and coming up with the same excuses to not bring it up herself … or she’s completely given up, which after what happened in New York, it’s plausible.

The bottom line is this: I know we’ve reached our limit. I know, one way or another, a very difficult conversation is eventually coming.

At this point, it’s inevitable … and it fucking terrifies me.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even register the knock on my study door. It’s not until I feel a shove against my arm and hear my name that I finally snap out of it and glance up to see Drake staring at me questioningly.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head as I straighten in my chair. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No shit,” Drake playfully scoffs. “I knocked a few times … called your name when I came inside, but you were zoned out.”

I release a breath and nod, rubbing my eyes with the pads of my fingers. “Yeah … sorry. It’s been a long week.” I blink a few times to focus my vision and when I do, I see Drake now sitting across from me. His arms are folded across his chest and his brow is arched. “What?”

“Seriously, Li … what’s been going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you like this over the last few months. You seem like you have a lot more than just the stress of running a kingdom on your mind.”

I look away, unable to hold his gaze. Neither Katherine nor I have ever mentioned anything to our friends pertaining to the state of our marriage. We’ve put on the same show in front of them that we have in front of everyone else.

“Liam … talk to me.”

I look at my best friend again, trying to rein in the sadness I feel. If I can’t talk to Katherine, maybe talking to someone will help. I clasp my hands together and lean forward against my desk as I let out a heavy sigh.

And I end up breaking down as I tell him everything.

Drake listens without interruption, but he doesn’t hide the surprise in his expression. When I finish, I can see him still trying to process everything I’ve just told him.

“I never would have guessed … any of that,” Drake finally says.

“We’re good at hiding it,” I say. Too good. “It’s just … it’s become our norm. It’s like second nature now … putting on the front.”

“Why haven’t you guys ever said anything?”

I can hear the hint of hurt in his tone. “I don’t … I don’t know,” I reply truthfully. “I can’t speak for her, but for me … I guess it’s … I feel like I’ve already let her down … and the kids. I didn’t want to let my friends down, too.”

“Liam, you’re not letting any of us down.”

“I’m supposed to maintain this image of my life. Acknowledging that my marriage had completely fallen apart to myself was hard enough. Saying it out loud to someone else …” I shake my head.

“So what the hell are you going to do?” Drake asks. “I mean, you’re going to fix it, right?”

“I don’t know,” I scoff with a shrug. “I don’t know if it can be fixed.”

Drake’s brow furrows. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that …” I trail off, chewing the inside of my cheek, not wanting to say my next words, but they come anyway. “I’m saying that perhaps this is the end of our story.”

“What the fuck, Li?” Drake barks as he abruptly stands from his chair. The reaction startles me, and I look at him, unable to hide my surprise. “How could you even say that?”

“Do you think that’s what I want?” I snap. “Because it’s not! But I can’t force us to get back to where we once were!”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Drake chides, and when I open my mouth to retort, he leans forward, getting right in my face. “It’s bullshit. And. You. Know. It.” He stands upright. “To just accept defeat is not only the easy, coward’s way out, it’s not you!”

“Drake—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Drake interrupts. “What you and Katherine have … it’s the fucking dream, Li. And I’m not talking about the literal fairytale crap,” he says, waving his hands dismissively. “I’m talking about the real shit. I watched you two; I had a front-row fucking seat. I watched your story unfold. I watched you both fight like hell to be together. And here you are now, a decade later, and you’re ready to wave the white flag because you two hit a rough patch that you won’t acknowledge to each other? Fuck. That.”

As I stare up at him, I feel a tear slip down my cheek … because I know he’s right. I clear my throat and snap my gaze toward the window, trying to fight back my emotions.

“I know you both, Li, and neither of you would keep putting yourself through this if you truly wanted to walk away. That’s gotta stand for something.”

My gaze shifts up to his again. “I don’t want to walk away,” I say through a cracked whisper.

“Then you fight.”

Where did it go? The passionate fire? We can’t find the flame And now we’re both tired What do we do When all we have left Is dying for life But on its last breath?

****

That evening, as I’m finishing up my work for the day and finalizing some plans I’ve set into motion, I hear a knock on my study door and call for them to enter. When I look up, Katherine steps inside. “Hi,” I greet her as I rise from my chair.

“Hello,” Katherine responds. She quietly closes the door behind her. “I’m sorry to bother—”

“You’re not bothering me,” I interrupt as I walk around my desk.

Katherine swallows, holding my gaze as she subtly nods. “I, uh … I was just trying to get things in order with my schedule for next week, but it’s … did you have it cleared?”

“I did,” I answer, and my heart is pounding in my chest as I watch the confusion fill her expression while I try to keep mine impassive.

“Why?”

“Because we’re going on a trip.”

Katherine’s brows raise. “We?”

“Yes,” I nod. “We … as in you and me.”

“A trip for what?”

“That’s still to be determined,” I say cryptically.

Katherine furrows her brow. “Is it a work-related thing?”

Even though I expected her to think that, it still hurts when she asks. “No,” I shake my head. “It’s not.”

“I’m confused …”

“About?”

“We … we haven’t gone on a trip that wasn’t duty-related in a long time,” Katherine says. “At least … not together.”

“I think it’s safe to say we’re a bit overdue,” I quip.

“But what about—”

“Eleanor and Lucas are going to have some quality time with their Uncle Drake,” I interrupt again, knowing what she’s wondering. “I spoke with him and made all of the arrangements already.”

Katherine lets out a sigh as she continues to stare at me. “I …” She trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t understand …”

My impassive wall drops and I sigh as I let the emotion I’ve been trying to conceal fill my features. “Katherine …” I speak just above a whisper. “You and I … we’re lost.”

I see her eyes slightly widen as she lets out a breath before she drops my gaze, but not before I see the pain fill her expression. It’s as if hearing me finally acknowledge the truth we’ve both known but have remained silent about out loud has gravely wounded her.

“We’re lost and we both know it. And we can’t keep running from it. We need to face it. We need to … to talk about it and figure out if we’re going to find ourselves again — find us again — or …” I trail off, struggling to say the next words out loud. “Or if we’re going to walk away from this … from each other … because we can’t keep living this way.”

When Katherine looks back up at me, tears trickle down her cheeks. She parts her lips to speak but stops as she lifts a hand and rests it against her throat to where I assume the lump is that’s stolen her voice. More tears fall and more confusion crosses her expression as she continues to hold my gaze.

“I cleared both of our schedules for the next two weeks,” I continue to explain, “and made arrangements for this trip … just for us.”

Katherine’s breath hitches. “Where … where are we going?”

“To the private island …”

I hear the soft breath of acknowledgment Katherine releases.

We can’t run there; we can’t hide or avoid each other. And she knows it. We’ll be left with no other choice but to face this … to face one another.

We stare at each other, and I’m certain the worry and fear of the unknown of what this trip will bring that I’m feeling is the same thing she’s feeling.

We both know we’re going into this completely broken. And we both know that we’re either going to come out pieced back together and on the mend to being whole again … or we’re going to come out irreparably shattered.

I can’t control you Or what your heart will decide But I’ll never stop Trying to fall back in love with what’s already mine…

***************************************

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tessa-liam · 6 days

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...Marabelle Series

Crown Prince Liam Rys & Lady Sophia Taylor

Six Sentence Sunday

...future chapter

...Liam's heart was racing as he leaned in, his lips a fraction of an inch away from hers. But suddenly, he felt Sophie's hand pushing him back, her expression sad.

"I can't do this," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Liam froze. "Why not?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Because we can't be together, Liam," she replied, her voice cracking with emotion.

"What are you ... but why not?" he persisted, his heart sinking.

"Because you will be king, and I ... I am just a commoner." Sophie covered her now tearful face, as she broke down in despair.

"I don't belong here..."

Marabelle Series Masterlist

❣️art commission by @/artbyainna❣️

📌taglist in notes

👑Whatcha working on?! @ao719 @ladylamrian @kristinamae093 @jerzwriter @karahalloway

#tessa liam writes #the royal romance #liam rys #trr fanfic #choices fic writers creations #sophie taylor #marabelle #six sentence sunday #cfwc sunday six

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karahalloway · 4 months

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...

Word Count: 7,300

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*

A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!

A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.

"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."

The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.

But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.

Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.

And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.

A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.

Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.

And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.

Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.

Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!

Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.

With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.

I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.

And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!

I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...

"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"

I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.

"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.

"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."

I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"

"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"

"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.

Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.

But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.

A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.

Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...

...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"

"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."

"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.

"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.

The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.

Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.

And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!

However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.

Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.

"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.

"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."

I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.

Maybe this is a mistake...

But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.

"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."

"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"

"No..."

She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."

I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"

"Exceedingly."

I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."

"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.

"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."

"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"

"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."

"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."

Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."

But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.

As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.

"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.

"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"

Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.

"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.

"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.

"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"

"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.

Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.

Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?

Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.

Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.

Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.

Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.

With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.

Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.

"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"

"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.

"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."

We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...

...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.

"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.

"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."

"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.

"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.

"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.

I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.

"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.

I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.

To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.

Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.

"Harper!"

I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"

"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.

"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.

My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"

"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."

"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"

"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."

"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."

Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."

"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.

Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"

I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"

I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.

"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.

Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.

"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."

"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."

"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.

"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."

"As is your bottom line," I point out.

"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."

"What is it then?"

"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.

I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."

She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."

I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."

Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."

She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."

"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.

"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."

Some much-needed progress at last!

Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.

Which reminds me...

Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.

Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.

Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.

Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...

...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.

I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.

"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.

He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."

Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.

"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.

"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.

"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.

He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.

He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"

"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.

Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.

"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.

I heave a breath.

We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.

His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.

His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.

My heart drops. Oh, no...

This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.

Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.

His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.

"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.

I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."

"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"

Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.

But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!

I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."

"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."

"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.

"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."

"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.

I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.

Please don't fight... Please don't fight...

Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"

"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."

"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.

I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—

"We found Tariq."

Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.

No way...

"Where?"

Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.

No corner... No mercy.

"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"

But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."

"Harper?"

I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."

"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"

"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."

"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"

"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.

Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"

"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.

Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.

As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.

Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?

I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...

On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?

And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?

"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

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kristinamae093 · 7 months

Text

Ghosted

Ghosted - Two Steps Back (Chapter Ten)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

After the Regatta

Penelope hobbled to her room on a sore foot and a painfully bruised ego. This wasn’t going as expected; advisors told her toward the beginning of the season she might stand a chance, but after only the first few events, they hastily changed their tone. Between Madeleine, Riley, and Olivia, they knew Penelope would not be the new king’s choice.

Regardless, Penelope was enjoying her time away. The friends she’d made were irreplaceable; she and Kiara formed an everlasting bond. Even Riley was incredibly friendly, despite her commoner status. Penelope was rooting for Riley to win it all because she was genuinely a nice person, and Penelope was looking forward to what Cordonia could look like with her as queen.

Penelope approached her door whilst humming to herself. The day was long, and she was relieved to be in the comfortable solace of her own space. She planned on calling her parents for their daily video chat, and to get some doggy face time to tide her over while away. Her anxiety was through the roof without having them close, but the friendships she’d made were a momentary distraction. She was glad the ladies were nice enough; otherwise, this experience would’ve been a nightmare.

Penelope entered and made a bee-line for the bathroom. She did her business, washed her hands, and bounced her way over to the dresser to get more comfortable for the evening. Just as she opened the drawer, a stern knock sounded on her door. Penelope scrunched her face; she was expecting no visitors but thought perhaps Kiara wanted to hang out.

As Penelope opened the structure, a thunderous force shoved through her and entered, slamming the door shut. Penelope stumbled backward but caught her footing. She could only stare at the person in front of her as panic flourished through her body. She didn't recognize them, but the death glare plastered on their face told her that notion was not applied on both ends. Her instinct told her to scream for help, but the visitor addressed her before she was given the chance.

They spoke in a low, raspy voice. “Have a seat, Lady Penelope. We have a lot to discuss.”

“W–who are you?”

“You need not worry about who I am, only what I know.”

“What do you mean?”

The person clasped their hands behind their back and stalked around Penelope; like a vulture circles its prey. “Everyone around you thinks you're the sweet, poodle-obsessed Penny, but I see otherwise. I know all about you… The things you’ve done… What your daddy tries his damndest to hide…”

Penelope’s already increasing heart rate spiked. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. It’s alright, I wouldn’t want anyone to know, either.” They dismissively shrugged.

“Know what?”

The person snickered at her attempts to deflect, but they could see the panic rising in her eyes. “It’s quite a common expression — young and dumb. But, when you’re in the nobility, there are no secrets unless you know the right people.”

Penelope thickly swallowed. “I don’t – I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? So, then you’ve never been — joined in holy matrimony, right?”

Penelope’s eyes widened. “I–”

“Enough with your attempts to feign confusion; that will only prolong this process and I am not in the mood to play games. I know of your estranged marriage; how your father pays plenty of hush money per month to keep his mouth shut. I imagine it would be fairly difficult to talk yourself out of that situation if the press were to catch wind; considering Portavira continuously requests the Crown’s compensation. And I do believe the monarch would not be happy to learn your family has developed a slush fund, either.”

The intruder gave Penelope a wicked smile and added, “Not to mention the — fatality that was caught amid your poor life choices…”

Penelope visibly tensed. “That’s not – I didn’t–” she stammered before snapping her mouth closed; her flustered state prohibited her from forming an argument.

“It’s a matter of opinion, I suppose. Regardless, I attained the records from your procedure.” They waved a piece of paper in Penelope’s face, and recognition swept over her instantly. She released a shuddered breath as the document came to a stop, her tearful eyes centering on the text.

Despite Penelope’s panicked state, the aggressor continued, “Tell me, do your parents know of your aborted fetus? I mean, I saw you on security cameras entering the clinic alone. It was smart of you to use a fake name, but unfortunately, that was not enough to cover up your mistakes.”

Penelope never answered, but the assailant watched her swallow thickly with shame etched in her features. She couldn’t fathom how this stranger had found her deepest secrets that she was certain would never see the light of day.

Penelope found out she was pregnant the day after her annulment was discreetly settled. Terrified wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how she felt, as she stared down at the positive test; she went to the clinic in disguise to find out about her options and decided abortion would be the best solution. Being only nineteen years old, Penelope was practically a child herself and didn’t believe she was at a point to care for a baby like they deserved. And she was alone; when she dreamt of this moment, it happened completely differently in her head. She longed for the fairytale love, where they would start a family together; not single and inevitably disgraced.

Her parents didn’t know, she was too afraid to tell them — especially after her father agreed to pay a continuous hefty fee for Guy’s silence. Penelope was always well-behaved; the perfect trophy daughter. The look of pure disappointment held in their eyes when they found out about her marriage haunted her; she never wanted to do anything out of line again. All Penelope desired was to move on from her mistake, but life had other plans.

Panicked and ashamed, Penelope made the impossible decision alone, not wanting anyone to know of the stupid decisions that led her there. Her fear and guilt only increased after the procedure, but she grieved what could have been and pushed it into the deepest pit of her mind.

She never told a soul – nobody knew – or so she thought.

“All it would take is a small whisper to the press and it would destroy not only you, but your fraudulent parents as well…”

Penelope gasped as her tears freely flowed. “No! P–please, don’t!”

The person laughed; the sound sending an involuntary chill down Penelope’s spine. They stalked forward until her back hit the wall and they breathed over her. Penelope squeezed her eyes closed, but felt them draw nearer. The tangy scent of alcohol mixed with cigar smoke filled her nostrils, as they whispered in her ear, “If you want my silence, you’re going to have to earn it.”

Penelope’s eyes shot open as she frantically nodded her head. “Okay, j–just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

“I knew you’d see reason,” the unknown presence spoke while taking a small step away. They produced an envelope from their jacket and handed it to her.

Penelope opened it and started skimming over the information; it was an email address with a set of instructions and a few other notes. She didn’t understand what it all meant; the main thing that stuck out was the location of where they wanted the photographer to be.

“Why are they going to be outside Riley’s room?”

“The less you know, the better.” They once again reached into their jacket, this time pulling out a small vial and handing it to her. “You need to give this to her beforehand. I do not care how it happens, just make sure it gets in her system; the earlier, the better.”

“W–what is this? Is this a drug?” Penelope stammered as she stared down at the bottle in her trembling hands.

The person smiled; a dark, wicked smile. “You don’t need to worry about that; just make sure she ingests it at an early enough hour.”

Tears once again streamed down Penelope’s cheeks as she frantically shook her head and tried to hand the items back. “N–no. I can’t do that, and I won’t. I would rather disgrace myself than–”

“You’re going to do it.”

Penelope stood a little taller and yelled, “No, I won’t! I–”

Penelope received a sudden, sharp backhand to her cheek. She fell to the floor cradling her face but was soon flipped over onto her back, her aggressor pinning her to the ground. She opened her mouth to scream, but quickly closed it as she saw the gleam of a blade in the light right in front of her face.

“Make a sound and I’ll kill you right here, right now.” The attacker moved the knife to hover over Penelope’s throat, applying just enough pressure to keep her subdued. “You have two options — you either comply and do as you’re told, or this is where your life will end. If you refuse to cooperate, you already know too much, and I will ensure you don’t live to tell the tale personally. But I won’t stop there, no – I’ll ruin your parents as well; the entire world will know what a fraud you and your family are.”

“No… P–please. I – I can’t – I –” Penelope frantically stammered, trying to develop a coherent sentence.

“You can, and you will. Otherwise,” they leaned forward, close enough to touch noses with Penelope. “I’ll dig your grave myself and throw those mangy mutts in with you after. Perhaps we can make it a family affair and shove your parents inside, too. After all, being exposed to the world and losing their only disappointment of a child would leave them with nothing left to live for; especially once they know of your treacherous sins.” They sat back with a vile chortle, letting the words linger.

Penelope cried harder, her breathing rapid and erratic as her panic boiled over. She opened her mouth to shout for help despite the blade at her throat, but a firm hand abruptly pressed against her lips. “I think I’m being very understanding, actually. I could just end you and move on to the next useless suitor, but I’m allowing you to make the correct choice; to answer the call of service for your country. That commoner has no business being here; you know it, I know it, everyone knows it! We have to deal with her!”

After a tense moment of silence, her intruder grew restless. They rolled their eyes and huffed, “You’re running out of time. I’ll gift you ten seconds; agree, or...” The blade on Penelope’s throat suddenly held more force; hard enough she could feel her skin being lightly pierced. “I don’t think I really need to finish that sentence, do I?”

Penelope subtly nodded her head, afraid to move too much. Although she didn’t want to betray Riley in that way, she saw no other way out. Not only was her own life being threatened, but her parents as well; she was not willing to let them die because of her secrets they knew nothing about.

Her attacker soon chortled and sat up. “I had a feeling you would see it my way.” They patted her cheek, hard, before they stood and adjusted their clothing.

The intruder walked to the door and turned back around to address a whimpering Penelope. “As a reward for your service, I will make you a lady-in-waiting for the soon-to-be queen. I’d suggest you take the position and use discretion whenever necessary from here on out. If you do anything to compromise this operation, you will be sorry. Am I clear?“

The following afternoon, Olivia met with Liam, Leo, and Ray as they discussed the events of the night prior. The court just arrived in Portavira, although there was a break in events until the polo match in a few days. They gathered in Olivia’s room, as that’s where Ray set up his equipment and continuously ensured the area remained free of compromises.

Olivia told them about Penelope’s involvement, and Liam was certain Olivia was lying or playing some kind of sick joke. However, after seeing the proof himself, he knew it had to be true. He wasn’t close with Penelope by any means, but still felt betrayed. Riley was kind and warm to those around her, not a malicious bone in her body; what made Penelope want to get rid of her?

“We have to question her. I can’t be sure, but she might know we’re onto her. The look in her eyes –” Olivia shook her head with a heavy sigh. ”– I can’t explain it, but I don’t like it.”

“I agree,” Leo interjected. “We need to know why she did it, man, because this makes absolutely no sense. I mean, Penelope – of all people? Did she accidentally eat some dog food or something, and it made her go kookoo?”

Despite his overflowing anxiety, Liam laughed. “I really don't know. But we’re not all going to question her. I think it’s best if myself and Leo did this, so we don’t overwhelm her.” He spoke to the entire group.

“Are you… okay to do that?” Leo tentatively asked. “I can take Olivia — or hell, even Maxwell or Drake, if you don’t think you can keep your cool. We can’t really risk her shutting down and withholding anything important...”

Liam remained silent for a long moment. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could control himself. The selfish side of him wanted to confront Penelope face-to-face and demand answers. However, he knew he was teetering on a dangerous ledge, and her confession could provoke several different reactions.

He didn’t remember the last time he’d slept or ate a full meal. Days were molding together, and he had no sense of time unless it pertained to the tour. Liam was simply muttering through, doing the dutiful checklist a monarch should on the daily and trying his hardest to stay afloat; even though in all reality, he felt like he was drowning in a sea of uncertainty. No amount of training could prepare him for something like this; he was simply in limbo until one of the many open ends finally led them to something of importance. As the King he held mighty authority; yet, he’d never felt so powerless. Every second of not knowing something was torture; he just wanted to see Riley with his own two eyes.

“I… don’t think I can, actually. If you wouldn’t mind questioning her, I would very much appreciate it, Leo.”

Leo patted Liam on the back with a reassuring smile. “No problem. Care to accompany me, Livvie?”

“I suppose if we want some kind of answer, I’ll have to, won’t I?” Olivia smirked.

“Are we doing this now, or?”

“Yes. The sooner, the better.”

“And we’re certain she’s here?” Liam asked.

“She was out earlier with her dogs,” Olivia answered with an eye roll.

Liam nodded as he rubbed his palms together. “This is a decent plan. I have a good feeling about this, guys.”

For the first time since he opened his eyes to the truth about the narrative against Riley, Liam felt like this could take them somewhere relevant. This was a solid lead and although he knew it probably wouldn’t provide him with all the answers he was seeking, it was a damn good start.

Liam spoke again, “Any other updates?”

“I received the diagnostic report on Lady Riley’s dress on the way here." Ray explained. "The blood was mostly Riley’s, but traces from Tariq were present as well. There were a few hairs and skin cells noted, but the DNA only registers those two.”

“Oh… okay…” Liam quietly responded. He hoped deep down the mess was from someone else, but immediately felt foolish to let himself believe such a thing. Hearing it confirmed out loud made his stomach burn with anxiety; this is what he blinded himself to, this is what he ignored. The overwhelming guilt Liam was fighting momentarily took his breath away.

“Otherwise, there are no new leads.” Ray briefly met eyes with Olivia, the both of them having a silent conversation; unbeknownst to Liam. It wasn’t technically a lie, but not the entire truth. Ray found something — interesting, but Olivia decided now was not the time to bring it up to Liam, at least until after they learned what exactly Penelope knew. “Where Tariq is concerned, I’ve hit a complete brick wall; there’s absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Ray shook his head. “Not a trace. His accounts show no transactions, and his family has not heard from him in months. I’ve checked every mode of transportation available to leave the country and he wasn’t on any of their databases.”

“How is that even possible? There has to be something, somewhere. Seriously – Tariq has the IQ of a fucking peanut.” Leo interjected.

“It could be a collection of reasons,” Ray answered. He suddenly stopped typing on his keyboard and took in everyone’s curious expressions. “Either he’s just incredibly clever and has an immaculate ability to cover his tracks, has hired someone to do that for him, or…”

“He’s dead…” Liam quietly inserted, just above a whisper. His palms started trembling in his lap, and the only thing he could feel was his heart erratically thumping.

The deeper this web went, the further Liam felt himself slipping from reality. All he wanted was a sign, a concrete clue, anything to put him one step closer to finding Riley. The longer that time passed, the more he believed there was a grim reason they couldn’t find them. Just when the light at the end shined brighter, Liam was suddenly drug further down into the abyss of questions, making him doubt everything.

“We can’t confirm that right now, Your Majesty. I’ve searched hospital records and there are no reports of him checking in at any of them and nothing solid to point to that conclusion. There are a lot of open ends regarding his whereabouts, but I have a couple more places to look before we should start truly discussing that possibility.”

“Right…” Liam quietly responded as his mind raced. If Tariq’s DNA was on her dress, does that mean he’s the one who injured her? They already knew he was close to Riley; the pictures obviously showcased them together, but was Tariq responsible for attacking her, too? Those thoughts created a storm of rage he’d never felt before; just when he thought the fire had sizzled out, another splash of gasoline was poured onto the diminishing coals. Liam may not have felt a lot of hope, but he sure as hell felt the rage consuming his entire being.

Leo noticed Liam's forelorn expression and reassuringly gripped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. We’re going to get an answer — soon.”

A short while later, Olivia, Leo, and ‘Harold’ walked the halls of the Portavirian estate, searching for Penelope’s room. Liam opted to have a drink with Drake instead of being alone, as his already overflowing anxiety seemed to increase with every passing second.

They rounded the corner and Olivia tapped on Penelope’s door, but received near silence; muffled barks rang out beyond the structure, although seemingly at a distance. After a few moments, she stepped forward and repeated the process, but again, no answer. Leo knocked a few times a little louder, but heard nothing — aside from the dogs. He reached for the handle and tried to turn it, just to see, only to find it locked.

“What should we do?” Leo asked Olivia.

Olivia tapped her index finger against her chin. “I don’t know…” She furrowed her brow and stared at the door in front of her. “The poodles are inside, so she shouldn’t be far… Maybe we search around and see if we spot her anywhere? It’s still relatively early; she could have stepped out for a moment.”

Leo and Ray both agreed, and the trio began their trek. They started outside by the pool and checked the lounge area, but Penelope wasn't located anywhere. They searched nearly every floor, even the roof, but found no signs of her. Everyone else was already in their room for the night, the estate nearly deserted as they scoured the abandoned hallways. After a while, everyone agreed to take their chances and return to Penelope’s door, as a good hour passed since they last attempted.

A voice called out to them as they made their way up the grand staircase. They turned around to see Landon making his way to them with a grin on his face. “Good evening, Your Majesty, Duchess, a pleasure to see you both. Are the two of you just strolling, or have you been out on the town?” He chuckled with a playful side eye directed at Leo.

“You know me,” Leo smirked, “but actually, we’ve been looking for your daughter.”

Landon’s smile faded, instead replaced with a perplexed expression. “What do you need from Penelope?”

Leo and Olivia shared a hesitant look. “Actually, it’s confidential… Do you know where she is?”

“She said she was retiring to her room earlier.”

Olivia spoke next. “We checked there. We checked everywhere and we have no clue where she’s at.”

“Perhaps she’s already in slumber; she is quite the heavy sleeper. How about I come with you? I was headed there anyway, as she was acting fairly strange earlier.”

“Strange how?” Leo asked.

“She kept hugging her mother and me, and told us how much she loved us. She just seemed — sad, as if she would burst into tears at any moment. And she asked me to ensure Merlin and Morgana get plenty of treats.” Landon furrowed his brows and shook his head. “I asked her what she meant, and she just gave me another hug. Emmaline thinks she’s getting ready for her time of the month, which is why I came prepared.” He held up a wad of chocolate bars and laughed.

“I take it Merlin and Morgana are the poodles?”

“Oh, yes. They’re practically her children. It’s been hard on her to leave them at home, but she’s done fairly well. The unexpected route changes actually ended up being very beneficial to her, since she gets to be with them for a few days. I’m certain she’s going to have a hard time leaving again, but I know she appreciates getting to see them. When it was time to leave for the engagement tour, she was practically inconsolable; she didn’t want to leave, to the point we weren’t sure she would attend at all.”

“So, she didn’t want to return, then?” Olivia inquired, hanging on his every word.

Landon sighed and looked away. “I don’t believe so, no. But we made sure she knew how much of a tremendous opportunity this was for her. She was incredibly reluctant, but finally agreed. In all honesty, I think most of her reservations were regarding the fact that she was going so far away. Penelope is a very timid girl; she doesn’t particularly enjoy the crowds or being away from home. I’m confident staying in Cordonia where things are a little more familiar will turn things around for her; perhaps she will enjoy herself a bit.”

“Right…” Olivia trailed off, as her mind swirled around these new little bits of information. She questioned if Penelope's reluctance to come back had to do with Riley's disappearance. The haunting look in Penelope’s eyes as that cab drove away told Olivia she could be correct.

“Lead the way, then,” Leo inserted with a forced smile, as uneasiness crept into the pit of his stomach. The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood at attention, an involuntary shudder traveling through his body; he shook it off and politely smiled at Landon, who returned the gesture before starting the journey.

Everyone strolled through the halls together and within a short time, they were nearing Penelope’s room once again. Leo and Landon made small talk along the way, but Olivia didn’t listen most of the time. A bad feeling rapidly grew as they walked; why, she wasn’t sure, but it was becoming impossible to ignore. As they got closer, the air suddenly felt cold, raising goosebumps on her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. The hallway had an eerie aura to it that was beyond explanation; judging from the cautious expressions of everyone around, Olivia knew her feelings were not in her head. Landon appeared to be the only one who didn’t notice the atmosphere shift, although he hadn’t stopped talking long enough to take in the environment.

Just as they were about to arrive, they heard muffled voices speaking not far away. Olivia furrowed her brows and started walking faster, practically running, with Ray and Leo not far behind.

She came to an abrupt stop as she saw a litter of guards standing outside of Penelope’s room; dressed in full riot gear with what she assumed to be loaded assault rifles, all appearing to be awaiting instructions. Standing toward the back of the mass of people was Liam, who was speaking with Bastien in hushed tones. She could tell even from afar he was talking sternly; his angry demeanor instantly drew Olivia to him. Drake lingered close-by, wearing an expression of pure confusion.

Olivia approached them and inquired, “What’s going on?”

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Liam replied. “Did you question Penelope?”

“We were looking for her, that’s why we’re here, now.”

“But you didn’t find her?” Liam snapped, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his tone.

“Not yet…” Leo answered as he took in Liam’s tense shoulders and ticking jaw. “Liam, what is going on?”

Before Liam could respond, Landon interjected himself. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Liam took a deep breath to calm himself and spoke in a calm, yet authoritative voice. “Duke Landon, I understand this may be hard for you to hear, but we have to take Penelope into custody.”

“Custody?! On what grounds?!” Landon hollered.

Liam swallowed down the ball of anger and agitation lodged in his throat and spoke in a flat voice. “She is the prime suspect in the murder of Rhonda Floros.” Everyone’s eyes widened as their jaws hit the floor. “We will investigate further, but she has to be detained until we can–”

“I – what?! You have no proof! This – this is an injustice!” Landon yelled as he frantically paced in front of Penelope’s door.

Leo hesitantly spoke in a hushed manner. “Li, all we knew about was the photographer. How can you jump to that conclusion?”

“The forensics came back and Penelope’s prints were all over the murder weapon. Her DNA was on everything else as well, but I’m focused on that knife.”

“Impossible! There has to be some kind of mistake!” Landon pleaded.

“I’m sorry Landon, but the forensics does not lie,” Liam replied with a sad smile. “Trust me, I don’t want to believe she could have done something like this and I intend to figure it out, but we have to locate her first!"

Landon quickly stepped toward Penelope’s room and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “She is in here — I know she is; she’s sleeping. I’ll wake her up and we can figure out this mess together, because I know for certain she is innocent.” He spoke as he unlocked the door and turned the handle. He entered and flipped the switch on the wall, the area becoming illuminated.

Liam motioned for the guards to stay outside and followed closely behind. Olivia entered next, followed by Ray. However, a stern hand on Ray’s chest halted him in the doorway.

“You are unauthorized personnel,” Bastien snapped.

Liam quickly intervened. “No, he’s not.”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I entered his credentials myself. I know for a fact what clearances he has and doesn’t.”

Liam stepped up to Bastien with narrowed eyes. “Poof.” He snapped his fingers. “I just gave him access. Now, step aside.” He growled through clenched teeth, the vein in his neck profusely popping out.

To be honest, Liam was stalling until he found Ray and Olivia; the three of them were going to question Penelope together. His earlier worries about keeping his cool were well out the window; now he was simply confused. Why did she hire the photographer? Did she really kill that maid? Did Penelope know they had spoken to her? Every piece of random evidence found had Penelope’s DNA – and only hers – on it in some fashion. Although the legitimacy of the scene was still in question, her fingerprints on the murder weapon were more than enough to detain her for questioning.

Bastien never once took his eyes off Ray during the entire interaction. Ray observed Bastien's face crack slightly and saw him swallow and clench his jaw when Liam commanded him to stop. He finally moved his hand to allow Ray entrance, but held his intent gaze for just a moment too long. Olivia watched and noted how she wasn’t stopped, nor Drake or Leo — only Ray. She couldn’t help but wonder why Bastien didn’t want him specifically there.

Liam glanced around as he entered and saw no signs of Penelope and nothing raising any kind of alarm. He’d never been inside this room before, but to the naked eye, not a thing was out of place. However, Liam couldn’t deny the sudden chill he felt as he stepped over the threshold. His skin instantly clammed up, and his heart rate increased substantially with every tense second that passed.

Everyone else followed behind and did the same, but Landon circled the room while frantically calling Penelope’s name, only to get no response. He ducked into the bathroom to check there, but saw no traces of his daughter. Everything appeared just as it was earlier that morning when he personally prepared everything for Penelope’s arrival.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Landon huffed as he reemerged. “She said she was coming to bed. Where else would she go? Should we contact Lady Kiara? They had grown quite close.”

Liam sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Bastien, send someone to Lady Kiara’s room to check.” His patience with this situation was dissipating. An answer was right there dangling in front of his face; he could practically taste it. Even if he had to turn the entire continent upside down, Liam was going to find Penelope and make her answer for her part in this mess — whatever that could have been.

“Yes, sir.”

Olivia glanced at the dresser and saw a jewelry box. Something on top of it quickly caught her attention; it was a piece of paper neatly folded with the words read me written on it in red ink. Her breaths immediately stopped as she stared at it for a long moment. Goosebumps raised on her skin as she realized the penmanship was strikingly familiar.

She slowly reached out and brought it closer; Ray noticed and came to stand beside her to see what she had found. Liam and Landon continued to speak on the other side of the room, completely unaware of their discovery. Olivia carefully unfolded the sheet and quickly scanned over the contents. As she started reading, the color suddenly drained from her face, her hands trembling, and even tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. Her mind instantly started spiraling, trying to decipher what this meant.

Olivia and Ray stood gawking at the paper in a trance for an unidentified amount of time. The sound of Landon’s thunderous voice suddenly brought both out of their dazes. “This is absurd! She did nothing wrong!”

“I understand your frustrations but as I said before, the forensics does not lie,” Liam answered in the calmest tone he could muster. “I have questions about all of this, Landon! But one way or another her DNA was littered–”

“Bullshit! Run the tests again! Something is going on here!”

Liam winced at Landon’s volume, but shook it off and stood to his full height. “Duke Ebrim, you’d do well to remember who you’re speaking to and watch your tone. While I understand why you’re upset, I’m only here to figure this out. If you want to clear her name, help us find her so we can speak to her!”

Landon frantically looked throughout the room, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. At that moment, they heard a bark, followed by another softer cry; everyone suddenly stilled and an eerie silence took over, as they glanced at one another with furrowed brows. It sounded undeniably close, but there were obviously no dogs in the area. The silence in the air was deafening, but then it happened again and Landon finally pinpointed the location — the closet. It would make sense; Penelope heard the commotion and retreated in there with her poodles to hide because she was afraid.

Landon made a bee-line for the door and wildly swung it open. He took a step back and two fluffy dogs slowly came out with their heads down, causing Landon to take a few steps back; they laid at Landon’s feet and whimpered.

“What is it, Merlie?” Landon asked as he rubbed one of the dogs’ heads, their howls intensifying.

The room’s air suddenly felt incredibly thick at the interaction. Liam felt physically sick to his stomach as recognition swept over him from head to toe — something was waiting for them in that closet. His hands shook at his sides, his breathing shaky and uneven as he stared into the dark, open doorway.

Landon stepped over the poodles, who went and lay on the bed, but continued whining. As he entered, he ran a hand along the wall until he found the switch. The small area came to light, and his worst nightmare suddenly became reality right in front of his face.

“NO!” Landon wailed at an ear-piercing volume as he dropped to his knees near the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” Liam sought, but Landon broke into a fit of sobs and crumpled to the floor.

Liam swallowed thickly and took a couple of cautious steps forward. Olivia suddenly appeared and tried to redirect him, but Liam was steadfast; whatever it was, he needed to see it for himself. As he got closer, he could see a chair lying on its side. His eyesight started on the floor and slowly traveled upward. He hadn’t made it very far before the color drained from his face with sweat immediately beading his brow at seeing a pair of dainty feet dangling in the air; one heel on, the other nowhere to be seen.

Liam looked away but with a shuddered breath followed the body back up to the face, and sure enough, it was Penelope.

Landon suddenly shoved Liam out of the way. “MOVE!” He rushed over and held Penelope’s lifeless form, lifting her easily with one hand; the other quickly moving to remove the belt from around her severely bruised neck. Her limp body dropped into his arms and he cradled her to his chest as he rocked back and forth, making cries that would haunt Liam until the day he died.

Liam regained his footing but remained cemented in place. This was it; this was their big break, but they only received more unanswered questions. Hopelessness flourished, as he saw no other solutions in sight. He felt like a mouse, mindlessly running through a maze just trying to reach the end for the reward. Penelope's testimony was that reward, but instead of finding the end of the maze, he encountered a sudden, abrupt wall.

Regardless of their actions, they faced a grim reality where a devastating setback countered every advance they made; one step forward, only to be met with two deadly steps back.

Liam suddenly couldn’t breathe; his lungs felt like fire with every rapid, hollow breath. The room started spinning, his vision hazing at a rapid rate. His heart pounded mercilessly, the sound overpowering Landon’s continuous wails filling the room. His hands flew to his chest and he stumbled backward, Leo and Drake quickly moving to catch him before he hit the floor.

They lowered him to the ground and sat over him as Liam’s vision slowly faded out, their faces disintegrating into a pixelated, blurry image. He blinked his eyes a few times to regain himself, but found the rapidly spinning room made him nauseous. He felt Leo lightly tapping his cheeks, but when he tried to open his mouth, only an anguished cry escaped.

Liam stared at the ceiling until the bright lights suddenly dimmed. His eyelids grew incredibly heavy until he succumbed to the weight of the world forcing them down. Darkness consumed him as he slipped into unconsciousness, a still silence overcoming his being.

"Goddamn it," Leo grumbled to himself, as he watched Liam’s body relax. "Get a fucking ambulance! Now!" He hollered over his shoulder before his teary vision centered on his brother again. "Cummon, Li..."

Tags (if you'd like to be added or removed, please let me know): @choicesficwriterscreations @ao719 @txemrn @imashybish @queenrileyrose

@kingliam2019 @riseandshinelittleblossom @dcbbw @tessa-liam @amandablink @cordonia-gothqueen @sfb123 @jared2612 @harleybeaumont

@bebepac @charlotteg234 @busywoman

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@bascmve01 @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie

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@karahalloway @aussiegurl1234 @the0afnan @nestledonthaveone @gabesmommie1130

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bebepac · 4 months

Text

Traditions

This is a special holiday edition of School Dayz. To catch up on the series in general please click School Dayz

I am participating in @choicesdecember2023 for Christmas

I am also participating in @choicesprompts holiday rewrite challenge in which I used the candy cane gram scene from Mean Girls.

I am also participating in @choicesflashfics christmas prompt # 59: "Ice-skating? Do you seriously trust me with knives on my feet?" will appear in bold. I also used a previous prompt as well Are you seeing this too or am I having a stroke?

Series: School Dayz

The Book: TRR (no royals)

The Pairings: Liam x Riley

Word Count: 1464

Warnings and Ratings: None. This is for anyone who has eyes. A total fluff piece.

Original post: 12/31/23 at 7:15PM EST.

Science class was different for me now that I no longer sat next to Liam, and shared a table with my sister, since Mrs. Barbour decided to make the class sit in alphabetical order, which I think the only reason for the change was to make taking roll easier. I glanced across the room to Liam whose partner was now Rashad.

My adorkable boyfriend who caught me watching him, smiled and held up his hot cocoa cup to toast me from across the room. Liam was the sweetest boyfriend and stopped by the local coffee shop Brew Bros and always got hot chocolate every morning the way that I liked it.

So I smiled while holding up my cup.

“Oh my God, can you two be any more nerdy?” Taylor asked.

“He’s nice, and you reap the benefits of it too. My boyfriend brings us both hot chocolate, or in your case a coffee drink you like every day without us asking.”

Taylor cocked her head to the side and air toasted Liam, taking a sip from her drink when the door opened.

“Ho , Ho, Ho!!!!! Candy Cane Grams, sponsored by the National Honor Society.”

“Make it quick, Santa.” There was a hint of sarcasm in Mrs. Barbour’s voice as she went to sit at her desk for a moment.

“And his lovely assistant Max Noel!”

“Wait… a sec… Are you seeing this too or am I having a stroke?”

Taylor doubled over in laughter “It is!!!! It’s Drake Walker-Claus.”

Taylor’s laugh seemed to antagonize Drake for a second, but good thing he had his assistant Maxwell. His brooding mood was offset by Max Noel making the class laugh with his dance versions of Christmas music as he followed around the room behind him.

“Hana Lee one for you.”

“Chris Powell four for you, you go Chris Powell!”

“Do we have a Riley Brooks here?”

“That’s her Max Noel. She’s Riley Brooks and looks nothing like the girl sitting next to her. Those two can’t possibly be related.”

“Riley Brooks here you go, one for you.”

“Thank you Santa.”

“Um….”

“And nothing at all for Taylor Brooks, not even coal or black licorice, bye.”

Drake and Max ran out of the room.

Taylor looked at me with curious eyes at the candy cane gram in my hand.

“Who’s that from?”

It wasn’t any of her business. I opened the envelope and read silently to myself.

Liam’s sweet words made me smile, and I didn’t have to answer her, and I looked at him from across the room.

“Oh my god. You guys are too much.”

Taylor looked upset, even though she shrugged it off. Later I found out why at her locker.

“I told you to get me a candy cane gram Nico!!!!”

“Well you telling me to do it, takes the surprise out of it. Me not doing it, guess what you were surprised weren’t you?”

My sister who was always loud looked at him and said nothing.

Before I knew it the words flew out of my mouth.

“Wow, you’re a really bad boyfriend Nico, my sister deserves better than you.”

I slammed my locker walking away from the two of them. I found out later that day, my sister broke up with him, in front of everyone in true dramatic Taylor fashion. I was proud of her.

Christmas Eve

Everyone had come over and was enjoying mom’s Christmas cookies and snacks. My dad brought in a big box sitting it down on the floor.

“I want to thank everyone for coming over tonight to spend time with our family. Our children picked people they care about to spend this time together with you. Ren and I are happy to have you in our home. We both grew up in the foster care system, and learned early in life, sometimes the people that care about you most, are not your blood relatives. So we try to celebrate that.”

“And when we had the opportunity to open our home up to two adorable identical twin girls, we couldn’t say no.” My mother chimed in.

“It’s the best decision they ever made. I went to sleep one night wishing I had a little sister. The next morning I woke up with two.” Jaiden spoke up.

“And we know what it’s like to be alone on Christmas, or missing someone special on Christmas that you were once close to. So we wanted to do something special. Liam would you mind sharing the Christmas Eve tradition you had that you told me about?”

“Christmas was my Mom’s favorite holiday. Every Christmas Eve that I can remember she’d dress us up in these ugly Christmas sweaters

and we would go ice skating on Lake Pine. She loved to ice skate. Then she’d make us take these dorky pictures in our Christmas sweaters that matched. I miss her a lot.”

“I miss her too. I’m not adopted, but Liam’s Mom always made me feel like I was her son too. So I really get what you’re saying about family not always being blood related. She was my mom too.”

Liam hugged his brother.

My dad opened the box.

“With a little help from Riley I found some what I would think are hideously awesome ugly Christmas sweaters, and am secretly happy for your love of Star Trek too. I’m sorry Liam, you can’t be the Captain, this is mine. But this one is yours.”

“Well if I can’t be Captain, being the science officer is the next best and most logical choice.” Liam took his blue sweater graciously.

“That’s what I said! Dad please say you got me a blue sweater too.”

“I did.”

After all the sweaters were handed out, there was still one left in the box.

“Guess you guys bought this before I broke up with Nico. No big deal.”

Once everyone was dressed, they headed out to the vehicles, and Liam stuffed the extra shirt into Leo’s trunk.

“I really don’t know how this is going to go Liam.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ice skating? Do you seriously trust me with knives on my feet?”

“Well good thing you’re not just Riley Brooks today, you’re the science officer for the USS Enterprise. Live long and prosper.”

Liam expected Riley to be as horrible on ice skates as she had been on roller skates, but Riley amazingly was incredibly balanced.

“Have you ice skated before?”

“No! I don’t know how I'm good at this! I usually have no natural balance.”

“You’re a natural at skating…”

“Ice skating. Let's clarify that.”

Taylor was still sitting on the bench watching the couples skate by. “She still hasn’t gotten out on the ice yet. I think she’s feeling lonely and the extra shirt probably made her think of Nico.”

Liam’s phone beeped. “Why don’t you go sit with her for a little bit, and I’ll be back in a few with some hot cocoas for us all.”

“Is cocoa your favorite drink?”

“Yes, and my mom used to always say your heart won’t feel cold if you always have a nice warm cup of cocoa. It always makes me feel better.”

I went to sit with Taylor and Liam continued walking toward the concessions stand.

“You okay?” I asked Taylor.

“I just don’t feel like skating, and look over there.”

Nico was there, with another girl on his arm.

“To be honest I never liked him Taylor. He called you T, like you were a drink or a shirt or something. He wasn’t even really that nice. Good riddance, I say.”

“I never thanked you for standing up for me that day Riley. It really meant a lot.”

“You’re my sister Taylor. I will always have your back, even when you pull me into a tornado.”

“Not on purpose!” She laughed.

“Oh it never is.” I remarked pulling Taylor closer to me in a hug. After a few seconds she pulled away from me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Helping Liam deliver hot cocoa. This one is yours.

I don’t like all the extra stuff in mine.”

Drake handed Taylor her cocoa, as he sat down next to her.

“Just hot and cocoa pretty much then right?”

“Exactly. I’m not that difficult to understand.”

“Do you like to ice skate, Drake?”

“Like it? It’s okay, but I can. Would you like to skate Taylor?”

Drake took off his coat wearing the remaining ugly sweater.

“Okay.” Taylor said in a nonchalant voice.

Taylor’s mood picked up immediately as she skated around with Drake on the ice. She never once glanced in Nico’s direction.

“That was really nice of you to do Liam.”

“He really does like her, you know. Maybe now she can finally see him with Nico out the way.”

“You’re so adorkably sweet Liam.”

“I know Riley, I know.”

#bebepac writes #bebepac still writes #christmas fic #choices fandom #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trr liam x riley #school dayz #adorkable liam #adorkable riley #trr no royals #choicesprompt #choicesflashfics #choices monthly challenge #choices fic writers creations #fic of the week

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harleybeaumont · 7 months

Text

Never Have I Ever

Chapter 21 - Let's Just Forget the World

Book- TRR

Series- Never Have I Ever

Pairings- Bertrand x MC

Chapter Synopsis- Bertrand has a surprise for Riley.

Chapter Warnings- language, drinking, innuendo -but mostly this is a fluffy chapter

Rating - Mature

Word Count- 1,830

A/N - once again, sorry it's been a while since I've posted a chapter. I included a snippet of what happened in chapter 20 to refresh your memory.

A/N 2- submitting for @choicesprompts flufftober event

Song Inspiration - this song is absolutely perfect for this chapter and gives me all the feels. Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

_____________________________________________________________

When they arrived back at the estate, it was already dinner time. Riley quickly popped into Max’s bedroom to check on him, and found him sound asleep in bed.

“I’m starving.” Riley sighed as she made her way toward the kitchen, taking a seat beside Bertrand at the bar.

“What would you like to eat? The chef has left for the night, but I can call and have something delivered for you.”

“Anything.. But you pick! I am mentally drained and honestly don’t think I could make another decision tonight if my life depended on it.”

Bertrand opened his mouth to protest, but paused as an idea hit him. “I know just the thing,” he smiled shyly and pulled out his phone.

He was going to have to step way out of his comfort zone for this.

Chapter 21- Let’s Just Forget the World

After half an hour of bustling around the estate, Bertrand was finally ready to let Riley into his room to show her what he had been working on. He paused outside of the closed bedroom door nervously, starting to have second thoughts. “Why don’t we just go out and pick up dinner instead?”

“Nuh-uh. I have got to see what you’ve been up to. Now let me in.. before I make you,” she smirked teasingly, tracing her fingers down the front of his chest.

Bertrand sucked in a sharp breath and a shiver ran down his spine at her touch. There was no way he could say no to her. He had already accepted that fact. “Alright,” he grinned, reluctantly stepping aside.

He slowly swung the door open and Riley gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth. “Bert..” Her eyes began welling up with tears as she stepped toward the sitting area of his bedroom which had been converted into a blanket fort, with pizza, wine, and pillows on the floor. Fairy lights, which she was pretty sure he got from Max, were laid across the top of the blankets, casting a warm glow around the room.

Bertrand watched her face with a mixture of hope and apprehension. He had never done anything so ridiculous or sentimental for anyone before and it was terrifying. “I.. I just thought that-”

Riley immediately engulfed him in a hug, squeezing tightly and burying her face in his chest. She sniffled and when she pulled back she was grinning ear to ear. “You did this?”

“I.. Yes.”

“You, Bertrand Beaumont, made a blanket fort.. for us?”

He felt his cheeks heat up and he opened his mouth, not sure what to say. “If you don’t like it, we can go to a nice restaurant or something!”

“This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me!” She wrapped her arms around him again, squeezing tightly. “I’m so touched that you would share such a special family tradition with me. Thank you.”

He grinned, shocked that she recalled the story he told her about he and Maxwell doing this with their mother when they were young. “You remember?”

“Of course I do! I remember everything you say, Bert.” She laughed at his skeptical smile, “I mean, most things. I’m sorry I can’t remember things like King Leopold’s favorite goldendoodle’s middle name.. but when it comes to you, I remember everything.”

He chuckled as his cheeks pinkened, “You’re just flattering me.”

“I’m not, but I accept your flattery.”

The two sat beside one another under the blanket canopy and Bertrand poured them a glass of wine while Riley placed a slice of pizza on each of their plates. She was absolutely radiating excitement and Bertrand couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

“What?” She grinned in his direction before taking a sip from her glass.

Bertrand shook his head, chuckling. “Nothing.”

“Are you laughing at me?!”

“I am not. I’m just..I just feel..”

He looked away shyly and she took his hand. “Feel what?”

He met her eyes. “Happy.”

Her heart swelled and she rubbed her thumb across the back of his knuckles. “Me too.”

Bertrand looked up at the blanket draped over their heads, grinning thoughtfully. “This is the silliest thing I have ever done in my entire life, but I cannot imagine anything else I’d rather be doing right now.”

Riley laced her fingers with his and squeezed. “Me too.”

Once they were full of pizza and wine, they lay on their backs in companionable silence. Riley turned to face him. “So what should we do now?”

“Are you ready for bed?” He yawned, “I’m afraid I had a bit too much wine and my eyelids are getting heavy.”

“No way! I have a tipsy Bertrand Beaumont in a blanket fort.. We have to do something fun.”

“Oh?” His mouth went dry as he pictured what type of fun she had in mind.

“Let’s play a game!”

“Oh.” He realized that he sounded way too disappointed, and tried to correct that. “Alright, what did you have in mind?”

She leaned closer and grinned. “What about, never have I ever?”

He gulped, “I uh.. I believe we’ve played that one before.”

Riley rolled onto her back, a light-hearted laugh escaping her. Her eyes traced the intricate pattern and stitching of the quilt that rested over the chair backs, forming the ceiling of their blanket fort. She couldn’t hold back a smile as she continued to gaze straight up, too overcome with emotion to even glance at the man beside her. She could feel his eyes on her and hear his steady breathing, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.. Subtle notes of bergamot and sandalwood and the natural pheromones on his skin that both comforted her and drove her wild.

Her heart was bursting from the unbelievable feeling of normalcy, contentment, and utter joy she felt just laying beside him.

“Never have I ever.. Done anything like this before.”

“Like what?” Bertrand asked.

“Blanket forts! Camping on the bedroom floor.. None of that.”

Bertrand smiled, “I suppose you got me there. For once, there’s something I’ve done that you haven't.”

Riley laughed, and Bertrand sat up slightly and took a sip of his wine. He lay back down, thinking for a moment before grinning. “Never have I ever.. received a gift on Valentine’s day.”

Riley’s mouth dropped open. “Never? Not even from a little secret admirer in school or anything? I find that hard to believe.”

“Nope. Go ahead and drink,” he nodded to her glass of wine. “I’m certain you have received loads of Valentine’s gifts.”

Riley took a sip of her wine and shook her head. “I’ve had a few. Not for a while, but..”

“So what were your best and worst Valentine's gifts?”

“Oof, that’s a tough one,” she groaned with a smile. “The worst was probably from a boyfriend I had in highschool. He gave me a bouquet of fake daisies that were missing half of the flowers from the stems. And inside the middle was a jewelry box. But when I opened it, there was just a condom inside.”

Bertrand made a face. “Wow. That is.. quite a presumptuous gesture.”

“One that got him nowhere,” she rolled her eyes. “The best Valentine’s gift was probably when I was in elementary school. This cute little boy with curly hair, Jordan McCall.. He gave me a plastic ring he had won at the arcade and a bunch of wildflowers he picked from his yard.” She turned toward Bertrand with a smile. “It’s the thoughtful things that mean the most, you know? Something that you put your heart into.”

Bertrand smiled at her for a long moment, but feeling like he had been staring too long, he cleared his throat and looked away. “Um, it’s your turn.”

Riley tapped a finger against her lips in thought. “Ok. Never have I ever.. had sex with my brother’s best friend.”

Bertrand’s mouth dropped open and his face flushed bright red. “Riley!”

She couldn’t stop her laughter and handed him his glass. “Drink up!”

He took a sip, unable to meet her eyes while a small smile pulled at his lips. “That was a cheap shot.”

“I came to win!” Riley nudged him and grinned, “Besides, I can’t help it. I love making you blush.”

“I'm glad that my humiliation amuses you.”

She rolled onto her side to face him and put a hand on his arm. “It’s cute. It totally gives me butterflies.”

Bertrand blushed deeper and looked away as butterflies of his own swarmed his insides. He tried to change the subject. “So, I suppose we’re tied.”

“Not for long,” Riley smiled cheekily. “You’re going down, Beaumont.”

“Oh really?”

“Really! Hit me with your best shot.”

Bertrand thought for a moment before a confident smirk alit his face. “I definitely have you now Ms. Brooks. Get ready to take a drink. Never have I ever.. had sex with someone because I felt bad for them.”

Riley met his eyes with confusion and she shook her head. “Never.”

Bertrand arched an eyebrow skeptically. “What do you mean? What about.. You know..” He gestured at himself.

Riley’s heart sank. Had he thought this the entire time? “No, Bertrand. That’s not why I- no, never.”

His mind was racing as he asked, “Then.. why?”

Riley chewed the inside of her cheek, trying not to cross the line they had been tiptoeing toward for the last couple months. Screw it. “Bert, I had sex with you because I wanted to. I wanted you.”

His jaw dropped and he was nearly rendered speechless. “You- really?” Like, you really actually wanted to- not as a lesson, but like- really?”

Now it was Riley's turn to blush for once. She hugged her knees to her chest and smiled shyly. “Yes.”

Bertrand stared straight ahead, mind reeling. The silence between them stretched, neither knowing what to say now.

Riley took a deep breath and reached out, grasping his hand. She looked directly into his eyes as she spoke. “Never have I ever.. told someone that I was in love with them.”

Bertrand released a breath, his eyes searching her face for a few moments. He was certain his heartbeat was loud enough for the entire duchy to hear.

Bertrand rested his hand against her cheek, swiping his thumb gently across her bottom lip. His eyes were full of a deep longing and affection she had never seen from anyone before.

“Riley..” he breathed out softly and pressed his lips against hers, cradling her face with his hands. The kiss was tender, yet passionate and nothing like anything they had ever shared before. He lay her back against the soft pillows and blankets on the floor, relishing in the fact that it was really Riley kissing him. Her perfect, soft, gorgeous lips were actually against his. She had wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her, and as unbelievable as that was, it was amazing and perfect. Bertrand was so overcome with emotion, he thought he might burst.

They broke apart after a few moments, and Riley leaned forward giving him one more soft kiss before snuggling up to his side and resting her head on his shoulder. Bertrand wrapped his arm around her, resting his hand against her lower back and tracing soft circles with his fingers. The minutes stretched on as the two lay together on his bedroom floor.

“Riley.. I.. really need to tell you something.” Bertrand murmured softly. When she didn’t respond, he raised his head slightly to look at her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and steady. She was sound asleep in his arms and everything was right with the world. Heart in his throat, he kissed her head and whispered. “I love you.”

#never have i ever #trr #bertrand x riley #bertley #bertrand beaumont #bertrand x mc #trr fanfic #cfwc fics of the week #choicesprompts #flufftober2023

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camillemontespan · 5 months

Text

the best mistake he never had [drake x Camille AU]

‘It was a mistake. A massive, drunken mistake.’

Why had he said that to her? Why had he gone out of his way to make her feel as low as possible? What was wrong with him?

Drake Walker sat propped up at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey. He had been thinking back over his actions, his shitty actions, feeling regret as always.

He hadn't meant it.

If anything, being with her had been a revelation. He had meant that it had been more of a mistake for Camille

Fuck, the more he thought about it, the more he remembered every single shitty thing he had said.

‘This wasn't supposed to turn out this way… I'm not cut out for this… This has fucked up everything…’

Camille had stared at him with hurt in her eyes as he kept digging himself a hole. When he had realised that he had gone too far, she was standing apart from him, her body rigid and her face set like stone.

She had left abruptly after that. He hadn't heard from her for weeks. Until that day when she appeared at his front door and looked him straight in the eyes.

‘I’m leaving,’ she had told him, her voice cracking.

He had blinked in confusion. ‘You’re.. what?’

Camille cleared her throat, clearly fighting to be strong despite the fact her heart was breaking.

‘I’m leaving,’ she repeated. ‘I’m moving to New York. Fresh start.’

Drake stared at her. He could feel the rush of guilt envelop him. He cast his eyes down to see the suitcase beside her on the porch. The slow realisation dawned on him that she wasn't fucking around.

‘Camille..’ he said, his voice wavering. ‘Please don't go. Please.’

She shook her head. ‘You made it clear that night that what we did was a mistake-’

‘That’s no reason to leave!’ Drake burst out. ‘New York is hours away! What if I wanted-’

‘Wanted WHAT?’ Camille interrupted, her voice raised. ‘Wanted to change your mind?’

Drake swallowed. He cast his eyes down and then looked back at her, wishing he knew what to say.

‘Do you want to change your mind?’ Camille asked in a small voice. She sounded almost hopeful.

Drake's eyes flicked from Camille's face down to her stomach. He couldn't see any signs yet.

‘Camille..’ he murmured. ‘I can't.’

Camille's fingers clenched around the handle of the suitcase. She raised her chin and gone was the hope in her eyes.

‘I came here to give you a second chance,’ she told him. ‘I thought if I came here and told you I was leaving, you might realise that this is it. This is your moment-’

‘Not everyone wants to be a parent, Camille,’ Drake cut in, deliberately making his voice cold.

‘I know that,’ Camille said, ‘But I thought.. knowing it's yours.. you might think differently.’

Drake knew what he needed to do. He needed to change her mind. Make her realise that coming here was her biggest mistake. Even if it hurt him too. ‘You thought wrong.’

She stepped back like she'd been pushed. ‘Okay..’ she whispered softly. ‘Okay, Drake. Have it your way.’

Drake kept his back ramrod straight and kept his eyes focused ahead, trying to avoid looking at her for too long. He couldn't crack.

‘This is going to be the biggest mistake you've ever made,’ Camille croaked. Tears were filling her eyes now. ‘Maybe not right now but years from now, you're going to regret this.’

Drake pressed his lips together. ‘You don't get to dictate how I live my life,’ he finally said. ‘Respect my wishes.’

Camille looked down and nodded. ‘Bye Drake,’ she said. She took her suitcase and pulled it harshly down the porch steps behind her.

She left Drake standing on the porch and that was the last time he had seen her.

And now, nine months later, he was sitting at this bar, his usual haunt, drinking his usual whiskey, feeling like his usual shitty self.

His mother, Bianca, had been the one to break the news to him that morning. She had heard from Camille's grandmother, Gisele, and felt it was her duty to tell him.

Camille had given birth to Drake's baby.

A daughter.

Drake had a baby girl.

****************

FIVE YEARS LATER

‘Okay, honey, do you have your scarf?’

‘Yes!’

‘Gloves?’

‘In my pocket!’

Camille was bundling her daughter, Lily, out of the door, making sure that she was ready for school. They were running late and Camille was cursing herself that she hadn't just let Lily wear her favourite tutu. Instead, she had spent ten minutes coaxing Lily to wear something more suitable for the wintery conditions outside, such as a fuzzy sweater, fleece lined leggings, snow boots and her pink glitter raincoat.

Lily was Camille's double. She had the same dark hair and brown eyes with gold flecks. The same pixie nose.

She had her dad's smirk that she used whenever she was trying to get her way.

Camille took Lily's hand and together, they dashed through the snow, Lily skidding as she went.

As they rushed through the streets, Lily told Camille all about how she was excited to do Show and Tell.

‘I’m going to bring in my snail,’ Lily told her. ‘He’s so slimy!’

‘Will Miss Lee want a snail in her classroom?’ Camille asked, urging Lily to cross the road with her.

‘Yes!’ Lily trilled. ‘She even asked what his names is!’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Steve!’

Lily had also inherited her dad's love of the outdoors and nature. Hours she spent in the little communal garden of the apartment building they lived in, watching the wildlife, trying to find the perfect pet.

The two of them carried on rushing through the streets of Soho until twenty minutes later, they reached Lily's school just before the bell rang.

Camille crouched down to face Lily. They quickly did their ‘Lily and Mommy’ secret handshake which involved a series of hand gestures which ended with a kiss.

‘Love you, honey,’ Camille whispered in her ear. ‘Have the best day.’

Lily grinned. ‘You too mommy.’

*******************

Camille arrived at work swept off her feet.

‘God, finally!’ Olivia greeted her, placing a cup of coffee on her desk. ‘Any later and I've had to call in special favours for our presentation this morning.’

Camille winced. She sat down on her chair and quickly pulled her snow boots off, replacing them with the nude Manolo stilettos she kept in her drawer. ‘Sorry, Liv. I'm here now! Ready to present my ass off.’

Olivia gave her a wink. ‘All good, babe. Late night?’

Camille sighed. ‘Lily wanted to wear a tutu instead of something more suitable for the snow. Took ten minutes trying to convince her, common sense over fashion eventually won out.’

Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘You’re such a kill joy.’

‘Can’t have her freezing to death..’ Camille muttered before taking a welcome sip of coffee.

Olivia studied Camille for a moment. ‘I’m sorry babe, but again, I have to ask. Where's Lily's shithead dad in all of this?’

‘Texas,’ Camille sighed.

She knew she was in for another of Olivia's lectures. They were best friends even though they were polar opposites.

‘I know he didn't want anything to do with Lily,’ Olivia said quietly, ‘but come on. You do so much. You've had to take reduced hours so you can see her after school and spend the evenings with her. You're always rushed off your feet making sure she wears actual clothes instead of ballerina tutus. You haven't been on a date in five years -’

‘That’s just the way I like it,’ Camille cut in. ‘I don't want to date. I don't want random guys viewing my daughter as baggage. She's the love of my life and that's that.’

End of conversation.

Camille never regretted leaving Texas. She never regretted uprooting her entire life. She never regretted being a single mother.

When she had found out she was pregnant, Camile had been scared, sure. But she had also been certain.

Lots of women didn't want kids. Camille was always of the mindset ‘you do you.’ Live life the way you choose.

But Camille had always wanted kids. Losing her mother at a young age had instilled in her this ache for a family, no matter how small. She just wanted someone to love. She had so much love to give and having Lily had been the best thing that had ever happened to her.

When Drake had told her that he didn't want to be father, that he wasn't cut out for the role.. it had hurt her. She understood that lots of men didn't want children. But he had been so harsh with her. So cold. It was like he had deliberately tried his best to hurt her feelings.

Walking away from Drake was a decision Camille never regretted. Having his baby was a decision she never regretted.

Because Camille lived her life exactly the way she wanted to. She never wanted to have regrets.

******************

Camille finished work at 3pm so she could pick up Lily from school. As they walked home, Lily chattered about her day and how much she liked her teacher.

She was a happy child. Always bursting with vitality, she was a social butterfly and curious about everything.

Lily had only asked Camille twice about her daddy. Wondered why only she and a boy in her class called Luke didn't have one.

‘Because we're meant to be a family of two,’ Camille told her truthfully. ‘Nobody gets inside our little circle.’

That was how they worked. How they viewed their life together. Camille and Lily against the world.

Their little circle of two.

**************

That evening, Camille was cooking spaghetti while Lily played on the kitchen floor with her Barbie doll. She rarely strayed from Camille’s side.

The phone rang. Lily jumped up to take it off the hook and said in her most polite voice, ‘Montespan residence!’

She blinked and looked up at Camille who was crossing the kitchen to take the phone.

‘Mommy, it's a lady called Bianca?’

Camille’s blood ran cold.

Drake's mom.

******************

Camille quickly took the phone and cleared her throat. She hadn't spoken to Bianca Walker for years. If she wasn't her grandmother's neighbour, Camille would have happily washed her hands of Drake and the rest of his family.

‘Hi Bianca,’ she greeted her. ‘Everything okay?’

Bianca sounded nervous. ‘Hey, sweetie.. how are you?’

‘I’m good, you?’

Camille really didn't want to talk to Bianca. She didn't want to hear a Texas accent.

‘It’s your grandmother,’ Bianca said. ‘She’s not well. I.. I think you should come home.’

Camille felt her heart drop. Not her grandma.

Gisele had supported Camille in her decision to leave Texas. Of course, she would have loved to help Camille raise baby Lily but she also knew her granddaughter did not want to live in the same town as Drake Walker.

Gisele would visit twice a year. One week during the summer and one week in the winter. It wasn't much but Camille didn't want Gisele travelling far in her old age.

‘How long has she been bad?’ Camille asked quietly, taking care not to alarm Lily.

‘About a month,’ Bianca told her. ‘She hasn't been right. Frail. Not her usual energetic self. You know how she is.’

Gisele Montespan was, quite simply, fabulous. She was French and loved treating herself to the luxurious things in life. She was confident and witty, never taking any shit. She never saved anything for a special occasion. For Gisele, life was the special occasion.

‘We’ll be back as soon as we can,’ Camille decided. ‘I’ll speak to Lily's teacher, see if she can send through online learning.’

There was an awkward silence until Bianca broke it.

‘How is she?’

Camille swallowed. Bianca had never met her granddaughter.

‘She’s great,’ Camille said simply.

‘Camille, please can I see her? I know Drake didn't want a part of it but I always did and that has never changed-’

‘No,’ Camille interrupted. ‘I’m sorry Bianca. It's not you. It's just I don't want things to get complicated. It's only us, the two of us. Anyone new will make it all… jumbled and confused.’

Bianca sighed. ‘Okay honey. But I'm here if you need me. If Lily needs me. You're both my family, regardless of what my son thinks.’

The call ended not long after that. As Lily continued to play with her Barbie, Camille thought about taking her to Texas.

She needed to see Gisele.

Hopefully Camille wouldn't see Drake. She hoped he would have moved but something told her that he was doing exactly the same thing as he was five years ago. Drake was a creature of habit.

If she bumped into Drake, she would make sure that he would not get to know Lily. He made his decision five years ago that he didn't want to be part of Lily's life.

Camille was just respecting Drake's wishes, exactly as he had told her to.

#drake walker #trr fanfic #the royal romance #drake x camille #trr #choices the stories you play #lily walker

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cordonianroyalairlines · 8 months

Text

Turbulence

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake

Word Count: 1,534

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language, sexual innuendo, and mature humor. Barley lemon scented.

A/N: See the series master list for a description of this series.

Also, this is a submission for @choicesprompts Smutember prompt event: We shouldn't be doing this....

“So, what’s up with you and Riley?”

“What do you mean?”

Captain Liam Rys turned to regard his first officer with a raised eyebrow, “What do you mean what do I mean? You two have been dancing around each other since the day she started working here.”

“Exactly,” Drake shook his head, “She works here. I don’t shit where I eat, Li, you know that.”

“Uh huh…” Liam replied dubiously as he returned his attention to the instrument panel and requested permission to take off.

Out in the cabin, flight attendant Riley Brooks was instructing the passengers of Cordonian Royal Airlines Flight 628 to put their seat backs in the upright position and fasten their seatbelts.

Maxwell shuffled up and down the aisle helping people stow their carry-ons in the overhead compartments.

As they buckled themselves into the jump seats, Maxwell lowered his voice so the passengers wouldn’t overhear, “So has he asked you out yet or what?”

“Who?”

“Come on, Ri. You know who. First Officer McSteamy!”

“Please,” she huffed, “That uptight, pig-headed, annoying asshole?”

“That’s the one,” he smirked, “I saw him checking you out when we boarded.”

“Really?” She perked up.

“Really,” Max supplied, “Not that you’re interested….”

“Of course not,” she slid her eyes sidewise at him, “But like how was he checking me out? Like oh, she’s cute or like, you know…”

“Oh, definitely you know!”

“Hm,” Riley leaned back in her seat, her eyes scanning the cabin for any signs of issues she needed to attend to as a slight smile played across her lips.

An hour into the flight, Max was dealing with an overbearing guest.

Riley scooted over to help, recognizing him, “Be nice,” she whispered to Max, “He’s a regular.”

“Yeah, a regular pain in the ass!” Max grunted a little too loudly.

“How dare you!” The man turned beet red, “I demand to speak to the captain!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but that won’t be possible, we don’t-“

“Actually,” Riley interrupted him, “For you, Mr. Lambros, I think we can make an exception!”

“We can?” Max turned to her in astonishment.

“Thank you, my dear,” the annoying passenger gloated, “and you can call me Tariq.” He shot a withering look at Max, “You can’t.”

“Whatever,” Max huffed under his breath as Riley pulled him down the aisle.

Once out of Tariq’s hearing, she hissed in his ear, “I’m going to send Liam out here and you’re going to make sure he stays out here for like, five minutes, okay?”

“Why, Riley? Why would-“ his eyes widened, “Oh! You want a minute alone with Drake! Wait, only five?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, I’m not fucking him in the cockpit! I just want a few minutes alone for a…conversation.”

“Yeah, right,” Max laughed as he shooed her toward the cockpit door, “Go on then, have your conversation…”

She shook her head as she made her way to the cockpit, pausing outside the door to adjust her clothing and run her fingers through her hair. She pushed the door open, “Captain?”

Liam looked over his shoulder, “I told you, call me Liam. What is it, Riley?”

“We have a disgruntled passenger who’s demanding to speak to you.”

“You know we don’t normally-“

“I know, but it’s Mr. Lambros and you know how he gets…”

Liam heaved a deep sigh. Tariq and his company spent an ungodly amount of money on flights, and they couldn’t afford to lose his business, “Okay, fine.” He flipped a few switches quickly and then stood.

He paused to officially pass control of the flight deck over, “You have the flight controls.”

“I have the flight controls,” Drake answered.

Liam nodded at Riley on his way out the door. She smiled at him but didn’t move.

Dake glanced up at her, “Can I help you with something else?”

“Yes,” she took Liam’s seat, “You can tell me why you run so hot and cold.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Listen, Riley, I like you but-“

“Oh, you like me? Like a friend?”

“Yes, I’m on friendly terms with the entire crew-“

She snorted, “You’re not friendly with anyone, Drake!”

“I…what?” He wanted to be annoyed but inexplicably, it bothered him that she thought he wasn’t friendly.

“I mean it’s pretty common knowledge that you can be a dick.”

He turned in his chair to face her incredulously, “I am not a dick!”

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“That’s…I’m not….since when-“

“It’s okay. I was just curious why you are sometimes uncharacteristically friendly with me, specifically, but if you don’t like me-“

“I never said I didn’t like you!” He snapped.

“And I told you…actions speak louder than-“

Her words were cut off as she found herself suddenly and firmly yanked across the divide between the two seats and into his arms. His lips crashed into hers with an intensity that took her breath away.

She leaned into him, returning the kiss for all she was worth. Her hands landed on his chest, his hands grasped her at the small of her back and tugged her closer.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” he panted even as he drew her into his lap, his lips trailing down her neck, finding their way into the cleavage that peeked enticingly out from the form-fitting uniform that hugged her curves, setting them off to quite remarkable effect.

“You’re right,” she pulled away and stood up, “We shouldn’t be doing this. Wouldn’t want to ruin a perfectly good working relationship, now would we?”

“What?” his hands reached out for her, but she was already out of reach, “Riley, wait!”

“No, that’s okay, you’ve made your position quite clear.”

“That’s not what I-“

She paused at the door, throwing a smoldering look over her shoulder, “See you tonight at the hotel?”

“Yes…” he watched as she left, head spinning. What had she meant by ‘see you at the hotel’? Had she meant that in a general sense as in see you around? Or was it an invitation for something? And if so, what?

He only knew two things for sure. One, he didn’t date coworkers. It was a bad idea. Two, he was absolutely going to find her at the hotel tonight.

“Gah!” Why was she so goddamned frustrating? He slammed his head forward into the instrument panel. The plane immediately dropped altitude, diving toward the ground as the oxygen masks deployed in the cabin. “Oh, shit!” He frantically worked to right the plane as passengers screamed.

Out in the cabin, Liam had just gotten Tariq settled down and happy again. Max was on his way to serve the now mollified guest a bottle of their best wine when the plane jolted down and to the right with a loud thud. People slammed into walls, luggage poured from overhead compartments and Max tripped forward, grappling with the already-opened bottle as he tried to regain control. It was to no avail. He watched with horror as the bottle flew, in seeming slow motion, out of his hands and directly toward their most difficult customer.

Tariq’s eyes widened as the liquid sloshed out of the top of the bottle in midair, spewing wildly and covering him in outrageously expensive, vintage red wine. “You did that on purpose!” He screeched as he jumped out of his seat.

“Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts!” Riley called from the front of the plane as she caught herself on the wall, “Just a little turbulence!”

Liam frantically tried to make his way back to the cockpit, but Tariq was blocking the aisle, demanding Max be fired while Max ineffectively wiped at the spreading stain with a cocktail napkin.

Tariq’s face had gone a deep shade of crimson, “Captain Liam, I demand that he be reprimanded!”

“Move you jackass!” Liam yelled as he shoved the man aside in desperation to make it back to the flight deck.

By the time Liam crashed through the cockpit door, the plane was righted, and Drake was on the intercom doing damage control, “Just a little unexpected turbulence. We apologize for the momentary roughness, but it should be clear skies and smooth sailing from here on out.”

“What the fuck was that?” Liam demanded as he retook his seat and started double-checking everything on the instrument panel, just to be sure.

“Turbulence,” Drake answered but he didn’t make eye contact and his face was red.

The door creaked open, and Riley stuck her head in, “Is everything okay in here? Drake was that because-“

“Everything is fine,” he yelled, “It was turbulence! Please return to your duty station crew member!”

Liam’s eyes flicked from Drake to Riley and back again. A broad smile spread across his face as Riley backed out of the cockpit, “Oh, I see. Turbulence….” Liam relaxed back into his seat; all his panic washed away as understanding settled over him.

“Shut up,” Drake still wasn’t looking at him.

“Turbulence never looked so good,” Liam chuckled as he updated the flight log and triple-checked the instrument panel.

Drake shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then glanced at his watch with a sigh. It was going to be a very long flight.

#cordonianroyalairlines #trr au #trr fanfic #liam rys #drake walker #riley brooks #maxwell beaumont

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fadingreveries · 2 months

Text

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (Pt. 1)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: I couldn't tag everyone because it wouldn't let me, but turn off "exclude from Tumblr search" for your account in settings and comment if you’d like to be tagged! @kingliam2019 @princess-geek (thanks for showing interest! Thought I would tag to say thank you!)

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Love awaits in the royal court of Cordonia as Riley competes for the Crown Prince! Will she accept his proposal, or will someone else win her heart?

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

Word Count: 1.6k

~ ~ ~

Those who found love with the right person, in the right place, at the right time, and the right life destined for them were rare. With how unpredictable life may be, not everyone was lucky to be destined with all of the key factors that would culminate for the biggest blessing from life itself.

One night’s chance encounter changed the lives of people who would become a close-knit group of friends in more ways than one.

Once upon a time, Riley Brooks was a young lady who resided in New York City. She was a fair-skinned, beautiful lady with dark ebony tresses and Dutch-braided bangs. With soft doe-like eyes and peach-coloured lips, Riley had met her fair share of suitors but none with whom she felt a longing connection to.

After working as a part-time waitress to put herself through school, she had finally graduated with an undergraduate degree and a Master of Arts degree in history from the prestigious New York University. At last, she was ready to explore the world beyond lecture halls, late night study sessions, and thesis dissertations.

“Just another glamorous New York Saturday night of hauling trash to the dumpster.” Riley sighed, heaving a stuffed black bag up where it would join the other garbage that had been piling up that night.

At the current moment, however, she was stuck on a late-night shift at the restaurant and bar where she had worked for the last six years. With all her might, she hoisted the humongous black garbage bag which landed on the others with a soft thump. She dusted off her hands, looking warily over her shoulder with the barely lit back area of the brick building.

There was something about the back alley of the building where she threw out the garbage every night that made her uneasy, partly due to the fact that drunk party goers tended to loiter there in the dark when veering off course from the streets and sidewalks. Luckily for her, she had her favourite coworker, Daniel, by her side to help.

“It could be worse. There could be—” Daniel, her co-worker had started before letting out a frightened yelp and darting away from the dumpster, “Rats! Riley, help!”

Riley glanced down at the sight before her, taking note of two adult mice and two baby mice. As they scurried away, she laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this adorable mouse family. They’re trying to get by, just like us.”

“Hey!” A booming voice yelled out, making the two co-workers turn around. “Riley, Daniel, quit slacking off over there!”

If there was one thing Riley was ready to embrace, it was the fact that she had finally given her two-week notice to her boss. After six years, she would finally be out of his clutches and no longer have to hear constant nagging from him about every minuscule detail she had made the mistake of carrying out in front of him.

“You told us to take out the garbage,” Riley reminded him, a scowl deepening as she remembered how insufferable her boss was.

“And now I’m telling you to wait on the bachelor party that just rolled in. Chop chop!” The manager barked out, clapping his hands for emphasis before storming back inside the bar.

__________

Meanwhile, it was the night of Liam Rys’ bachelor party. Two of his friends plus one acquaintance had organized a clandestine night out in New York City before they returned to Cordonia for the social season.

Earlier that evening, Maxwell whooped out, “Awesome! We finally lost Bastien! I can’t believe we pulled that off, but I’m not going to question it.”

It was around eight o’clock on one Friday night when Liam, Maxwell, and Drake had escaped Liam’s bodyguard, Bastien. There was an outdoor music festival held all day at a nearby park and with all the large crowds, Maxwell and Drake had planned to help Liam escape from his royal duties for at least one night. Which meant losing his bodyguard as soon as possible and blending in with the New York nightlife.

“Knowing Bastien, I’m sure he’s got an eye on us somehow. At least we have the illusion of independence,” Drake commented, knowing that it was better than nothing. He knew if anything that this illusion could give Liam a slight sense of what he truly longed for.

“I’ll take it! Time to whip out the… ultimate Bachelor Party Bucket List!” Maxwell excitedly cried out, as he drew a worryingly long physical paper shaped like a bucket out of his pocket.

Blinking in confusion at the paper contraption his friend summoned out of nowhere, Drake remarked, “There were so many parts of what you said that I’d hoped weren’t literal.”

“Okay, here’s what I got…” Maxwell cleared his throat, reading from his paper bucket list. “Give each other crazy nicknames, get tattoos, eat at the best place in New York, have a spontaneous, crazy adventure, get into a fight, and get tattoos!”

“You said ‘get tattoos’ twice,” Drake plainly stated, not impressed by Maxwell’s idea of a bachelor party.

Maxwell rolled his eyes, giving Drake a look that indicated he should have known that the meaning was implied. “That’s how important it is!”

Drake shook his head, looking Maxwell straight in the eye. Never in a million years was he going to agree to tattoos, especially not for Maxwell’s pure amusement. “I’m not getting a tattoo.”

“Friendship tattoos!” Maxwell exclaimed, trying desperately to convince him otherwise. Tattoos were a long-lasting symbol of friendship in itself, right?

Clearly, Maxwell had different ideas on what qualified as fun things to do with your friends in an unfamiliar city. Drake scoffed, “There’s not enough whiskey in Manhattan.”

“We’ll circle back to that,” Maxwell responded, turning his back against Drake and not taking no for an answer. He elbowed Liam’s side with a cheeky smile. “Remember, it’s this guy’s night.”

Liam sheepishly chuckled. How lucky was he to have such thoughtful friends? “It is my night.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” Drake warned him, although he had a small smile.

The prince was touched by his best friends’ warm gesture. Not everyone would go out of their way to make his one night of controlled freedom as enjoyable as possible, at least not as much as these two would. It was something he had never been allowed the luxury of, given that he was the Crown Prince of Cordonia and the heir to the throne after his older brother, Leo, had abdicated years earlier.

With a sad frown, Liam confessed, “Actually… It really means a lot to share this moment with both of you. After this summer, everything will change. I’ll be married… I’ll be preparing to start a family and carry on the royal line. It means everything to me to have one last moment with the two of you.”

“I don’t know that you’ve ever had a carefree moment in your life, but we’ll do our best,” Drake softly murmured. He meant this more than Liam would ever know. Drake had seen first-hand the struggles his best friend had gone through growing up with the burden of being royalty, but he wasn’t about to let his last night of freedom before the social season go to waste.

Maxwell nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. “Damn right we will. First up, nicknames.”

“What is this again?” Drake groaned in exasperation. Just when he thought they had made it past his bachelor party antics.

Once again, Maxwell looked at Drake as if the answer was obvious. He declared, “We think of awesome nicknames to give ourselves as a group!”

Drake’s deadpan answer was quick, his blank expression unwavering. “Cool. Mine’s Drake.”

Maxwell pouted, his bottom lip protruding out in protest. “Man, come on. You could pick anything! Alpha Bravo? Dark and Stormy? Toasted Marshmallow?”

“Pass,” Drake answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Unacceptable! All our nicknames are gonna be in theme! Right, Liam?” Maxwell questioned him, his eyebrows scrunched together in determination. Once Maxwell had an idea, he didn’t plan on giving up. It just wasn’t the Beaumont way.

Liam chuckled, amused at Maxwell’s enthusiasm to make his bachelor party much more lively. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we could theme it after cards like King of Hearts or Jack of Spades… or our favourite foods… or… or… like a fairytale!” Maxwell excitedly suggested, his eyes lighting up even brighter with each suggestion.

“Fairytale?” Liam asked, looking for clarification.

Drake guffawed, turning to Liam. “You could be Prince Charming.” It wasn’t far from the plain truth, anyway.

“There you go! Now you’re getting into it!” Maxwell grinned, pleased that Drake was now participating with the same level of gusto as he was.

Drake immediately frowned, not wanting to give off that impression and play into Maxwell’s fantasy of having the perfect bachelor party by his wild standards. “No… I just… ugh, Liam, pick one.”

“We should go with the theme…” Liam pondered with a smile to himself, before answering, “Fairytale. I kind of like Prince Charming.”

“Of course. I'm the Fairy Godmother because whatever you want tonight, I’ll make it happen!” Maxwell stated, his body giddy almost as if you could see the energy bouncing off of him.

Liam gestured to Drake, trying to think of a nickname for him. “What about Drake?”

Maxwell stepped closer to Drake, who rolled his eyes, before he snapped his fingers and announced, “He’s got ‘Dragon’ written all over him.”

“I’m good with that,” Drake agreed, shrugging his shoulders. It wasn’t the worst nickname he could be given.

“Yes! Let’s roll!” Maxwell cheered, happy with how things had worked out. One thing down, five more to go on the ultimate Bachelor Party Bucket List! “Next stop is dinner!”

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: Turn off "exclude from Tumblr search" for your account in settings and comment if you’d like to be tagged! @kingliam2019 @princess-geek

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angelasscribbles · 2 months

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Follower Appreciation Post

Okay, first of all.....

I just want to take a moment to say how much I appreciate all my followers and all the friendships I've made here.

And to show my appreciation, I'm going to open my asks for a little drabble event. Here are the parameters:

You can ask me to write anything you want. So yes, @twinkleallnight, this means you can ask for Drake x Olivia 😆

I reserve the right to refuse to fulfill any request for any reason (I can't imagine a situation where this would happen, but I'm covering my bases)

I will endeavor to keep my responses to 500 words or less.

I will accept requests for this challenge through the end of next week. So March 22nd, 2024.

Requests can be for fics, or they can just be questions about any of my existing characters/pairings. In addition to the series on my primary master list, feel free to send asks for Cordonian Royal Airlines or Law's End.

Requests do not have to be TRR though that is the primary fandom I write for.

Just FYI, I likely will not start on these until April.

Choices fandoms I will take requests for:

The Royal Romance

Ride or Die

Bloodbound

Queen B

Open Heart

Romance Club fandoms I will take requests for:

Heaven's Secret

Vying for Versailles

On Thin Ice

Tagging everyone on my "everything" master list under the cut.

@karahalloway, @harleybeaumont @alj4890 @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone

@walkerdrakewalker @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @twinkleallnight

@lovingchoices14 @tinkie1973

@secretaryunpaid @irishgrl2022

@kristinamae093 @tessa-liam

@gabesmommie1130 @queenmiarys

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @jared2612 @belencha77

@dcbbw @amandablink @indiacater

@bebepac @twinkle-320 @mattiematt1234

@queen-arabella-of-cordonia

@emersyn-in-cordonia @lunaseasblog

@hollygirl1269 @mainstreetreader

@ladyangel70 @ohmyeightpastlives @gardeningourmet

@sillydg @phoenixrising0308

@3pawandme @21-wishes @73geenalove @jennieausten

@princessleac1 @kachrisberry @tornbetween2loves

@fangirling12566 @pinklipsandmasonjars @savannahdix

#angelasscribbles #1500 followers #trr fanfic #choices fandom #creative writing #ask event

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ao719 · 3 months

Text

Best Kept Secrets

Best Kept Secrets - Maybe We’ll Get It Right (Chapter 18)

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: An unforeseen encounter with the past proves that even the best-kept secrets eventually make their way into the light.

Title inspiration: Hold On Tight - Forest Blakk

Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x F!OC

A/N: Thank you to @burnsoslow for prereading most of this. Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warning: This series will contain NSFW material. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

Standing in her bedroom inside the north wing, Amara stared at her reflection in the floor-length mirror. She scanned over her outfit before meeting her own anxious gaze; she took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to settle her nerves.

Today would be Amara’s and Liam’s first public outing with Sophia since the statement had been given. It would be the first time the press would not only catch a glimpse of the heir but see the three of them together … as a family. She knew that the purpose behind the outing was to show the public that their King had moved beyond her betrayal and that they were putting the past behind them for the sake of their child. It was all in hopes of shifting the negative attention she was receiving and showing her in a more favorable light.

Amara was nervous, however. One would think she would find this to be fairly simple; working the press to change public perception was literally her job, but it was much different being the one whose image you’re trying to change their perception of. She wouldn’t be working her PR magic behind the scenes because she was the one under the microscope. She knew her every move was going to be picked apart, questioned, and, at times, manipulated to fit whatever narrative they were attempting to paint of her. Whatever they felt was going to sell a story was what they were going to try and sell, truth or not.

Despite knowing this was something they needed to try, Amara had second-guessed the decision since Daniel suggested it; they’d given themselves an extra week behind the palace walls to prepare, but she felt anything but because she couldn’t get out of her own head. She didn’t want her presence during these planned outings to make things even more difficult for Liam than she’d already made them.

However, when Amara subtly brought up the concern, Liam didn’t seem all too phased. They planned to spend the day on the private beach, and he reminded her that while, yes, the press was sure to be camped out nearby, they would still be far enough away so they’d be able to enjoy their day together with Sophia and that he was looking forward to spending the day out … with both of them. He seemed to be treating it as both a casual and normal outing and not one that was planned with a purpose.

Amara wasn’t reading too much into what he’d said, however, seeing his words for exactly what they were. She knew it was nothing more than his way of trying to make her feel more relaxed because he could sense that she was on edge about it. To think he meant anything beyond that was pointless. Despite her feelings for him, she’d forced herself to face reality over the last month and a half, a reality where she knew that any chance she might have had at continuing to rekindle things between them was long gone. After what she’d done, he’d never give her a second chance, and she didn’t deserve one. Her feelings for him didn’t matter and didn’t mean anything to anyone but her, so she shoved them into a box and pushed any notion of them being anything more than co-parents as far down as she could. It hurt, of course, but it was the consequences of her actions. And she’d suffer in silence because she wasn’t going to let those feelings get in the way of his and Sophia’s relationship.

A knock on the door pulled Amara’s attention, and she gave herself one last glance in the mirror before turning and exiting her bedroom. When she opened the door, she smiled at Sophia, who was giving her signature toothy grin.

“Mama!”

“Hi, baby,” Amara chuckled as she took her from Liam’s arms when she leaned over to her. She kissed her cheek as she ran her hand over her head of blonde hair.

“Morning,” Liam said.

Amara offered him a tentative smile. “Morning.” She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind her. “I have her stuff ready. I’ll just go get her changed real quick.”

Liam nodded and watched the two of them disappear down the hall, listening to Sophia babble and Amara laugh, smiling as he sat down in the living area to wait. He drummed his fingers against his thighs, wondering what the day was going to bring.

They would be spending the day at the private beach, and while he knew it would be accessible to the press, it would keep them far enough away so they wouldn’t be too overbearing. They couldn’t go out in public and make it obvious that they were putting on a show for the cameras.

Truthfully … it wasn’t about the cameras for Liam nor was it a show. Yes, he was doing this as a way to hopefully shift the narrative surrounding Amara, and he was looking forward to finally taking Sophia beyond the palace walls, but it was more than that for him. He wanted to spend the day out with Amara, too.

Over the last month and a half since everything had happened, one of the things he struggled with most was his feelings for Amara. At first, those feelings were suffocated by anger and resentment, but once he forced himself to let go of those emotions for the sake of moving forward, they came back tenfold. Now that he’d been spending every day with her the past two weeks, practically playing house inside the palace with her and Sophia … the three of them, together, as a family … everything he felt before seemed amplified. His feelings began to consume him, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to continue to shove them aside. And maybe he shouldn’t. He’d been trying to do what was best for Sophia, but perhaps what was best for her was the very thing he’d been trying to ignore.

Liam had a couple of reservations, however, and they seemed to be the one thing holding him back.

The first reservation was trust. No matter which way Liam looked at the situation, he’d been betrayed. Did he now understand the place in which Amara was coming from? A little. He’d allowed himself to see things from her perspective, and he understood her headspace at the time. It didn’t change the fact that he was still lied to and kept in the dark about something as important as the existence of his child. Were there other secrets she was keeping? He didn’t know. And he didn’t know if he could trust her to not keep more in the future.

The second reservation was fear. Twice now Liam had tried to make things work between them, and he was left broken both times. They say the third time’s the charm, but this was something that now went beyond just him. If they tried again and they failed a third time, not only would it affect him but Sophia as well. He and Amara had a knack for being unable to get their stars to align. Could he really risk Sophia being collateral damage in a game he wasn’t sure he would ever win?

“Dada!”

Sophia’s squeal pulled Liam from his thoughts. He glanced over and a laugh bubbled out of him at the sight of her toddling towards him in a white cover-up that concealed her bright pink bathing suit, tiny aviators, and a floppy white sun hat. “Look at you looking like a little beachy princess,” he chuckled as he scooped her into his arms. “Are you ready for our day at the beach?” Sophia nodded with a clap of her hands. “Is mommy ready?”

They both looked at Amara at the same time, and she forced a smile. “I’m ready.”

****

When Bastien pulled into the private parking lot of the beach, Amara turned her face away from the window, shielding her eyes from the flashes of the cameras. The press had been camped outside of the gate when they left the palace and had followed them. Having spent so much time tracking the royal family’s movements, it didn’t take them long to realize where they were headed; they raced ahead so they were there waiting when they arrived.

When Liam exited the vehicle, the press, who were contained behind another gate where two more guards stood to ensure they didn’t cross, began shouting his name. He turned and tossed his hand up in a wave as they snapped photos before turning back toward the vehicle.

Liam met Amara’s gaze as she finished unbuckling Sophia from her car seat. “Here we go …”

Liam lifted Sophia from her seat and into the safety of his arms, and when he pulled her from the vehicle, the frenzy ensued. The press shouted louder as the shutters from their cameras went off. Sophia turned her head toward the clamor as her grip on his shirt tightened. “It’s ok, little love,” he whispered.

Occupied by their first glimpses of the princess, the press almost missed the moment Amara came into view. Almost. The moment they noticed her, more shouts ensued as their cameras continued to snap photos.

“Why is she with you, King Liam?”

“Anything to say about your betrayal to the King, Ms. Onasis?”

“Will she be leaving Cordonia soon?”

“Will the Princess be staying?”

Amara turned so her back was toward them and inhaled a deep breath. She felt Liam’s hand on her shoulder a moment later and looked up at him; he gestured toward the path that led to the beach and she nodded before starting toward it.

Once down on the beach, Amara set the bag she’d packed beside one of the chairs that were set up beneath an umbrella. She glanced around, taking in the silence, feeling a little more at ease, but only for a moment before she saw the press hurrying toward the edge of the barrier. The guards were already in place, ensuring they stayed on the other side, and they were far enough away where they wouldn’t be a bother, but just knowing they were there at all had her right back on edge.

“Did you hear me?”

Amara snapped her gaze to Liam. “No. I’m sorry … what did you say?”

“Sunscreen?” Liam pointed to Sophia.

“Yeah.” Amara shook her head and crouched down next to the bag, pulling out the sunscreen she’d packed for her.

Liam set Sophia down on the chair, and Amara removed her tiny cover-up before smothering her in sunscreen. Once she was finished, she stood and turned to see a now shirtless Liam setting up the toys he’d brought on the massive beach blanket that was laid out for them; he’d slipped inside the tent just behind their chairs to change. She turned away from him and closed her eyes; between the press and him, her mind was jumbled.

“Ready?” Liam’s voice sounded from behind her, and she turned, but he was speaking to Sophia. He scooped her up and set her on the edge of the blanket so she could reach the sand before laying on his side next to her.

Amara stood and stared at the two of them as they played. Then her gaze flickered to the edge of the beach where the press remained, continuing to snap photos. She couldn’t help but wonder what story they were going to try and spin from this.

“Are you going to join us?” Liam asked.

Amara looked back at him. “Uh … yeah.” She kicked off her flip-flops before reaching down and grabbing the hem of her cover-up to remove it but froze as her eyes lifted to the press again. She casually brushed her hand against the fabric of the cover-up as she moved toward the blanket and sat down on the other side of Sophia.

Liam looked up at her, squinting against the bright sun. “Did you not bring a suit?” he asked, gesturing to her cover-up that was still on.

“I’m … I’m fine right now,” Amara lied as she looked out at the water. She wasn’t fine.

Under the heat of the Mediterranean sun and the watchful eyes of the press, Amara was hot and flustered … but she didn’t want to take off the cover-up, afraid of what story the press would spin from it. Would they say she was trying to seduce him into forgiveness by flouncing around in a bikini? Would they criticize her for said bikini because she was the mother of the heir and not setting the example they thought she should? Hell, she was afraid to even look at Liam for a second too long, knowing what type of story one photo of that could paint.

Liam stared at Amara as she gazed out at the water. He knew something was bothering her and he didn’t have to ask what it was. She’d been on edge the past week since they planned this first outing, and when he saw her this morning, he knew she hadn’t eased up. It was easy for him to ignore the presence of the press because he’d grown up with it and learned to drown them out a long time ago. Amara, however, wasn’t used to being on this side of things. On top of that, she was consumed by how her presence would rub off on him and Sophia and worried what stories would be in the papers the next morning. Because of that, she was being careful. Too careful, considering she wouldn’t even remove her cover-up.

“Amara,” Liam said, and she glanced at him. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

Liam snorted. “No, you’re not.” She dropped his gaze and bit her lip self-consciously. “Hey, look at me,” he whispered, but she shook her head. “Look at me.” She hesitated another moment before glancing up. “Don’t pay them any mind. It’s just you and me here, ok? Just us.”

Amara held his gaze. He knew exactly what was running through her mind without her having to say a word. And she felt the sincerity behind his words from the way he looked at her. But she needed to defuse the situation before her stupid heart took any of it to mean something more than it really did. “And Soph,” she quipped.

“Yes,” Liam shook his head with a small smile. “But you know what I meant.” With Sophia occupied with filling her bucket full of sand one small scoop at a time, he laid on his back, tucking his arms under his head as he closed his eyes. “Take off the damn cover-up and enjoy yourself.”

Liam heard her let out a quiet chuckle, and after another beat of silence, he could hear the quiet shift of the fabric against her skin. He opened one eye and inconspicuously slid it in her direction; his chest tightened at the sight of her body in the navy blue bikini before he quickly snapped the eye shut.

****

That night, Liam and Amara put Sophia to bed inside her room in the north wing. They’d spent the entire day at the beach, playing in the water and lounging on the shore. Once they returned to the palace, she’d taken a bath, and barely made it through dinner before she passed out in Liam’s arms.

The press had watched them the entire day, but Amara took Liam’s advice and ignored them as best as she could. She knew she had to come to terms with the fact that they were going to write what they wanted and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it except suck it up and deal with it.

They quietly shut Sophia’s door behind them before creeping down the hall, stopping in front of the living area. “She racked out,” Liam quietly chuckled.

Amara smiled as she leaned against the entryway, crossing her arms and tucking her hands beneath them. “She had fun today.”

“Minus the evil wave,” Liam quietly laughed.

Amara jutted her lip out in a pout before bowing her head and covering her mouth with her hand to contain her laugh at the memory of the wave that washed away the sandcastle they’d helped Sophia build. She was not happy, and her extreme meltdown over the loss was when they knew it was probably time to pack it up and leave.

“I thought she was going to try and kick that wave’s ass,” Liam chuckled.

Amara snorted against her palm before looking back up at him, and when she did, a strand of her hair caught on her eyelashes. Instinctively, Liam reached up to brush it away.

The air suddenly felt very thick as they stared at each other and both their smiles slowly faded.

Snapping from his momentary daze, Liam quickly dropped his hand. “Uh … sorry. You had — your hair, I mean … it was …” He trailed off and blew out a breath.

Amara continued to stare at him, feeling a bit bemused as her heart and mind argued over what just happened and what it meant. Nothing, she told herself. It was nothing. “Yeah … uh, thanks.”

“Well … I should probably …” Liam gestured over his shoulder to the door. “I have sand in places where there shouldn’t be sand and need to shower,” he chuckled, earning a laugh from her. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll let you know when she’s up so we can meet for breakfast.”

“Sounds good.”

Liam leaned down and kissed her cheek, letting it linger a heartbeat longer than normal before he drew back; he met her gaze for a split second before he turned and opened the door, quickly disappearing into the hall.

*******

Sitting inside his study, Liam read over an article from Trend magazine, detailing his and Amara’s outing over the past weekend in Applewood; he was needed there to go over a proposal to expand the orchids and invited Amara to bring Sophia. The article had several photos printed beside it, each one from a distance; a few of him and Sophia as they walked through the orchids, some of just her, and a few of the three of them together.

It had been nearly a month since that first outing at the beach, and the many they had after seemed to be doing the job they were intended to do. Most of the press — Trend being one — had done exactly what Daniel had said and followed his lead, looking beyond the past and focusing on the here and now. A few remained skeptical, however, questioning Amara’s motives for remaining in Cordonia and her intentions going forward. They didn’t know that she’d already decided to stay because he had yet to make a public statement. He knew he would need to make one soon, though; he’d spoken to Daniel, who told him the next step would be for the people to hear directly from him since they hadn’t at all since Sophia’s existence had been made public nearly two months ago.

Liam was happy to know that things with the press were starting to settle down. What wasn’t settling down were his feelings for Amara. Each night after they would put Sophia to bed, the length of time they lingered behind got longer. They went from a few moments of simple conversation to now talking over drinks or a late-night snack about their day and making plans for the next. They had gotten closer and had fallen back into a place where things didn’t feel so tense.

It was comfortable.

It was familiar.

Every day they spent together chipped away at those reservations Liam had and drew out his feelings even more. And every day he came closer and closer to throwing caution to the wind and taking that leap.

Hearing a knock on his study door, Liam called for them to enter; when it opened, he lifted his gaze from the magazine article just as Amara stepped inside with Sophia.

“Dada!”

“Hi, little love,” Liam grinned as he stood and walked around his desk; he crouched down as she toddled toward him and he scooped her into his arms, smothering a mix of playful kisses and raspberries against her cheeks as she giggled.

“Hope we’re not interrupting anything,” Amara said.

Liam situated Sophia on his hip. “Not at all,” he replied before leaning forward to kiss her cheek; his hand brushed down the length of her arm as he drew back. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wanted to come talk to you.”

“About?”

“I’m going to have to make a trip to New York.”

Liam looked at her. “Oh?”

“My lease is up at the end of the month,” Amara explained. “I’ve been putting it off, hoping to have found a place beforehand, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

Despite the surprise her words gave him, Liam kept his expression impassive. “I hadn’t realized you’d been looking.”

“Well, I haven’t … not really, I mean. I’ve perused some listings, but I’m still weighing my options between renting or buying and haven’t made a decision yet. But I can’t put off packing up my apartment any longer since I only have a couple of weeks. And I’ll have to clear out my office space as well.”

Liam nodded. “Ok. Are you thinking this weekend, or …?”

“I wanted to check with you first,” Amara said. “I didn’t know if you had anything going on, and I figured you’d want Soph to stay here with you.”

Liam thought for a moment as he glanced at Sophia; he scrunched his nose with a smile when she offered him one of her toothy grins. “How about we go together?”

Amara’s brows rose in surprise. “You … you want to go?”

“Sure,” Liam shrugged as he looked back at her. “Let Imogen know, and we can leave Friday and take the weekend … get it all done in one shot so you don’t have to worry about going back for anything. There’s plenty of room on the jet to store whatever you need to bring back with you.”

Amara stared at him for a moment. “If you’re sure …”

“I am,” Liam smiled. “I’ll have Bastien make arrangements.”

*******

A few mornings later, the SUV pulled up on the tarmac, stopping alongside the waiting jet. Liam glanced out the window at the press that were huddled together on the other side of a barrier.

“How did they know we would be here?” Amara asked.

Liam sighed with a shrug. “They always manage to find things out one way or another.” He looked over to where she sat on the other side of Sophia’s car seat. “Get her on the jet. I’ll handle them.”

Amara nodded and unbuckled Sophia’s straps before lifting her out of the seat. A guard opened the door and she and Imogen slid out; she ignored the volley of shouted questions from the press as she carried Sophia up the stairs and disappeared inside the jet.

“Sir?” Bastien said from the driver’s seat.

Liam looked up, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror as the other two guards took their luggage and Sophia’s car seat to the jet. “I’ll talk to them.”

Bastien nodded before getting out and opening Liam’s door. When the King came into view, the press shouted at him; he was a picture of calm as he buttoned his suit jacket and made his way toward the crowd.

“King Liam, where are you headed?” Donnie Brine from the CBC asked as Liam neared.

“I’ll be in New York for a few days,” Liam answered.

Another slew of shouted questions ensued, and they were all asking the same thing in various ways: is Amara leaving with Sophia? Thinking back on his several conversations with Daniel over the past couple of weeks, and knowing he could use this as an opportunity to put any more doubts about her intentions to rest, he decided to be transparent.

Liam held up his hand to quiet them, and once he had their attention, he cleared his throat. “We’re headed to New York for the weekend to pack up Ms. Onasis’ belongings as she will be staying in Cordonia permanently so that I may continue to maintain a relationship with our daughter.”

More questions were immediately volleyed, but one in particular had caught his attention.

“Are you concerned she’ll try to leave again with the princess?”

Liam sighed, knowing they were referring to what was mentioned in Daniel’s statement. “The circumstances surrounding Ms. Onasis trying to leave in the past were entirely different.”

“Can you elaborate?” a reporter asked, holding their recorder out in front of him.

Transparency, he reminded himself. “Ms. Onasis had been spooked by the betrothal aspect of the alliance that Auvernal had been pushing for. When she learned of the blackmail threat, she became frightened of what that meant for our daughter, and in a moment of panic, yes, she tried to leave. But as a mother, she was trying to protect her child … and that’s not something I can or will fault her for. As for the move … she’s uprooting her entire life to ensure that the princess and I stay together, and I’m extremely grateful that she’s so willing to do that.”

The reporters stared at Liam in a bout of awed silence, and a heartbeat later, they were shouting more questions.

“Will they be staying with you at the palace?”

“What’s the status of your relationship with Ms. Onasis?”

“Are you rekindling your romance?”

They’d changed their tune so fast, it gave Liam whiplash. He let out a breath, feeling a bit lighter, but decided he wasn’t answering any more questions. He didn’t really have the answers at the moment anyway. He threw his hand up in a wave before turning and heading towards the jet.

****

After the long flight and traffic-jammed ride from the airport, Liam and Amara arrived at their hotel in New York that afternoon; they’d planned to arrive early enough to leave them time for Sophia to hopefully nap off the jet lag.

Once Sophia was asleep in the guest room of the suite, Liam sent Imogen to her own room that was situated across the hall to rest. He plopped onto the sofa in the living area while Amara stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the view.

“Have you missed it?” Liam asked.

Amara shrugged. “Certain things, like pizza and breakfast bagels, yes,” she chuckled. “But other than that … not particularly, no.”

Liam stood and came next to her. “Where’s your apartment from here?”

“About 15 minutes that way,” Amara pointed. “It’s in Tribeca.” They were at the Millennium in lower Manhattan. “And my office is only a block from there.”

“Have you made any decisions regarding your company and what you plan to do?”

“Not yet,” Amara shook her head. “We’re on a bit of a pause at the moment until I figure things out. Daniel hasn’t decided whether he’s staying yet, but with both Riley and I now there and him not having anything tying him down here …” She shrugged. “But I could still run the company from there and set up an office … or I could sell it …”

“You’d really consider selling it?”

“If that’s what needs to be done … yes,” Amara answered. And I know a couple of competitors that would probably be more than willing to take it off my hands.”

Liam leaned against the window frame as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You seem pretty content for someone giving up so much of themself on a whim.”

Amara looked back out the window. “I wouldn’t say it’s on a whim.”

Liam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean …” Amara paused, taking in a breath and slowly letting it out. “I mean that all of this was stuff I’ve thought about from the moment I found out I was pregnant.” She tucked her hands beneath her arms as she fought against the urge to look at him. “I always thought about the what-ifs … and I planned out all these different scenarios in my head for the day I finally drummed up enough courage to … to tell you. And in all of those scenarios, the outcome was the same … I was leaving New York, and either running the company from where I was or selling it. Now that I think about it … it was never really a what-if, but more of a when.”

Liam remained silent for a moment before speaking. “I just … I don’t want this move to be something you come to regret later on.”

“It’s for you and Sophia.” Amara looked up at him again. “I would never regret it.”

Liam stared at her, not having realized until that moment how close they’d shifted to one another, and he saw the moment she realized it, too. Her gaze was both hesitant and questioning, but then she looked away from him and took a step back.

“Um … I think I’m going to nap while Sophia is.”

“Yeah.” Liam cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh … I’m actually not that tired, so I can listen for her if you want to go lay down in the master.” He’d already offered for her to take the bigger of the two rooms.

“Ok,” Amara nodded.

Liam watched Amara turn and heard her let out a breath as she disappeared inside the room.

*******

The following morning, Liam and Amara headed over to her apartment while Imogen stayed with Sophia at the hotel. Liam had arranged for a moving company to meet them there to take the boxes she would be bringing back and load them on the jet. From what she’d told him, most of it would consist of her and Sophia’s clothes. Anything she didn’t need, she planned to throw out or donate.

When they pulled up outside of the tall brick building, Liam slid out before turning to help Amara out. They greeted the staff of the moving company that was already there waiting before heading inside.

After riding the elevator up to the seventh floor, they stepped out, and Liam followed Amara down the hall. She paused in front of a door and unlocked it, and when she pushed it open and stepped inside, he followed.

Liam glanced around as he moved further inside. He’d never seen her apartment, but it was exactly what he pictured her having. Casual with a touch of modern sophistication. “This is nice.”

Amara looked around fondly; she’d always loved her apartment. “Thanks.”

“Where should we start, Miss?” a voice spoke from the doorway.

Amara turned to the movers lingering in the hall. “Uh …” She glanced around. “Living room and kitchen.” She then looked at Liam. “We can get started on Sophia’s room and then mine.”

“Lead the way,” Liam gestured.

****

Within a couple of hours, most of the apartment had been boxed up. While the movers carried boxes from the kitchen, living room, and Sophia’s room down to the truck, Liam and Amara finished up in her room.

“I’m going to take this out,” Amara said when she finished taping the last box of her shoes shut.

Liam nodded. “I’ll bring the nightstand out for you.”

“Thank you,” Amara replied before pushing the box out the door and down the hall.

Turning to the nightstand next to the bed, Liam reached down and hooked his fingers under the lip of the top. He lifted it, and when he realized it was heavier than he anticipated, he tilted it to adjust his hold; the movement caused the drawer to slide out of it and crash to the floor.

“Shit.”

Liam set the nightstand back down before kneeling to pick up the contents from the drawer now scattered on the floor. As he scooped up the items, something caught his eye, and he froze as he stared at it. A photo. He reached down and grabbed it, bringing it closer, only to notice another beneath it. And they weren’t just any photos, but ones of him and Amara. He remembered the night the one he held in his hand was taken. They were watching a movie in his quarters and were on the sofa; she was resting back against his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her and his face was playfully nuzzling her neck with a grin as she smiled. He picked up the other from the floor. It was of them in the maze; she was on his back with her arms looped around his neck, both of them laughing.

At that moment, at the sight of those photos, at the realization that she’d kept them all this time, Liam felt the last of the reservations he’d been holding onto crumble. He wanted to be the two people in those photos again.

Two people who could make each other laugh and smile.

Two people who were better when they were together.

Two people who were happy and in love.

“Liam?” Amara’s voice carried down the hall.

Liam snapped from his daze and cleared his throat. “Coming.” He placed the rest of the items back in the drawer but slipped the photos into his back pocket before standing and carrying the nightstand out.

****

That night, Amara stood out on the balcony of the hotel suite while Liam put Sophia into bed. She stared out at the view of the city she’d called home all her life, but she couldn’t say she’d miss it all that much.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Liam said behind her.

Amara glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes followed him as he came to stand beside her. “Nothing,” she said, “just … taking in the view. Did she go down ok?”

“Yeah,” Liam nodded as he leaned against the railing. “Out like a light.” He glanced out at the view, staying quiet for a moment before looking over at her. “Are you going to miss it?”

“No … not really,” Amara answered. “I think … I think I’m ready to start over somewhere else.”

Liam stared at her for a moment before taking her answer for the opening it was. “Speaking of starting over …” He stood upright and reached back, pulling the two photos from his back pocket. “When we were packing … these fell out of your nightstand drawer.”

Amara focused on the photos in his hand, fighting against looking at him as she blinked away the sting in her eyes. “Yeah …”

“I didn’t realize you had them.”

“I …” Amara let out a soft breath and cast her gaze to the ground.

Liam’s thumb slid under her chin and he lifted her eyes to his. “No more secrets.”

Amara swallowed. “I would look at them … in hopes I could convince myself to reach out to you … to tell you about Sophia.” She fell quiet for a moment before speaking again, her next words coming out just above a whisper. “And on days when I missed you … which was all the time … I’d look at them to remind myself of what it felt like to be whole … because that’s what being with you made me feel. Whole and complete … and happy.”

Liam searched her eyes for a moment, and in the next, he leaned down, capturing her lips in his. Amara stiffened in surprise, needing to rest her hands against his chest to keep herself upright, but when his arm curled around her waist and pulled her closer, she went more than willingly. When her lips parted against his, she felt his tongue softly curl against hers, so slowly at first it was as if he were trying to savor the moment, but then he deepened the kiss, and she gripped his shirt to steady herself.

Forcing himself not to get too caught up, Liam drew back. It took her a moment to open her eyes, and they stared at each other in silence for a few heartbeats before she looked away from him. He could see the self-consciousness fill her expression and realized it was because she determined that he must have thought what just happened was a mistake … but she was wrong.

“I want to go back to being the two people in these photos. I want this again.” Liam held up the pictures. When she looked at him again, he saw the surprise in her eyes, like she couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I want this … I want us. But I want to slow down because I want us to be sure when we go in, if not for our sakes, then for Sophia’s.”

At his words, a tear trickled down Amara’s cheek, and he reached up, brushing it away with his thumb. “I didn’t think … after what I’d done—”

“When I told you I was leaving the past in the past, I meant it, Amara,” Liam interrupted. “I just need to know if you want the same … that you’re willing to try.”

Amara took in a shuddered breath as her tear-filled eyes searched his. And then she nodded. “I want the same,” she whispered.

Liam dropped his hand from her face and curled his fingers around hers. “Then we take it day by day once we get back home … and we’ll see how things go.”

***************************************

#the royal romance #trr #choices trr #choices the royal romance #liam rys #king liam rys #king liam #trr liam #liam x oc #trr liam x oc #choices liam x oc #king liam x oc #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #trr fan fic #trr au #trr au fanfic #cfwc fics of the week

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tessa-liam · 1 month

Text

Turning the Page

A Step Back in Time, chapter 11

Choices, The Royal Romance, AU

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son.

Turning the Page Series Masterlist

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who belongs to this series.

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match.

Rating: M🔞 - Warnings - Series will contain crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors.

Words: 3268

A Step Back in Time, Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: Liam, Riley and William arrive for a weeklong retreat in Lythikos. Olivia takes Riley ‘under her wing’ to mentor and to offer advice for her return to court. Olivia was determined to get her friend into the right frame of mind and to ultimately get the sparkle back in her eyes.

Music Inspiration: What Was I Made for? Billie Eilish ; Lose Control, Teddy Swims

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’)

‘Cause I, ‘cause I

I don’t know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don’t know how to feel

But someday I might

Someday I might

Think I forgot how to be happy

Something I’m not, but something I can be

Something I wait for

Something I’m made for

Something I’m made for’

Cordonian Royal Palace, Capital

If you told Riley Brooks that she would be living in Cordonia, in the Royal palace, with the King of Cordonia just last summer ... she would not believe you. She would tell you that ‘once upon a time’, she fell in love with that King and competed for his hand in marriage in his social season. By reason of the cruelty of fate, and the callousness of the Royal court, that dream would be ripped away from her by a world that was foreign to her. Where outsiders, or commoners, were frowned upon and/or deemed lesser than the noble class. She would be relegated to be the other woman, the mistress to that immensely powerful man whose duty to his country dictated that he must marry a ‘chosen’ woman, even though he did not love her.

...and she had to watch that man she loved, marry another.

...because she loved him, she remained. Confiding to him, ‘I’ve made my decision ... I want to be with you. I don’t care what it looks like.’

...and it broke her.

In the Royal east wing, inside William’s bedroom, Riley meticulously packed his clothing into a large suitcase. Carefully selecting each item with love and care for their winter vacation in the Alps of Lythikos, she folded his small woolen sweaters with matching pants and jeans. Soft mittens and a woolen cap were nestled next to his favorite plushie, Scooby; ready to go with him on his snowy adventures.

"Li Li, sweetheart, come here please," Riley called out, her voice echoing through the spacious room. William bounded towards her; his eyes wide as he watched his mother pack his belongings.

"We go away, Mama?" William asked, his voice filled with wonder.

"Yes, my sweet boy," Riley replied with a smile, scooping him up into her arms and placing him down on his bed. "We're going to the mountains with your father to visit a good friend of ours. It's going to be so much fun."

William's eyes sparkled with delight at the mention of his father. In the five short months since he met his father for the first time, the bond between father and son had grown stronger exponentially. William adored Liam, who always had time for his son's playful antics in New York and now, here in Cordonia, as well. Despite his Royal duties, Liam made the point to spend as much time with William as possible. Riley was not surprised. Liam often spoke about what kind of father he wanted himself to be. The exact opposite of his own father. She could tell that Liam was trying his best to make up for all the time they had lost. And she could not be happier.

Riley continued to pack, tucking away William's favorite books and toys to keep him entertained during their trip in Lythikos. She had already arranged for snacks with the kitchens, ensuring they would have everything they needed for the long drive to the northern chateau.

Riley looked up, catching Liam's gaze.

Liam stood and silently watched, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. A gentle smile played on his lips as he watched Riley packing their son's belongings for their trip, while William happily tried to help his mother.

"Come, my King," Riley softly spoke and smiled with a playful glint in her eyes. "Help me double-check if we have everything for our little adventurer."

Liam pushed himself away from the doorframe and strolled over to Riley; he crouched down beside William, who was wide-eyed with anticipation.

“Daddy, look.” William pointed to the large suitcase, smiling happily at his father.

"Hello, my little prince," Liam greeted, ruffling William's hair. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

William giggled and nodded his head vigorously, his eyes reflecting the admiration and adoration he held for his father. Liam chuckled, “I see you have lots of toys packed.”

William climbed over to the suitcase and plucked his favorite plush to show his father.

“Ah, I see you packed your little dog. Is he your special friend?”

“Yes, Daddy. I love puppies.” William grinned, squeezing his toy.

“You do? That is good to know,” Liam winked at Riley as William returned his toy to be packed.

“I will meet you two in an hour. All right, love?” Liam asked Riley.

“Okay, Daddy,” William answered as Liam and Riley chuckled together at his response.

As Liam left to go to his study, Damien entered, bowing to Liam, “Your Majesty”.

Liam smiled and nodded 'hello' in response as he walked towards his assistant waiting in the hall followed by his security detail.

Nevrakis Chateau, Lythikos, Cordonia

Driving through the majestic mountains, Riley stared at the vista overlooking the Nevrakis chateau. Memories flooded her mind as they passed the frozen lake below. The lake where she, along with the other suitors skated on, with Liam during his social season years ago.

Riley shivered. Was it from seeing the beautiful winter landscape or from those memories of past competitions for the man she loved? Riley’s thoughts were interrupted by the happy sound of her son’s voice.

William giggled; totally enthralled by Liam’s storytelling of his past adventures in the snow. The sight of father and son was precious to Riley, as she softly smiled at the two of them. William was sitting on Liam’s lap as he pointed to the large chateau coming into view ahead.

The escalade stopped at the grand entrance of the Nevrakis chateau as members of the royal guard went into formation and opened the vehicle doors.

As they made their way toward the entrance, a flurry of snowflakes fell from the sky, adding a layer of white powder to the ground.

"Wow, this is beautiful.” Riley raised her arms to the sky. “I remember my first visit here during your social season.”

"It is. If I remember correctly, it was just as cold." Liam quipped adjusting William’s scarf.

Members of Olivia’s waitstaff greeted the party as they entered the lavish and grand estate. Standing at the base of the grand staircase, Olivia grinned as William squealed at the pair of Alaskan malamutes sitting inside the foyer.

“King Liam, Lady Riley and Prince William ... welcome to my quaint northern lodge. I am delighted to host the three of you.”

Liam approached Olivia and kissed her cheek, then gestured to Riley and William to join them.

"Olivia, it's been far too long since I last visited. The grounds are magnificent.”

"Indeed, thank you, Liam.” Olivia beamed with pride.

"Thank you for hosting us. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.” Riley added.

"Anything for my dear friends."

Olivia's attention was drawn to William, who was petting the dogs and giggling.

"Well, hello again, prince William." Olivia walked over and knelt beside and offered treats to her two canine companions.

William looked up at her and smiled.

"Hewwo."

"He's even cuter than I remember," Olivia grinned. “This one,” she motioned to the brown tipped dog, is ‘Mischa’. And this big guy is ‘Zeus’, "she cooed.

"Now, Riley." Olivia stood and walked forward slowly, looping her arm through Riley's arm and leading her inside. "We have lots to catch up on. Liam, make yourself at home. Your Royal suite is ready for you. Gustav will be your personal attendant for your stay."

"Thank you, Liv. That is much appreciated."

"You are quite welcome. Now, Riley, let us get started on our girl time.” Liam winked at Riley, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled at Riley’s faux scared expression.

"Okay, sounds good." Riley shook her head grinning as she walked by Liam.

Olivia and Riley climbed the grand staircase and disappeared around a corner while William sat on the floor playing with the dogs.

"William, let's get you changed and settled." Liam extended his hand down for his son to take.

"Okay, Daddy."

“Bye bye puppies.” William exuberantly spoke to the large dogs.

***

Riley and Olivia sat on a plush sofa in front of a large window overlooking the mountains. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the snowy landscape.

"It's so beautiful here." Riley marveled at the picturesque view.

"I'm glad you like it.” Olivia proudly acknowledged as she handed a large glass filled with chardonnay to Riley.

Olivia sat back and watched Riley; her expression turning serious.

"Riley, I know that things have been difficult for you since you've come back, but you have to remember, you're a force of nature. You are stronger than you think.” Olivia was continuing the conversation of their last visit at the palace.

Riley looked down at her hands, which held onto the wine glass with a death grip. She knew the invitation to spend the week in Olivia's duchy was not just a holiday for her, Liam and William. Her once adversarial friend, and now, her good friend, wanted to assist her with reuniting with Liam.

"I can see the pain and sadness in your eyes." Olivia continued.

"Oh... "

"How is it really going? Riley, how is everything between you and Liam?"

Riley sighed and set her wine glass on the table.

"I'm...I'm not sure."

"Do you still love him?"

"Yes, of course. I have never stopped loving him.”

"Do you think he loves you?"

"Yes.” There was a small smile followed by biting her top lip.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I'm not sure."

Olivia shook her head and sighed.

"You have to trust him, Riley. He loves you. And I can see how happy William makes him.”

"I know that.”

"But there's something else, isn't there?" Olivia eyed her friend for clues.

"It's just that... we've spent so much time apart. And now that we are back together, things feel different.”

"I think I understand. That is quite normal, all things considered."

"And I'm worried that he'll eventually resent me for leaving him while I was pregnant with William."

"He could never resent you, Riley. You are the mother of his child. It'# not in his DNA.”

“I keep thinking that that there will be another scandal around the corner. That something or someone will tear us apart.”

"What happened to that confident and free spirited American girl? The one who turned the court on its' head. Where did she go?"

"I know what you are asking. I feel scared; waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

"Scared of what? And why?"

"That he won't forgive me."

"Riley, listen to me. That is your guilt talking.”

Olivia reached over and grabbed Riley's hands, looking her in the eye.

"Liam loves you. He will always love you. You and William are his world. And I know that he wants nothing more than to make you happy.”

"But..."

"But, nothing. There is no 'but'.”

"Okay." Riley was not convinced. "But, Madeleine ..."

"Is out of the picture; where Liam is concerned. You have the power of position now, make Madeleine feel it."

Riley looked at her friend and took a staggered breath.

"Most importantly, you hold the King’s heart...show the world, show Cordonia, show Madeleine what that means...you will bring her to her knees." Olivia sneered.

"This is why I wanted you to come for a visit. To remind you of who you are and what you are capable of.”

“Olivia ...” Riley sighed, shaking her head, ‘no’.

"Now. Come with me."

Olivia stood and motioned for Riley to follow.

Olivia took her down to an armory in the bowels of the chateau.

"Here we are." Olivia turned and motioned to a wall of weapons.

"What are we doing down here?" Riley asked, eyeing the collection of weapons displayed on the wall.

"We're going to do some training.”

"Training? For what?" Riley questioned, perplexed.

"For the press."

"Why do I need training for the press? With weapons?"

"Because they're vultures. They will try to get a rise out of you. They will ask rude and invasive questions. They will try to trip you up.”

"But why do you think I need training? I know you haven’t forgotten that I was subjected to them during Liam’s social season."

"Because they're relentless idiots.” Olivia sneered.

"Okay, but ...”

“Now that you are back in Cordonia, the mother of the crown prince, no less ...they want to find out your intentions with their king.”

Riley took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

"Don't worry. I'm going to teach you how to handle them.” Olivia confidently proclaimed with a smirk.

"Thank you, Olivia.” Riley sighed as she eyed the collection of pointy weaponry again.

"Of course. Now, let us get started.”

Riley was grateful for Olivia's help and advice. She knew that she was right about the press, having dealt with them through the engagement tour, after the scandal was brought to light.

Riley didn't have to know that. At least, not yet.

And she knew that she needed to be prepared. Riley understood the extent to which the press would dig and manipulate information to get a juicy soundbite. But she was not aware that Madeleine would have her own agenda to discredit and sabotage her at every chance she got, all the way from Morocco. However, Olivia was well aware of Madeleine’s spite and her bitterness over losing the crown.

"First off. I want you to choose a weapon." Olivia pointed to her collection of weaponry mounted on the wall.

"A weapon?" Riley’s eyes were wide looking at the selection before her.

"Yes. You cannot fight the press with words alone.”

"Um...okay." Riley answered sceptically.

Riley looked at each weapon closely. There were swords, halberds, axes and daggers, among others.

She picked up a sword.

"Hmm...a sword? Interesting choice."

"It's light and I can move fast.”

"Good. Particularly good.” Olivia nodded approvingly. “That would be a weapon that Liam would choose.”

“Really?” Riley admonished.

"Now, we'll practice some moves.”

"Moves?"

"Yes. Maneuvers. Stances. Blocking and parrying.”

"Wow. This is serious.”

"Indeed. I'll start slow, but don't let your guard down.”

"I won't.” Riley responded warily.

"Good. Now, attack me."

"What?" Riley looked aghast.

"Attack me."

"Oh, um ... okay."

Riley raised the sword and ran at Olivia, who easily dodged the blow.

"Is that the best you've got?"

"No.”

Riley lunged at her again, and again, Olivia sidestepped each attack.

"You're leaving yourself open.” Olivia challenged.

"I am?"

"Yes. If this was a real fight, I would have cut you down by now." Olivia chirped.

"Oh.” Riley let out a large breath, wondering to herself how this lesson was going to end.

"Here. Let me show you."

Olivia demonstrated a series of moves, her sword flashing and swooshing in the air.

"Now, you try.”

Riley imitated the movements, her sword swishing through the air.

"Better.” Olivia critiqued.

"Thanks." Riley answered questionably.

"Again.” Olivia commanded with Riley going on the defensive.

They continued to spar, their swords clashing together. Riley was impressed with Olivia's skills and ability to read her opponent and react accordingly.

As they continued to fight, Riley became more comfortable with the sword, her moves becoming more fluid and graceful. Liam slipped into the back of the room, quietly watching the sparring.

"Excellent.” Olivia praised.

"Thanks.” Riley smiled at the compliment, picking up a bottle of water.

"Now we need a target." Olivia led her to a stuffed, practice dummy.

Riley chuckled as she watched her friend attach a large face photo of Madeleine onto the head with a dagger.

"Here, let me help you." Olivia handed her an assortment of knives, before she expertly threw her dagger.

Riley's first few throws landed wide, but she quickly found her mark, sinking several blades into the center of the picture.

"Nicely done.”

"Thanks."

"Feel better?" Olivia snickered as Riley laughed.

“Yes! Yes, actually I do. But I don't understand. How is this going to help me?”

"When the press asks you questions, you need to stay calm and confident. If they try to rattle you, throw them off balance. Focus on your target.” Olivia pointed to the picture.

"Let's practice."

"All right."

"Imagine I'm a member of the press. And I ask you, 'Lady Riley, where have you been all these years?'"

Riley cleared her throat and straightened her posture.

"I've been raising my son in New York. It's where he was born and raised.”

"Why did you leave Cordonia?"

"I left to protect my child. And because I knew that King Liam had an obligation to the Queen.”

"What are your intentions now that you've returned?”

"I'm here to support my son and to be a part of his life.”

"Do you still love the King?”

"Yes, of course."

“No! STOP!!!”

Olivia moved assertively towards Riley. "This is where you say, 'that's all the questions for today’ and then you walk away from the microphones. Show confidence. Show determination. Show stoicism. Control the narrative.”

Riley raised her eyebrow. "How did you get so good at this, Olivia?"

Olivia shrugged, her shoulders rising slightly. "I'm the duchess of Lythikos. People talk. And sometimes they don't realize I'm listening."

Riley nodded, a new respect for Olivia blossoming in her heart with a renewed sense of determination in her step.

Feeling his arms, Riley giggled and leaned back against him with a content smile.

Liam sauntered up to Riley from behind, wrapping his arms around Riley’s waist.

Riley turned around to look at Liam, her eyes filled with love.

“The Royal guard will then lead you away from the gathering,” Liam interjected. “You will never be left without protection.”

"Thank you, Liam.” Riley tearfully smiled.

"I want you to know that while I am alive, you will always have a home in Cordonia. And I will never let anyone threaten that ... or you ... ever again.”

Riley felt a warm feeling in her chest and a sense of calm.

Maybe everything was going to be all right, after all. As long as she had Liam and William, she knew she could face anything.

"Liam, I love you."

"I love you, too, Riley."

Liam pressed his lips to hers, and Riley melted into his embrace. They kissed for a long moment, savoring the feel of each other's bodies.

"Come, let's go get some sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

"I'm ready.*

"Pleasant dreams you two. Good night."

"Olivia, thank you for your expertise. It is much appreciated.

"Your welcome, Liam. It's my pleasure."

Good night." Riley called out.

Riley followed Liam out of the room, her hand firmly grasped in his.

And for the first time since she had come back to Cordonia, she truly felt like she was home.

"Thank you, Olivia," she whispered as she lay in Liam's arms, his steady heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

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karahalloway · 24 days

Text

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 (Coming Soon!)

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

At the bridal boutique: Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Out and About Par ici - This way

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Por mi amore?* - For my love? *This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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kristinamae093 · 8 months

Text

Ghosted

Ghosted - Always Watching (Chapter 8)

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

The morning after the discovery of the maid’s body, Liam sat with Olivia, Drake, and Maxwell inside the study at the Applewood estate. Liam canceled the barn raising scheduled for the day early that morning. He told the press it was because of inclement weather, which was not necessarily a lie, although it wasn’t the entire truth.

Liam realized they could not keep the murder under wraps forever. Only a few people knew the real reason for the cancellation, including those in the safe room, Drake, Olivia, Maxwell, and the guards. He planned to keep it that way until they knew who was responsible, and then he would happily release that information to the public. He visited with Rhonda’s family briefly and told her husband they would receive a stipend from the crown, as well as college funds for her children.

They all believed that the incidents shared a relation; the only steady lead they had regarding Riley wound up dead days later, and that was no coincidence for anyone. Olivia explained to Liam in great detail her observations at the crime scene; after hearing her retelling, he too believed the area was staged, but he couldn’t make too many conclusions until Bastien presented him with the evidence.

The bloodied dress put a sense of urgency on things, but the murder really made everything more critical. Whoever was behind this was clearly not playing a game and didn’t want their plan to be uncovered. He was growing restless, not knowing the extent to which this treachery ran.

It appalled him that all of this happened right under his nose. The doubts about the narrative against Riley were always there, but this runs deeper than just wanting a particular woman to sit on the throne as Queen. Whoever orchestrated all of this was an enemy of the Crown, and Liam was determined to rid that negativity of his court.

Another part of his impatience was purely the need to see with his own eyes that Riley was safe. The guilt he felt for turning his back on her crept up on him at random times throughout the day, but he was trying to push that aside and focus on locating her at any cost. He hoped that whoever was responsible hadn’t been able to locate her either; he prayed with everything in him that after she arrived in New York, she found a safe place to retreat, far away from the turmoil that was unraveling around him.

“OH! What about this one?” Maxwell exclaimed, as he sat next to Drake and scrolled through an online catalog of outfits for an upcoming gala.

Drake rolled his eyes. “Please stop showing me this crap. S’long as you wear something, I don’t really give a shit what you show up in.”

“What are you going to wear?”

“Clothes, most likely.”

“Clothes, most likely.” Maxwell mocked under his breath.

“What was that?” Drake snapped.

“Nothing! Oh, this has a matching one! Look! Ohmygosh we could match! Twins!” Maxwell exclaimed as he once again shoved his phone in Drake’s face.

Drake grimaced at the sight before him. It was a set of bright blue ocean wave suits, complete with a bright orange squid bow tie. “God, no. Not even if you paid me.” He replied as he shook his head.

“Oh, come on, Walker. You can be a sea creature instead of one who drags his knuckles on the ground.” Olivia added with a smirk.

Drake flipped her off. “Fuck. You.”

Olivia snickered. “I’d rather take a lava bath, but thanks.”

“I’ll see if Bertrand will match me,” Maxwell said with a mischievous grin.

“Good luck with that, Beaumont,” Drake answered.

“It could go better than you think, honestly. He’s been super nice to me ever since we told him about all this stuff with Riley. I miiiiight be able to get him to do it.”

“I’m taking pictures if it happens, hands down,” Drake chuckled.

Olivia subtly rolled her eyes. “Stay away from me, regardless of what you wear. You too, Walker.”

“Way ahead of you there, Ice Duchess.”

Liam stayed quiet; although he still held rage with Bertrand and his tasteless actions, he hadn’t given his status as Duke much thought. Although it had not left his mind, for now, especially for Maxwell’s sake, he was keeping his inner thoughts to himself.

A knock interrupted them from their uplifted moment. Liam stood and granted them entrance, and Bastien appeared with a bow. “Your Majesty, I was hoping to give you an update on the homicide.”

“Of course.”

“We have no clear suspects. However, we discovered a murder weapon.”

Olivia’s ears perked up from her seat, and Liam’s eyes widened. “You did?”

“Yes, sir. We found it in the woods near the area, and I sent it off for analysis. It was a black knife with gold trimmings; I believe it to be the same one used in the earlier ceremony that night.” Bastien held out a folder to Liam, who accepted it and started looking through it immediately.

The picture at the start revealed the murder weapon, which was the same knife used to cut the apple with Madeleine, but covered in blood from the tip to the hilt. He flipped further and felt his stomach churn at the images of the crime scene. The first few photos were of the maid’s face and he could recognize her, but barely. As he proceeded, he suddenly pulled the file away from his face with a grimace as he saw the cause of death photographed.

“I apologize, sir. I should have given you a warning beforehand.”

Liam swallowed thickly and with a deep breath resumed, but a tad more prepared for the sight this time. “My God…” He gasped. “What – How – I –” He stammered before closing his mouth with a shake of his head.

“We still don’t know a lot, sir, as it’s still the early stages of investigating. But we are working around the clock to ensure we receive a solution promptly. Obviously, we’re certain the cause of death was the wound in the jugular, however, we have sent the body for analysis as well. When I spoke with the other staff, they recalled seeing her earlier in the day, but her whereabouts past three p.m. are unknown.”

“Is that everything?”

“For now, yes. I will let you know something else as soon as I know.”

Liam resumed his venture through the folder and furrowed his brows at some of the random items photographed as evidence; the things Olivia noted were present, as well as what appeared to be a cap for a tube of lipstick with a clear set of fingerprints. Of course, the suspect could have dropped the item, but it seemed conveniently placed within the other markers. The only thing that implied relevance was a bloodied shoe print. He could tell it was a woman’s, as the base was short and narrow, not to mention the pinpoint of a heel. However, it was still an odd discovery given that there appeared to be no other signs of blood anywhere else except on the body itself. “Bastien, are you questioning the legitimacy of this crime scene? At all? I see multiple red flags here just at first glance.”

“We found a few things out of the ordinary, but I have sent everything for analysis. I’m confident either way, the forensics will produce some kind of answer.”

Liam nodded, sufficed by his response. “Have you looked for Riley? Or Tariq?”

“I have attempted but have found no new leads. However, I am still continuing even with arrangements for the tour and the homicide investigation. I am doing everything in my power to provide you with some answers.”

“Thank you, Bastien. Just… keep me updated…” Bastien nodded and bowed before he exited. As he did, Liam stood staring blankly at the door behind him, his mind a jumbled mess of chaos that seemed to only get worse by the day.

Drake cautiously approached Liam. “You alright, man?”

Liam laughed sardonically. “No, Drake, I’m not… How am I just supposed to wait? How long is it going to take Bastien to find something?”

“I’m not sure, but what else can we do?”

Liam ran a hand down his face and let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. If I did, we’d be doing it.” He snapped, but immediately caught himself and retracted. “Sorry, Drake. I’m just…”

“Na, it’s cool. I get it. I wish there was something we could do, but… it sounds like we’re just waiting until Bastien can get those reports back.”

“Goddamnit,” Liam growled as he slammed his fist down on the desk he stood beside. “I– I can’t just sit here and wait. I need to do something now."

“Perhaps we should seek outside help,” Olivia interjected.

“What do you mean?”

“I have an acquaintance who is somewhat of a… ‘private investigator’. He’s not cheap, but he’s worth every penny. He can look into Riley and Tariq’s locations, for sure, as well as whatever else you may see fit…”

“I’m not against the idea… but how would that even work?”

“We can figure out the details later, but I have somewhat of a cover already thought of. I can easily say he’s my driver, or bodyguard, or anything, really. Who’s going to question me? Honestly?”

“Much as I hate to admit it, maybe she’s onto something, Li,” Drake interjected with a sour face. “Bas clearly has his hands full, and I know you wanna get some kind of answer.”

“See? Even the cave dweller agrees!” Olivia exclaimed, earning her a middle finger from Drake. “Plus, perhaps having another set of capable eyes around will do us some good.”

“I want to agree, I really do. It’s just… the last person to get involved with this was… well, you know. Do we really want to put someone else in danger like that?”

Olivia snickered. “It’s cute of you to worry, but he’s more than capable of defending himself.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do it, Liam! DO IT! Or I will myself!” Maxwell exclaimed.

“No offense, but how are you gonna pay him?” Drake asked.

“Perhaps he would be interested in a one-on-one interpretive dance class; we could trade one service for another.”

“Hate to break it to you, but your dance class ain’t worth shit.”

Olivia rolled her eyes but approached Liam and blocked Maxwell and Drake from view, forcing him to focus on her. Of course, her top priority was ensuring Riley’s safety, but in addition, she had her own questions regarding her blackmail. She would help Liam with anything, but this was more than merely a favor; it was personal. However, Bastien’s competency was undoubtedly questionable in Olivia’s mind. She couldn’t rule him out as a suspect, but she didn’t exactly have something concrete to tie him to anything. For the time being, she needed a second set of capable hands.

“Liam, we have to act on this now. Whoever did this is actively covering their tracks. If we don’t do something, we may never figure this out.” Olivia pleaded.

Liam swallowed thickly and kept his gaze trained on the floor. “I know…”

“So, let my associate come and assist us. If he doesn’t provide answers, I’ll pay his service fees out of pocket. But of course, I’ll be working alongside him.”

“I trust you, Olivia, I do. However, I’m worried that putting another person into the equation may end up biting us in the ass in the long run.”

“I understand, but again, he’s highly trained and knows what he’s doing. All we have to do is keep his cover intact until we can locate one of them. We can’t tip the mastermind off and give them an opportunity to bury this deeper. As long as everyone in this room keeps their mouth shut about his true purpose, we should have no issues.”

Liam looked away with a heavy sigh; although he remained hesitant to add another person to this mess, the thought of getting any kind of answer outweighed any con he could think of. And, he trusted Olivia to steer him correctly. He finally said, “Okay, do it...”

“I already did, Liam. He’ll be in the country this evening, hopefully,” Olivia smirked. “Now, we need to address the next order of business…” she trailed off as she approached the window and stared out. “Whoever did this killed that maid to send us a message; I think we need to send one back.”

Liam’s jaw fell open. “What?! Why would you think that, Olivia? We–”

Olivia held her hand up to stop him. “Let me finish; we need to send a message while doing ourselves a favor. The tour leaves for Italy in four days, but that can not happen, Liam.”

Liam furrowed his brows. “You want me to cancel the tour?”

“No, I want you to rebuild it to stay in the country. Think about it; you’re technically still going along with their plans, but perhaps throwing a wrench into them. You’re showing that you’re willing to play along for now, but you won’t back down entirely like they assume you’ll do.”

Liam shook his head. “I don’t think that’s smart, Olivia. We don’t know what they’re capable of or what lengths they’ll go to.”

“I’m aware of that, but it’s not like you’re canceling everything; you’re simply rerouting, so to speak. The results will still be the same; you’ll ‘marry Madeleine.’ How you get there shouldn’t matter.”

“Isn’t that suspicious? To suddenly keep the tour within the country?”

“It would be, but I thought ahead and I think I have a decent proposal laid out.” Olivia produced a file and handed it to Liam. “How are we going to figure this out internationally? We have to stay here…”

Liam opened the folder and saw a detailed explanation for the sudden changes, as well as a list of future events to be held within the duchies. “Wow,” He responded with wide eyes. “This – this is convincing, and you’ve practically already planned everything… When did you have time for all this?”

“Last night. I wanted to come and find you right after Walker and I left the crime scene, but I assumed my plan would get a stronger reaction if I laid it out for you. All you have to do is make the calls…”

“I think it’s a solid move, Li,” Drake interjected. “You’re standing your ground but yet still giving the appearance that you’re moving forward for the ‘greater good of Cordonia.’ I’ll help you take care of anything you need help with, or try to at least. But she’s right; we won’t find any more information about what happened to Brooks globe-trotting.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to leave, but we already set these events! What am I supposed to do to–”

“You need to pull your head out of your ass, Liam.” Olivia interrupted. “You’re the King and I think this would be a lot easier if you’d start acting like it.” She saw Liam contemplating her statement and stepped closer to him with narrowed eyes. “It’s time you put your fucking Crown on and show these assholes that you won’t back down. What’s really important to you here, Liam? Do you want to figure this out, or are you going to let them use your duty to control you – again? I lay the plan out for you and when my associate joins us, we are that much more prepared if they were to strike back, but we can’t pussyfoot around anymore. You wanted to do something now, so do it.”

Liam stared at her for a long moment as her words echoed in his mind and a newfound determination took over him. His nostrils flared as his hands balled into fists at his sides. The bright blue orbs that were previously dimmed seemed to darken even further. Olivia was right; this was his country, his call, and the ball was now in his court.

Liam never said a word, but soon marched over to the desk and picked up the phone. He listened intently until someone answered the other end of the line. “Buonasera, Francesco. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our pre-scheduled festivities...”

Liam, Drake, and Maxwell worked the rest of the day and into the evening to cancel all the tour’s events, and were well on their way to planning what Olivia had mapped out. With the newly produced schedule, they would have much more time to focus on their investigation while still keeping the same number of events as before.

Liam’s determination in his decision stood firm, however, he couldn’t deny feeling apprehensive as well. He was sure there would be retaliation in some form and was unsure as to just how far they would go. However, the power he felt at that moment was something he wasn’t used to. Since his ascension, he’d signed treaties and other small documents, but this was the first time he was going to assert his authority in such a large capacity. Adrenaline ran through his veins and for the first time, he felt like a King.

The door to the study was suddenly flung open without warning, startling everyone inside. Madeleine marched into the room with a red face. “What the hell, Liam?!” Constantine trailed not far behind her, although his expression was one more of confusion than anger.

“Ah, I take it you’ve learned of our changes?”

“There will be no changes! We’ve had this planned for weeks! We’re not canceling within a few days–”

“I already did.”

The color drained from Madeleine’s face. “No, you didn’t.”

Liam indignantly laughed. “Oh, I sure did.”

Madeleine’s cheeks heated further, nearly purple. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Constantine put a gentle hand on Madeleine’s shoulder. “Language.” He scolded. Madeleine stepped back with her arms crossed over her chest. “Liam, I want to believe you’re not doing all of this for an irrational reason.”

“I’m simply doing what’s best for Cordonia.” Liam shrugged.

Madeleine scoffed and shook her head. "Unbelievable! Have you completely lost your mind? How is this what’s best for anyone?!”

Constantine turned and gave her a warning glance. “Although I do not agree with her delivery, I echo Countess Madeleine’s question.”

“First off, explain to me how an international tour is beneficial to Cordonia at this current moment. The only event that even made a difference was the charity banquet in Paris; the rest of it was just a bunch of bullshit. This way, we can rally our people behind us.”

“It was for publicity, Liam!” Madeleine exasperated. “We need to worry about our international standings, which are going to be shit now that you’ve–”

“Our key priority is the Cordonian people. My father pointed out to me that the citizens doubt our union already, and I can’t say I blame them. It isn’t a secret that you weren't my first choice, not even the second.” Liam had to hide his smile as he stood from his seat and crossed the room to stand in front of Madeleine.

He forced the softest tone he could when he spoke again. “I want to do everything I can to ensure this works. I know I haven’t done my part, but this is my first step in making amends. Although the international publicity would be good, we need our homeland’s support more. We can enlist in media coverage so we can still get the word out, but Madeleine, we need to stay here. Cordonia needs us right now; Cordonia needs to see its future leaders united. We have to show them we are going to lead them together.” He swallowed down the lump of bile in his throat.

Constantine observed Liam’s body language during their interaction. Never had he seen him so confident about a decision; he looked regal, authoritative, not a hint of doubt to be present. Liam made undeniable points, and he had preached to both of them to do more to keep the people's faith in their union. However, he couldn’t help but feel like Liam could have ulterior motives for the sudden change.

Constantine arched his brow. “That’s why you’re doing this?”

“Yes, father. I just want to ensure the right people are supporting us. We need strength internally. I’ve adapted all the best traditions into our stops along the tour to honor those who have come before us. And, well–” Liam sighed and looked away. “I need to show the Cordonian people I am in the right mind to lead them. They’ve questioned me since my coronation. I have to show them I can do this… I can’t do that from Italy or Paris...”

Constantine eyed Liam sternly for a long moment. Throughout his life, he could force Liam to break with only a glance. It never worked on Leo, but Liam always cracked under the pressure if he was hiding something. However, Liam showed no signs of hesitation and there were no slips in his facade. He looked regal, poised, composed, calm, and firm, with just a hint of vulnerability. Since he passed the signet ring to Liam, he was practically begging him to get his head together, and the man standing in front of him appeared to be doing just that.

Liam knew exactly what Constantine was doing as soon as his brow arched. It’s the same glare that had gotten him into trouble multiple times growing up and he expected to endure the stare as soon as he told his father the news. It took all of his restraint, but he never let his carefully placed expression stray from his features. He silently prayed Constantine couldn’t notice the sweat profusely forming in his palms, though.

After a long moment, Constantine’s face broke out into a small smile. He stepped forward and patted Liam on the shoulder. “I believe this is an excellent idea, son. You have my full support.”

Liam had to fight hard to hide his surprise. He expected more of a fight from Constantine, but perhaps Olivia provided the perfect excuse. He slightly bowed and said, “Thank you, father.”

“Let me know if you require any support in the plans.”

“Thank you, but we’re nearly finished.” Liam turned to Madeleine, who stood with her arms still crossed over her chest. “What do you say, Madeleine? You’re free to look over the arrangements if you’d like. We’ve left your bachelorette party on the same day as before, but the location is open to the entire country… Just say the word and I'll have the jet prepared...”

Madeleine rolled her eyes. “I don’t get why you want to cancel an international tour so we can go to the same old duchies–”

“Countess, your King made his wishes known and his reasons are relevant. Do you wish for the people to doubt your reign as Queen?” Constantine asked with his hands clasped behind his back. “Perhaps after the coronation fiasco this would have been the best solution, anyway.”

“Fine, we can proceed with your new plans.” Madeleine finally relented. “But there had better be media coverage, Liam.”

Liam fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he nodded. “You have my word.”

Constantine smiled and put a hand on both of their shoulders. “I’m proud of both of you. You’re going to change the course of Cordonian history, the two of you. Have you prepared a statement, son?”

“I’m working on it,” Liam answered. “Would you like to be present with me, Madeleine? Perhaps it would be better if we announce the changes together.”

Before Madeleine could respond, Constantine did so for her. “Yes, that’s a splendid plan. Do use urgency so we may stay on track. Be sure to extend invitations to our international counterparts who we expected to see along the tour, though.”

Liam nodded, and Constantine exited with Madeleine at his side, who trampled away with heavy footsteps. Drake audibly gagged as soon as the door closed behind them. “That was hard to watch.”

Liam shuddered. “Tell me about it. Do you think they bought it?”

“I think so,” Maxwell answered. “Your dad seemed really into the idea, honestly… and as long as it’s heavily publicized, Madeleine will be happy.”

Liam rubbed his hands together. “Right… Right… You’re right…”

“Calm down, Li. You did good.” Drake patted him on the back. “They bought it and I think you made a smart move by enlisting Maddy to make the statement with you.”

“I agree. It’s showing the mastermind that although I’m changing things up, Madeleine is on board. That’s who they’re concerned about, anyway... I’m hoping that having her support on this will work to our advantage.”

“Damn straight. Now, we gotta hurry and throw all this bullshit together so you can get your statement out there.”

A few hours later, Olivia was on her way to meet with her contact on the outskirts of the city limits. Her acquaintance was someone she worked with in the past and trusted to assist them. He helped her look into the source of her own blackmail after she hit a wall. Olivia only traced it back to three different middlemen; had it not been for her associate’s aid, she never would’ve found the others. He didn't classify himself as an investigator, spy, or hacker; simply a jack of all trades. His skill set and knowledge were insurmountable, and Olivia knew he would be a worthy asset.

Olivia pulled up to an empty parking lot aside from one other vehicle. A tall man in a black leather jacket stepped out and adjusted his shirt underneath as he did so. He took off his sunglasses and leaned against the side of the car. She exited her own SUV and made her way over, all the while looking around to ensure they were alone.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Ray. I have a job for you.” Olivia cautiously spoke as she reached him.

Ray smiled and bowed to her. “What can I do for you, Duchess?”

“I need you to look into the whereabouts of two people. The first is Tariq, second Riley Brooks.”

Ray nodded. “I was wondering if you were going to seek help there.” Olivia’s brows furrowed, causing Ray to chuckle. “Please, anyone could tell those photos were fakes or set up. It seems likely that the one who leaked the story is the same person who blackmailed you.”

“It’s not just the story, Ray. We think someone removed her from the situation. We found this–” Olivia produced the trash bag with Riley’s contaminated dress and held it out to Ray, who took it and glanced at the contents. “–inside a shed, along with all of Riley’s other belongings.”

“A shed?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Ray gave her an unsure expression. “I don’t like that, Olivia. That instantly gave me an unsettled feeling. There’s a reason her stuff is there.”

“Trust me, I know...”

Ray once again looked inside the bag. “You haven’t sent this off anywhere? To check the DNA?”

“I intended to, but then I was called to a homicide for the only solid lead we’ve had regarding Riley.” Ray didn’t even try to hide his shock, which caused Olivia to chuckle. “Yeah, tell me about it. Obviously, we’re thinking it’s all connected, but…”

Ray noticed Olivia’s hesitant expression and inquired, “What?”

Olivia sighed and explained to Ray all the things she observed the night of the maid’s murder. When she finished, she added, “I was going to have Bastien send that dress off to forensics, but after his futile behavior, I don’t think I want him near it. He’d probably fuck around and lose it or something.” She rolled her eyes.

“I can have it sent to the lab I use if you’d like. If I tell them it’s a stat order, I should only have to wait a few days.”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, do that.”

“You got it. Now, have there been any leads into either of your missing persons?”

“All Bastien has found is that Riley landed in New York the morning after the jamboree.”

“Nothing on Tariq?” Olivia shook her head. “Hmm… I find it odd that there would be no trace of him.”

“I can confirm on my end I found the same result when I searched.”

“I’ll begin at once. And you want me to travel with you?”

“Just for now. If we’re correct once the news breaks of the tour’s new destinations, there may be retaliation. I’m not sure what that could look like at this point and I need more people around who can properly assess situations. Honestly, finding Riley’s dress and leaving it opened my eyes to the fact that we’re all emotionally involved in this. There’s no reason for it to have sat in there a second longer once we found it, but we were all so stunned nobody was thinking. I hate to admit it, but even myself included.”

“I can see why; it’s a lot of information to learn at once and not a lot of it makes any sense from where I’m standing. But I agree that having someone with a firm and clear mindset could benefit you.”

“I’m counting on it.” Olivia handed him a thick folder. “Here is your dossier to cover you throughout the tour. You are now Harold Marshowitz, my new bodyguard. Alternative forms of identifications are in there as well as any security clearance you may need.”

“Got it.”

“Great, let’s get moving.”

“Wait–” Ray stopped her. “While we’re free to speak openly, I wanted to bring forth another potential lead I see…”

Olivia arched her brow. “I’m listening…”

“Have you looked into that article? At all?”

“What do you mean?”

“It had to come from somewhere; it didn’t just appear. Not only did someone have to take those photos, but there was a story attached to it. Someone concocted that; I’m unsure if it’ll be the same person, or…”

Olivia shook her head as frustration washed over her. “No, I hadn’t even thought about that…”

“As you said, you’re all emotionally involved in this. I’m not, so I can see things a little more clearly…” Ray trailed off, then hesitantly spoke. “I’m, uh – a little surprised that the guard didn’t think of that.”

“Bastien is an idiot, but something about his demeanor lately has struck me as off… I don’t know if he’s developing dementia, or if it’s something deeper…”

“All the more reason to have me around,” Ray smirked.

“Is that something you can look into? The article?”

Ray flashed her a cocky smile and straightened his jacket. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m trusting you, Ray. I need you to come through for me.”

Ray placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “All jokes aside, this is what I live for, Olivia. I love sinking my teeth into a juicy mystery. I will find them, you have my word.”

Out of sight, a figure was lurking in the shadows not far away, intently watching and listening to the meeting. As Olivia and Ray vacated the area together, the peeper clenched their jaw and repetitively punched the tree they stood beside. After removing their surveillance equipment and slamming it to the ground, they started vigorously pacing.

Everyone assumed Liam could start asking questions, but his duty and broken heart were supposed to keep him blinded. The expected time for his inquiries was long after the wedding when the job would be fully completed. However, Liam and his collective group of friends were making progress in their search and had uncovered too much in a short period; not everything, but it wouldn’t be that hard to find the rest of those answers, especially now that he brought on a competent professional to help. Considering how early it was in the tour, the possibility of him figuring it out suddenly skyrocketed.

As a result, the entire operation was in more danger than ever before; that was not an option for anyone involved. They served the deception all around; if the mission was uncovered, multiple people would go down for it, and they would face the wrath of more than the current monarch.

It wasn’t hard to guess where their investigation would lead them next, and that meant another loose end just identified itself. The unknown person brought out their phone to make a call, which was answered on the first ring. “We have a tremendous problem…”

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