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karahalloway · 24 days

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

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: 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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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

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tessa-liam · 18 days

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Isle of Misfits

Chapter 9 – Inconvenient Truths

Fandom: TRR x Platinum x OH x CoP x TNA x ?

Series: Isle of Misfits, Round Robin 24, hosted by @choicesprompts

Word Count: 1405

Characters: TRR – Liam Rys, Leo Rys, Olivia Nevrakis, Madeleine Amaranth

RoE – Katie Rys

TNA – Sam Dalton

CoP – Trystan Thorne

Warnings: M *(swearing, references to depression, alcohol abuse, suicide, infidelity)

“Something’s burning…”

Leo stopped short. The scent was subtle, but unmistakable.

Smoke.

Olivia and Leo exchanged worried glances, before darting down the corridor, following the faint acrid scent to its source.

It didn't take them long to track down the fire, the smoke was now billowing out from beneath the door at the end of the hallway.

Olivia pushed Leo back. "Get back! I'm calling the fire department!"

"But—"

"Just do as you're told, for once in your life!" the fiery redhead ordered, already stabbing at the numbers on her mobile phone.

Leo's shoulders raised in defiance. But no sooner had he complied, than the door to the suite burst open, and a large plume of dark grey smoke billowed out.

Coughing and spluttering, Sam Dalton, was waving the acrid haze out of his face.

"Sam?" Leo exclaimed concernedly, stepping forward. "What the fuck, man.!?"

"I'm okay!" Sam assured him, trying to clear his throat.

Olivia put her phone on hold, her eyes darting over the wayward billionaire, looking for any injuries. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure..." Sam said, taking a few shaky steps into the corridor.

Olivia's sharp eyes narrowed. "Are you drunk?"

"No," Sam scoffed, before reconsidering his statement. "Well, a little. I may have had one or two shots."

"Or a whole bottle," Olivia murmured, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know about that..." Sam muttered, looking around himself in bemusement. "I was just trying to put together some food, and... well, next thing I know, there's a fire. Must have forgotten to turn off the hot plate."

"Are you kidding me?" Leo exploded. "You nearly set the building on fire, just because you couldn't be bothered to make a sandwich?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." Sam mumbled. "It was stupid."

"I'll say!" there is a Michelin star chef here on the island, why are you even trying to cook?"

"It wasn't like I was trying to kill myself or anything," Sam grumbled, as he staggered off in the direction of his room. "I just couldn't remember if it was gas or electric. It's a common mistake."

"No, it's a common sign of early dementia," Olivia retorted.

"Nah," Sam scoffed, raising his middle finger and slammed his door shut.

The sound of an elevator sounded down the hall. Countess Madeleine Amaranth, a member of Liam's council and Leo's former betrothed, strode towards Leo and Olivia.

Madeleine's cold green eyes took in the smoke damage to the door. "What's going on here? The building is still standing, I see."

Liam had enlisted Madeleine to help reform Leo as a role model for royal decorum since she was a stickler for etiquette and was the queen of spin. True to his promise.

"It's called karma, you idiot," Olivia muttered back, folding her arms and smirking.

"Oh, what fresh hell is this?" Leo growled.

"Ah, Madeleine," Leo greeted her, turning on the charm.

"Leo," Madeleine acknowledged coolly.

"What brings you here, on this fine evening?" Leo asked.

"Liam has requested my assistance. Apparently, you need remedial lessons in proper manners."

"Remedial...?"

"Yes. We have already seen that you cannot handle an engagement," she says, glancing at Olivia, who glared back, "or a marriage, or a mistress, or even a simple friendship..."

"You're not seriously still mad about that, are you?" Leo exclaimed.

"About being publicly embarrassed, or humiliated? Oh, no. That is water under the bridge," she mocked. "However, Liam has asked me to tutor you in proper decorum. So, if you are finished with your tantrum, perhaps we can begin?"

Leo's jaw tightened.

"Well, I think we've got things sorted here," Olivia said, laying a hand on Leo's arm. "If you'll excuse me, Maddy."

Madeleine's eyes narrowed. "You're not going anywhere. You are to meet with Trystan Thorne. I'm sure he'll find that your presence will be beneficial during his sessions."

"What? You're not my superior." Olivia objected, glaring at the tall blonde.

"I am if Liam says so," Madeleine shot back.

Leo's shoulders raised as Olivia's grip tightened painfully.

"Now, if you don't mind," Madeleine continued imperiously. "I need to have a chat with my wayward student."

"Your wayward—!"

"Ow!" cried Leo, wincing. "You're going to leave a bruise, Livvie..."

"That's the plan!" Olivia retorted, digging her fingers into his bicep.

"Come on, Olivia," Leo implored, gently prying her fingers loose. "Let's just get this over with."

Olivia looked like she wanted to argue the point, but Leo's pleading gaze eventually softened her resolve.

"Fine," she growled. "But you're on your own next time, your highness."

"Sure," Leo agreed, sighing.

Olivia gave him a warning look, before stomping off down the corridor.

"Shall we?" Madeleine prompted Leo to offer his arm for her to take.

***

"This is pointless," Leo announced, leaning back on the lounge chair and closing his eyes. After many hours of intense etiquette lectures, role plays, quizzes and more, he felt his stomach rumble as they waited for lunch to be prepared by the Michelin chef, sans alcohol.

"What's pointless is the amount of money Liam has spent on trying to make you a decent human being," Madeleine bit back, flipping the cover of her personal binder of court decorum closed.

"I am a decent human being," Leo countered, frowning. "I'm a far better man than you'll ever know."

"Oh, really?" Madeleine challenged, raising her eyebrow. "Then how come your wife is threatening divorce?"

"That is none of your business, or Liam's for that matter," Leo snapped, opening his eyes. "And just for the record, my life is none of yours either. You don't know the first thing about love, or me."

"I know you can't keep it in your pants," she retorts, rolling her eyes.

"So do I," a voice came from the doorway.

Leo turned towards the speaker in shock.

"Katie," Leo breathed shallowly, pushing himself upright.

"Don't get too excited," Katie told him, folding her arms. "I'm not here for you. I'm here for the kids."

"You're... you're..." Leo stammered nervously.

Looking at her husband, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Why are you here, Katie?" Leo demanded, standing up.

"Your brother sent me to help," she explained, looking everywhere but at him.

Madeleine excused herself and quietly sauntered out with her binder in hand.

"Yes. He thought it might help to have me here. Help you remember what is important. Family, love, loyalty."

Leo shook his head, moving slowly towards her. "You don't get it. I'm not the same man anymore."

"Then maybe it's time to prove it." Katie said.

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Leo shot back, stopping in place. "I'm here, aren't I?"

At that moment, Leo understood why Liam sent him to the island. His epiphany.

"I have to go," Katie said, her eyes softening. "I'll be back later, when you've had time to process this."

Leo watched her walk away, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

***

Later, Leo found himself sitting on his balcony, staring at a glass of scotch. He had resisted the urge to drink it, but he was still tempted. His phone buzzed on the table, and he reached for it.

"Hello?"

"Hey," came the reply.

"I made a grave mistake ..."

Leo paused, relieved at the sound of his fellow 'in-mate'.

"Thorne."

“How so?”

"Well, remember when we met at the bar with your brother. I should have believed your brother. That he would be true to his word with his threat."

“Oh boy, this sounds painful.” Leo smirked, already knowing where this conversation was heading..

“Who did he partner you with?”

“Olivia Nevrakis! She is terrifying! Put a dagger to my throat when I dissed her. She threatened to go lower if I didn't pay attention.”

"Did she now? Maybe she's the one you need to focus on," Leo mused.

"She's so intense, it's scary. And she has no interest in me. She is only here because Liam asked her to be.”

"And here I thought she was coming here for me," Leo sighed, taking a swig of the scotch.

"Hey, what happened with that countess?"

Leo paused. "I... I... what did you hear?"

"That she's going to stay a couple more days."

"That's just great," Leo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just what I need."

>>next writer @twinkleallnight

#the royal romance #choicesprompts #isle of misfts #round robin #choices fanfic #trr fanfic #round robin 2024

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twinkleallnight · 13 days

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Isle of Misfits

Chapter 10: Dealing with the Paparazzi.

Fandom: TRR x Platinum x OH x CoP x TNA x ?

Series: Isle of Misfits, Round Robin 24, hosted by @choicesprompts

Characters:

TRR – Liam Rys, Leo Rys, Olivia Nevrakis, Madeleine Amaranth

RoE – Katie Rys

TNA – Sam Dalton

Word count: 1240

The phone pinged.

‘1 new message’

Leo sighed and picked up to read. He was tired of explaining himself to Katie. The world never understood him or his desire to live a care free life. The paparazzi won’t let him breathe. But he thought Katie would understand. She would always know. He had tried to be honest with her, always.

He was struggling to stay abreast sailing through the rough waters when his brother decided to take the corrective action for Leo’s deeds . He was forced into this PR stunt of a circus with his childhood friend, Bertrand, playing the ring master. And as if Gods had not had enough of entertainment, he was paired with his ex, Madeleine! Just perfect!

Coming out of his reverie, he tapped his fingers on the home screen to check the new message .

‘Meet me at the beach restaurant in 10minutes to collect your dossier .

Countess Madeleine .’

“Better than having Sam Dalton as a mentor” he consoled himself. “His brains function through that Rocket in his pocket. At least Madeleine has her head over her shoulders.”

He dragged himself out of his bed. Sharp after 10 minutes he presented himself in front of the Countess.

“What do you plan to do with this?” He lifted the heavy bundle of papers filed into a folder neatly. ‘Prim and proper. So much like Madeleine.’

But Madeleine’s reply was totally off beat. “why you have not shaved?”

Leo shook his head as if trying to decipher. “What?” He moved his fingers through the over grown messy beard.

Madeleine scoffed, “ Let me make it clear Leo. You are constantly under lens.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want.” He cut her off.

“You were the crown prince.”

“And I abdicated.” He tried to prove his point.

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t change who you are born as.”

“Why?” He pulls his fingers through his sandy blonde hair In frustration.

“Prince Harry abdicated too. But he is always in news.”

Leo scowled, “For heavens sake! Can’t they let me live in peace?”

“Only if you don’t give them chance to rip through your peaceful personal life.” She air quoted.

He nods in agreement. “And I can see, you are here to tell me, how.”

“Now you are talking business.” Madeleine smiled.

Leo closed his eyes for a moment. He had to do this for Katie, for his children. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Tell me what am I supposed to do?”

“You need to look perfect when you walk in public. It shows that you are leading a perfect and happy life.”

Leo smirked, “Yes it’s a very happy life.”

“Make it look like one and I can tell you, they will stop chasing you.”

“Fine! What next?”

“I have appointed a valet for you. He will help with your attire, hair and your over all appearance. You will not leave your room before he checks you.”

Leo rolled his eyes. He had no other option but to accept what was thrown at him.

For the next hour he went back and forth over the plans Madeleine had laid out for him.

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

Bertrand’s office next day

Olivia was seated across Bertrand, discussing their next modus operandi. Olivia had successfully completed her task with Raleigh Carrera and was now assigned to the case of the exiled crown prince, Trystan Thorne, of Drakovia.

An urgent knock on the door brought them to a halt. They both looked at each other. Bertrand voiced, “Come in” , wondering who was their uninvited guest for the meeting .

Leo stormed in and slammed a tabloid onto the desk in front of Bertrand. Olivia stared back at Leo’s fuming face while Bertrand looked in confusion, “ What does this mean?”

“Open and see for yourself.” Leo pointed out his finger.

As soon as Bertrand picked the newspaper and unfolded it, his eyes went wide with shock. Olivia leaned towards him to peer into the news.

The newspaper had images of Leo and Madeleine sitting in a cafe. The first one had Madeleine gleaming at Leo and the second one showed them shaking hands near the exit. The tag line read ‘Former crown prince Leo Rhys, spotted with his ex, Countess Madeleine, at leisure on a private island. Do we smell something burning in Katie Rhys’ sweet home?”

A smile played on Olivia’s lips.

“Seriously?” Leo asked looking at Olivia’s reaction.

“It’s not about you.” She fanned away with her hand.

“From what I can see, it’s definitely about me.” He turned to Bertrand angrily, “This is how you were going to help me save my image and my marriage?”

Olivia spoke instead, “Its not his fault. Madeleine should have been more discreet while planning her meetings.”

Just as on clue, Madeleine stepped inside the office. “Speak for yourself. I know my job well.” She snatched the tabloid from Bertrand’s hand and glanced at the pics, dismissing it in an instant.

She focused on Leo, “ This is the reason I insisted you need to dress up properly. Had you been in a formal attire, this would have been ignored by the media as just another business meeting.”

“Great ! So now it’s all my mistake? You know what my mistake is? Trusting you guys with my future.”

Bertrand replied in a calm note, “I think you are over reacting. It’s just two pics, we can change the flow of events. My PR company can assure you, we are good at turning the waves in your favour.”

Before he completed his sentence, the doors to his office opened with a bang. Drake barged in raging in anger. “The hell you turn things only in your favour. You Beaumonts are the most mean and selfish men walking on this damn planet.” His voice echoed across the halls outside the office.

Bertrand’s eyes roamed behind Drake to check if there were any audience at his doors. He settled his gaze back on Drake. “May I know the reason for this intrusion?”

Drake sneered, “You call yourself CEO of a PR firm yet you don’t have updates of the newsflash on TV channels across Cordonia?”

Bertrand gave Drake an irritated glare and picked up the remote to switch on the flat screen hanging on the wall across his table. The screen brightened up with flashes of red haired lady bouncing on a dance floor. All of them in the room knew that was Olivia but the next few moments left everyone’s mouth hanging open.

Bertrand came into the frame trying to dance. He made some lewd gestures and then grabbed Olivia into a smooch.

Leo and Madeleine jolted back at Bertrand. Even Olivia had shock written all over her face. Definitely she was drunk that she didn’t remember this incident.

Bertrand gulped and fumbled with the remote to switch off the TV. He didn’t want to listen or let others in the room listen to the reporter’s remarks.

“I... I ... I can explain”, he said nervously.

Drake sprinted to him in two steps and held him by collar. “How many times are you going to explain? First my sister, then your back stabbing brother took Riley and now you target my girl friend?”

“Riley is with Max?” The baritone voice from the entrance of the office brought everything to standstill. They all turned to see Liam standing in a thunderstuck state.

Tags : @angelasscribbles @alj4890 @tessa-liam @lizzybeth1986 @3pawandme @annabellewynter @bascmve01 @bebepac @busywoman @dcbbw @choicesficwriterscreations @harleybeaumont @iaminlovewithtrr @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @neotericthemis @mom2000aggie @phoenixrising0308 @princess-geek @sazanes @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @sillydg @tinkie1973 @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @rubiwalker @703cowbarn @kyra75 @likealotus @kskvb20 @marietrinmimi @aussiegurl1234

#round robin fic #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #pixelberry #playchoices #trr fandom #trr #choices game #liam rhys #liam rys #leo rys #olivia nevrakis #bertrand beaumont #madeleine amaranth #drake walker #twinkleallnight

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the-modern-typewriter · 2 years

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Fantasy Book Recs

For the people who asked for book recs, muhahaha...

(You may be interested in my book tag or my goodreads) The tag definitely repeats some of my favourites because I keep recommending them, but in my defence, they are excellent and I need no defence.

Anyway, fantasy book recs my love...I know I have a type. We all know I have a type. I was not kidding about the fairytales/retellings obsession.

Also, let’s get it out of the way. Literally ANYTHING by V.E Schwab. I cannot stress that enough. My favourite is The Invisible Life of Addie La Rue, but like. God tier.

I’m just going to go and add Leigh Bardugo here as well. Slightly less god tier, but still great. Especially Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom which is god tier.

Short(er) stories and short story collections

The Poison Eaters and Other Stories by Holly Black

A Portable Shelter and A Rental Heart and Other Fairytales and Things We Say In The Dark by Kirsty Logan

A Spindle Splintered by Alix. E. Harrow

Lips Touch: Three Times by Laini Taylor

The Greenhollow Duology by Emily Tesh

Wayward Children novellas by Seanan McGuire

Hag (collection with numerous authors)

Beasts and Beauty by Soman Chainani

Novels

The Song of Achilles by Madeleine Miller

Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente

Uprooted and Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik

The Winternight Trilogy by Katherine Arden

Girl, Serpent, Thorn and Girls Made Of Snow and Glass by Melissa Basherdoust

Middlegame by Seanan McGuire

The Sisters of the Winter Wood by Rena Rossner

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson

Dark Rise by C.S Pascat

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell (I think the series goes down in quality, but the first one is excellent and I think can be read standalone)

The Montague Siblings trilogy by Mackenzie Lee

The Folk of Air trilogy and The Darkest Part of the Forest and The Coldest Girl in Coldtown by Holly Black

Peter Darling by Austin Chant

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker

The Binding by Bridget Collins

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J Klune

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M Danforth

Payback’s a Witch by Lana Harper / Blood Countess by Lana Popovic

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer (I’m not being ironic, I think the first book is great)

The Time Traveller’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Interview with a vampire by Anne Rice

Note I have limited this list to really liked and it was amazing. There are lots of others I have liked and enjoyed while reading.

#books #book recs #reading #literature #read #book #book recommendations #book recommendation

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amelie-of-the-sea-and-sky · 2 months

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My 13 favorite royal bridal makeup in no specific order.

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lorirwritesfanfic · 2 months

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Top 10 Choices Villains

1. Azura: pure evil in the form of woman. I will forever hate her for what she did to Leon;

2. Astrid + Vincent Wescott: creating a secret society, sacrificing tons of people and traumatizing their own daughter for power (that made them stop aging). Rich people be crazy... 😳

3. Jason Shaw: sneaky bastard pretending to be nice, corrupt cop, threatened a teenager, killed people. You're on top 3, jerk!

4. Rheya Apostholus: her ability to control almost all vampires still gives me the creeps. But I can't deny her backstory is compelling;

5. Marc Antony: because making people fight 'til death in the Coloseum was just a normal Tuesday for him (and I bet he did worse in real life), this asshole deserves to be on top 5;

6. Barthelemy Beaumont senior: this mf'er killed Liam's mother, took away the heir, usurped the throne, traumatized his own sons and for that I hope he burns in hell;

7. Silas Prescott: destroying an entire city + traumatizing his own son for power. Rich people be crazy - part two;

8. Trystan Richards: disgusting bastard thirsty for power that nearly assaulted MC and almost killed the chosen LI. I loathe him;

9. Guy Ledford: self-centered jerk who used his own daughter to sell coupons for his stupid app and wanted custody of a child when he spent years without paying child support;

10. Vanessa Blackwood: no, you don't deserve forgiveness after what you did, you rich snob!

Honorable mention: Countess Henrietta and Madeleine Amaranth (she's more an antagonist than a villain, but I like to hate her 😂)

Tagging @choicesfandomappreciation

#playchoices #choicesfanworksday

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tiaramania · 1 year

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TIARA ALERT: Countess Madeleine Kogevinas wore her Pearl Floral Tiara for the Nobel Prize ceremony and banquet Stockholm on 10 December 2022.

#Tiara Alert #Countess Madeleine Kogevinas #Sweden #Swedish Nobility #Tiara #floral tiara #pearl #Nobel Ceremony #Nobel

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angelasscribbles · 4 months

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Unexpected Chapter 11: Let's Be Happy

Series: Unexpected

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Maxwell, Riley x Liam

Rating: MA

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2,919

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley folded clothes and placed them into a suitcase as her mind ran through last night’s events.

Everything was out in the open now. Max had always known about Liam, of course. But now Liam knew about Max as well.

The reveal had gone far better than she would have imagined. She wouldn’t go so far as to say Liam hadn’t cared. He had been a little hurt, a little angry, a little jealous even. But by the night’s end, they had been on the same page.

She would stay in Cordonia. She would continue her relationship with him. He would marry someone else. She would be free to continue her relationship with Max.

Bertrand was going to be livid. She did not doubt that he would make good on his promise to withdraw House Beaumont’s support, both publicly and financially. He’d likely cut Max off as well.

Liam had brushed her concerns about the future aside, telling her not to worry, he’d handle it. For now, she would keep her room at the palace. She would attend the engagement tour and before they left, she would move into a new suite of rooms in the royal family’s wing.

She wasn’t crazy about not having a solid plan for the long term and she was even less thrilled about living in a room right down the hall from Liam’s wife, especially if that wife turned out to be Madeleine.

Liam had assured her he had no intention of marrying the countess, but Riley wasn’t sure that Kiara or Penelope would treat her much better.

There was a knock and Riley crossed the room to open the door for Hana. She pulled her inside and enveloped her in a hug. “I’m so happy to see you!”

Hana returned Riley’s embrace with a laugh. “I’m always happy to see you. But why, specifically?”

“I have a lot to tell you, but you first!” Riley released her and returned to folding clothes to place in her luggage. “I am dying to know what you were talking about last night. What did you mean when you said you weren’t sure you still wanted to marry the prince?”

Hana sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at her hands. “I don’t want to marry Liam. I mean, I did, when I first got here. In addition to making my parents happy and being able to put my considerable skills to good use as queen, he is hot as hell.”

“Right?” Riley laughed in agreement. “I didn’t hear a downside in there!”

Hana looked up with heated cheeks. “What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“If he chooses you, will you say yes?”

“Oh, he’s not going to choose me.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I can. We discussed it last night.”

Hana couldn’t hide the astonishment that crashed through her. “I knew you were close, but I didn’t realize he was confiding in you about such things. And if you’re that close, then why wouldn’t he—”

Riley dropped the blouse she was folding and grabbed Hana’s hands. “I’ll tell you everything, but not until you tell me why you don’t want to marry Liam. You would be a great queen.”

An idea seized hold of her. Hana would be a great queen. And she wasn’t a bitch.

Hana screwed her courage up, determined to say what she had come to say. The next time she would see Riley would be at the Beaumont Bash, an event sure to keep her too busy with hostessing duties to find a moment alone for a conversation. Then after that, the Coronation Ball.

It was now or never.

She drew in a deep breath and blurted out, “I can’t marry Liam because I’m in love with you!”

***

Drake lifted his hand to knock just as the door to Liam’s office opened and the prince’s personal lawyer stepped out. “Rashad, I didn’t realize you were here today.”

“Last minute meeting,” He explained as he nodded at the other man, “Nice to see you. I’m on my way out.”

“Nice to see you, too. Hello and goodbye.” Drake chuckled as he entered the office and closed the door behind him. He took in his best friend’s demeanor. “Wow. You look downright chipper this morning.”

Liam grinned at him from his place behind the highly polished mahogany desk. “Oh, I am! I spoke to Riley last night and I think I have everything figured out, Drake.”

Drake suppressed a long-suffering sigh. “I thought we settled this. You can’t marry her—”

“Oh, I’m not. I can’t. You were right about that. And she doesn’t want to be queen, anyway.”

Drake had been reaching for a donut on the service cart. His hand froze midway as he did a double take. “What now?”

“She doesn’t want it, Drake. Can you imagine? A woman who doesn’t even want the damn crown!”

“And you’re happy about that? Because yesterday you were still trying to find a way to marry her.”

“I realized I can’t marry her. You were right about her and Max.”

Drake poured a cup of coffee to go with the donut and sat down across the desk from Liam. “I’m very confused. She doesn’t want to marry you, and she’s fucking Beaumont. Why are you happy?”

“Because my overstepping, interfering stepmother is right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Queen is a job title. One that Riley is neither prepared nor suited for.”

“Okay….”

Liam leaned forward with excitement. “I thought I needed her to marry me to be happy, but I don’t!”

Drake lifted an eyebrow skeptically. “You don’t?”

“No. I don’t. I just need her in my life, and she’s agreed to it. I’m determined to make this work. My marriage will be in name only.”

“But….she’s still sleeping with Max, right? You’ll never be able to reign her in. That girl is a wild card.”

Liam leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Perhaps I like that about her. She just follows her heart and does whatever the hell she wants. What freedom that must be.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Yes. But also look at it this way. I’ll always know she’s choosing to be with me because she wants to, not because she has to.”

“How do you figure?”

“You know I’ve always had issues with women wanting the crown more so than me.”

“Yes…”

“She doesn’t want it and she won’t have it. There will be no marriage contract to bind her to me. Every moment we spend together will be because she wants me. Liam, the man. Not the king, not the crown.”

“I think you’re forgetting one very important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Your money. She may not want the responsibilities of the crown, but how can you ever be sure she isn’t just enamored of your wealth?”

“Ah. I have a solution for that as well. That’s why Rashad was here.”

“I don’t follow.”

Liam pushed a folder across the desktop.

Drake flipped through it and whistled. “Wow. You really have thought of everything.”

“I know.” Liam gave him a self-satisfied smirk as he rose from the desk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pack.”

Drake’s head snapped up. “Pack? Why? We don’t leave for Ramsford until tomorrow.”

“Court doesn’t. Riley and the Beaumonts are leaving this morning. I plan to surprise her there.”

“At Ramsford? Where she’ll be with Max?”

“I can handle Max,” Liam assured him with a scowl. “It’s Bertrand I’m worried about.”

“Bertrand?” Drake sat up straighter, “Explain.”

Liam quickly filled him in on what Riley and Max had confided to him before heading to the royal quarters to pack.

***

Thirty minutes after arriving at Ramsford, Liam was alone with Riley. Bertrand had been thrilled to provide them with a private sitting room and shoo all the servants away from the area.

Riley’s eyes flicked back and forth from the paperwork in her hands to the man standing in front of her.

Liam was vibrating with excitement as he waited for her reaction.

She shifted through the documents in confusion. “I don’t understand. You’re giving me Valtoria?”

His grin broadened. “Yes!”

Her brows drew together. “What is it?”

“It’s a duchy.”

“Wait. You can just give someone a duchy?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Yes, of course?” She scoffed, “This is brand new information to me, Liam!”

“You’ll be a duchess, complete with full Cordonian citizenship and voting rights in the House of Lords.”

“I’ll be a duchess….”

“Yes, with everything that entails. Lands, titles, bank accounts—”

Her head jerked up as her eyes flew from the document she was holding to his face. “Bank accounts?”

“Naturally. You don’t need Bertrand’s money and you won’t be beholden to him or anyone else for anything from here on out.”

“Liam, this…this is incredibly generous, but I don’t know anything about running a duchy!”

“You don’t have to run it, Riley. You can appoint a prime minister to do all the work.”

“And I’ll keep this as long as I’m your mistress?”

“You’ll keep it, regardless. I have signed and filed all the paperwork, Riley. It’s yours with no strings attached.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “Why would you do this?”

“Why?” He took her hand in his. “Because it would kill me if I ever thought you were sleeping with me out of some sort of obligation or because you felt backed into a corner financially. And because I love you. If you cut me out of your life tomorrow, I can live in peace knowing that you’re taken care of.”

“Liam…”

“I’m sorry I can’t marry you, Riley. But your future is secure, with or without me in it, so would you please stop worrying about that?”

She threw herself into his arms.

After several moments filled with laughter, tears, and lots of kissing, she pulled away from him. “This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me, Liam. I love it and I love you. I feel selfish for asking, but there is one more thing I’d like to ask of you.”

“I’m gratified that you’re so happy. It gives me great satisfaction to please you. If there’s something else I can do, please tell me.”

“I want you to marry Hana.”

***

The moment the guests arrived, Liam pulled Hana aside for a confidential chat. Then he spoke privately to his father.

“I had hoped you’d choose Countess Madeleine.”

“And I had my heart set on marrying Lady Riley.”

“The council—”

“Won’t approve her. And neither will you. I know. Lady Hana isn’t your first choice, nor is she mine, but she’s an excellent compromise. She has the correct background and education. She’s poised, talented, charming, and beautiful. She should have no trouble securing council approval.”

Constantine laughed with relief, proud to see his son making logical compromises. He had been worried Liam was going to be intransigent about marrying the waitress. The lady from Shanghai was indeed an excellent choice. Regina wouldn’t be happy, but he could handle his wife. Clapping his son on the back, the king assured him, “I’ll have them get the approval pushed through by tomorrow.”

***

The Beaumont Bash went off without a hitch. The overnight guests were served a late brunch the next day. Liam insisted Riley return to the palace with him.

“Surely you don’t need her for the cleanup? You have staff for that, right?”

Bertrand nodded his agreement with glee. “Yes. It’s fine. Go. Go.”

Liam pushed away from the table and held his hand out to her. “Come, Riley. I’ll walk you to your room. Max, would you please join us?”

Max looked up from his plate in surprise. His eyes flicked to Bertrand, who was shooting daggers at him, then back to Liam. “Um…yes, sure.”

Liam ushered them into Riley’s bedroom and closed the door before turning to face them. “Take anything you care about. You too, Max. The day after tomorrow Bertrand will realize that his plan has failed. I want you both out of his reach. The worst he can do is withdraw his support of Riley and disinherit you. It won’t matter. As I’m sure she’s shared with you by now, Riley is a duchess in her own right. Regardless, you’re both welcome to stay at the palace for as long as you want.”

“With pleasure!” Riley was already pulling her suitcase out.

Max watched Liam’s face closely. “I understand why you’re helping her. But why are you helping me?”

“It’s the same answer. You’re important to her, she’s important to me. I hope you prove worthy of it. Now go pack. We’re leaving in an hour.”

***

It was coronation night, and everything was in place. Liam hummed happily as he stepped out of the bathroom into the small but elegant sitting room just down the hall from the grand ballroom to find Madeleine waiting for him. His jaw clenched in annoyance. “What are you doing in here? This is a private room.” He was going to have a very stern talk with his head of security.

“We need to talk.”

“What could we possibly have to discuss?”

“Our engagement.”

Liam tipped his head back with a sigh. “We are not engaged, Countess.”

“But we should be. I know you’re in love with…” she grimaced, liked the words burned in her mouth, “…the American. But arrangements can be made for that…”

“I’m aware of what I can and can’t do!” He turned his back on her and headed for the door.

She lunged after him, grabbing his sleeve and jerking him back toward her. “What other woman is going to offer you the freedom to—”

“Any of them!” He jerked his arm free. “Do you imagine I’m going to enter into a marriage contract without a Cordonian Arrangement codicil? Looking the other way while your spouse has dalliances is politically arranged marriages 101, Madeleine. You should know this.” Liam shook his head. “I’m disappointed, honestly. For all the talk of your political acumen, you have very little.”

“I have what it takes to be queen, Liam, and you know it!”

“No, you don’t. You’re not fit to rule. You paint yourself as regal, but you’re not, you’re just plain mean. You intend to rule through fear and intimidation based not even on any power of your own, but on mine. The fact that you don’t realize you have no power is pathetically evident in the way you’re behaving right now, as if you’re holding all the cards in this dynamic.”

“I’m simply trying to look out for you, Liam. The monarchy needs to be strong, you—”

“You think you’re the best choice for Cordonia?”

“Yes, of course! It’s my duty—”

“You don’t care about duty. You like lording your position over the other ladies of the court. Do you think I don’t see that?”

The countess straightened her shoulders indignantly. “That’s not true! I am committed to serving my country!”

He adjusted a cufflink as he gave her a considering look. “Do you wish to be queen, Madeleine?”

“You know I do!”

He stepped into her personal space. “How much?”

“What?”

He took her arm and pulled her closer. He lowered his head so that his lips were just inches from hers. “Will you fulfill your wifely duties?”

She flinched, but she didn’t pull away. “Of course. We must produce heirs—”

He ran a finger down her cheek, then down her bare arm. “And you’ll look the other way while I take whatever lovers I so desire?”

“I’ve already agreed to this! What—”

His fingers dug into her arm deeper. “Will you be nice to the other ladies of my court? Stop being a bitch to the servants?”

“I…I suppose I could be a little…softer…”

“I don’t like your father. Are you willing to cut him out of your life?”

She hesitated for a scant moment and then whispered softly, “Yes, I’ll do it.”

He shoved her away with a laugh. “See? No power. Stop acting like you have anything to bargain with.” His eyes ran down her body, “Other than your physical attributes. But every other lady here has those as well. What else do you have to offer? You are not smarter than Kiara, you are not more cultured than Hana, you are not more charming than Penelope and you’re sure as hell not Riley.”

A primal roar broke out of the usually composed blond. “You can’t marry her! The nobility will turn on you. You—”

“I never said I was going to marry her.”

“But….the matching outfits at the Beaumont Bash….the diamond and sapphire necklace around her neck that she obviously can’t afford….the two of you sneaking off into the hedge maze…”

“I’m sleeping with her. I love her. But I’m not foolish enough to marry her.”

“Then who—”

“You’ll find out when everyone else does.” He pulled the door open and then paused. Looking over his shoulder, his voice dropped low and menacing. “Oh, and Madeleine? If I find out you were involved in the attempted sabotage of Lady Riley or Duchess Olivia, I will make sure you pay for it.”

Madeleine stiffened slightly as her eyes widened. Then she sniffed indifferently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“For your sake, I hope that’s true.” He left without another look back.

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ownworldresident · 4 months

Text

Side by Side Chapter 5: Influence

Book: The Royal Romance.

Premise: With new additions to their family, King Liam and Rayne must re-evaluate their relationship dynamic.

Themes: Found family, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, family.

Word Count: 3.2k per chapter, 18 chapters. About 60k.

Note: This story started just after TRR3 ended, and isn't related to TRH. See also Side by Side Masterlist & Master Masterlist Link

After the Homecoming Ball

Rayne

“You could go to them,” she proposed to the table she stood beside. Three sets of eyes landed on her hard, but she couldn’t quite meet them.

“What do you mean?” came Liam’s voice beside her, ever soothing. She smiled, still at the table.

“If you think the court is too concerned to come to the wedding after… after the ball, you could go to them. Convince them that we need to stand strong.” Each word was a little surer. “A personal visit from the King and the…” She swallowed, lifting her gaze to the not-yet-queen, who quirked a brow. Rayne grit her teeth and looked to the Countess directly. She would not be cowed. “The future Queen. That would surely help.”

Only now did she look at them all properly. Constantine considered her words with a frown, Madeleine crossed her arms and watched her like Rayne had stolen her juice box. Liam watched her thoughtfully, before turning to the others.

“That could work.” He tapped his chin. “A show of support, we can unite against the assassins, show them that Cordonia does not and will not bow to such a threat.”

Constantine nodded to his son, a small smile on his face as he then appraised Rayne. Considering his former hostility, this borderline respect was unnerving. Perhaps it was because he had won, and she would not be queen, perhaps it was her significance to Liam, or even their talk during the engagement tour. It seemed unlikely he had simply decided she was suitable for court and consultation.

“We would have to postpone our wedding, darling. That would be tragic.” Feigned hurt, and the need to assert herself, was not a good look on Madeleine, nor was it particularly impressive anymore. Hopefully she would settle once there was a pretty crown on her head. Rayne looked from her to Liam, who’s jaw tightened, and wished she could reach out and touch him. Madeleine spoke again. “I just can’t wait to be married to you.”

“Whilst I appreciate your anticipation, Countess Madeleine,” Constantine addressed her, hands linked behind him, “Lady Rayne’s suggestion has merit. If we can bolster the people’s faith and trust in the monarchy, this could be exactly what we need.”

“And we cannot ask for that trust blindly,” Liam added.

“Precisely.” Constantine nodded, then turned to smile at Rayne. “Thank you for your insight, Rayne.”

It made her uncomfortable when he did not address her with a title.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Of course it makes sense,” Madeleine spoke up. “Though Rayne’s presence here does not. The attempt was aimed at the monarchy, not the common people.” The look she gave her was nothing new; a quick once over to make sure that yes, Rayne was still the same subpar Laotian-American woman she had always been. With a new appreciation for bullet proof clothing.

“It is an excellent idea,” said Liam, emerging from his thoughts. “We will postpone the wedding to visit each of the noble houses in person, to invite them and to reassure them of our strength.” The careful relief in his voice was apparent to Rayne, and she bit back a wider smile. He nodded to her, then turned to Madeleine. “And to answer your question, the attackers targeted Rayne as well. She has just as much stake in this as we do.”

That was a bold statement, and judging by Madeleine’s scowl, she wasn’t the only one to think so. Silence fell again, then a loud clunk outside jarred Rayne’s thoughts. Clutching the chair back before her, she closed her eyes as the din of the ball returned. The lights going out, tripping and falling, the armoured man with a gun pointed at her face… She grimaced, then a warm hand rested on her shoulder, and drew her back to the room.

“A Unity Tour,” she said quietly, and once again all eyes were on her. “That’s what you could call it.” Liam’s hand squeezed her shoulder gently.

“It’s settled, then,” he said to the room, then turned worried eyes toward her. “Thank you, Rayne.”

Present Day

Liam

After three weeks with his young family, Liam's office seemed alien. No matter how much he wished to still be there, the work had piled up in his absence, and he couldn't postpone it forever.

Some things he did not trust to Madeleine; some she refused to do; and some could only be completed or signed off on by him. It seemed that for every task he could delegate there was another he could not. Letters for consideration, documents that had been through council, minutes for missed meetings, memos from council, things that in an everyday capacity took careful time, but would now take a few days of long hours to properly complete.

Many of the notes and letters were preceded by often lengthy congratulations for him and for Rayne which brightened his mood. He had sorted the work into piles according to complexity, time consumption, and urgency, made lists for himself, and now worked quickly with his assistant bringing in a steady supply of coffee. Hours into his work, the door opened again, and Madeleine walked in.

He hadn’t seen her since their argument the day Evelyn and Leo were born and would have been happy for that to continue.

“Husband,” was her opening. The sweetness of her smile meant this would be an unpleasant interaction. Liam looked at his watch. Still early.

“Good morning.” He sipped his coffee. “Thank you for your work in my absence.”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “No thank you is necessary. As this country’s queen, I take my responsibilities seriously.”

Placing his cup down, Liam leant back in his chair. “Nevertheless, I am grateful.”

“Indeed.” She surveyed his desk and the couch against the wall which was currently serving as a second table. Ordered but still crowded with various tasks. “I have a suggestion to permit you to further prioritise your duties as king. Duties which do not pause for you to assist your mistress and children. One can survive without, and the others do not require your presence at their age.”

Liam breathed deeply and displayed none of the irritation at her reference to Rayne as his mistress, or assumptions about his family.

“Get to the point, Madeleine,” he said coolly, patience fading. She smiled and approached the desk, lifting one of the more complex tasks. He knew it was a holdings-related proposal, and also knew that the first paragraph was a lengthy congratulations, with no mention of Madeleine. She frowned, then schooled a warm smile in an impressive transition, and closed the file.

“For the benefit of all involved, I have appointed a nanny to assist Rayne. She will appreciate this offer, coming from her monarch. If not, you may need to convince her it is the best course. For the good of our country.”

“And what makes you think I would do that, knowing as well as you that she has declined that option in the past?”

“Because you will not be there to help her, and just because she is their biological mother does not make her equipped to care for the heirs to the Cordonian throne. You cheating on your fiancé does not qualify your mistress to raise a monarch.”

“That’s enough,” Liam said firmly, feeling the hot flash of anger. “You know full well we agreed upon my relationship with Rayne over a year ago, as a condition of our engagement that you first proposed, I might add. I never cheated on you. You are out of line.”

She placed down the file and narrowed her eyes.

“I am never out of line, husband.”

“That is where you are wrong. I shouldn’t need to remind you that the power here ultimately rests with me.” Months ago, keeping a clear head when she so clearly intended to provoke him would have been difficult. Her words hit hard, but he had more control over his response than she would like.

“That may be, but much of your power rests in the image you present. The family man, with a generous wife allowing you to legitimise your mistress’s children. The mistress, need I remind you, who was never absolved of her part in the Applewood Manor scandal. What would happen if that image failed?”

“Madeleine…”

“It would be so easy.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Maybe you have a temper?” Her eyes widened. “Maybe you spend more time in the cellar than previously thought? Maybe certain members of your staff are afraid to be near you in the evening?”

“They would never believe such things.”

“Maybe so, yet it was so easy for the public to believe you were holding Rayne hostage last year.”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “This is blackmail.”

“No, dear.” Madeleine smiled again. “This is security. I gave you three weeks, but I won’t cover for you again. You must commit to your formal duties, which will leave Rayne to care for those two alone. You know she is stubborn enough, but how could you let her suffer?”

He didn’t respond immediately, but met her gaze, mind racing as he tried to escape the box she had forced him into.

“I can split my time effectively.”

“You are running solely on caffeine and it isn’t yet noon. You look as if you haven’t slept in days. You will sacrifice your health, and the country will suffer as a result. You need to let me help her, Liam. And you. And your children.” Madeleine glanced at a photograph at the corner of his desk – a smiling photo of himself and Rayne on tour – and sighed. “The heirs to the Cordonian throne need to be taught right, starting now, by someone who understands the gravity of their responsibilities.”

He cleared his throat and considered her case, sipping his coffee, now cool, and measuring his words. “Rayne is the most capable person I know. I trust her completely in the care and upbringing of her children. Appoint help if you must, but if she refuses, respect that.” They locked eyes for a moment. “I will manage my responsibilities regardless.”

Her resolve shifted then, and she ended the discussion. “When the time comes to choose, I hope you remember that I tried to help you.” She swivelled and left the room.

Liam pressed a thumb and forefinger against his temples, mind echoing with Madeleine’s threats and his responses. The lengths she was already willing to go to in order to manipulate him was potentially a precursor to more serious threats in the future. If Rayne wanted assistance he would source it in a heartbeat, but he doubted that would be her choice. Regardless, they would need to be ready.

Drake

Walking into Rayne’s apartments was like walking into another world. He could see why Liam preferred it. The royal apartments were tall and dark and impressive; every vestibule emitted a sense of grandeur, as if the monarch needed reminding of their own wealth and rank. These apartments were smaller, the ceiling lower, and the whole place bright and warm. Natural light shone through open windows to the expansive room, and only upon conscious observation did he realise the lights weren’t even on. There was so much warmth here, beyond the physical sense, and he felt calmer just being here as he crossed to the window.

Liam still worked in his office, not looking to be finished any time soon, and Drake had thought to offer company to Rayne, meagre as it was, as she adjusted again to his absence. As it occurred to him he didn't know where she was, he registered voices in an adjoining room.

"I appreciate the offer but as I have said, I don’t need another set of hands. I am managing fine."

"I have been appointed by the Queen herself to assist. She wishes to ease the pressure on your shoulders, given King Liam has returned to his duties."

The voices approached from the hall leading the the bedrooms and Rayne stepped in, followed by a young, neatly dressed woman with a kind face. Rayne didn’t seem to notice him at first. She cradled Leo in her arms and faced the woman calmly. Drake stood awkwardly beside the window, unsure whether to announce himself or not, and wondered if she realised the kind of authority she commanded.

"Please thank her for the effort but I assure you it is unnecessary," she said, moving through the room. "If, in the future, I require assistance, I will ask for it." She reached the door to the hall and opened it, turning back to the room. For a brief moment, their eyes met. He smiled awkwardly, and she seemed mildly surprised, then smiled and winked. The young woman seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, and sighed.

"As you wish." She gave Rayne a short bow. "You have my credentials and contact information."

"I do, thank you." Rayne nodded, and ushered out the woman, who paused on the threshold, bowed again, and left. Drake was sure that one was to Leo. Rayne shut the door and turned back.

"Hey, Drake." Rayne rested her cheek against Leo’s head, swaying as she moved away from the door and looking as if she'd been doing this for years, not weeks.

"What was that about?" He asked, gesturing at the door. She rolled her eyes.

"Nothing important. Just our benevolent queen trying to force a nanny down my throat."

He chuckled. "Went well for her."

"I don't know what she expected. That I'll suddenly roll over and submit? Cold day in hell." She glanced at the door, then back with a smirk. "You seem surprised. Expecting more New York Waitress than King Liam’s Mistress?" Her accent was still there, but like his it had been watered down and changed in her time here.

"You know that isn't who you are, right?" he said, settling on the arm of a lounge chair.

"Relax, I'm just teasing. For them, though…" She sighed, then focused on her son as he began a quiet protest. "Shh baby, it’s okay. Mommy's okay," she cooed, patting his back. He quieted, and she kissed his head. "There we go."

Drake realised, again, how little he knew about parenting and children. Rayne, conversely, took on this role with as much natural confidence as she did answering the press, calming citizens, and charming nobles. She looked up again.

"I know that many people see me at face value. I'm just the mother—"

"Those are the people Madeleine has poisoned, they—"

"Drake, listen, please." She stopped him, and waited a moment before continuing. “You know as well as I do that refusing to consider an opposing perspective makes us no better than those who think ill of us. I can’t judge them for their beliefs, nor can I ask them to change, but I know I am more than what they say.” She paused, then exhaled sharply. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Then why are you resisting?”

Rayne tensed, lips pursed, and looked away from him. He had crossed a line. Again.

“Why do I keep having the same conversation with everyone?” she said, exasperated. “The only person who has respected my decision from the beginning is Liam. This is my choice, Drake.” In her arms Leo stirred again. Her expression softened as she turned down to him, then back. “Excuse me.”

As she left the room, Drake ran both hands over his face and cursed his tactlessness. He had come here thinking she might like company, but his challenges were straining their relationship. It wouldn’t be the first one he had ruined. Surely though, after enough attempts, Rayne would see how capable she was, and change her mind.

It took a while for her to return, but when she did he knew for certain it wouldn’t be today.

“Do you understand how little control I have over my life?” she said, seeming much taller than she was. “This is my life, my decision. I will not fall back on expectations because you think it is the best course. You do not decide for me, and do not presume it is your place to try.” She met his gaze unflinching, and after a moment, he nodded.

“You’re right,” he conceded. And stubborn, and brave, and exhausted… “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Satisfied, she closed her eyes and visibly calmed herself somehow, before sitting on the arm of the next chair with a smile that made him nervous. “Now, I’m glad you came. I have a question for you.”

There seemed an audible click in his mind as he connected her tone with the question. “I really don’t think—”

“Why haven’t you asked Olivia out yet?”

He stared at her, less prepared than he should be considering he’d been asking himself the same thing. “Because I…” he cleared his throat, then assumed what he hoped was a convincing attempt at nonchalance. “Even if I was interested, there’s no way she’d agree.”

Olivia was coming to the palace in a few days, and sure they had a few things planned, but that was all casual. Rayne rolled her eyes.

“Not with that attitude she won’t. Come on, it’s not as if you’re asking her to run a kingdom. She isn’t going to agree if you never actually ask her, and she isn’t going to wait forever.” She grinned, but he was saved from fumbling for an answer by a knock on the hall door. They both turned.

“Expecting anyone?” he asked. She shook her head.

“Maybe Liam is back early?” The hope in her voice was painful to hear. Liam wouldn’t be back for hours.

“I don’t think so,” he said, suddenly unsettled. “I’ll get it.” He stood and stepped forward but she held up a hand.

“You stay right there. Work on that answer.” Rayne winked at him and approached the door, but there was tension in her shoulders.

She paused with a hand on the doorknob, then squared her shoulders, pulled it open, and froze.

---- ----

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