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karahalloway · 6 months

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Sleepless in New York: Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

Series: TRR

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

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: The time has come to fly back home... but who won the bet?

Word Count: 6,800

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, aggravation, references to graphic images, references to sex, references to bodily functions, toilet humour, motive for murder, way too much caffeine)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Thank you so much for bearing with me! This chapter was supposed to be done quickly but then it suddenly exploded into the almost 7,000-word monster that you see before you (I blame Leo 😆). Hopefully, the contents make up for the longer-than-planned wait! There will be one more chapter.

A/N2: As an FYI, everything that is mentioned is true/correct/accurate. Yes, everything! You'll know what I mean when you get to it! 🙃

Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

"Mmm... You're right... These pancakes are heavenly...!" enthuses Max 'round an overstuffed gob.

"I have to admit, I may have been skeptical at first, given the somewhat... dated nature of the décor," admits Chris, skewering the last bite of his own stack, "but I am very glad that I did not allow first impressions to sway me, and to instead let the delights of the fare speak for itself."

I throw him a sidelong glance. "I told you to trust me, didn't I?"

"That you did, mate," Chris chuckles good-naturedly. "That you did."

"Drake always finds the best food," sighs Max as he closes his eyes in blissful appreciation.

I shrug nonchalantly. If you know where to look...

Having hit up Times Square and snapping the obligatory pic or two — it's the end of the trip... fuck it — I'd heeded Chris' final request for this trip by tracking down somewhere we could fuel up before our fast-approaching flight home.

And given the questionable-looking nature of our chosen venue, Chris' initial trepidation had been more than understandable.

Because from the outside — but for the tell-tale smell of bacon wafting out onto the street — this joint looks more like an illicit drug den than a bona fide restaurant. The single-paned window that faces the street has a massive crack in it, the doorway stinks of stale urine, and I wouldn't be surprised if a dead body or two had ended up in the dumpster 'round the back.

The inside's not much better, either. It's a cheap, no-frills galley-kitchen kind of set-up manned by a single, overweight chef who pumps out eggs, bacon, pancakes and hash browns in massive portions while you sit on the other side of the greasy, Lino-covered counter on creaky, '60's bar stools, sipping fully-leaded coffee from chipped mugs.

In short, the complete antithesis of the polished and slightly over-glammed feel of the retro, 1950s diner we ate at yesterday.

And that's why I picked it. Because after having been up the whole night, we need something to sub-in for our lack of sleep, and nothing tastes better than comfort food when you're craving a calorie hit. Plus, Chris had wanted a 'classic' Stateside breakfast experience, and it doesn't get much more Americana than this...

"What is all that sticky goop that it's swimming in?"

...except for the fact that I have Tariq sitting on the other side of me, complaining loudly about every-damn-thing that offends his toffee-nosed sensibilities.

Because as per usual, I can't seem to take two steps in this fuckin’ city without the Almighty crapping on me.

Our butts had just hit the stools when Chris' phone began lighting up with a million-and-one messages from Max asking where we were, what the plan was, and was there any food anywhere.

So, Chris (being Chris) had extended the breakfast invite to not only Max, but to the rest of our band of noble misfits, meaning that our laid-back outing has now morphed into a real-life rendition of The Breakfast Club.

I suppress a groan as I take another swig of my scalding coffee, careful not to move my mouth too much, given that — on top of everything — my jaw has set into exactly the kind of contused stiffness that I'd hoped to avoid.

My own damn fault for not icing the damn thing down when I had the chance...

The only person missing is Leo.

Not that I really care. I've had enough of that guy and his BS for one trip. And the main reason I haven't decked him yet for the shit he pulled last night is because I haven't actually seen him since Gale and I got booted from the club.

And I don't want to ruin Chris' last hour in the Big Apple by knocking his brother's teeth out.

The same can't be said for Tariq, though...

"It's maple syrup, Besnard..." I grunt at him, trying to maintain my focus on the viscous caffeine in my hand, and not the half-a-dozen ways in which I could smash the asshole's face into the countertop.

Because after the steady stream of crap that's hit the fan in the past 36 hours, the only thing keeping me on this side of sane right now is the free-refill mugs of coffee that I've been pouring into myself since we sat down.

Which means that my mood's dancing on a hair trigger, and I'm one stupid comment away from committing violence.

The chef'd probably thank me, though...

Tariq flashes me a disgusted look. "Maple syrup...? You mean tree sap? That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard of!"

"A lot of things come from trees, dipshit..." I mutter, forcing myself to keep staring at the wall ahead.

Tariq scoffs. "Why would—?"

"Cinnamon is obtained from the inner bark of various South and South East Asian tree species," Chris reminds him.

"And cloves are the dried aromatic flower buds of the clove tree," adds Max, chewing loudly on a ketchup-coveted tater-tot.

Tariq glares down the counter disdainfully. "What are you lot? Walking encyclopaedias...?"

"We just know where our food comes from, Besnard," I grind out around the rim of my mug. "As would you if you ever bothered to step outside."

"Where it comes from is irrelevant," comes the derisive clap-back. "The only thing that matters is the price tag."

"Even when it's been through the digestive tract of a wild animal?" interjects Max with a perfectly straight face.

Tariq nearly spews his over-steeped tea across the room. "What!"

"Certain brands of coffee demand a premium price because of their somewhat... exotic processing process," affirms Chris. "For instance, Kopi Luwak is the most exclusive coffee in the world primarily because it comes from beans that have been consumed and then excreted by the Indonesian palm civet."

Tariq's eyes bulge. "Excreted... As in—?"

"Pooped out," confirms Max gleefully. "Through tiny little butt holes."

Tariq looks like he's about to puke.

"That is correct," continues Chris. "The bile in the civet's digestive system causes the fermentation of—"

Tariq bolts from his chair.

"Lemme guess..." I drawl, turning to face the other two. "The fuck stick's just realised that he's willingly subjected himself to this fancy ass coffee."

"Ass being the operative word..." sniggers Max as he mops up the escaped yolk from his sunny-side-up eggs with a piece of over-buttered toast.

"Yes," laughs Chris, reaching for his own mug of coffee. "He accompanied his father on a business trip to Indonesia last year where he was given the 'Holy Grail' of coffees as a gift..."

"...not realising what it actually was," I snort. "Typical."

The door of the dive creaks open.

"Speaking of typical..." I muttered under my breath as I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of the familiar figure who's just stepped through the entranceway.

"Hey, hey, hey, party people!" greets Leo as he saunters up to us like he doesn't have a care in the world...

...Oh, wait. He never does.

"Glad you could make it!" smiles Chris as he gets up from his stool to clasp his brother's hand in his own. "I was starting to think maybe you lost your phone again."

"I did, as a matter of fact," confirms Leo with a lop-sided grin, fist-pumping Max as he flops down into Tariq's now-vacant seat.

Chris frowns. "But then how—?"

"DiCaprio took pity on me and gave me a new one he had lying around his flat... Which, I have to say, is pretty sweet."

Max is gaping in starry-eyed admiration. "You got to go to famous Leo's apartment? Jealous!"

"No party like the after-party! And that man knows how to party. Oh! Bacon!" the elder Rys exclaims, suddenly laying eyes on Tariq's abandoned plate.

Chris still looks confused. "But if you lost your phone—"

"The magic of the eSIM, baby!" declares Leo with a full mouth as he brandishes a brand-new iPhone into the air. "Been using it for years! Why d'you think my number never changes?"

Chris opens, then closes his mouth. "Fair point."

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch, Walker," continues Leo with a shit-eating grin as he elbows me in the ribs. "This place is the perfect spot to get daytime murdered in!"

"Careful what you wish for, Rys..." I mutter under my breath.

"Good bacon, though!" he quips, filching another rasher.

"We can order you a helping if you're hungry..." offers Chris.

"Nah, I'm good," replies Leo, dunking the bacon into some syrup. "Grabbed a bagel on the way from this awesome little Jewish place. Do you know that they even—?"

"Oh, dear God...!" gasps Tariq, bursting back into the dining area with a horrified look on his face. "That restroom is disgusting!"

I clench my eyes shut. Sweet Jesus give me strength...

"I admit it smelled a bit funky," concedes Max, "but nothing worse than when Bertrand—"

"There is excrement floating in the toilet bowl!" Tariq all but shrieks.

"Lemme guess..." I murmur to Chris under my breath. "He didn't know how that shit got made either."

Chris' eyes bulge as his coffee goes down the wrong way.

"That is generally what happens when you take a dump," Max tells him prosaically.

"It wasn't mine!!"

"Hate to break it to you, old sport," intones Leo, laying a hand on Besnard's shoulder, "but not every pisser flushes itself. So, you're going to have t—"

"No!" interjects Tariq, shoving Leo's arm away. "I refuse to go back in there! In fact, I've had it with this entire establishment, this entire city, and this entire bloody trip! Everybody is rude, nobody respects me, and I have suffered enough denigration to last me a lifetime! I am leaving!"

Throwing his nose into the air, he turns on the heel of his treadless Ferragamo loafers to stomp out of the diner.

"Christ!" huffs Leo as he jerks a derisive thumb in Tariq's direction. "Who pissed in his Earl Grey?"

"Oh, he's just miffed because he knows he lost the bet last night," supplies Max 'round a mouthful of toast.

Leo perks up. "What bet?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." I groan.

I'd completely forgotten 'bout the stupid bet...

"He does know that the hotel is in the other... direction..." coughs Chris, having finally managed to clear the wayward coffee from his lungs. "Doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," I mutter, watching Tariq nearly get run over by an early morning cab as he tries to cross the street. "If we're lucky, he'll end up in Brooklyn again."

Chris starts hacking all over again as he tries and fails to stifle a laugh. "You're a...horrible person..."

"But I'm not wrong," I tell him, pointedly lifting my mug to my mouth again.

"Screw the sour-arsed sod!" cries Leo. "I want to know about this bet! And why I wasn't included on it!"

"You weren't there," I tell him tersely. "Plus, you'd've been ineligible anyway."

"Why would I—?" The proverbial lightbulb clicks to life in Leo's head. "Ooh! It was a race to fourth base, wasn't it?"

"Congrats, Sherlock," I grunt. "You've graduated to deductive reasoning..."

"Not just a pretty face, Walker," winks Leo in reply.

I roll my eyes as I return my attention to my coffee.

"But who's the winner...?" Leo continues contemplatively, eyeing the rest of us.

Max opens his mouth...

"No! Don't tell me!" decrees Leo, shoving a hand into the Beaumont's face. "I wasn't included in the bet, so I demand some vicarious recompense! I'm going to guess!"

"How—?" starts Chris.

"By using my incomparable situational awareness, sprinkled with just a smidge of mind-reading!"

"Sounds mystical..." admits Chris.

"Oh, it is! Prepare to be amazed!"

"I'm ready!" shouts Max like an overeager five-year old.

My head hits the Lino between my arms with a pained groan. Somebody just shoot me...

"Alrighty, then," declares Leo, rubbing his hands together with an ungodly dose of perverse satisfaction. "So, we know for a fact that Toss-Pot Besnard never made it out the gate, and—"

"How are you so certain?" asks Chris with a frown.

"For a start, it's Tariq," I mutter at him from the greasy countertop. "Plus, if by some miracle he had managed to pull, he'd've been bragging about it as soon as he walked in."

"True..." Chris concedes with a laugh.

"But, more importantly," adds Max, "Lucy and Jamie — the two girls he'd been after — ended up taking me home last night."

My head snaps up so fast, I nearly give myself whiplash. "They fucking what?"

"You heard me!" grins Max like the Grinch who stole Christmas.

"Hayley and Harper's friends..." reiterates Chris carefully. "You slept with both of them?"

"Yup!" comes the cocky affirmation.

"Well, fuck me running..." I scoff with a shake of my head.

Though I can't seem to stop an involuntary smirk from pulling at my mouth. Because that shit? That's impressive.

"Yes, gold star to Baby Beaumont," agrees Leo with a grin, slapping Max on the back. "But did he seal the deal before my little brother? That's the million-dollar question..."

"What about Drake?" interjects Chris. "He and Harper—"

"Oh, Walker didn't score!" laughs Leo.

Chris' eyes widen as he turns back to me. "You didn't? But you were the first to leave."

"Not by choice..." I admit sourly.

"Captain America here got his arse handed to him by a couple of beefcakes..." Leo explains.

"Fuck you, Rys!" I snap. "It was five against one and I still held my ground!"

"It was you who got caught up in that fight?" gasps Max. "That looked brutal..."

"It would certainly explain the bruises on your face," muses Chris, eyeing me critically. "And the ripped shirt."

I make a vague noise by way of reply. But I don't bother to correct him. The details aren't important. They lead to the same result.

Not that that's anybody's business...

"...and promptly got tossed out the club with Swifty in tow," continues Leo cheerfully. "Which I'm guessing is the reason why she wasn't willing to put out, because—"

I shoot off the stool, shattering the mug in my hand in the process. "Mention her one more time, Rys, and I swear to God—"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" interjects Max with a frantic wave of his hands. "If he left with Harper, how do you know that he didn't—?"

Leo jabs an uncompromising finger into my face. "Does this look like the expression of a man who spent the night warmly cocooned by the soft embrace of a woman's supple and welcoming thighs?"

I slap his hand away with a growl.

"Hmm..." muses Max, narrowing his eyes at me. "Now that you mention it... He does seem surprisingly grouchy this morning. Even more so than he was last night..."

"Beaumont..." I warn.

"Whereas my little brother is positively glowing!" continues Leo, fanning his hands around Chris by way of illustration. "Tell me you don't see the difference!"

"Fuck you, both," I grunt, slinging myself down into the barstool again.

A fresh mug of coffee appears before me, as if by magic.

I grab for it tersely. Where's the whiskey when you need it...?

"I rest my case," declares Leo smugly. "Which means, it's down to Lord Three-Way Beaumont and Prince Pull-Hard Charming. But who took their ladies to Heaven first...?"

"It doesn't matter," I grunt abrasively. "Max isn't in the running."

"I am afraid he is correct," Chris agrees after a second's reflection, glancing at Max. "No one backed you, so—"

"Rubbish!" objects Leo loudly. "The sheer act of the ménage à trois should guarantee him a spot in the champions' league, if not the entirety of the pot outright!"

"Except he's not the one who gets the money," I point out. "It's the person who ponied him."

"Christ, if it's that much of an issue, I'll punt him!" declares Leo. "What were the stakes?"

"Eight hundred ducats," Max tells him.

"Done," Leo declares, pulling his wallet out to drop a handful of Ben Franklins on the counter.

Chris meets my eye. "Your call, Drake. It's your money on the line."

I flick my eyes between Max and Chris, before letting out a low breath. "Fuck it. Let's make it interesting."

Pulling my own wallet out, I slap the requisite cash down as well.

Because worst case? I'm out of pocket $500. But best case? I net four times that. And I'm my book, that's a play worth making. Especially when my money's on Chris.

"That's my man!" whoops Leo, punching me enthusiastically in the arm.

"Careful, Rys," I warn him as Chris and Max add their contributions to the purse as well. "It's your dough I'm about to walk away with..."

"Eh..." shrugs Leo unconcernedly. "Money's relative."

"Spoken like a born-and-bred fat cat," I reply dryly.

"And now for the big reveal!" shouts Leo, clapping his hands together. "The stakes are set. The buttocks are clenched. Who takes the crown of Don Juan?"

Chris and Max exchange wry looks.

"What time did you get back to the hotel?" Max asks.

"Just after midnight, I believe..."

"Twelve thirty-five," I tell him.

Max's feet start dancing beneath him. "Oh, this is going to be close! We got back to the girls' flat around half-past as well."

"Sod all that!" cries Leo. "Get to the climax, gents! We want to know who got slob on their knob first!"

"Well, after we got back to the suite, we shared a drink before we..." Chris clears his throat. "...retired to the bedroom. So, perhaps 1am?"

"Yeah-yah!" enthuses Leo with a snap of his fingers. "Bring it home like a pro, bro!"

"Not sure why you're rooting for him," I scoff.

"I am permitted to share in my little brother's sex-tastic accomplishments!" he counters. "Especially when I'm the one who taught him everything he knows!"

"Except now, it's about to leave you out of pocket," I smirk, reaching for the pile of cash.

"Hold on!" interjects Max, scrolling furiously through his phone. "I think I have Christian beat!"

I frown. "How in the—?"

"Watch it and weep!" the Beaumont exclaims triumphantly, thrusting his phone out.

Leaning in towards the device — from the speakers of which spew the unmistakably pornographic sounds of sex — Leo, Chris, and I are greeted with a bird's eye view of Max balling Lucy from behind while she went down on Jamie's spread-eagled form on the bed.

Leo's jaw drops. "You filmed it?"

"Would've been rude not to," smirks Max.

"You dirty bugger!" laughs Leo, grabbing the Beaumont to noogie him.

I pull my eyes away from the X-rated spectacle. "Okay, but how does this—?"

"Look at the...time stamp," prompts Max from beneath Leo's arm.

Glancing back at the screen, I focus in on the tiny numbers at the top.

12:52am.

My shoulders slump. "Goddamn it."

"Looks like we have our winner," Chris concedes with a wry chuckle.

"You're not even going to contest it?" I demand, throwing an accusatory hand out at Max.

"I am not sure there is anything to contest," replies Chris. "The numbers speak for themselves. And since Maxwell is the only one out of the two of us who had the foresight to record the exact timing of the event, I think it is only fair that he takes the pot."

"Yeah, baby!" whoops Leo, jumping off his stool with outstretched arms to thrust out an in-your-face victory dance à la Ace Ventura. "Can you feel it? Can... you... feel it?! Damn, it feels good!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." I grunt with a roll of my eyes.

But, Leo's asinine antics aside, I have to hand it to Max. Not only did the guy manage to go above and beyond, but he somehow managed to beat the clock as well.

So, I can't begrudge second place too much.

"I believe this is rightfully yours, big brother," declares Chris, graciously handing the pile of bills over.

"Why, thank you, little brother!" grins Leo as he accepts the winnings with a mock bow...

...before studiously dumping the cash into Max's lap.

The Beaumont's eyes widen in disbelief. "I— But you— I didn't—"

"Hey, I wasn't the one with my pants down on the front lines last night," he says. "So, if anyone deserves the spoils of war, it's you."

Max is still gawping like a stupefied goldfish. "But—"

"Spend it well, kemosabe," the elder Rys incants somberly, laying a hand on Max's shoulder.

"Th-thank you," stammers Max, suddenly overcome with unexpected emotion.

"Ehh... Don't mention it!" shrugs Leo with a grin. "I'm just here for the memories. Though... speaking of, if you want your lasting memories of this trip to be anything other than dear Father sending a squadron of Guards after you to haul you back across the Pond, I suggest you get your tushes to the airport."

"Oh, shit..." I cuss, glancing down at my watch. "We gotta move." Necking the last of my coffee, I signal for the cheque.

"Are you flying back with us?" asks Chris as he pushes himself off his stool.

"Nah," demurs Leo, reaching across his brother to grab the final piece of bacon off Tariq's plate. "As much as I'd love to steal your thunder by gate-crashing yet another fancy ball that I don't have an invitation to, you know Regina still hasn't revoked that shoot-on-sight order she put out on my head last year."

Chris laughs. "I'm sure it's not all that bad..."

"You'd be surprised!" insists Leo with only a touch of sardonicism. "Plus, I promised Katie that I'll bring her back a box of cronuts. So, I got a few errands to run before I jet out."

"Well, in that case," replies Chris, reaching out to envelop his brother in a hug, "thank you for coming, and we'll hopefully see each other soon!"

"You can bet on it, matey," confirms Leo, giving Chris a heartfelt thump on the back before pulling away. "At the Coronation, if nothing else."

Chris' eyes widen. "Father signed off on your attendance?"

"Not yet," the elder Rys admits. "But I'm slowing wearing the old man down."

"Well, I — for one — certainly hope you succeed!" laughs Chris.

"I have faith in myself," winks Leo. Leaning past Chris, he reaches out to bump knuckles with Max. "Beaumont. Say hi to Bert for me."

"Will do," nods Max. "And thank you. Again. You really didn't—"

"Like I said," Leo deflects with an arrant smirk. "Don't even mention it."

Max nods gratefully.

Finally, Leo turns to me. "Walker."

I meet his eye impassively as I draw myself up to my full height to face him. "Rys."

"You got his six, right?" he asks, inclining his head almost imperceptibly back towards his brother, who — true to his earlier promise — is in the process of intercepting the bill before it can make it to me.

"Come hell or high water," I affirm.

"Good," he nods, his expression uncharacteristically tight. "'Cause there's going to be both. And he'll need someone to help pull him through."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Leo," I remind him, watching Chris trying to figure out which greenback was which with Max's help as he sought to pay for our breakfast.

"I know," acknowledges Leo, his face tightening as the memories of the fallout from the assassination attempt flash through his memory. "But I still appreciate it. He is my only brother, after all."

I meet his eye. "Then you know why I'm doing it."

Leo holds my gaze for a long moment before extending his hand. "You're a good friend, Drake."

"Someone's gotta be," I tell him with a wry smile, reciprocating the gesture.

Leo might grate me up the wrong way with his bad jokes and juvenile attitude, but we are — and always have been — on the same page when it comes to Chris.

"They're rarer than you think," Leo murmurs softly. Dropping my hand, he turns back to Chris and Max, who have finally managed to settle the bill, plus tip. "Ciao, amigos! It's been a blast!"

"Have a good flight!" Chris tells him with a wave.

"I always do!" Leo assures him. "Stay safe, little brother. Give the ladies a fair chance, don't do anything I wouldn't—"

I scoff. "Is there even such a thing?"

"—and remember," Leo continues unabashedly, "if you're ever in doubt, there's always the balcony!"

Chris stifles a laugh. "I'm sure it won't come to that..."

"Never underestimate the beauty of a Plan B!" Leo hollers over his shoulder as he pulls the rickety door open, and steps out onto the street.

Max stares after him with a perplexed look. "When he said 'balcony'... Did he mean you jumping off it, or you throwing the lady off?"

"I wouldn't read into it too much," I advise as I grab my leather jacket to pull it on. Turning to Chris I ask, "You good?"

"Yes, I think I managed to sort the bill..." he replies, pulling his own jacket on as well. "Fifty percent gratuity is acceptable here, right?"

I nearly dislocate my shoulder putting my arm into a non-existent sleeve. "Erm... Yeah. Sure. More than acceptable."

Christmas definitely came early for this waitress!

But at least the hefty tip would help smooth over any wayward resentment left in the wake of Tariq's ass-like behaviour.

Chris' face visibly relaxes. "Oh, good! I wasn't sure of the correct etiquette."

"Trust me," I drawl, opening the creaky door. "You ain't never gonna fall flat in that department."

"If you say so," concedes Chris with a smile as he and Max follow me out onto the street.

"I know so," I assure him, leading the way back to Broadway.

At just gone 7am on a weekday, the city is already a hive of activity with cyclists, taxis, and pedestrians vying for position on the thoroughfares against the buses, garbage trucks, and private vehicles, as everyone tries to get where they're going just that much faster.

My gaze tracks west almost on auto-pilot. Wonder what Gale's doing... Is she still asleep, or—?

I yank myself forcefully back from the precipice of that dead-end drift.

The only thing that matters right now is getting Chris and Max (...Tariq can go fuck himself) back to the hotel and then getting 'cross town to Teterboro in time for scheduled departure.

Leo hadn't been joking when he'd said that Constantine would not hesitate to unleash a squadron of King's Guard on our tails if we didn't arrive back in Cordonia by the agreed time.

That had been the agreement.

Because the first event of the season kicks off tomorrow with the Masquerade Ball, and Chris has a full week's worth of engagements penciled into the twelve hours beforehand.

Which means that there can be zero deviations, zero slippages. We have to be on that plane...

...even though that's the last thing any of us want to do right now.

Because glancing back at Chris and Max as we make our way up back to the hotel, it's clear that New York has been a much-needed escape for both of them. Not just from the daily grind of court, but also from the strictures of expectation. As here, you weren't your name, or your title, or your birthright.

You were just another guy on the street, trying to make your American dream come true.

And despite — or rather, because of — their stations, that's a privilege that neither Chris nor Max have ever had the luxury of experiencing before. Because even though they may have all the money in the world, one thing they could not buy with it is freedom — true freedom. As money garnered expectations and expectations choked you out like chains around your neck.

And that was life's unfair trade-off...

...unless you were Leo, who somehow managed to screw the pooch into laying him a golden egg by finding a woman who was apparently not only worth abdicating for, but who also turned out to be loaded in her own right, thanks to a very generous inheritance provision in her grandmother's will.

And because that money came with zero strings attached, the lucky bastard got to have it all: living it up large, while also getting to flip the rules and regulations that he's always hated the bird.

But, unfortunately for the rest of us mere mortals who weren't born with the luck of the devil, the best we can hope for are those rare moments in between when the constraints of your usual life fall away, and you're rewarded with a much-needed breath of levity.

And maybe that's why I'd fallen so hard and fast for Gale. Because irrespective of the magnetic pull she had on me, she wasn't just some hot girl I'd happened to hit it off with. As while undeniable, the deep seated attraction went beyond the mere physical... or even the personal.

Because beyond the fact that she was gorgeous, funny, and knocked me for six at every turn, she was more than just simple perfection. She was the sweet promise of possibility. Tantalising me with a taste of what could've been in a world free of obligation. Where I was just me — not an undercover Guard, not a duty-bound friend to a prince, not a jaded outsider confined to the sidelines, always looking in.

But as entrancing as the experience had been, I know it couldn't last.

Because such moments are — by their nature — transient. And like a pre-dawn mist on the water, they dissolve with the first light of the sun.

Just like our time in the States.

Which means that it's time to return to reality. Whether we want to or not.

Because duty always calls.

Arriving back at the hotel, I see that the pre-arranged limo is already idling next to the curb.

Detouring by the driver's side window, I have a quick word with the chauffeur to let him know that we'll be back down in a sec with our bags.

Turning to lope into the hotel, I catch up with Chris and Max just as the lift arrives in the lobby. The doors ping open and we pile in to make our way up to our floor, each of us lost in our respective thoughts.

The elevator arrives on our booked-out floor and we disperse into our rooms to throw our shit together. While packing, I send a text to Schweitzer to let him know that we're bugging out, so his team can start the clean-up and check out.

Zipping my duffle up, I do one last sweep of the space before grabbing the keycard and exiting the room for the final time.

Stepping back out into the corridor as the door clicks shut behind me, I find Chris already waiting for a lift.

"You were quick," I say, coming to a stop next to him.

"Wasn't much to pack," he admits.

"Hayley still there?"

"Yes, she's sleeping," he confirms with a ghost of a smile. "I couldn't bring myself to wake her."

I nod wordlessly. Good-byes suck. They're either gut-wrenching, or awkward, or both. Best to just—

"Will...you be back?" "I wouldn't hold my breath." "Maybe I want to."

The ding of the elevator knocks me back into the present.

Shaking my head, I step into the car after Chris. But for some reason, I can't seem to duck the sudden sense of emptiness that's dropped into my guts. Like I'd forgotten something... Even though I know I haven't.

I rub my eyes. I'm just beat...

I'm about to hit the button for the lobby when Max careens in out of nowhere to throw himself through the wedge between the doors, Gucci backpack dangling haphazardly from his arm.

"Oh, thank God!" he pants, falling gracelessly into the small space. "Thought you'd left already!"

"We wouldn't dream of leaving without you, dear friend," Chris assures him with a laugh.

"Speak for yourself," I grunt abrasively as the doors finally close. "You fall behind, you get left behind."

Max's eyes widen. "You wouldn't!"

I meet his gaze impassively. "Try me."

"But Tariq—"

"—can find his own damn way home," I cut in flatly. "If he ain't buckled up by last and final call, that plane's not waiting for him."

Max flicks his horrified gaze from me to Chris.

Chris shrugs. "Drake is correct. It is unfortunately too short notice to modify the flight plan and—"

Throwing his head down, Max begins typing away furiously on his phone.

"You're wasting you're time, Beaumont," I tell him with a low exhale. "Regardless of where the fuck-wit is, he'll still need to come back to the hotel to get his passport, if nothing else. He ain't gonna make it."

"But we can't just abandon him!"

"He's a grown-ass man," I grunt dispassionately in response as we hit the ground floor again. "If he can't be bothered to look at his overpriced Rolex, then that's his problem. Not mine."

"Chances are he is waiting for us at the terminal already," advises Chris optimistically.

"But—"

"Drop it, Beaumont," I grunt, grabbing my duffel to march out of the elevator car without a backwards glance.

I have no clue why Max is being so hard up about waiting for the dipshit who wasn't even supposed to be on this trip in the first place. Especially since that same dipshit also happens to be in possession of a gold credit card.

So, I really can’t give a flying fuck if Besnard misses the flight. He can pay for his own charter home.

I'm not about to jeopardise Chris' commitments for the benefit of a self-absorbed prick.

Exiting the lobby, I beat a straight line to the back of the waiting limo. The chauffeur spots my approach and scrambles to open the door, but I've already beaten him to it.

Popping the trunk, I toss my duffle in before making my way to the front to grab the shotgun seat while Chris and Max offload their own bags.

A slam of doors, a click of seatbelts and we're pulling out onto 57th St., only ten minutes behind schedule.

I try to settle down for the half-hour drive, but I find my knee jackhammering impatiently. I know we have plenty of time to spare before takeoff, but I hate running late. Even if it's only by a minute.

Because you never what kind of shit's gonna hit the fan — roadworks, lane closure, freeway pileup — and you can't mitigate if you ain't got any time in the bank.

I can only hope and pray that we don't run into any last-minute surprises on the 15 or so miles to the airport.

Chris strikes up some kind of conversation with the chauffeur, but I'm in no mood for small talk. Folding my arms, I try to tune out whatever it is they're saying by watching the skyscrapers flick past as we head west, then north to pick up the George Washington Bridge to Jersey.

And apart from a brief wait at the toll plaza on the other side of the Hudson, the journey passes quickly and uneventfully.

Arriving at the airport concourse, we exit the limo and make our way into the main terminal building. Luckily, at this time in the morning, there are not too many flights, so we pass through customs without any hang-ups...

...except for the fact that Max remains glued to his phone, obsessively-compulsively checking for texts from Tariq every two seconds, even as we board the jet.

"Have you tried calling him?" Chris asks as he stows his bag in preparation for the flight.

"At least ten times," confirms Max, glancing anxiously out the window in the over-keen hope that Tariq will magically appear.

"Maybe his phone ran out of battery..." offers Chris hopefully.

"More likely he got mugged," I grunt, falling into one of the leather seats.

Max throws me a disbelieving look. "That's a horrible—! Oh. You're actually serious..."

"Guy like him... Prime target," I reply dispassionately.

Max's face drains of colour. "We have to call the police!"

"And say what?" I snap abrasively. "That the bell-end got himself lost somewhere in Manhattan? They'll laugh us off the call."

"But—"

"If Tariq really is in trouble, he can hit up the Cordonian consulate," I declare uncompromisingly. "But it was his bright idea to throw a hissy fit and stomp off in the wrong direction when—"

"You ungrateful ingrates!"

My eyes snap past Max. "For fuck's sake..."

Tariq is stood in the doorway of the jet, looking like he'd literally battled his way through the nine levels of hell to get here. His over-gelled hair looks like it's been zapped with a Taser, his clothes are somehow drenched and filthy, and he's wearing only one shoe.

"Would it have killed you to wait?!" he shrieks, throwing his Louis Vuitton man-bag onto the closest seat.

"Yes..." I reply.

Tariq shoots me a murderous expression. But before he can open his mouth again, Max has crushed him into an over-eager bear hug.

"You made it!" he enthuses. He pulls back suddenly. "But why were you not picking up your phone? And also, why do you smell like a wet dog?"

"Because I was robbed!"

"Told ya," I smirk across the aisle at Chris.

"It's not funny!" shouts Tariq, jabbing an irate finger at me. "If you only knew of the horrors that I have been subjected to, you would think more than twice about making light of my plight!"

"Pretty sure I wouldn't..." I mutter with a roll of my eyes.

"What was that?" demands Tariq imperiously.

"Nothing," I grunt as a steward appears next to my seat.

"Can I interest you in a pre-flight refreshment?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure," I shrug.

She hands me something pink and bubbly in a champagne glass. "Enjoy!"

"I doubt it," I mutter, grabbing the flute to throw it back in one swig.

I grimace as the sour mix of grapefruit and Prosecco hits the back of my throat. But alcohol's alcohol, and at this point, I would've downed windscreen wash if it'd've helped drown out Tariq's high-pitched info dump of his trials and tribulations.

Kinda wish we had left the bastard behind...

But I couldn't seem to win on this trip, so I'm just going to have to suck up the next twelve-or-so hours locked up in an airtight fuselage with the bouchebag and pray that there's enough whiskey on board to keep me from choking him out.

Pulling my phone from my pocket to help distract myself, I shoot off one final text to Schweitzer to let him know that we've made it to the airport and we're about to take off.

I'm about to do the same for Bast when the over-taxed device finally gives up the ghost and the battery dies halfway through the text.

"Great..."

Reaching into my duffel with a sigh, I extract the phone's charging cable and plug it into the seat's USB port so it can get some life back while we're airborne.

As Tariq continues to piss and moan about nearly getting run over, having his phone stolen right out of his hand as he tried to call a cab — followed shortly thereafter by his watch — and then tripping and falling into an open excavation hole as he tried to chase after the pickpockets, the cabin crew shut the aircraft door and complete their final cross-checks in preparation for departure.

A quick intro from the captain, and the jet starts rolling. After a short taxi, we're out on the runway, where we idle for a couple of minutes waiting for the go from the tower.

As soon as we get it, the pilot revs the turbines and the jet lurches forward. We hurtle down the runway, wheels bouncing and jet engines whining before jumping into the air to start our climb to 41,000 feet.

Glancing out the window, I watch the ground fall away as we ascend over Jersey, my ears popping from the rapid altitude change.

The plane banks sharply to the right and I catch sight of the Manhattan skyscape...

...but there must've been something in the mimosa because I��ve crashed out before the plane fully levels off.

The story concludes in Epilogue: Into The Night.

A/N: As another little bonus, here is a pic of Chris in Times Square:

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@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890

Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Breakfast - New York - Diner - Chris - Tariq

Max, Leo, and Drake were generated using the AI art app Wonder

#drake walker #sleepless in new york #prince leo #prince liam #maxwell beaumont #tariq #the royal romance #new york #trr fanfic

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playchoicesconfessions · 10 months

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Sent by anonymous

‘Unpopular opinion: RoE‘s Leo was my very first obsession in the app and I will never get over him’

POST/CONFESSIONS DO NOT REFLECT THE MOD’S PERSONAL OPINIONS!

#choices rules of engagement #rules of engagment #choices roe #roe #prince leo #leo rys #playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #confessions #mod bruffle

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leelee10898 · 11 months

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Dancing with our hands tied.

Book: TRR/ROE

Pairing: Leo x F!OC

Word count: 1,339

Warnings: swearing, but mostly fluff

Setting: This is a flash back to Leo's social season, before Madeline was chosen and before he ran off to go on a cruise.

A/N: Life has been super crazy, with the end of the school year, holidays and work I haven't had much time to write. I quickly got this together to post so, sorry for any errors. 😬

A/N 2: I have an idea for this to become a series of some sort. More details to come. Also as always if you'd like to be added to the tags, let me know.

This was written for @choicesflashfics using the prompts;

"How long have you been standing there?"

"You're allowed to fall apart a little."

"That's all I really want and need. Some time with just you "

Song inspiration:

The social season was well underway, just a few short weeks and he would be forced to choose a bride. Five suitors from five noble houses across the country and globe with Cordonian ties all vying for his hand. He should be gloating about having five women throw themselves at him, wanting a piece of whatever attention he chose to give, and under normal circumstances he would relish in it. He was dubbed the playboy prince after all but this was something else entirely. The desperation in their voices when he spoke to them, some doing a better job than most if their words didn't give them away their faces told it all. He was trained to read people from a very young age, body language, and touch, all tell a story and these women wanted one thing, the crown.

Leo stood in the middle of a crowded room speaking to Lady Jessica and her parents Lord and Lady Britton. Jessica was one of his suitors, as he listened to Lady Britton ramble on about being a suitor during Constantine's first social season, he felt the panic spread through his chest. Of course, she didn't leave out the part where Constantine chose his mother, the mother who couldn't cut it as a Royal and fled, leaving him behind. Lord Britton seemed to have enough of his wife's antics he cleared his throat at the mention of Lady Britton's talents of playing the flute.

"Yes, Our Jessica is also very talented in the musical area. She mastered playing the piano at the age of four. Isn't that right, Jessica?" He turned his attention towards his daughter.

"Why yes, Father. That is correct. I am also skilled in archery, ballet, and painting." She answered right on cue, giving a shy smile and batting her eyes.

"All wonderful skills a wife should possess, wouldn't you agree your highness?" Lord Britton's attention was now on him.

"Why yes, Lord Britton. I agree, all wonderful talents." Leo politely answered, desperate to find a way out of his current conversation.

"Splendid?" Lord Britton laughed before turning serious. "The end of the social season is quickly approaching, if I may be so bold as to ask, have you made a decision yet?"

The panic now had spread throughout his body, his nerve endings were tingling and his hands began to sweat. "No. I have not come to a decision yet." Leo carefully chose his words, "The decision does not come lightly, choosing Cordonias next queen is something to be taken seriously, I intend to take careful consideration in choosing my future bride." He settled on a quick, sharp answer, in hopes to shut him up; it seems to have worked as he watched the fear flash before lord Britton's eyes. He nodded stiffly. "Of course your highness."

Leo hated making small talk with the suitor's parents, his eyes did a quick scan of the room and finally, he spotted his out.

"Now if you will excuse me, there is a matter that requires my attention." Leo cut the conversation off at the knees, he turned to leave, "Lord Britton, Lady Britton, Lady Jessica." He nodded to the three quickly walking through the ballroom and disappearing behind a door on the far side. He walked down the long hall and into one of the studies his father often used to discuss private matters during events.

He stripped his jacket off immediately, tossing it onto the floor, loosening his tie as he paced the room. Breathing in and out he gripped a hold of the tie yanking it free from his neck. Leo walked over to the bar cart and poured a large glass of scotch, quickly letting the contents burn its way down his throat.

"It's too much. To much. I, Im not cut out for this. I can't do this." He began to pace, grabbing a fist full of his hair and letting out a frustrated growl. He turned, stopping dead in his tracks to find a beautiful brunette standing there with a nervous look on her face. Lady Ava was attending the social season with her uncle, one of Constantine's Allies from Australia. She and Leo had grown close during the season, and while she wasn't one of his suitors, he still found ways to be around her.

"I'm sorry, I. I should go." Ava stammered, averting her eyes.

"How long have you been standing there?" Leo breathed out.

"Not long." She quickly answered, casting her eyes to the side.

"Long enough I'm sure." He let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Well, I guess you'll be running for the hills now. Now that you know what a freak show I am."

"Is that what you want?" Her question threw him off, guard. It wasn't a question he was asked often, no one took into consideration his wants.

"I don't understand." Her question confused him.

"I didn't think it was a hard question." Ava closed the door and made her way across the room. "Do you want me to leave? Is that what you want?"

Leo stood there staring at her. Out of all his suitors, she was the only one he made a real connection with only she wasn't a suitor. "No." He finally answered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She questioned and he shook his head.

"What do you want me to say? I fell apart, I lost my composure, I cracked under pressure, what a fucking great king I'll make." He let out another sarcastic snort.

Ava closed the distance between them, "You're allowed to fall apart a little." She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Even the best of us fall apart sometimes, I know this has to be hard, I can't begin to imagine what you are going through. I know this isn't what you wanted out of life."

"It isn't but, it's what I was born to do, literally. I don't get a say, what I want doesn't matter. I don't get time to myself. " He turned away to stare out the window.

"It matters to me." She spoke and he turned to look at her again. "Is that what you want? Time alone? Because right now, you're not in a ballroom, it's just the two of us."

Leo crossed the room closing the distance between the two of them. He reached out softly cupping her face with his hands. "That's all I really want and need. Some time with just you." He lowered his voice, eyes searching her face.

"Leo." She breathed out, closing her eyes.

"You're the only one who gets me here, you see me as more than a crown." Leo lifted her chin forcing her to look at him.

"Because you are more than a crown. You're more than all of this." She motioned around to nothing. "At the end of all of this, when you make your choice, Just remember that the crown doesn't make the man. You can shape yourself and this country in whatever way you see it." Ava smiled at him and with that Leo leaned in claiming her lips in a soft kiss, before pulling away and resting his forehead on hers.

"I do not know what the next few weeks will hold," he spoke. "But just know that you are special to me, Ava."

Ava wrapped her arms tightly around Leo's waist. The two stayed that way for a few minutes before reluctantly pulling apart.

"We should probably get back before someone notices we are both missing. What a scandal that would cause." She giggled.

"If it's a scandal you're looking for, I can arrange for something more worth it than a hug." Leo waggled his brows which earned and eye roll.

"You sir, are diabolical. Now Let's go." She motioned towards the door.

"Its all I have going for me and wouldn't want to be any other way." Leo shrugged and smiled. He wasn't sure who he would end up with at the end of the season but he would hold her memory for a lifetime.

@kingliam2019 @ao719 @emichelle @annabellewynter @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @riseandshinelittleblossom @blackcatkita @katedrakeohd @tinkie1973 @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @lovingchoices14 @indiana-jr @txemrn @bascmve01 @queenwalton @sfb123 @umccall71 @choicesficwriterscreations

#trr fanfic #choices trr #leo trr #prince leo #leo rys #leelee10898writes

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stupidly-pretentious · 3 months

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Stupidly Pretentious Comic | Lesson One

Next Lesson

First part of my webcomic! If you like the villainess genre, or anything any flavor of ridiculous, I hope you'll check out the character profiles and consider following this blog dedicated to the comic!

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xxrainbow-princessxx · 1 year

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Does Distance Make The Heart Grow Fonder? - Oneshot Isabella x Mafia!Leo (Rules of Engagement/The Royal Romance AU) - Part 4

Read Part 1: Here

Read Part 2: Here

Read Part 3: Here

Summary: Isabella and Leo’s Kingdoms both were overthrown by the Via Imperii. The Crown Princess along with her family were exiled whilst the Cordonian Royal Family went underground, fighting to reclaim their throne and hold over the Cordonian People through other means.

TW: Cursing, Implied Violence, Violence, Implied 🍋

Tagging: @lorirwritesfanfic @drakewalkerfantasy @rainbowsinthestorm @lorircreates @beyondsimsreality @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @secretaryunpaid @rafasgirl23415 @twinkleallnight

“What do you mean you can’t fucking tell me?” Leo seethed as he spoke to the Doctor’s receptionist who reminded him that only Isabella could get the results. “I’m sorry sir but it is not possible for me to provide that information as you are not the children’s legal guardian. We have tried to call Ms. Sánchez this morning on a few occasions but there’s been no answer to the number provided…” Leo began to see red, for something so important, why the hell was she not answering.

Immediately he began to question what game was she playing with him? Was she planning to withhold the information to keep him in a compromising position? Leo tried to call her himself but again, straight to voicemail which pissed him off even more. Swearing under his breath about how he was going to tear that goddamn medical Center apart, he grabbed his keys furiously before driving off towards the Capital. He knew it was a day that Isabella was at the University but patience was not one of Leo’s strongpoints. He revved the engine of his Aston Martin as his jaw clenched. “Fucking traffic!” he slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, his foot riding the clutch constantly as he shifted gears, darting and weaving his way between the cars destined to go North towards the heart of the Cordonian Kingdom.

Stomping around the corridors as he marched his way to Isabella’s office. Leo stuffed his hands into his pockets, keeping his head low to distract from any sort of suspicion. Opening the door, he heard Isabella’s voice stop mid sentence as his sea green eyes glared at the student who turned to understand why his professor stopped discussing his assignment. “You…” Leo snapped as he gestured behind him, “Get out!” holding the door open as the panicked student rummaged to get his things. As soon as his body has passed the door frame. Leo shut the door, his nostril twitching, “Do you not have a phone or something?” he barked at the petite brunette who looked puzzled, “What the fuck Leo?” She began to sigh, “Of course I do…” The sandy haired Crime Lord sucked in his cheeks before snapping back towards her, “Then when I call you… fucking answer!” Isabella rose to her feet, pushing out her chair as she picked up papers that sat on her desk. Instead of walking towards Leo, she walked towards the filing cabinet. “Leo…” she spoke calmly as she flicked through the alphabetical list, “I don’t have my personal phone switched on during 1:1 discussion time with students… they’ve paid a lot of money to be here so they deserve 100% of my attention… if there’s an emergency, then the office number is called…”

Walking past him again to her desk, Leo grunted under his breath as she ignored him again to take her seat. Her soft caramel curls cascaded down her back as she pulled on the hem of her black pinstripe pencil dress before taking her seat again, “Is there something I can do for you before my next student arrives?” She aggravated him so much that Leo clenched his teeth, his jaw muscle rippled as he held himself back. He swallowed hard before he could find the words, “The results are ready, so we are going to…” Isabella nodded, “Yes, I am aware… I do check my messages Leo but I have appointments until 2:30pm…” the Laurentian beauty began to smile, “Either you are welcome to sit there for the next three hours and wait…” emphasising the word, “patiently… or I will call you when I am ready. It’s your choice…” The former Crown Prince didn’t respond other than to slam the door behind him causing the glass panel in the door to shake behind him. Again, Leo found himself grumbling as he roamed the corridors before slipping into an empty office space checking there was no one around or camera. He looked around, the room felt cold; looked like no one had been around for days. Taking out his hip flask he kept filled with rubbing alcohol, he poured the contents around the pile of papers and the carpet of the room. He began to evilly smirk as he held the zippo lighter he had in his hand against the wet materials to set them alight.

The agonising sound of the fire alarm interrupted Isabella’s next appointment half an hour later. She had closed her eyes before breathing in deeply as she tried to push down her annoyance. With pursed lips, she along with all the rest of the faculty and students who were in that section of the university had to evacuate. Immediately the petite brunette as she entered the quad gardens saw Leo standing back, lighting a cigarette. Marching over to him, it took all of Isabella’s power not to want to slap him there and then. “What are you playing at?” She seethed, “Are you that much of a fucking child that you set off fire alarms to get my attention?” Leo simply shrugged with a callous smile, “You hurt my feelings kitten… so I made myself feel better…” Isabella could only shake her head, rolling her eyes to the point she could feel the strain. He was infuriating. Before she could answer, an announcement went out over a loudspeaker to confirm that all classes in the University’s southern corridor were cancelled to do a health and safety assessment. “You’re free now…” Leo grunted looking around to ensure no one spotted them, “Get in the fucking car…”

Isabella’s dark chocolate brown eyes rolled to the right as Leo sped down the highway, “You do realise kidnapping someone because you want something done when you want it done screams that you’re an asshole?” Leo kept his gaze to the road, his grip on the steering wheel again tightened at the insinuation, “Well Princess…” he jeered, “I’ve never claimed I’m not an asshole… this is a means to an end…” he snapped, “Then you can go back to whatever the hell you want…” The petite brunette sucked in her cheeks as she firmly spoke again, “You don’t scare me… so your threats don’t matter…” Leo chuckled loudly in the car. With a smirk he replied back to her, “No matter the result kitten…” he turned his gaze towards her, tilting her chin to force her meet his. Leo’s green eyes flashed with a cold darkness that Isabella didn’t expect, “You should be fucking scared…” Pulling herself away from him, Isabella sat scornfully quiet in the car until they pulled up to the doctors office. Isabella walked in with Leo towering over the petite brunette. She smiled warmly at the terrified assistant who Leo kept glaring at. “We’re here to collect some results for the Sánchez children, the doctor confirmed they were ready to collect this morning…” Isabella calmly spoke as the assistant fumbled through the information they had before shakily handing Isabella the envelope and a letter to sign, “Thank you…” the former Crown Princess cooed as she pushed the signed document across the desk.

Isabella handed Leo the envelope before they had left the doctors office as she raised her brows, “Can’t accuse me of switching anything now can you?” but Leo didn’t speak, other than tapping the corner of the envelope against his hand. “Are you not going to open it?” Isabella questioned but Leo curtly replied, “Not here…” Isabella checked her watch quickly with hesitation, “Well we have an hour and a half before they need picked up from school…” Leo hadn’t thought of that. He took a moment before he reached for his phone sending Sofie a message to go pick the girls up with Drake as guard. “Sofie can do it… we have to talk…” Isabella nodded in agreement as they both returned to the car. The tension between them both was palpable, neither one wanting to interrupt each others thought processes. Leo’s mind wandered to the envelope, he knew deep down what the results were, he knew deep down looking at them both they were his; hell he would have just accepted her telling him but legally for him to protect them, he had to have it in writing as Liam had constantly reminded him. The Crime Lord also needed to have proof so his enemies couldn’t use the ambiguity of their parentage to their advantage and selfishly, he could then finally have his name proudly on their birth certificates.

Leo drove south, back towards Valtoria but instead of heading to his compound, he drove higher up into the mountains away from the rest of the world, leaving only him and her. “Why are we here?” Isabella raised her brow in question as Leo finally braked at the top of the top of the Valtorian Valley overlooking the lake. Leo took the envelope from his pocket, his eyes looking down towards the unopened letter in his hands before quietly passing it to the exiled Crown Princess, “You open it…” he grunted, keeping his gaze forward. Isabella delicately opened the envelope, holding up the two separate pages side by side. “We’ll wouldn’t you know…” the Laurentian beauty began to smile smugly, “Full marks…” before handing them to the sandy haired Cordonian who sat beside her. Leo took a moment to take it in. There was no longer any doubt as he slowly began to take things in, “You never did anything by halves did you?” he mumbled before folding the pieces of paper back up into three and putting them into his coat pocket. Leo licked his bottom lip before resting his head against the headrest, looking upwards, “Fuck…” he ran his tattooed hands down his face as he laughed, “So where does this leave us? To think we were planning a wedding once; now we’re practically strangers with kids…” Isabella giggled in agreement with a smile, “That’s true… however…” the Laurentian beauty turned to her former love. Leo found himself getting lost in her dark chocolate brown eyes like he had done for so many years, giving him optimism and finally some hope.

Isabella’s tone changed from jovial to more serious, “We will need to work out a co-parenting schedule… We’re due to go back to New York in a couple of weeks… So it’s important we do things right…” reaching out, Leo took one of the petite brunette’s soft, delicate hands into his own, “I agree, but first there’s something we need to do…” Isabella swore she could see a soft blush on his cheeks but didn’t want to interrupt, “Have dinner with me Bella… I know I am many things…” the former Crown Prince sighed, “…but I don’t want you to think I’m a complete monster, I’ve never wanted that…” Isabella slowly squeezed his hand gently, “That’s fine… we can do dinner as long as we’re back in time for the girls to go to bed… I’ll need to find a babysitter…” Leo chuckled to himself, feeling his heart almost skip a beat when she agreed, “Don’t worry beautiful… I have enough people who work for me to have that arranged… they should come up to the main house for the night. There’s a cinema room. I’m sure they can find something to watch…” Isabella nodded, “That would be nice for them, thank you… I do have one request that only the staff you truly trust are there, they’re not ready to meet your girlfriend before they’ve met you…” Leo didn’t hesitate in agreeing, “Only my most personal staff will be around, plus Liam and Drake will be there to keep an eye on things… If you want privacy, I can have someone pick you up and I can meet you there…”

Leo found it strange that Isabella referred to him as having a girlfriend but he didn’t question it; they had more important things to discuss. “Ok…” Isabella nodded, it was nice that for once recently they weren’t arguing over something. It felt almost normal. “Probably should head back…” Leo sighed having checked the time, “I’ve got a few things I need to take care of beforehand…” He drove back towards the cottage that Isabella and the twins were staying in. The quietness of the drive was no longer tense, if anything it was as if a weight finally arose from his shoulders. “I’ll have someone pick you up at 7pm…” The sandy haired Cordonian mumbled as Isabella reached for the passenger door. The corners of her mouth slowly curled upwards as she placed one foot onto the ground, turning to face Leo once more, “…For the record…” she began to smile, “I’ve never thought you a monster… I’ll see you later…” As promised, Leo organised his most trusted staff and Liam to be there when the kids arrived and they all had been briefed to ensure no one else was allowed in the property; it was to be like Fort Knox or someone would have to answer to him when he returned as Drake escorted the petite brunette toward the Castelsarreillan duchy.

Dressed in a black midi camisole dress, and coat to save her from the cold Cordonian February night, Isabella was directed through the back entrance towards a private room. Greeted by a kind waiter, her chair was pulled out for her. “Please sit…” he gestured towards the chair, “Your guest will be here momentarily… would you like some champagne, your guest has already chosen the wine for the evening…” Isabella smiled warmly towards him, “I will wait, thank you…” she cooed, not wanting to take advantage of Leo’s hospitality. The former Crown Prince finally arrived fifteen minutes later flanked by two guards. Leo’s dominance and authority almost suffocated the room. No one stepped out of line until he dismissed them. “You haven’t ordered?” He began to frown as he noticed the empty plate, his glare then directed to the nervous waiter. “No… no…” Isabella stood to her feet, reaching out to Leo’s arm, holding it gently, “I asked to wait until you arrived…I am sorry…” she turned to the waiter with a warm, forgiving smile, “Just some crossed wires…” Leo swallowed hard, the word sorry didn’t exist in his vocabulary. “Fine…” his glare never left the waiter as he ran off to prep the kitchen for the pre-ordered food that Leo requested.

They talked; reminiscing about the good times, the bad times and the could have been times. “I would have been there in a heartbeat if I had known…” Leo sighed heavily as his heavily tattooed hand reached across the table to hold hers, “Believe me kitten… if I could have changed the outcome of all of this I would have…” Isabella lowered her head, placing her other hand over Leo’s, “I know…” she calmly stroked his skin with her thumb, “But we must think of the future, not live in the past…” All Leo could do was chuckle bashfully, “You’re always the voice of reason aren’t you…” before he reached into his blazer jacket pocket, removing a little red box and pushing it across to her. Isabella looked confused, it seemed familiar but she wasn’t sure. Slowly she opened the red leather bound box. Her hand crossing her mouth in shock. “Leo…” her eyes darted up towards him, “This is your mother’s ring… no… you were to keep this…” but the Crime Lord simply shook his head, “It was yours, it’s always going to be yours… you’re the mother of my children; no matter what happens - you should have it…” the Laurentian beauty stared at the emerald cut diamond ring, “This is too much Leo…” she sighed, “You should keep this if you plan to marry…” Leo took the ring out of the box, taking Isabella’s left hand before sliding the ring onto her finger. “The only person I ever wanted to marry left me two weeks before we could tell anyone we were to be engaged, that ring was only meant for one person and that’s you…”

The former Crown Prince laughed as the colour drained from Isabella’s face, “I’m not fucking forcing you to marry me if that’s what you’re worried about!” Isabella raised her champagne flute to her lips, taking a sip to calm her nerves, “I wouldn’t have thought your girlfriend would have appreciated that…” she giggled. “What girlfriend?” Leo raised his brow, wondering what she meant. “When you came to visit, you referred to someone as babe… apologies if I assumed incorrectly…” Leo began to smirk as he took a drink from the crystal tumbler in his hand, “That…” he began to laugh, “That isn’t a problem, I don’t have a partner… she’s just a distraction…” the petite brunette nodded her head not wanting to press any further. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know or not. Her eyes lit up once again as dessert arrived, “Laurentian chocolate cake…” the exiled Crown Princess grinned smelling the mixture of cocoa, cinnamon and honey. “I can’t remember the last time we had this…” but Leo did, he remembered he was served it the day he asked her father could he marry her. Reluctantly Felipe said yes after much persuasion but it always reminded him of better times. “Glad you like it…”

Drake returned to the compound only to find Leo’s ‘distraction’ banging on the front door of the mansion. “Hey…” he shouted, “What the fuck are you doing?!” much to her annoyance. “What do you think I’m doing?!” She angrily spat back, “He stood me up and I want to know why?!” Drake simply shook his head, “Business came up, he had to switch his phone off. Probably lost track of time…” pouting her lips, she folded her arms, “Well let me in and I will wait for him when he gets back…” but Drake brushed past her with a chuckle, “No can do… no one in or out until the big guy gets back… you can wait out there if you want but you put one foot over this threshold - you’ll soon regret not listening to me…” Her blue eyes narrowed angrily towards the Texan, “Fuck you Drake!” she screamed as he slammed the door behind him. She did wait and her anger began to bubble over. Her eyes widened as she saw Leo get out of his car and open the door for Isabella. He extended his hand out toward her before escorting her into his home. “What the fuck?!” she seethed, reaching for her phone taking pictures of the pair together linked arm and arm. “Fucking asshole won’t make me look like an idiot and get away with it!” Unknown to her, Isabella and Leo walked in to find the two girls cuddled up beside Sofie and Liam. “I’m sorry…” Isabella quietly laughed, “They’re dead to the world when they sleep… Leo could you?” gesturing to the two sleeping kids. Leo looked down at her quite shocked but jumped at the opportunity to help, “Can you help me carry them to their room?” With ease, Leo picked up each twin without hesitation; both of them still sleeping as they nuzzled into his neck. His heart was full as he placed them down gently onto the King Sized bed. Isabella smiled as she held onto the door, waiting for him to leave. She kissed Leo’s cheek gently and whispered “Thank you for tonight” to him before closing the door over for the evening. Both of them went to sleep content but not ready for the following morning announcements.

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