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tessa-liam · 1 month ago

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Turning the Page

Chapter 15

_Bridge of Dreams_

Choices, The Royal Romance, The Royal Heir AU

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son.

Turning the Page Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist

Main pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who both belong to this series.

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match.

Rating: M 🔞 - Warnings – Series will have crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors.

Bridge of Dreams

Chapter 15

Chapter Summary: Liam and Riley revisit the Pont des Arts, ‘Lovelock Bridge” in Paris, France. Olivia begins a relationship with Damien Nazario. William enjoys his first camping trip with Uncles Drake and Maxwell & Bartie

Music Inspiration: I Won’t Give Up, Jason Mraz

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’)

Santorini, Greece

Rubbing away the fog off the bathroom mirror after his hot shower, Damien Nazario could now see his reflection to shave. After waking from a rejuvenating sleep, his plans included enjoying the white sand beaches that were here in Santorini and maybe some sightseeing on the island. He was afforded a couple of free days of relaxation to enjoy the beaches of Santorini by King Liam before he was to return to his duties of guarding the young crown prince in Cordonia.

...and he was determined to enjoy this free time. Damien finished shaving and splashed water on his face. He felt refreshed and energized, ready to take on the day.

He grabbed a towel and dried his face. Then, he headed into the bedroom to get dressed.

Damien padded slowly into the bedroom of her hotel suite and grinned.

He had every intention of enjoying his time with his fiery red-haired companion, whom he shared a bed with after the wedding festivities ended.

After Olivia invited him to extend the celebration in her hotel room -- which he accepted without hesitation -- they spent the night in each other's arms, exploring their desires. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and even longer since he had been with a woman like Duchess Olivia. She was confident, intelligent, and beautiful. And she knew how to please a man.

Ever since the first day they were introduced, he found himself drawn to her and intrigued by her personality.

Damien had to admit, the redhead was very sexy, and it wasn't just her appearance. It was also the way she carried herself and the way she spoke. Her confidence of knowing exactly what she wanted and was not afraid to go after it.

The way she spoke so eloquently and with such passion was very arousing. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was interested in; her intellect apparent.

He was intrigued by her confidence and her ability to be assertive. Most women would shy away from taking charge, but not Olivia. She was bold and unafraid to express her feelings. He found that to be incredibly attractive and erotic.

Damien smiled, biting his top lip as he thought about the previous night and all the things they did. They had made love until the early hours of the morning leaving them both exhausted but satisfied.

Olivia was already up and dressed, sitting on the bed. She was wearing a pale coral sundress that complimented her skin tone, and her red hair was pulled back into a loose chignon.

"Good morning," Damien said as he approached her.

"Good morning," Olivia replied coyly, a smile playing on her lips.

Damien leaned down and kissed her, his hand cupping her cheek. He couldn't resist pulling her close, inhaling her sweet scent.

"I was wondering if you would like to join me on the beach today," Damien suggested, his fingers brushing a stray hair away from her face.

"Actually, I was planning on returning to Cordonia today."

"Why so soon?" Damien asked, slightly disappointed.

"I have important business to attend to."

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Olivia reassured him, placing her hand on his chest. "I just need to get back to work."

"Of course," Damien nodded. "But you still have the day free before your flight".

"True," Olivia agreed. "I suppose we could spend a few more hours together."

"Excellent," Damien smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. "Would you like to have breakfast first?"

"Actually, I have a better idea," Olivia said, her voice low and seductive.

"What do you have in mind?"

Olivia smirked, her green eyes darkening with desire. "Why don't you come back to bed?"

"Now that sounds like a perfect plan."

Damien's mouth curved into a grin as he gently pushed her back and joined her back in bed.

As she looked out the 18th floor window, Riley could see the Seine River winding its way through the city. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

The Suite Impériale at the Ritz, Paris, France

This is it.

Riley knew that she would have to relive the bittersweet memories from the engagement tour. It would be hard, but she knew that it would also be cathartic. She needed this.

She needed to let go of the past.

She turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a flowing, white sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair was falling softly onto her shoulders, and her makeup was simple and elegant.

She was ready.

She slipped on a pair of white sandals and made her way down to the lobby. Liam was meeting her at their spot once he finished his meeting with the French president and he should be there momentarily.

When Riley stepped outside, the sun was shining, and the sky was a brilliant blue.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, trying to calm her jitters.

As Riley made her way along the Seine, she could not help but think about the last time she was here.

It was a day she would never forget.

The day she and Liam placed that small gold lock on the bridge.

It was the day they declared their love for each other and sealed it with a kiss.

Riley sighed, remembering how happy she was that day. How hopeful.

She had been so naïve.

Tariq was never found and the scandal lived on. Liam would abide by his duty and marry Madeleine, making her his queen.

As Riley rounded the corner, she could see the bridge coming into view.

Her heart started to race, and her palms became sweaty. She felt her tears travel down her cheeks.

She was nervous.

She didn't know what to expect or why Liam was so insistent on revisiting this exact spot.

Riley reached the bridge and stopped. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

She was ready.

The memories came flooding back.

'You spot Liam leaning against a stone railing overlooking the Seine. His expression is clouded, but when he hears you approach, he breaks into a smile.

"Riley!"'

"Liam. You are a sight for sore eyes."

Liam chuckles. "That's my line."

He pushes himself off the railing and takes a few steps forward, closing the distance.

'"I wasn't sure you'd come."'

He wraps you in a tight embrace, resting his head against your shoulder. You feel his chest heave with a sigh.

"After the bachelor party, I found Maxwell and he filled me in on your ... mission earlier."

To think that Bastien helped set you up ..."

Liam nods. "It's ... shocking, yes, but ... I think it might have been a blessing in disguise."

"How so?"

Liam pulls away and smiles. "If we hadn't been interrupted, I may not have had the opportunity to spend the evening with you. And as much as I love spending time with my friends, being with you was ... a much-needed escape."

"I wasn't sure if we should risk coming here. If the person behind this is so powerful that Bastien is afraid of them ..., are we really safe? I don't know how deeply this goes or who we can trust. All I know is that I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. The only way to keep you safe might be for us to leave. Permanently."

Liam smiled sadly, I remember asking you, saying,

"We could ... we could go anywhere. Anywhere in the world. Where do you want to go?"

"You're joking, right? We can't leave Cordonia."

"No, we can. We'll just go somewhere no one will ever find us. We can live in peace and happiness together."

"We could have a family. We could be happy."

"Liam ... no. No matter how tempting that sounds ...

"You can't abandon Cordonia."

His shoulders slump. "I know that. But if you asked me to, I would. In an instant."

"I could never ask you that. Your people need an honest King now more than ever. And the Liam I know would never leave them behind.

Liam tenderly takes your hands in his.

"We will get through this, Riley. We have to. I refuse to believe otherwise."

He lifts one of your hands and kisses the back of it, his eyes never leaving yours.

"We'll find a way. Together."

Liam pulls you close and kisses you, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

After a moment, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

"I promise."

"I won't give up on you, or us."

"Nor will I."

"Thank you, Riley for not letting my fears get the better of me."

Liam steps back and holds out his arm to you.

"Now, shall we continue our walk?

"I'd love that, Liam."

The two of you start walking down the bridge, hand-in-hand.

"You know, Riley, there's one good thing about this whole Tariq situation."

"And what's that?"

"It's made me realize how lucky I am to have someone like you by my side. You're strong, kind, compassionate, and so much more. I love you, and I'm so grateful that you're a part of my life."

Liam gives you a small smile.

"Thank you, Liam."

"For what?"

"For always knowing the right thing to say."

"Well, I try," Liam says with a smirk.

"I know it's hard. But no matter what happens, at least we'll face it together."

At this, Riley gets very emotional, thinking that by leaving him when she found out she was pregnant, she betrayed him.

Riley was lost in thought as she walked, the sun beating down on her shoulders. It had been a long journey, and she was still processing everything that had happened.

She thought about her decision to leave, and how it had affected Liam.

She thought about William, and how she faced the challenge of being a single parent.

The guilt was overwhelming.

She knew she had made the right decision at the time, but she couldn't help but regret the pain she had caused Liam.

She had left without a word, without a trace.

And while she was certain that the time away had been necessary, she couldn't help but feel like she had let him down.

Joining Liam at the railing they both gaze across the river. The streets around them are practically empty, though many lights still glitter on the water.

It's so quiet. It feels almost like a dream. Like they're the only ones in the city.

Liam puts his arm around Riley's shoulders and pulls her close.

"Love, you look ... you look like you are miles away from here.

Penny tor your thoughts?"

"Liam. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course ... anything, Riley."

Taking a shaky breath, speaking in a very small voice,

"After you married Madeleine, did ... did you ever grow feelings for her? When I left?"

Liam took a deep breath and sighed. He knew Riley wanted him to; needed him to be truthful.

"Madeleine and I, well, we grew fond of one another. As friends; but, nothing more."

A tear slipped down Riley's cheek, but Liam quickly rubbed it away.

"Our arrangement was that we would marry, have children, and rule Cordonia together. However, as time went on, I ... we both realized that we were never going to love each other. We would be nothing more than friends."

Nodding her head, her eyes were locked onto the floor. She was trying to hold herself together.

"Madeleine did try, at first, to seduce me. She was quite insistent on producing an heir, but I couldn't bring myself to bed her. Cordonia be damned."

Liam placed his hands on Riley's cheeks, cradling her head as she cried.

"I knew that, as long as you were out there, somewhere, I would always be yours. I couldn't move on."

"I'm so, so sorry," she said. "I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling guilty for what happened."

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't your fault. It was my choice. I had a responsibility to Cordonia, and I had a duty to the Crown. I knew what I was getting into when I married Madeleine."

"You didn't have a choice," she whispered.

"Neither did you," he replied.

Riley sighed, her eyes filled with tears, looking up to the sky.

"The night when William was born ... I was so happy. But you weren't mine. you belonged to someone else. It killed me ... that I ran and took your son away."

"Riley," Liam said softly, taking her hand.

Riley pursed her lips, and began...

"Riley," he said tenderly, cupping her cheek.

"Liam, when William was born, I was ecstatic. But then, when I held him for the first time, and he looked up at me ... I couldn't help but think that you should have been there, too. That he should have had his father with him, on the day he was born. And I just couldn't stop thinking about how I had left you behind, and that it was all my fault."

"Riley," he said again, pulling her into his arms. "You were the one who was abandoned, Riley. Not me. I understand why you did what you did. It wasn't your fault."

"Liam ..."

"Riley, I know how difficult it was for you. How painful. But I am so glad that you found the strength to return to me, and with our son. You are a wonderful mother, and I can't imagine my life without you and William in it."

"I love you, Liam,"her lip quivering.

"And I love you, Riley," he replied. "More Than you will ever know."

"Always," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Always, my love."

The two of them stood there, watching the sun set over the water, holding each other close.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Liam turned to kiss Riley's forehead.

"Yes. It is."

Liam looks down and smiled. "I have a surprise for you."

Leading Riley further along the bridge she sees a wicker basket sitting on the paving stones. Liam pulls a small blanket from the basket and spreads it out. As she settled down on the blanket, Liam pulled a bottle of champagne from the basket, followed by two flutes, a loaf of crisp bread, and several rounds of cheese.

Riley smiled. "Wow, Liam. This is quite the spread. And very familiar."

Liam deftly pops the cork and pours two glasses of champagne. He hands one to Riley, and then raises his own.

"To you, Riley. The most unforgettable woman I've ever met."

"To you, Liam. Meeting you changed my life. But out of all the places I've been and the things I've done since then, the best part has been getting to know you."

"That's more of a toast than I deserve, Riley, but, thank you."

Clinking glasss they each take a sip. There is a faint hint of mint and lemon to the cool, bubbly drink.

"Liam, how long have you been planning this?"

"A few days."

Riley sips her champagne. The sweet and bubbly alcohol is warming.

"How did you manage to sneak a whole picnic out here without anyone seeing you?"

Liam chuckles. "A king can do many things."

"Like bribe the French palace staff?"

Liam laughs. "Perhaps. But no, I was simply able to utilize my authority. And I can assure you, no one will disturb us. This bridge is closed to traffic."

Riley looked up at him, incredulous. "How did you manage that?"

"With great difficulty." Liam winks mischievously.

She raised her eyebrows.

"I have connections," Liam says with a smirk.

"So, you pulled some strings, and now we have a private bridge all to ourselves?"

"Indeed." Liam responds sheepishly.

Riley took another sip of champagne. "I must say, this is quite impressive."

"I thought it would be nice to have a moment alone together, away from prying eyes and listening ears."

"I'm glad you did." Riley giggled.

"Good," Liam says, pouring more champagne into her glass.

"So, what do we have here?"

"Well, we have champagne, of course," Liam says, motioning to the bottle. "And then we have some delicious cheese, courtesy of France. And a fresh baguette, still warm from the bakery."

"This is amazing, Liam. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, Riley."

Once the food is gone and the blanket and glasses are put away, Liam takes the basket under one arm and offers you the other.

"I believe tradition requires that we continue our evening with a stroll, my lady."

As Liam and Riley walked along the Seine, more and more locks could be seen hooked through the railing.

As she looked down at the locks, Riley couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in her heart.

They were symbols of love and hope and somewhere in the sea of locks, Riley knew their lock was still locked in place. She bent down to take a closer look.

A reminder her of a time she had tried so hard to forget.

...Remember When...

"Thank you, Riley. With so little permanence in this world, there will always be this little lock on this bridge just for the two of us. I want to believe it will be here forever, no matter what else happens to us."

Riley's eyes filled with tears with this memory from years ago.

"Riley, my love..."

Wiping her tears she stood and turned ...and gasped --as she watched Liam drop down onto one knee before her.

"Liam?"

"Riley, you are my heart and soul. You're the reason I wake up every morning. You're the reason I smile. I cannot imagine a life without you by my side. You've stood beside me through the hardest moments of my life, and you've never once wavered. You've given me the strength to face my fears, and you've shown me that true love can conquer anything. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you."

He opened his hand, and she saw a small, black velvet box sitting on his palm.

"Liam ..."

With steady hands, he opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond engagement ring.

"Riley Louise, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "Yes! ... A thousand times, yes!"

"Really?"

"Of course," she tearfully replied.

Liam beamed as he slid the ring onto her finger.

"I love you, Riley."

"I love you too, Liam."

Tears ran down her cheeks as she leaned forward, kissing him passionately.

She was his.

Forever.

As they kissed, her heart was bursting with joy.

This was the happiest moment of her life.

They stood on the bridge for what felt like hours, locked in each other's arms.

"So, we're really going to do this, huh?" Liam looked intentedly at Riley, trying to stop his smile.

"What, get married?" Riley giggled.

"Yeah," he said. "It seems crazy, but I've never been surer of anything." Liam started to kiss down the side of her neck, pausing to gently nip her skin.

"Ohhhhh .... me neither." Riley moaned as he squeezed her ass pulling her flush against him.

"Let's get out of here," he growled, leading Riley back to the hotel.

Fontainebleau cliff (outside Paris)

At Maxwell’s request, William, along with his nephew Bartie was joining Drake for a camping trip outside of the city...on the condition that Bastien would be included...at Liam's insistence.

"This is going to be great," Maxwell said. "I can't wait for a boys' night."

After a few hours of driving, and a long hike later ... Maxwell, Drake, William, Bartie and Bastien arrive at a cliff overlooking the lake.

Maxwell sets his backpack down. "All right, guys. Let's make camp."

"I thought you said we were going camping," Bartie says.

"This is camping," Maxwell replies.

"No, this is a cliff. There are no trees or tents or anything."

"We're in the middle of nature. What more do you need?"

"Um, a place to sleep?" Bartie replies dryly.

"I got that covered," Drake says, pulling a bundle of canvas from his backpack. He unfolds the fabric, revealing a large tent.

"You brought a tent?" Maxwell asks.

"Of course. What did you think we were going to do, sleep under the stars?"

"Well, yeah." Maxwell answered.

Drake shook his head, thinking it was a good idea to teach these nobles a thing of two about camping.

"No way. That's how you get eaten by bears."

William looked up at Bastien, questioningly.

"Don't worry, William," Bastien says. "I have an excellent track record for keeping the royal family safe from bears."

"Okay, everyone. Let's get this tent set up," Drake rolled his eyes knowing he had to take the lead.

With the tent secured, the group thrn gathered wood to start a fire.

"Now, we can finally start having fun," Maxwell says.

"First things, first... who is hungry?"

William and Bartie look up at Drake.

"We are," they reply in unison.

"Who wants s'mores?" Drake grins.

"Yum," William exclaims.

"I don't know what that is, but I'm in," Bartie adds.

"S'mores are a camping classic. They're made with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. I guess your father hasn't taken you camping yet?" Drake shakes his head at Bartie.

"Ha, too funny!" Maxwell laughs. "Drake is an expert on s'mores."

"What do you mean?" William asks.

"Well," Maxwell begins. "S'mores are the only food that your uncle Drake can make. So, when we go camping, we have a lot of them."

"That's not true," Drake scoffs. "I can cook other things, too. Like, hot dogs. And hamburgers."

"You heat those things up. That doesn't count," Maxwell argues.

"Okay, fine. But I can make a mean cup of coffee over the fire."

"That's true," Maxwell admits. "But you still can't cook anything else."

"Whatever," Drake says, rolling his eyes.

The group laughs as they begin to roast their marshmallows over the crackling fire.

Thank you for reading, tags are in the comments. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from tags.

@choicesficwriterscreations

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queen-arabella-of-cordonia · 9 months ago

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we finally won Olivia stans

Yes I paid $15 to sleep with Olivia, yes it was worth it.

#playchoices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #olivia nevrakis #olivia x mc

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a-cloud-for-dreams · 10 months ago

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HELLO?? WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS?!!

#idk what it is but when I tell you I RAN #also if there isn’t a chapter where we can romance Gaius I’m gonna riot #Lewyn and Olivia I’m coming for you #playchoices #mir's musings 💬#olivia nevrakis #lewyn junius #radiance choices #ash empress #the royal romance #blades of light and shadow II #the cursed heart #immortal desires #lewyn x mc #villainous valentine #radiance x mc

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karahalloway · 8 months ago

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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 - Steal Me Away

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

At the bridal boutique:

Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

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

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Out and About

Par ici - This way

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?

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

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 😇

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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#harper gale #drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance #less than noble intentions #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #penelope ebrim #kiara theron #madeleine amaranth #trr fanfic #Spotify

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dutifullynuttywitch · 9 months ago

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Replaying TRR but romancing Drake this time around. I am here for the cynical, sarcastic guy with a fluffy marshmallow heart 🥰 but also, what does he do all day at court?!

#playchoices #choices trr #drake walker #drake x mc #olivia nevrakis

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kristinamae093 · 1 year ago

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Ghosted

Ghosted - The Apple Banquet (Chapter 7)

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

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

A/N1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

Characters belong to Pixelberry

The Apple Banquet was set to begin inside the ballroom of the Applewood Estate momentarily. The entire country was excited, as it was the first one to take place since Constantine wed Regina. All of the nobility gathered to witness the bride and groom share an apple from the year’s first harvest before the wedding.

The wedding, Liam scoffed at the thought. After they found all of Riley’s things a few days ago, he completely changed his view point on the scandal and her disappearance. He spent all this time believing she left to be with someone else, but he began to see the situation from a different light.

It seems the more he learns about Riley’s last night here, the more he believes she was forced away.

Liam learned of Riley retiring early from Maxwell, so they had a solid timeframe where someone could have gotten her out of the estate undetected and the maid to pack and move her things. He felt a sense of relief when the maid reiterated that she was not seen leaving with Tariq, but another man. Of course, he wished she would have been able to identify the unknown person, but in a way, his heart swelled knowing she didn’t leave with Tariq, although it opened a world of other unanswered questions.

Bastien had been searching for Tariq and Riley but had no luck in locating either thus far. The last trace of Riley was landing from her flight in New York, the morning after the Country Jamboree. From there, her trail runs cold. There was no trace of Tariq after his arrival to Applewood whatsoever; there wasn’t even a record of a car coming to pick him up from the estate that night. They had both simply vanished into thin air, like a ghost.

Without either of them, Liam was clueless as to how to proceed further. The few clues they had were just that, clues. There was nothing prominent enough to place blame anywhere. Riley's room had been cleared, not a trace to be found. Nothing was spotted outside, no predominant leads were found in the shed, aside from the dress and the piece of mail. Much to everyone's dismay, Bastien confirmed that he disposed of Riley's phone and the letter left in the room, so no comparison could be done. Liam took blame for everything and felt helpless, there was nothing more he could do; but he felt he had to put on his Kingly facade and continue as if nothing was amiss, at least for the time being.

However, Liam felt the time constricting on him. He was set to marry Madeleine in just a few short weeks, and he didn’t have a clue as to what he was going to do about that. Although he knew it was his duty to marry and produce heirs, he didn’t know if he could marry Madeleine just to appease the nobility, especially now that he knew someone potentially plotted to put her on the throne.

More than that, after they found Riley’s bloodied dress, Liam felt a renewed sense of urgency about locating her; he needed to see that she was unharmed. Of course he wanted nothing more than to hopefully bring her back and ultimately make her his Queen, but he didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself. Just seeing with his own two eyes that she is okay would suffice him, although it would break his heart all over again.

As Liam stood on the dias next to Madeleine greeting all of the court’s nobles, he couldn’t help but look at everyone as if they were a suspect. Although the maid said she saw Riley with a man in a suit, every single person there could have benefitted from getting rid of her; he was aware of the fact that Riley was a commoner and not everyone would be okay with having her as a Queen. Furthermore, Liam was sure it was a hired person who escorted Riley away; he knew his nobles were not stupid, but conniving and malicious. They wouldn’t risk getting their hands dirty, especially with something of that magnitude considering she would have been his selection. That meant the suspect list was open to all of the nobility at this point.

“Liam? Are you even listening to me?!” Madeleine snapped.

“No, I’m not.” Liam retorted. He realized the other nobles were lining up behind the double doors, a sure signal that they were about to be announced into the ballroom with his Father and Regina at the head. He turned away from Madeleine and headed toward the line of people. He took his position in the back of the procession, as tradition dictated. He squared his shoulders, stood to his full height, and waited.

“Penelope!” Madeleine snapped her fingers. “My train!”

Liam silently scoffed as he watched Penelope scurry over and take position behind Madeleine. He saw her struggling to keep up with Madeleine’s pace, but she never once let that train touch the ground.

As they reached Liam’s position, Madeleine shooed Penelope away before she turned to Liam. “Cute. I don’t know what your deal is but you need to knock it off.”

“Or what?” Liam snapped as he turned to face her.

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Madeleine indignantly laughed. “No, darling, whatever would make you think that?” She feigned innocence.

Liam stepped closer to her and lowered his voice to where only she could hear. “I told you, I'm not playing whatever game it is that you are trying to play. You'd do well to remember that you are not the Queen, not yet… I hold that power, so I would advise you to tread carefully, Countess.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Liam found himself on edge; he was not in the mood to deal with Madeleine, or anyone else for that matter. This is the last place he wanted to be, and he was not about to let Madeleine try and boss him around or assert whatever dominance she thought she held over him.

Liam stood back up and adjusted his lapels. Madeleine’s face turned a hundred shades of crimson, but she returned her attention to the line in front of her. She attempted to thread her arm through Liam’s, but he pulled away. At a nod from the herald, the doors swung open and Liam strode inside with Madeleine walking closely beside him.

They were led by a servant to a banquet table adorned with a white lace tablecloth. A wooden stand sat in the middle of the table with a bright red cordonian ruby sitting atop it, beside the apple was a knife with a black handle and gold trim.

Liam took his position behind the table next to Madeleine and directed his attention to his father, who had taken place in front of the table with a champagne flute of cider in hand.

"The sharing of a Cordonian ruby dates back to the times of King Fabian. At that time, the King and Queen would not share cake when they wed, but instead a Cordonian ruby. The monarchy has since modernized, but this tradition is to honor those who have paved the way before us.

We gather here today to celebrate not only another year's bountiful harvest, but the matrimony that these two will share. Although no vows will be exchanged here today, the symbolism remains the same."

Constantine stopped his speech as applause filled the air. He waited for a few moments before he raised his hand to quiet the crowd and continued. "We have a bright future ahead of us as a country. I have no doubt in my mind that these two will lead us with distinction and grace, just as the Kings and Queens before them. We will not only thrive under their rule, but prosper." He lifted his glass in the air. "To King Liam and our soon to be Queen, Countess Madeleine."

The crowd all raised their glasses and echoed the former King's sentiments. Liam and Madeleine then each cut a slice from the apple and ate it to complete the needless ceremony. Liam grew up loving the Cordonian ruby and was incredibly proud of his heritage, but that particular apple tasted incredibly tart and bitter. It took all of his willpower not to scrunch his face as the tangy, sour flavor overcame his taste buds.

Liam was forced to stand for photographs with Madeleine before he could take a moment for himself. He didn't smile, but instead just started blankly into space past the camera. Madeleine was positioned at a slight angle in front of him and he made it a point to put as much space between them as he could and still get a 'natural’ looking portrait.

Once pictures were finished, Liam made a beeline for the bar and ordered himself a scotch on the rocks; he needed something to calm his dangerously high stress levels. As his drink was delivered to him, he felt a hand on his back. He turned around to find Drake. “How you holding up?”

“I’m not, Drake. I haven’t slept, I don’t want to be here. I need to be looking for them, for her; I have to find her.” Liam said before he downed his drink in one gulp and motioned to the bartender for another.

Drake stepped forward and signaled for a whiskey as the bartender refilled Liam’s glass. As he waited he addressed Liam. “I know this is hard on you especially. But, for now, you gotta just play along. Make ‘em think you’re really gonna go through with the wedding.”

“It's just around the corner. There's not a lot of time…”

“Don’t think about that. Right now, our focus is this investigation. We just need a little bit more to go off of, and we’re going to find it, Li. However, that means you gotta pretened to be a pretentious stick in the mud to appease all these ass wipes for a little bit…” Drake smirked as he took a sip from his drink and looked around the room.

Liam half-laughed. “I know you’re right. This is the best option, at least for now.” He shook his head and looked into his drink. “I’m just having a hard time being diplomatic when I know that someone very likely in this room is responsible for hurting the woman I love.”

Drake patted Liam on the back. “I know. But, just think, when all this is said and done and we figure out who did this, you’re gonna get to go full blown King on that mutherfucker! Goddamn I can’t wait for that!” Drake exclaimed with a huge smile on his face.

Liam laughed, for real this time. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy, even when I got you that international whiskey subscription for your birthday.”

“Man, I should order another one of those, that Hakushu Single Malt was to die for.” Drake responded as he took a drink of the whiskey in his hand, imagining it was the japanese liquor.

“Maybe when this is all said and done I can get you a whole case of that.” Liam chuckled when Drake’s eyes widened, but he soon sighed and looked out at the crowd in front of them. “I suppose I should circulate the room, pretend I want to be here. But thank you for lifting my spirits.”

“What I’m here for.” Drake replied as he lifted his glass to Liam, who returned the gesture and downed a large drink after. Liam shook his hand before he turned and made his way through the crowded room.

As he turned away, Liam saw some lesser nobles and the suitors he hadn’t chosen, minus Olivia, who was not yet joining the tour officially. At first glance, he noticed Lady Hana was not present. He was unsure if an invitation had been extended or not, but made a mental note to find out. He shook his head and looked away as he observed Penelope dabbing Madeleine’s mouth with a napkin. She trailed behind holding her drink, even going as far as bringing the glass to Madeleine's lips.

Liam continued through the room, stopping on occasion to shake a hand and exchange pleasantries. He spotted his Father and Regina as they glided throughout the ballroom together. Even though Constantine hadn’t been given much time to live, he insisted on being present throughout the tour. Liam told him he didn’t need to accompany them on the entire route, but Constantine was stubborn and was outside with everyone else when it was time for the motorcade to leave the capitol.

As Liam made his way to the other side of the room, he noticed Bertrand and Maxwell in a secluded alcove. Bertrand waved his finger in Maxwell’s face and Maxwell had his gaze trained to the floor in front of him. Bertrand’s body was turned slightly away from Liam, but he could still see his reddened face and it appeared he spoke so fast he hadn't even stopped for a breath.

Liam decided he needed to intervene and walked toward the pair. He cleared his throat as he approached them. Bertrand turned with wide eyes and bowed to Liam.

“Is everything alright?” Liam asked.

“Oh, yes, of course Your Majesty. We were just discussing House business.” Bertrand replied as he slid his eyes over to Maxwell with an irritated expression.

“That’s not what appeared to be happening. It looks as though you were once again berating Maxwell when I specifically told you to lay off of him.”

“I understand that. However, I learned today from a potential business partner that Maxwell left the estate when he should have been awaiting their call! We didn't secure that deal because he decided he had something more important to do!” Bertrand exasperated as he kept his steely gaze trained on Maxwell.

Maxwell finally looked up to meet eyes with Liam. Liam knew that Maxwell snuck away from the estate to meet Drake and Olivia before the tour started; he also knew that Maxwell had not told Bertrand about their investigation, per Liam's request. Instead, he continued to let Bertrand berate him and place blame on him for their houses' tanked reputation and financial crisis.

What Liam saw in Maxwell’s gaze was complete devastation, he knew judging from his defeated expression he was starting to break. And Liam couldn’t blame him, he had put up with Bertrand's rants daily for months.

Although Liam wasn’t entirely sure if he should, he couldn’t bear to watch his friend be torn down to nothing and let it happen; it was time to set Bertrand straight.

Bertrand began again. “He’s continuously shown his irresponsibility! You can’t pick a suitor, you can’t answer a phone, what can you do, then?! I am this close to–”

“Enough.” Liam said in a quiet but stern tone as he held up his hand to stop Bertrand from his tirade.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I forget myself–”

“No. You are not going to berate Maxwell any longer as if this is his fault: it is not. As far as him missing your 'important' phone call, I happen to know where he was and who he was with, and that meeting was far more important, I assure you.” Liam bit out.

Bertrand grew confused. “What? I don’t understand, what meeting? Why didn’t you tell me about this meeting?” He asked Maxwell.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone…” Maxwell quietly answered, avoiding eye contact.

“What does that even mean?!”

Liam quickly looked behind him to the crowded ballroom and decided it was too risky to talk there. He motioned for Maxwell and Bertrand to follow him and led them down a hallway close by. He stopped at a nondescript door and ushered them inside.

As he faced them, Liam addressed Bertrand, specifically. “Duke Beaumont, I’d first off like to say that you should be ashamed of how you’ve treated Maxwell as of recent. Let's not forget, you didn’t even select a suitor to begin with.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty–”

Liam held up his hand to stop him. “I’m not interested in your excuses, nor your apologies. Those are not meant for me, anyway.” Liam looked to Maxwell with a sad expression, then back to Bertrand. “I just wanted you to understand that your King is incredibly disappointed in your horrific behavior, which you had no reason for.”

“No reason?! Sir, I have every reason to be upset! Maxwell brought that… that… harlot here and she–”

“You are two seconds away from finding yourself in the cells. I know you don’t know the truth, but I’d advise you to watch your tone.” Liam hissed through clenched teeth.

“The truth? What truth is there to know? We all know what happened–”

“I have officially opened an investigation into Lady Riley’s disappearance.”

Bertrand’s eyes bulged from the sockets. “D-Disapperance?!”

Liam told Bertrand about what they had learned so far and where they were at with the investigation, as well as his suspicions of Riley being forced to leave. He told him about the shed they found, as well as the bloodied dress and letter inside.

When Liam was finished, he and Maxwell watched as Bertrand slowly walked over to a chair and sunk himself down into it. He clasped his hands together and stared in front of him for a long while. Liam and Maxwell didn’t say a word, just observed as a plethora of emotions crossed Bertrand’s features.

Finally, Bertrand spoke. He kept his gaze to the floor in front of him, “So… she was set up?” he whispered.

“We believe so, yes.” Liam answered.

Bertrand broke into sobs. Maxwell quickly crossed the room and crouched in front of Bertrand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but we’re going to figure this out! We’re going to fix this!” Maxwell promised him as tears of his own streamed down his face.

Bertrand shook his head and looked away from Maxwell. “While I’m upset she was set up, I’m mostly ashamed of how I’ve treated you since... I’ve blamed you and berated you this whole time, and you were never at fault. You never once challenged me in all the atrocious things I said about you, you just… allowed me to do it…” He tried to swallow the overwhelming lump in his throat and quietly asked, “Did you know about Lady Riley? This whole time?”

Maxwell shook his head and quietly responded, “I only found out before the tour, although I will admit I didn’t know when I snuck out.” He looked away. “I had my doubts about it though… But you were so mad at me and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Maxwell… I-I’m so sorry...” Bertrand shook his head as more tears flowed down his cheeks. “You didn’t deserve any of that treatment. I can’t believe I’ve acted this way…”

Maxwell inched closer. “It’s okay, Bertrand!”

“No, it’s not okay. I treated you so… maliciously, as if you weren’t my own flesh and blood.” Bertrand wiped at his cheeks and looked Maxwell directly in the eye. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

Maxwell leaned forward and embraced Bertrand; he squeezed him as tight as he could. Even though Maxwell was still indeed hurt from Bertrand’s harsh words, he didn’t want to see him beat himself up over it. All he wanted to do was to move forward and put this entire mess behind them. Ultimately, all Maxwell wanted was to clear his best friend’s name and bring her home to make the family complete again.

“I love you Bertrand, and if I forgive you, you have to forgive yourself. You’ve been under so much pressure since Dad got sick, and I know I’ve always added to your problems. And then to lose our suitor at the very end of the season…” Maxwell took a deep breath to steady himself and continued. “You were under a lot of stress, and it was technically my fault for bringing her here to begin with, so…”

“No.” Bertrand firmly said as he pulled himself from Maxwell’s embrace, “You are not to blame here whatsoever Maxwell… In fact, I may be more at fault here than you..." He took a deep breath and quietly said, "I – I'm afraid I may need to come clean about something…"

Maxwell immediately moved and stood next to Liam with a furrowed brow. Liam felt his heart rate increase and stepped forward instantly. "What do you mean?"

"I – I worry you may find out anyway during your investigation, and I feel after my other atrocious actions I may as well come clean and take my punishment."

Bertrand was suddenly yanked up from his seat by Liam's strong hands. Liam held Bertrand by the collar of his sweater and pulled his face to eye level, nearly lifting him off his feet. "What did you do?"

Maxwell stepped forward to intervene, but Bertrand held a hand out to stop him. As he spoke, his eyes never left Liam's steely gaze. "Don't. I deserve whatever may come." He took a deep breath and told them about going through Maxwell’s phone and selling the photos from Liam's bachelor party. Bertrand realized if Liam found out on his own, his fate would be ten times worse than whatever he would be facing now. To hopefully spare himself, he was willing to come clean.

The longer Bertrand spoke, the more Maxwell's shock intensified; he couldn't believe Bertrand stooped so low. Liam saw red; he yanked Bertrand closer and growled, "You fucking snake."

"I understand your anger, sir–"

"Did you do it? Did you set her up?" Liam slightly shook Bertrand. "Did you force her to leave?!"

Bertrand's eyes widened once more. "No! My indiscretions were toward the beginning of the social season, and I changed my view on her! I believed in her until–"

"Why? Why do it then?!" Liam shook Bertrand harder, audibly tearing his vest in the process, but Liam was quick to bunch up more fabric to keep his hold intact.

"I assumed she wouldn't last and I was desperate for the money." Bertrand quickly spat out.

"So you not only sold your suitor out, but you sold me out as well? For profit?" Bertrand didn't respond, only nodded his head with shame etched in his features.

At that moment, every single thing that happened over the past couple of days combined with this newly added betrayal sent Liam overboard. He tightened his grip on Bertrand’s vest and pulled, ripping it down the middle with ease and leaving it dangling like the jacket over it. Bertrand stumbled backwards but was given no time to react before a fist connected with his jaw, the popping sound echoing throughout the room. Bertrand dropped to the floor with a yelp cradling his face as he frantically prepared himself for the next blow. Maxwell wanted to help, but he was frozen in fear at seeing the look of pure rage in Liam's features.

Liam stared down at Bertrand through narrowed eyes with heavy breaths. "Your actions are making me question whether or not you are truly fit for the title of Duke. To not only exploit your suitor, but your future King?" He stalked toward Bertrand, who was scooting backward across the floor.

The moment was interrupted by a stern knock. Without notice the door swung open and Bastien rushed inside. He quickly approached Liam and said, “Sir, we need to get you to the safe room, now.” and placed his hand on him to begin leading him away.

“What, why?!” Liam questioned as he attempted to evade Bastien’s grip.

“There’s been a body found.”

Liam forcefully stomped his feet on the ground. “What?! Do you know who it was? What happened?”

“Sir, I don’t know a lot of information right now, but I have to get you to safety before I can go secure the area.”

“Where was it?”

Bastien remained silent for a long moment. He looked as if he didn’t want to answer, but once he saw Liam’s budding impatience he finally spoke. “The west grounds, sir.”

While Liam was locked away in the guarded safe room with Madeleine, her parents, Constantine and Regina, Olivia and Drake were on their way to examine the crime scene with Bastien. The royal family had a secured area inside all the major estates for this purpose, although houses were available nearby. However, those were only used in drastic scenarios such as terrorist threats or assassination attempts. Since there was no signs someone was attempting to target the nobility, Bastien assured them they would be safe there while he and the guard did an initial investigation.

Olivia was not yet ready to join the tour on an official standpoint. She knew the time would come when she would have to, but right now she was only stalking in the shadows looking for any kind of information. Only a select few knew of her presence and she intended to keep it that way until absolutely necessary.

Olivia went back and searched Riley’s room again to ensure nothing was missed and returned to the shed to retrieve the contaminated dress. As her initial shock faded, she realized that was a prominent clue laying right in front of their faces. She went back and grabbed the article at the start of the Apple Banquet while everyone was distracted. She intended to give the item to Bastien, but when he found her and informed her of the crime committed she sprung into action and followed along, the dress momentarily forgotten.

As they walked along the path she immediately realized where they were headed; the shed she had visited just a few hours prior where Riley's things were hidden. From the front, everything appeared as it was when Olivia visited the area. Her anxiety increased as Bastien approached the structure, but he veered to the left and led them to the back, which she was nowhere near during her earlier venture.

Guards scoured all around, some people in lab coats were taking pictures, multiple evidence markers lay on the ground near the area. As her eyes searched over the vicinity, she couldn’t help but feel like it seemed incredibly – tame, for what she was guessing had happened.

Propped against the back wall of the shed was a lifeless body. Upon first glance, the cause of death was undoubtedly clear; the victim's throat had been slashed nearly from ear to ear. Olivia grew up around weapons and knew exactly what kind of damage her skills could do. As she gazed upon the gruesome gash, she immediately knew that wound was deep and absolutely intentional; whoever did this did not hesitate whatsoever. Furthermore, the face was severely battered; both eyes were swollen shut and painted every shade of black, as well as a severely broken nose. She stared at the battered face for only a moment before a small gasp escaped Olivia as recognition swept over her; it was the maid they had spoken with only a few days prior.

Olivia’s widened eyes traveled down the body and she was unable to tell if there could be more wounds on the maid’s chest and abdomen, or if the coat of blood was due to her fatal injury. However, that’s where Olivia’s suspicions sky rocketed; the body was covered in a heavy layer of blood, but the ground around her had nothing.

“Walker, come here.” Olivia beckoned. Drake walked over to her with furrowed brows as Olivia stood. “Tell me I’m crazy, but there’s absolutely no blood around that body.”

“Huh…” Drake answered as he looked around. “You’re right. Hey Bas!” He hollered over his shoulder. Bastien appeared within an instant with a pen and pad in hand. “Have you noticed how there’s no blood here?”

“Hmm…” Bastien glanced down at the area with an unreadable expression before he nodded and wrote something down. “I’ve added it to my notes. Do be sure to let me know if you notice anything else. The more information we have, the sooner we can find an answer.”

“Are we just going to ignore the gigantic elephant in the room?" Olivia motioned to the shed. “This is no coincidence. Who this is, where she’s at, the fact that I'm certain this body was placed here specifically…”

Drake’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit–”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m going to start charging if I have to keep spelling everything out for you.”

Bastien spoke before Drake could retort, “I hadn’t made that connection; excellent work Duchess.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow and watched Bastien jot something yet again on his pad. “Okay, him I understand needing a preschool explanation, you on the other hand should’ve made that connection instantly.” She snapped as she continued to eye him critically.

Bastien was slightly taken back, but quickly recovered himself. “I understand your frustration. However, I’m becoming aware of developments at the same rate as you. I’m grateful for your assistance.” He bowed to her. As he stood he addressed the pair, “I’m going to secure the perimeter.”

Olivia watched him leave with narrowed eyes. He went over to a guard and spoke quietly then aimlessly walked around the area. Every now and again he would write something down, but otherwise he only made laps. She knew Bastien was senseless at times, but he almost seemed more so than normal.

For the first time, she took a good look around and again couldn’t help but notice how everything seemed conveniently placed. The yellow evidence markers were almost in a straight line in clustered areas. She approached one and bent down to observe and saw it was a wad of hair; not one single hair, a bunched up ball of long, dark hair. Another was simply a piece of gum; she was no criminal mastermind, but who in their right mind would spit their gum out in the middle of a vicious murder? Of course, it’s possible to be unrelated, but this area was practically of no use; that is until Riley’s things were shoved here. Regardless, Bastien still continued to search the area as if this was a normal crime scene and nothing was amiss.

As she scanned the area, the sudden realization of what was going on on a broader spectrum hit her; whoever orchestrated getting Madeleine on the throne was surely onto the fact that they were now asking questions. It was a silent agreement that whoever managed to remove the top two suitors from the social season was a powerful force, but it suddenly seemed much stronger and deadlier than before. This entire scene was pieced together to send a message; someone knew, and whoever it was was not happy about their venture for answers.

Olivia pulled Drake aside and spoke in a low, cautious tone. “We need to get out of here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Look around, Drake! Even you have to notice something does not add up! This was fucking staged – someone is trying to send us a message.”

“We gotta tell Bas–”

“Why? So he can write it down?” Olivia rolled her eyes. “We need to plan our next steps… our next move has to be calculated.” She looked around with a nervous expression. As she did, her eyes landed on Bastien who simply nodded and returned to his grazing.

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fadingreveries · 3 months ago

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The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia (Pt. 4)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Riley travels to Cordonia, but what will await her there?

Word Count:

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

After quickly unpacking a few of her belongings, Riley made her way out of her assigned room on a mission to explore the palace boutique’s options. Luckily for her, Maxwell had told her that the store was located on the ground floor near the front entrance.

A few minutes later, Riley pushed past the doors into the boutique. The soft pink walls contrasted nicely with the brown mahogany floors and the light gray floor rug covering the entire ground. A silver chandelier with bell-shaped glass shades hung directly in the middle of the room. Several mannequins dressed in various formal attire for men and women were scattered across the rooms.

Absentmindedly, Riley brushed her hand against the silk and satin dresses placed on one of many racks on display. The closest she had ever gotten to seeing such beautiful formal dresses was outside display windows of luxury stores on her way to school and work.

“Oh!” A girl yelped out, stepping out of a changing room and holding a dress.

Startled with the sudden voice, Riley looked over her shoulder to see who it was. However, when she noticed that the girl was only dressed in her underwear, Riley quickly turned back around. While she felt a hint of excitement to meet new people up close and personal, this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Riley apologized, feeling embarrassed at seeing a stranger looking so vulnerable. “I didn’t realize someone was already here. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have just barged in.”

With Riley’s back turned, the girl quickly draped the curtain of the changing room over her body to cover herself. Only her head poked out, a sign she was eager to invite Riley into a conversation.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. To be honest, I didn’t have an appointment. I forgot to book one before my flight landed a few hours ago but thought I would peruse down here before it became too crowded,” the girl sheepishly replied, making Riley turn around to see her friendly smile. “I’m Hana. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Pleasantly surprised with the girl’s bright kindness to a stranger like her, Riley gave a smile in return. “You too. My name’s Riley.”

“I suppose you’re also here to prepare for the Masquerade tonight,” Hana replied, before disappearing behind the curtain to pull on the dress she was holding. “Since you’re here and not already dressed, I must assume that you’re just like me… searching desperately for something to wear.”

“More or less,” Riley replied, with a relaxed laugh. Her neck craned around to catch short glimpses of the dresses in the boutique, wondering how on earth she would be able to narrow it down with the surprising variety.

“The seamstress seems to be running late, but I can show you around! The boutique has the most exquisite gowns. Quite a few of them were shipped just this morning,” Hana answered, pulling the curtain to the side. “Let me just zip this dress up and we can look for one for you!”

Walking to a floor-length mirror, Hana faced her reflection to note her appearance. There was an immense amount of pressure on her from her parents to make a good first impression on the nobility during the court’s social season. She took a deep breath, examining the rose gold laced bodice with rhinestones and a matching floor-length satin skirt.

Her hands arched around her back, trying to get a firm grasp on the tiny zipper. Replaying her parents’ never-ending lectures in her mind about securing the hand of the prince, she felt a slight tremble in her grip and found herself unable to zip herself in the dress. What was she going to do if she failed to secure his attention?

“Need a hand?” Riley offered, admiring how confident and poised Hana looked in front of the mirror with her masquerade outfit.

With a relieved laugh, Hana answered, “That would be amazing.”

Making her way behind Hana, Riley grasped hold of the zipper and slid it all the way up. On a nearby side table, Hana picked up a salmon pink mask with gold accents that matched her dress perfectly. She carefully settled it on her face, making her happily sigh with a satisfied smile.

Turning to face Riley with a grin, Hana complimented, “Thank you. It’s a pity that not many girls here are like you.”

“Helpful?” Riley asked, a smile on her face at Hana’s comment.

“Genuinely nice,” Hana explained, with a simple knowing nod. “It would make the social season much less intimidating if we were here to converse as ladies instead of constantly viewing each other as competition.”

If Drake was right about the ruthlessness of noble ladies, it seemed Riley had found a rare ally in her. Unbeknownst to her, Hana held the same sentiments. Most ladies would secretly turn their noses up at her out of jealousy, let alone help her—something Hana was used to growing up as a noble.

Hana spun for Riley, her full skirts twirling as she giggled. “Ah, this dress is perfect! Now, what about you? One must have a mask for the Masquerade!”The two girls perused through racks of dresses, holding up possible options to the other for a second opinion. Ten minutes later, Hana’s eyes widened in excitement as she pulled two garment bags from a rack. “Have you seen the angel costume? You’d look amazing in white,” Hana suggested, eagerly holding up the white dress in her right hand and the other dress in her left hand. “Or there’s also a red one, if you’re feeling more devilish.”

“I’ll take a look.” Riley giggled, as Hana handed her both garment bags.

Inside a dressing room, Riley eyed the first costume meant to resemble a sultry devil. The crimson red colour of the strapless dress was striking along with sections made of mesh lace fabric highlighting embroidered patterns. Along with the dress were two devil horn accessories and a bold black mask with sparkling rhinestones.

Ultimately, Riley decided on the angel costume that Hana first suggested. It was much simpler with its draped off shoulder straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a shimmery sparkle that brightened the pure white colour. After stepping out of the changing room, Riley fixed the matching halo accessory on top of her head and plucked a detailed silver mask off of the table.

“How do I look?” Riley asked with a smile, giving a little twirl similar to the one Hana had done moments ago.

Hana’s face brightened up, as she grinned and the two made their way out of the boutique. “Heavenly! A costume as angelic as the girl wearing it.”

~ ~ ~

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