#drake walker x mc
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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica
Fandom: TRR
Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)
Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.
Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions
Chapter Summary: Harper, Olivia and the Beaumonts arrive in Rome... but not everyone is happy to see them
Word Count: 5,300
Rating/Warnings: None (for once 🤣)
Chapter theme song:
A/N1: Lots of Italian and random cultural/historical tidbits in this... but, then again, we are in Italy, so the foreign language aspect will be a bit of a running theme through the next few chapters (sorry...not sorry - I actually learnt some Italian in the process!)
A/N2: @aussiegurl1234, before you ask, yes, I HC that Vito bears a striking resemblance to Michele Morrone 😆
Chapter 18 - Diplomatica
"How is it hotter here than in Cordonia?" I gasp as I step out onto the jet's airstairs.
"Italy is a peninsula," Olivia says from behind me, slotting on a pair of Versace cat-eye shades. "It is more exposed to the anti-cyclones that blow up from the Sahara."
My mouth drops as I make my way down onto the steaming tarmac. "This heatwave... is coming from Africa?"
No wonder it feels like the inside of a furnace!
"It certainly isn't coming from the Arctic!" bemoans Bertrand as he shields his face from the intensity of the rays with an upraised hand. "Though what a welcome change that would be!"
"Brr...!" objects Maxwell with a shiver. "No thank you! I've had my yearly fill of sub-zero temps at Olivia's!"
"You're welcome," comes the snippy response as the Duchess of Lythikos strides past us.
"That said, turning the mercury down a few notches wouldn't hurt..." I remark, squinting accusatorily up at the beating sun.
"The summer heatwaves have been growing longer and more intense over recent years," Olivia advises from up front, "leading to consequent effects on food and water security, power generation, infrastructure, not to mention the added burden on the healthcare system across Europe. It is one of the items on the agenda for Christian's roundtable with the Italian Prime Minister tomorrow."
I frown as I arrive at the passenger-side door of the first in a trio of waiting Porsche Macan GTS's. "I thought this was supposed to be an engagement tour..."
"It is," she confirms as a black-suited Italian sporting close-cropped hair and aviators opens the door for her. "But any foreign visit involving a high-ranking head of state is — by its nature — a diplomatic event as well."
"I guess that makes sense," I concede, sliding into the relative reprieve offered by the SUV's A/C system. "Though you said Christian is meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow... I thought that was supposed to be today. Did something change?"
"No," derides Bertrand as he settles in next to me. "Today, the King is partaking in a meet-and-greet with the Italian President, followed by a private audience with the Pope while the future Queen is fitted for her wedding trousseau, capped off by dinner and a performance of Tosca at the Teatro dell'Opera in the evening. While tomorrow we have been invited to brunch at the Cordonian Consulate, after which the King has a round-table discussion with the Prime Minister, and day will be closed out by a state gala."
"Oh," I mutter sheepishly. "So, the Prime Minister isn't the same as the President...?"
"The Prime Minister is the head of government, while the President is the head of state," the elder Beaumont instructs as Maxwell squishes himself into the backseat on the other side of me. "The roles are quite distinct."
"Of course they are..." I huff under my breath.
Seems like in addition to Olivia's list of influential Cordonian nobles, I will also need to memorise a textbook on European constitutional history...
Though, now I am doubly glad of the business-like, but nevertheless stylish pale pink, high-necked pencil dress that Bertrand foisted on me this morning — it definitely would not have been great to show up underdressed to such a high-level meeting!
"But we must hurry!" the elder Beaumont proclaims. "We are due at the Presidential Palace in just under an hour, and we still need to fight our way through the notoriously infernal Roman traffic!"
"Not to worry," Olivia assures us with a sly smirk from the front passenger seat. "Vito here knows all the shortcuts."
"That sounds ominous..." I mutter, reaching for the seatbelt on instinct.
"I prefer 'expeditious'," she counters, turning to Vito, who has now taken up position behind the wheel. "Andiamo."
"Certamente, Duchessa," he nods, throwing the car forward with a violent depression of the gas pedal.
The sudden acceleration yanks an inadvertent gasp from my lips as I'm thrown back in my seat... just like on that afternoon in Ramsford when Drake pulled the same stunt on the Beaumonts' driveway.
I feel my throat tighten as I glance inadvertently out the window. God, I hope he's okay...
I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably making myself anxious for no reason. Drake is an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of himself... including in close-quarters situations. He's demonstrated that to me plenty of times.
Yet, I still can't help but worry about him. Especially when he's off in a foreign country (all by himself for all I know...), having left with basically no good-bye, and with definitely no assurance of when he expects to get back.
And while I know that he is doing this for me — so we can collar Tariq and extract whatever information he has in relation to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season... and to answer for what he did to me in Applewood — the wait is killing me. I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, and whether he even has his phone turned on, given the high-stakes nature of his self-appointed task.
Which is why I have held off trying to reach out to him (...even though the baser, needier part of me is itching to do exactly that), as I don't want to be the one to interrupt a crucial moment by setting his phone off with an ill-timed call or text, especially considering the three-hour time difference...
I heave a breath.
I just have to trust him. Like he asked me to at every turn of this increasingly bumpy road that we've been travelling since I left New York. And hope that we are finally on our way out of the woods.
Exiting the boundaries of the airport, Vito navigates the Porsche onto a highway where we are able to pick up some speed. Olivia uses the opportunity to open up her phone, throwing some questions in Italian to her associate every so often as we cruise along. Bertrand is similarly occupied, while Maxwell has slipped on some Bose headphones and is bobbing away to the beat.
Which leaves me to stare somewhat aimlessly out the window, watching the scenery roll by in a bid to keep myself distracted.
But the reprieve ends up being somewhat of a welcome one. The various warehouses and road-side auto lots surrounding the airport quickly give way to a tree-lined thoroughfare, and I find myself basking in the calming effects of the greenery, not having expected to encounter such a bucolic sight on the road to a major urban centre.
Eventually, though, the vegetation gives way to the crumbling walls of some kind of expansive estate that we end up following for a good few miles until the asphalt road changes over to cobblestones and we pass in front the gates of a red-bricked stone fortress that looks like it's been plucked straight from the set of Game of Thrones.
"Wow..." I can't help but breathe as I take in the sight of the towering structure simmering under the light of the mid-morning sun.
"Le mura aureliane," advises Vito from up front, catching my awed expression through the rear-view mirror. "Costruita dall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari."
I nod distractedly, craning my neck as we turn a corner to follow the path of the ancient structure that is somehow still standing despite the clear ravages of time and weather.
Nothing lasts like this anymore...
Making another turn, we pass beneath an arched portion of the wall, and the road before us opens up into a leafy boulevard that takes us into the city proper. And from there, it's one jaw-dropping piece of architecture after another jostling for space between more modern buildings and seemingly never-ending rows of trees.
"I didn't expect Rome to be so green..." I admit to no one in particular as I eye up the unusual-looking shrubs.
"You can thank the Ancient Romans," supplies Bertrand without glancing up from his phone. "They planted the now-iconic stone pines in scores along the major roadways in part to serve as ornamentation, and in part to provide a steady supply of pine nuts, which are an essential ingredient in many dishes, including pesto and various pies and tarts."
"It certainly was worth the effort," I agree, watching the evergreens drift past on either side of us.
Though, as Bertrand predicted, the closer we get to the centre of the ancient capital, the increasingly chaotic the traffic becomes, with cars, buses and mopeds all vying for space on the roads, requiring Vito to make recourse to his own horn as well as various offensive gestures in order to narrowly avoid a slew of accidents... and I suddenly have a slightly better appreciation for why Drake drives the way he does. Because based on my experiences first in France and now in Italy, it appears that on the Mediterranean, might equals right when it comes to priority on the road, and unless you're forceful, you ain't getting nowhere.
Managing to finally extricate ourselves from the constraints of a complicated intersection, we end up on a quieter road running parallel to a long patch of bunkered-looking grass on our left.
"What's that?" I ask, tapping Vito on his shoulder.
"Il Circo Massimo," he advises.
My eyes widen. "That's the Circus Maximus?"
"Sì," he nods. "L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corse dei carri."
"Unbelievable..." I murmur, slumping back into my seat in awe.
There is nothing comparable back home — even the oldest still-extant pre-Columbian structures date to only the first millennia A.D. Whereas here we are, casually cruising past a seminal piece of history that is still embedded into the fabric of the city nearly three thousand years after its construction. And we haven't even seen the Colosseum, or the Forum yet!
Rome really is the Eternal City...
Leaving the green fields of the Circus behind us, we enter a more urban-looking environment as we start to climb a hill. The white- and sand-coloured buildings cluster closer together, and the general architecture becomes more uniformly Baroque, until we arrive in a large plaza dominated by a massive, Neo-Classical structure that towers over everything else.
"Il Vittoriano," Vito offers without prompting.
"Is that where we're having brunch with the President?" I ask, slack-mouthed as I stare up at the imposing building.
It certainly looks impressive enough to house the head of a country!
"Of course not!" admonishes Bertrand. "The Vittoriano is a symbolic collection of monuments built to commemorate the rule of King Victor Emmanuel II and the unification of Italy. The President resides at the Quirinal Palace, which is located on a wholly different Roman hill!"
"Oh," I mutter sheepishly.
"Like she is going to know the difference," scoffs Oliva from the front. "They don't even teach The Art of War in her schools... How can you expect her to know anything about Italian history?"
"Italian history is foundational history!" insists Bertrand. "The Romans were instrumental in shaping not just the course of European, but Northern African and Middle Eastern events for millennia! How can they neglect to teach American children about this?"
"Because the focus is on US history," I tell them wearily as Vito navigates us to the other side of the square.
"Surely that is an afternoon's worth of lessons at most?" the elder Beaumont queries sceptically. "Your country was only founded in the conventional sense of the word in the mid-1600s..."
"Most Americans haven't been to Europe," I remind him, watching the rows of buildings flick past on either side of us as we begin the ascent up another hill. "They don't necessarily have a basis of comparison."
"Sounds like your curriculum is somewhat lacking in scope, then..." he surmises with pursed lips.
"Yeah, well..." I retort dryly, "I don't write the textbooks. Though, speaking of education, is there any chance for some sightseeing? It would be a shame to spend two days here and not actually see anything..."
"While I wholeheartedly approve of the sentiment," Bertrand replies, "I am afraid that you will have to make do with the cultural experiences offered by the various host venues on the official itinerary. Which — I admit — are no Pantheon, or Sistine Chapel, but are impressive and important cultural artefacts, nevertheless. The Quirinal Palace, for instance, so named for the Quirinal Hill on which it sits, is actually the sixth largest palace in the world and has served as the primary residence of such notable figures as—"
I let out a low exhale as Bertrand launches into a full-blown historical recital. And while the details are definitely interesting, I didn't come all this way to listen to a one-man rendition of a Roman guidebook.
Which makes me all the more determined to find some kind of opportunity to slip away from the official tour — even if it's just for an hour to toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain — so that I can experience something of the magic that this breathtaking city has to offer.
When, I have no idea, given the busyness of our schedule, but I managed to orchestrate an escape plan to see the capital back in Cordonia, so I'm confident I'll be able to pull something similar... albeit without Drake's help this time. But despite the set-backs, I'm not about to miss out on this kind of once-in-a-lifetime experience...
With my intention firmly set, the car rounds an uphill corner, and we are suddenly on the edge of yet another expansive plaza secured by a rim of strategically placed concrete planters and a pair of police cars.
Vito pulls to a stop and slides the window down to exchange a few quick words with the officer who has come to greet us.
"Passports," instructs Olivia, reaching into her purse.
Opening up the white, Medusa emblazoned Versace clutch sitting on my lap — which I am sure cost more than what I would've ever made in a month working as a waitress back home, but which Bertrand had insisted on as a 'necessary' Italian-themed accessory — I pull out my shiny, new Cordonian passport and pass it to the front.
Maxwell and Bertrand do the same, and there is a couple of minutes of tense silence while the stern-looking officer inspects each document to verify our identities, while another policeman does a circuit 'round the car with a convex safety mirror.
Finally, the policeman hands the passports back with a curt nod, and waves us through.
"Were they not expecting us?" I query as I slot my credentials away again.
"They were," Olivia advises. "But we are arriving separately from the royal delegation, so the State Police are obligated to run a security check."
"Why?"
The Duchess of Lythikos scoffs back at me. "To ensure that we are not terrorists trying to kill the President with a car bomb... Or did that part go over your head?"
"No..." I hit back sarcastically. "I meant why are we arriving separately?"
She looks back at me with an arched brow. "Would you have preferred to deal with the press?"
"I... No," I admit.
She turns back to the front with a smirk. "Didn't think so."
Vito pulls the car to a stop in front of a small courtyard decked out with a red carpet and intertwined streamers made out in the colours of Cordonia's and Italy's flags. Allard and Schweitzer — who had been travelling in the car behind us — appear to open the doors for us.
Bertrand scoots out of the backseat first, before turning back to offer me his hand.
"Thanks," I say with a sincere smile, grasping his fingers to help pull myself up.
"Always my pleasure," he replies with a genuine smile.
Smoothing my skirt, I gaze up at the somewhat understated-looking entranceway, suddenly nervous about the prospect of acting as a newly-minted ambassador of Cordonia. I mean... three months ago, I was bussing tables at a dive bar for less than minimum wage, and now here I am, decked out in clothes that cost more than the rent I was paying for a fifth-storey walk-up, about to have an official meeting with a foreign country's head of state.
To say that I feel like a fraud is a massive understatement.
"What are you waiting for?" asks Olivia, breezing past me with all the confidence of a woman who's done this a hundred times before... probably because she has. "For the grass to grow?"
"I—"
"I heard the President loves chocolate bomboloni," offers Maxwell enthusiastically, linking his arm through mine to tug me down the length of the red carpet.
"What's...that?" I ask, forcing myself to swallow down the sudden dryness in my throat.
Maxwell's face collapses into an aghast look of shock. "Only the best pastry-based dessert! Second only to cronuts, of course!"
"That's definitely a high bar to hit," I admit.
"Think mini doughnuts with gooey chocolate filling, dusted with powdered sugar," he explains. "They literally melt in your mouth!"
"Except we are not here to indulge infantile cravings for sugary treats," reprimands Bertrand as we pass through the arched doorway. "We are here to partake in important discussions relating to matters of state, and t—"
"Pfft," scoffs Olivia. "Speak for yourself, Beaumont. These meetings are dull as shite. I'm here for the sweets."
I can't help but snort at the unexpected riposte... as well as the resultant sight of Bertrand's jaw hitting the parquet flooring. And I unexpectedly find myself feeling better about the whole experience. Because despite whatever nerves I may be feeling, the fact that Olivia and the Beaumonts are with me means that I am not alone in this.
Passing into the coolness of the building, we are greeted by a middle-aged woman who proceeds to lead us through a veritable rabbit warren of ante-rooms and corridors before we finally arrive in an expansive room dominated by a pair of jaw-dropping crystal chandeliers suspended from a vaulted, hand-painted ceiling.
"La Salle Bronzino," informs our guide, indicating that we should step through.
"Wow..." I breathe, trying to take in the opulence with as much composure as I can.
A slew of camera shutters click to life upon our arrival.
Jerking my gaze down from the delicate, celestial fresco above me, I spot the handful of photographers aiming their lenses at me.
I stifle a groan as I plaster a demure smile onto my face. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any reporters."
"This is an official state visit," Bertrand hisses out of the corner of his mouth. "Of course, there will be reporters!
"Just not as many as there would have been outside earlier," Olivia assures me.
My shoulders slump in acquiescence. "Take the wins you can get, I guess..."
"Ah, you made it!" exclaims Christian, striding up to us with a jovial grin. "Traffic wasn't too terrible, I hope?"
"Nothing Vito couldn't handle," Olivia assures him, dipping into a chaste curtesy as the photographers snap eagerly away.
Christian turns to me with a good-natured chuckle. "And Lady Harper... First impressions haven't put you off, have they?"
"No," I assure him, bobbing down politely as well, knowing that everyone in the room now has their eyes on us. "The exact opposite, actually."
"Excellent," he beams, holding my gaze for a second longer than he did with Olivia. "I have to admit that I have a bit of a soft spot for Rome, myself."
"It really is a—"
"Darling," interjects Madeleine with a steely smile, appearing at her fiancé's shoulder. "You really should focus your attentions on the President. He has been gracious enough to open up his home for us, after all..."
Christian's nostrils flare with the briefest flash of irritation as he pulls back slightly. "Quite. Let us go make the necessary introductions."
Madeleine bristles. "That is not what I—"
Deftly ignoring her, Christian extends his arm decisively towards an elderly man wearing a sombre suit and gold-rimmed glasses. "Shall we?"
"I guess so?" I concede, already feeling myself being steered past the silently fuming countess.
"Now remember," Bertrand mutters next to me as Christian leads us down the length of the room. "In the context of a formal conversation, it is always lei — never tu — when addressing your counterpart, so for the love of all that is holy, please do not—"
"Singor Presidente," proclaims Christian as he pulls to a stop. "Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione."
The President raises his head dutifully. "Certamente."
"Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell."
The Beaumonts bow their heads dutifully.
"Beaumont..." the President frowns. "Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso?"
"Sì," Bertrand confirms. "Egli è nostro padre."
The President is nodding in recollection. "Sì... sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui."
"Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte," Bertrand acknowledges.
"E questa è Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos, un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys."
Olivia holds out her hand. "E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente."
The President drops a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. "Il piacere è tutto mio."
"E finalmente," concludes Christian, "questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria."
The President's brows arc inquisitively. "Singorina Harper... You are... American? No?"
"Sì," I affirm as I offer my hand out. "Ma ho praticato mio Italiano..."
The President's mouth cracks into a genuine smile. "And you are doing very well, Singorina! Tell me, have you visited la città eterna before?"
"No, this is my first time," I admit, also switching to English, now that the formalities are over and done with. "But even the ride from the airport was utterly magical! It's like stepping into history!"
"Sì," the President affirms with a grin. "Us Romans are unspeakably lucky to be able to call such a beautiful city our home. It is a place of many treasures."
"What is your favourite part of the city?" I ask.
The President blinks in surprise at the unexpected intimacy of the request. "That is a difficult question... But if I am forced to choose... it would have to be this little forno next to la Fontana di Trevi which makes a very unique — and very delicious — pistachio croissant. It is not for every person, but if you have a spirit of adventure, then I suggest you try it."
"Thank you," I say with a sincere smile, filing the suggestion away. "I definitely will!"
"I cannot say that I have had the pleasure of sampling this treat, either," Christian admits, with a knowing glance down at me. "But Lady Harper has excellent taste in pastries — she was actually kind enough to introduce us to an American delicacy called a cronut. It was a big hit all around."
"A cronut?" queries the President. "I cannot say I am familiar..."
"Don't worry," Maxwell assures him with a conspiratorial grin. "We'll bring you one. If you'll trade us some bomboloni in exchange?"
Bertrand's already sunburnt face reddens further. "Maxwell! You cannot entreat the President t—"
"You like bomboloni, also?" interjects the President with keen interest.
"Of course!" Maxwell affirms enthusiastically. "Anyone who doesn't like them clearly has something wrong with them!"
"Sounds like you have excellent taste in pastries as well, Signore Maxwell!" chuckles the President.
The conversation continues to revolve around our shared food interests for a few more minutes, until an aide clears his throat from behind the President.
"Accettare le mie scuse," he apologises. "But I am being advised that it is time for the photographs and the speeches."
"Of course," nods Christian graciously, indicating that the President should lead the way to the front of the room where a small podium has been set up.
As the two men peel away from the group, I cast my eyes 'round the space and spot Hana standing by one of the large windows. Giving her a wave, I use the brief break in the proceedings to make my way over to her.
"So, what's the view like from this side of the room?" I ask by way of greeting.
"Quieter than your side," she admits wryly. "You certainly seemed to be having an engaging conversation with the President!"
"We discovered a shared love for sugary treats," I admit. "You should've joined us — you could've bragged about that baking championship that you won."
"It's alright," she demurs with a blush. "It's actually been nice to take a moment to step away from the crowd."
"Oh?" I ask, laying a concerned hand on her arm. "Is something wrong?"
She heaves a breath, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she says, "I have been fending off suitors."
My brow shoots skywards. "How many proposals have you had?"
"Since I arrived...? Probably twelve..."
My eyes bulge. "Twelve! That's like two a day!"
"Yes," she concedes with a weary exhale. "Lady Madeleine has been extremely gracious in personally introducing me to numerous eligible bachelors—"
"—but none of them are Maxwell," I surmise.
Her eyes flick up to mine before dropping back down sorrowfully. "No. But for the sake of my parents, I must entertain every available option in an honest manner."
"That definitely sounds exhausting..." I concede. "But hopefully now that we're out of the country, you can catch a bit of a break."
"I am not so sure..." she admits. "I have been advised that a number of well-connected Italians will be in attendance at the opera tonight..."
"Pfft...!" I scoff. "Just take the night off... Pretend to be sick... Run off with Maxwell to get some gelato... Actually enjoy being in Italy!"
Hana blushes. "I—"
The chime of a bell rings out across the room, interrupting our conversation.
Looking up, I see that all heads have turned dutifully towards the twin forms standing on the dais as they prepare to address the congregation.
"Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori," greets the President, "È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazione reale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. È passato troppo tempo da—"
As the speech winds on, I find myself tuning out, given that I am only able to understand every third or fourth word. But, not wanting to come across as rude by continuing my catch-up with Hana, I instead try to occupy myself by examining the two large tapestries suspended on the walls.
A round of applause draws me out of my reverie, and I join in on auto-pilot as the President hands off to Christian. Several more minutes of lilting Italian fills the room, during which time I move my attentions to the Roman-looking busts, wondering which emperors they depict.
Finally, the speeches come to a close, and I heave a sigh of relief.
"Did you understand any of that?" I ask Hana as the President presents Christian with some kind of medal, and the two men pose for photos.
"Of course," she nods. "My parents—"
"—have been giving you Italian lessons since before you could talk?" I finish dryly.
Hana's cheeks dimple. "Not quite that young, but yes. I am what they consider 'proficient'."
"Meaning, you speak it better than I speak English," I joke.
She snorts in response. "I wouldn't say that..."
"But it's true," I say with a smirk, happy to see that Hana's time back at court has not completely crushed her sense of humour.
"Ah, I've missed talking to you, Harper," she says with genuine feeling. "The last few days have felt so busy that I feel like we haven't spoken in months!"
"Yeah, tell me about it..." I agree with a huff. "In the space of a week, I've become a Cordonian citizen, been granted a duchy, gone from number five to number one on Madeleine's shit list, and—"
Hana's eyes widen. "It's not that bad, surely...!"
"It's probably worse," I admit. "And being on the front page of the Cordonian Sun — again — is probably not helping matters either..."
"Yes, I saw that article..." she commiserates with feeling. "I'm sorry that the press are treating you in that manner again."
"Hey, it's not your fault," I assure her. "But the press aren't all bad — I managed to convince Ana de Luca to help us track down the photographer who took those pictures of me and Tariq, and she actually came through yesterday."
"That's great!" she enthuses. "I have to admit that I have not had much success on my side... Madeleine does not permit her ladies-in-waiting to handle any of her private correspondence, including her mobile phones and laptop. And she has only talked to us about the upcoming events on the tour..."
"Well, it was a bit of a long-shot, anyway," I concede with a shrug. "But who knows? We might get—"
"Pardon," interrupts Kiara with a pointed cough. "But the Queen requests your presence."
I roll my eyes with a scoff. "She's not married to Christian yet..."
"But she will be soon," she reminds me pointedly. "So, it is actuellement in your interest to remain on her good side, given that you are now a duchess."
I feel the corner of my mouth scrunch into a mou of dissent, but I force myself not to pick apart the many things that are wrong with her statement. "Fine. Where is Her Majesty?"
"Bidding adieu to the President," she advises. "She has asked that in the meantime I gather the ladies who are to accompany her to the wedding boutique."
"Does she really need an entourage to go shopping?" I ask as we start making our way back to the double doors at the far end of the room.
"It is tradition for the suitors who were not picked at the end of the social season to assist the queen-to-be in the preparations for the wedding, including selecting her bridal gown and trousseau."
"Wonder how many times that's gone wrong before..." I mutter under my breath.
"It is a ritual de beaucoup d'importance," Kiara insists seriously. "The former suitors — and their families — demonstrate their public support for the union via the personal assistance they provide the bride and groom in the lead-up to the big day, as well as in the act of taking on key roles during the ceremony itself."
"Let me guess..." I grumble. "We're all going to be maids of honour, too..."
"In Cordonia, the correct term is 'witness'," she corrects. "They are the ones chosen by the couple to countersign the marriage certificate. Mais oui — it is likely that one or two of us will be called upon in such a manner."
"Great..." I sigh, arriving at the entranceway where Penelope and Olivia are already waiting. "All the things we get to look forward to..."
"Oh, Lady Harper!" squeals Penelope in excitement. "I love your dress! How do you always manage to find such super chic pieces?"
"Uhh..." I say, genuinely taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Bertrand picked this, actually..."
Olivia snorts derisively. "You mean Lord Tweedle-Dee? Please... That man has worse fashion sense than Jared Leto."
"Actually, he—"
"If you lot are quite finished with your asinine chit-chit," snaps Madeline as she strides imperiously past us, "you can pick up your feet. We are already running late for my appointment... Which took months to schedule, so don't you dare make me miss it!"
I meet Hana's gaze with a fish-eyed look. "Ever heard the term 'bridezilla' before?"
"No," she admits with a frown. "But it sounds scary..."
"Oh, trust me!" I assure her as we bring up the rear. "It is! Especially since it sounds like Madeleine is planning to take the concept to a whole 'nother level..."
The story continues in Chapter 19: Field Day
A/N: Translations for the Italian below:
At the airport:
Andiamo - Let's go
Certamente, Duchessa - Certainly, Duchess
En route
Lemura aureliane. Costruitadall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari. - The Aurelian Wall. It was constructed by the Emperor Aurelian to defend Rome against barbarians.
Il Circo Massimo - The Circus Maximus
Sì. L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corsedei carri. - Yes. The ancient Roman stadium constructed for chariot racing.
Il Vittoriano - This is a colloquial nickname for the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II
At the Presidential Palace
Singor Presidente. Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione. - Mr President. Allow me to introduce some additional members of our delegation.
Certamente - Certainly
Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell. - This is Lord Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford, and his brother, Maxwell.
Beaumont... Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso? - Beaumont... You know, that sounds familiar. Are you related to Lord Bartholemy, by chance?
Sì. Egli è nostro padre. - Yes. He is our father.
Sì...sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui. - Yes... Yes... He accompanied the former king on many occasions. You look a lot like him.
Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte. - Yes, there is a notable family resemblance.
E questaè Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos,un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys. - And this is Lady Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, a dear friend of mine, and loyal supporter of the Rys family.
E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente. - My sincere pleasure, Mr President.
Il piacere è tutto mio. - The pleasure is all mine.
E finalmente, questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria. - And finally, this is Lady Harper, the new Duchess of Valtoria.
Sì. Ma hopraticato mio Italiano.* - Yes. But I am practising my Italian.
*Italian speakers will note that there is a grammatical mistake here (the correct phrasing is 'Ho praticato il mio italiano'). However, the mistake is deliberate because Harper learnt Italian literally an hour ago, so she's not going to be perfect at it!
La città eterna - the Eternal City (nickname for Rome)
Accettare le mie scuse - [Please] Accept my apologies.
Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori. È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazionereale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. Èpassato troppo tempo da— Your Royal Highness, fellow delegates, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honour to host the royal delegation of Cordonia, our neighbour and ally for many centuries. It has been far too long since—
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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 walker x mc#the royal romance#less than noble intentions#maxwell beaumont#olivia nevrakis#bertrand beaumont#hana lee#king liam#madeleine amaranth#Spotify
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The best mistake he never had [drake x Camille au] [part five]
‘Honestly, Camille, he's a total jerk,’ Maxwell sighed. ‘I shouldn't have gotten so mad but he boils my blood.’
Camille winced and settled down on her bed, tucking her long legs up underneath her. She was talking to Maxwell on the phone, hearing about his run in with Drake last night.
She appreciated how loyal Maxwell was but she sometimes wished he would just let her fight her own battles. He seemed to view her like a delicate flower, someone who could easily break, not someone who was strong and capable.
‘I appreciate you having my back,’ she said gently, ‘but you don't need to fight with him. Just let it go over your head. What's done is done.’
‘He doesn't understand how hurt you were-’
‘He does,’ Camille interrupted. ‘He just doesn't want reminding.’
The call finished soon after that. Camille let out a noise of frustration that sounded like ‘gnnnnngh fuck fuck gnnngh!’ and raked her hands through her hair.
She looked out the window and surveyed the street below. Aside from a few houses and some trees, it was bare and didn't have much to it. Her eyes followed the line of the street until she settled on Walker Ranch up the hill.
Her heart twinged.
In the distance, she saw Drake step outside the ranch. He stopped at his pick up truck.
He began to hose it down and wash it. Camille watched, her eyes focused on him. He looked small from this distance.
She wished she knew what he was thinking. Drake kept a wall around himself, one that she thought she had managed to climb years ago. Scale the wall and get to know the real Drake Walker.
Clearly, it hadn't worked.
**************************
‘Mommy, can I go ride my bike?’ Lily asked.
‘Depends..’ Camille mused. ‘Have you finished the first lesson sent from school?’
She looked over Lily's shoulder at the laptop screen. Thank god Lily's teacher had been understanding and allowed Camille to take Lily to Texas during school times. Lily was currently being emailed online learning and she was working through it, happy to learn something new.
Happy that Lily had completed her maths lesson, Camille allowed her to take a thirty minute break.
Lily trundled her bike outside and clipped her pink helmet onto her head. After Camille had shouted at her about talking to Drake, she had decided that she was only going to cycle today and NOT speak to anyone under ANY circumstances. Especially if they had a horse.
She hitched her leg over the seat and began to cycle along the road away from her grandmothers house.
Lily cycles up the hill, nearing the ranch. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Drake who was washing his truck.
Nooooo!! she wailed to herself.
Drake looked up and gave her a weak smile. Lily watched him, keeping her eyes narrowed. She was NOT going to smile back. No.
She cycled faster to get away from him. Blinded by sheer determination, she didn't see the small rock on the road. As the front tyre hit it, the bike jolted, giving Lily a fright.
In her shock, she couldn't correct herself in time and without warning, she went flying off the bike.
She let out a piercing scream as she hit the ground.
***********
‘Lily!’
Drake abandoned his truck and ran across the road to where Lily lay on her side, the bike tangled up amongst her legs.
He reached her and sank down to his knees, gently picking the bike off her.
Lily was whimpering with tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘Shh it's okay, honey..’ Drake murmured. ‘Where do you hurt?’
A weird feeling had flooded Drake. He hadn't meant to call her ‘honey’ for one thing.
‘M-my head..’
‘Okay, look at me. Lily, look at me, it's okay-’
‘No!’ Lily shouted. ‘I’m n-not allowed to talk to you!’
Drake closed his eyes and exhaled. ‘Lily, I can help you. Let me just check your head-’
‘Lily!’
Drake turned to see Camille running up the hill towards them.
Fuck.
‘Mommy..’ Lily croaked.
Camille reached the pair of them, her eyes casting along Drake before settling on her daughter. She kneeled down close to Lily and gently scooped her up. ‘Baby, where are you hurt?’
‘My head-’
Camille’s eyes darted to Drake in panic. ‘It’s okay, baby. We'll just have to get you to the hospital just in case -’
‘Am I going to die?’ Lily asked in a small voice.
‘No, baby,’ Camille said softly. ‘You’ve just hit your head and the doctor will need to take a look at it.’
Drake studied Camille, a picture of worry and anxiety, and then looked Lily. ‘You know, she might not need a hospital. It could be okay. Lily, how’s your vision?’
‘Uhhhh..’
‘Are there two of me?’ Drake asked, half joking. He needed to make this light. Make her not worry. Make Camille not worry.
‘Just you,’ Lily told him. She snuggled into Camille, her small fingers gripped on Camille's sweater.
‘Thank god there's only one of me, can you imagine a world with two of me? Awful!’ Drake joked.
Lily giggled. Camille smiled faintly.
‘Right, since you can see only one of me, and you aren't babbling nonsense,’ Drake said, taking control, ‘let’s just get you a cold compress and keep you rested, okay?’
Lily furrowed her eyebrows together, looking rather serious. ‘So, no hospital?’
Drake looked at Camille. ‘She seems fine,’ he said gently. ‘We could monitor her and if she needs medical attention, then hospital it is.’
Camille didn't look convinced. Drake cleared his throat. ‘But hey, you're the boss, Camille.’
He felt he had overstepped.
Camille bit her lip. ‘Okay, let's clean up that head wound,’ she decided, ‘and see how you're feeling in an hour. How's that sound Lily?’
Lily grinned, happy to escape going to hospital.
Camille picked her up carefully and looked up at Drake. He watched her warily, unsure if she was going to give him hell again.
‘Thank you for looking after her,’ Camille finally said.
Drake gave her a small smile. ‘No worries. I'm here if you need anything.’
It was the wrong and most inappropriate thing to say. Camille’s eyes narrowed and she stepped back with Lily in her arms.
‘Let’s get that cold compress, sweetie,’ she said in a clipped voice.
She turned to walk down the street towards Gisele's. Lily looked over Camille’s shoulder at Drake, who stood watching them.
Despite herself, Lily raised her hand and discreetly waved at him. He did help her after all.
Drake smiled weakly and waved back
*******
Camille cleaned Lily up, cleaning the head wound which had stopped bleeding, before gently cleaning her hands that were cut from stones.
‘There, all better now,’ Camille said, pressing a soft kiss on Lily's hand. She gave Lily a cold compress for her head with instructions to lie in bed and relax.
Disaster averted.
****************
‘M-mommy?’
Camille had been busy checking in on Gisele who was sleeping at the moment. She slept a lot lately. She was tiny and fragile, like a baby bird.
Camille looked up to see Lily looking pale and quite faint. Alarmed, she stood up and moved to crouch down so she was eye level with Lily.
‘Lily, are you okay?’
‘I feel woozy..’
‘Right, hospital,’ Camille decided. She quickly cast a look at Gisele who was snoring softly. She couldn't leave Gisele by herself - she needed help with moving and she hadn't had anything to eat yet.
But Lily needed medical attention.
Camille bit her lip. She thought of Drake. She really didn't want to ask him. But she couldn't let pride get in the way here. She had to think of Lily.
‘Okay, honey, stay here, I'll be right back. Go lie down beside grandma.’
Lily nodded obediently. Camille rushed downstairs and out the front door, running up to Walker Ranch.
She knocked on the door rapidly.
Drake opened it and his eyes widened. ‘Camille? Is Lily alright?’
‘No,’ Camille burst out. ‘She’s feeling woozy. I need to take her to the hospital but I can't leave grandma-’
‘I’ll take you to the hospital,’ Drake interrupted, ‘and my mom can look after Gisele.’
Camille blinked. ‘I can just take a cab-’
‘No.’
Drake hollered for Bianca who hurried to the door, her eyebrows knitted together with concern.
She insisted on looking after Gisele. Drake gave Camille a smile. ‘Come on, let's go.’
*******************
Camille sat in the back of the pick up trick with Lily nestled against her. Drake drove, trying his best not to keep looking in the rear view mirror.
Every time he did, his eyes would lock onto Camille's and his breath would catch.
Her eyes were gorgeous. Drake had always thought that. Almond shaped, deep brown like chocolate with golden flecks.
Those eyes were filled with anxiety now. Not for the first time, Drake wondered when Camille had become so tightly wound. She used to be so carefree. Now, she looked ready to pounce just in case the worst happened.
Or maybe she was just a mom who had responsibilities now and she wouldn't rest easy again.
Drake felt his stomach twist. It was his fault she was like this.
They reached the hospital. Camille carried Lily in her arms as they entered the foyer, practically racing to the reception desk.
‘My daughter fell off her bike and hit her head,’ she explained quickly, ‘and now she's feeling woozy.’
The receptionist told them to sit down and a doctor would be with them.
Lily looked around the waiting room apprehensively. She'd never been in a hospital before. The smell made her want to be sick and the worried look on her mother's face made her wish that she'd never ridden the bike in the first place.
She caught Drake’s eye. He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘It’ll be alright,’ he told her. ‘I promise.’
**************
Lily had to stay overnight so the doctors could monitor her, just in case.
‘But I don't want to be away from mommy!’ Lily wailed at the doctor, scrambling to get closer to Camille.
Camille took her in her arms and held her close. ‘Shh honey, it's okay -’
‘I don't want to be alone!’
The doctor smiled sympathetically. ‘You won't be alone,’ he said. ‘You’ll have a comfy bed in the kids ward. A few kids are already there, you might make friends.’
Lily shot a panicked look at Camille. She did NOT want to stay overnight.
‘It’s only for the night,’ Camille told her softly. ‘It’s to make sure you're safe. I promise, I'll be here first thing tomorrow morning to pick you up and we can get McDonalds. Would you like that?’
Lily clenched her fists in frustration. She didn't want to argue with Camille but she didn't want to stay here, in this weird smelling place, in a bed that wasn't hers.
But the doctor would make sure she was okay and that meant her mommy wouldn't worry and that was the important thing to remember.
She nodded mutely, accepting her fate.
The doctor smiled. ‘The kids ward is an animal theme!’ he said cheerfully. ‘Do you like animals?’
Lily smiled now. ‘I love animals,’ she said quietly.
Camille squeezed her hand. ‘There you go, baby.’
*************
After Lily was taken to the kids ward, Drake and Camille left the hospital.
Camille sat in the front passenger seat and looked out the window quietly, chewing anxiously on a fingernail.
‘She’s gonna be okay,’ Drake said, breaking the silence.
Camille looked down at her hands. ‘We’ve never spent a night apart before. It feels��� like a part of me is missing. Something vital. Because she is.’
Her eyes filled with tears.
Drake bit his lip, unsure how to handle this. He wasn't good with crying women.
Come on. Say something to her. Help her feel better.
‘She’s a firecracker,’ Drake said. ‘She’s a strong girl, just like her mama. She's going to be fine and it'll be tomorrow before you know it.’
Camille let out a shaky breath and nodded. ‘I know,’ she croaked. ‘I just want her to be happy and safe and right now it feels like she isn't. What if it gets worse? What if she gets more woozy and gets sick? What if-’
‘Camille.’
Drake pulled the truck over and turned off the ignition. He turned to face her. Tears had started to fall down her cheeks.
He sighed. Slowly, he reached out and gently wiped her tears away. Camille stared at him with wide eyes, her lower lip trembling.
‘Nothing is going to happen to Lily,’ he said softly, enunciating every word. ‘She’s got doctors to monitor her and she'll be sleeping in an animal themed ward. She'll be comfortable and safe. Tomorrow morning, I will drive you to the hospital first thing to take her home. She's going to be fine.’
Their eyes bore into each others. Drake could feel himself getting lost in her golden flecks.
‘Drake…’ Camille murmured.
Drake swallowed. ‘Yeah?’
Camille’s eyes remained fixed on his. Drake couldn't breathe. He could feel his heart starting to hammer inside his chest.
‘Why did you make that decision five years ago?’ Camille finally asked, her voice thick with emotion.
Drake blinked. He hadn't been expecting her to ask him that question.
‘I.. Camille, I can't..’
Camille pulled back. In an instant, Drake could see her closing off to him. She rubbed her wet eyes harshly and cleared her throat.
‘Forget I even asked,’ she said, her voice remote. ‘Don’t know what I was expecting you to say. You didn't give answers then, you're not going to give answers now.’
She turned to look out of the window, her arms crossed.
Drake gripped the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. ‘Camille, I'm sorry -’
‘Just fucking drive.’
Drake exhaled and turned the key in the ignition. He stole a glance at Camille who continued to stare out the window. Her jaw was set.
Drake had done a good job building up his walls through the years.
Clearly, so had Camille.
***************
Drake pulled up outside Gisele's. They had driven in silence which had been excruciating.
Camille unclipped her seatbelt. ‘Thank you for taking us to the hospital,’ she said formally.
She sounded so far away.
Drake closed his eyes. He needed to do it. Now was the time. They were alone.
‘Camille, I wasn't cut out to be a dad,’ he finally said. ‘Can you imagine me as a dad?’
Camille kept her gaze fixed on the window. ‘You ARE a dad, Drake.’
‘You know what I mean.’
Camille shrugged. ‘You seemed pretty happy talking to Lily. Letting her groom Lone Star. Helping fix her up. Trying to help her feel better about the hospital.’
‘She was panicking, I had to say something to help her calm down -’
‘You didn't have to,’ Camille interrupted. Her voice was dangerously rising now.
‘You could have kept your distance. You could have let us just take a cab to the hospital. But you keep turning up and you're slowly getting to know her. And yet you don't want any part of her.’
Drake exhaled. ‘That’s not fair, Camille -’
Camille whipped around to face him, her eyes filled with fury. ‘No, Drake! What's unfair is you showing up all the time without warning! I'm trying to look after my grandma and make sure Lily is comfortable here and I keep looking over my shoulder wondering if you're suddenly going to be in the background. You can't reject me five years ago and never contact me again and then when I visit, you're here! THAT is not fair, Drake.’
Drake slammed his hands on the steering wheel. ‘She fell off her bike, what was I supposed to do-’
‘YOU DON'T DRIVE US TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL!’ Camille screamed. Drake jumped back in shock.
‘You don't act like a fucking father!’ she continued, her voice high and piercing, every word cutting into Drake like a knife.
‘You don't act all concerned and reassuring! You keep your fucking distance because if you didn't want to be a dad five years ago, you certainly don't want to be a dad now and I can't have Lily falling in love with you like I did -’
‘What?’
That last admission was all Drake picked up on.
Camille instantly went rigid. She turned away and brought her hands up to her face, covering her eyes.
‘Oh god..’ she muttered. ‘Oh god, oh god…’
‘You loved me?’ Drake asked.
Camille didn't answer. She was shaking.
‘Camille, answer me.’
Camille let out a shaky breath. She wound her hands together and not looking at him, she spoke.
‘I fell for you that night,’ she told him. ‘Sounds ridiculous. How can you fall in love with someone in one night? But I've known you for years and always liked you. Thought you were gorgeous in a rugged, disheveled way. But that night, getting to know you, talking till 3am about our secrets and dreams, being together… I fell over the edge. It makes no sense but I guess when you get that feeling, you can't deny it. You called it a drunken mistake but for me, it was a revelation.’
Drake stared at the steering wheel, processing her words. How could he tell her that everything he said to her, after finding out about the baby, was a lie?
It hadn't been a drunken mistake for him, not really. He had loved being with Camille that night. Everything had felt like it was supposed to. Like the universe had aligned.
‘But when I told you I was pregnant and you were so harsh… I realised I was stupid to have feelings for you,’ Camille explained. ‘I felt so rejected. Worthless. I couldn't hear staying in the same town as you, seeing you everyday and I didn't want my baby to grow up knowing you. If you could hurt me that badly, you could hurt her. And I still think that.’
A lump formed in Drake’s throat.
‘Then why did you ask me why I made that decision five years ago?’ he asked.
Camille kept her eyes away from him. ‘Closure.’
Without a word, she got out of the truck. She slammed the door. The sound jolted Drake. He watched her walk away and it felt like deja vu.
#drake walker#trr fanfic#the royal romance#drake walker x mc#drake x camille#trr#choices the stories you play
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Savage Love Chapter 37: Gone
Series: Savage Love
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake
Rating: R
Warnings: Mature themes, violence, guns
Word Count: 987
A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's been five months since I posted an update for this! I've known since before I started writing it back in December 2021 how it's going to end. This is the downside of having so many ideas.... I can't work on all of them at once.
That said, this is a bit shorter than my regular chapters, but I just needed to see what Drake was doing while Riley was in Hidar in her quest to take down the Via Imperii and Leo was in Rivala getting the shock of his life. The next chapter will bring everyone back together again in Cordonia.
A/N2: I realize it's been a while and readers may be confused with all the OC's in this chapter, so here's a rundown. Nick is Riley's ex-fiance and also another GIA agent. Frederico Sanchez is Nick's informant. Saguaro Laurent is the head of The Gladius Company. Lorenzo is not in this chapter but is mentioned as a loan shark to whom Tariq owed money and who, on Saguaro's orders, leveraged Tariq's gambling debt to get him to abduct Riley (Tariq failed and was murdered for his failure, Lorenzo is in custody at the palace). Rico Mendez is the son of a former mafia don who wants revenge for Riley using him to take down his father's organization.
My other stuff: Master List.
Series Premise: Agent Riley Brooks is undercover on assignment in New York when she has a one-night stand with a handsome, mysterious stranger. Both of them hiding their true identities, names are not exchanged. After one scorching night, they part ways, both returning to the duties they have pledged their lives to. Fast forward several months later and Agent Brooks is assigned a new case: investigate and infiltrate any Via Imperi influences in the small, Mediterranean country of Cordonia. Her cover? Posing as a suitor competing for the hand of the crown prince. Her way in? Civilian contractor and cyber security expert Maxwell Beaumont.
Drake…..
Nick and I arrived at the warehouse where we were meeting his contact in the Liberation Core. The one that had gotten me a meeting with the head of the Gladius Company.
The air in the dimly lit warehouse was thick with tension as we made our way through the maze of crates toward their rendezvous point. The echo of our footsteps ricocheted off the walls, adding to the sense of foreboding that permeated the atmosphere.
Nick's informant, a wiry man named Frederico Sanchez, stood waiting nervously near the entrance. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning for any signs of danger. As we approached, Sanchez straightened up and extended a shaky hand.
"Drake," Sanchez said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nice to finally meet you. Nick here has told me a lot about you."
I nodded curtly, assessing Sanchez's demeanor. I could see the fear etched into the man's face, evidence of the high stakes involved in the mission. Time was of the essence; we needed to infiltrate The Gladius Company as quickly as possible.
"Likewise," I replied as I returned the man’s handshake. “Now let’s go over the plan before we meet with your guy.”
Being on the same page was crucial. If any of these guys got a whiff that this was a setup, we were both dead. Nick would stay in the surveillance van, ready as backup if necessary. He couldn’t be seen by Saguaro or any of the men he’d brought with him from New York. They’d recognize the GIA agent that had brought down their last organization in an instant.
We poured over the plan twenty times, looking for inconsistencies, committing our cover story to memory, and working out the kinks. When it was time to go, I waved goodbye to Nick and got in a nondescript sedan with Sanchez. A quick check-in with headquarters told me that they had picked up Lorenzo’s contact, but he wasn’t talking.
With any luck, we wouldn’t need him to. I was hoping to set eyes on Rico when I met with Saguaro. If he was there, I was giving the order to breach. I knew what Nick’s objective was, but I didn’t give two shits about arresting Saguaro Laurent. It was Rico I was after. The man that had sent a kidnapper, albeit a bad one, after the woman I love.
The American justice system had failed and released a known mobster, allowing him to slip through their security net. But he wasn’t in America anymore. He was on my turf, and I had a literal license to kill.
Rico Mendez would spend the rest of his life in a Cordonian prison, or he would die, and it didn’t matter much to me which one it was. All I cared about was getting him off the streets and keeping Riley safe.
We arrived at the rendezvous spot, but nothing went according to plan.
I found myself in another damn warehouse. This one was on the waterfront and, if our intel was correct, not far from the empty factory that was serving as headquarters for The Gladius Company.
We arrived first and waited. Saguaro and his men were late, which only served to ramp up the already rapidly percolating anxiety in the man at my side.
Sanchez was too damn twitchy. Saguaro picked up on it instantly. He barely glanced at me before fixing Sanchez with a piercing stare. “What’s the problem, Freddy?”
“What?” Sanchez tried to laugh it off. “Nothing. What do you mean?”
Saguaro’s flinty eyes squinted at him, then flicked to me as his hand went to his waist. I had my gun in my hand before he could pull his. “Don’t do it! I really don’t want to shoot anyone today, but I will if I have to. What’s the problem?”
Saguaro moved his hand away from his piece and put his arms in the air. A flash of metal in my periphery caught my attention. “Get down!” I hit the ground just a shot rang out. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down.
Men scattered everywhere. We were outnumbered, but not for long. I could hear Nick in my earpiece giving the order to breach. Sanchez was hit. I drug him with me out of the line of fire, ducking behind a stack of metal barrels as the rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire spattered all around us.
“Hey, Laurent!” I craned my neck to peek around the barricade.
The only answer I got was more gunfire. I retreated back behind the stack of barrels for safety as my team poured into the building.
Now they were outnumbered, and the warehouse was surrounded. Less than fifteen minutes later, Saguaro and his men were cuffed and being loaded into the back of several guard-issue SUVs.
“Johnson, hold up!” I jogged quickly across the asphalt to intercept the lieutenant escorting the head of Gladius Company to one of the waiting vehicles. I grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him roughly up against the car. “Where’s Mendez? Was he with you?”
“Fuck you!” He lurched forward in an attempt to headbutt me, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. I snapped my head sideways, causing him to stumble forward.
I grabbed his shoulders to steady him, then brought my knee up hard into his gut. “I look forward to interrogating you, asshole.”
I beelined for the tactical van. Bursting into the mobile command center, I demanded, “Did we get Mendez?”
“Sorry, man, no,” Nick shook his head. “No sign of him. But the good news is, we got Saguaro and his second in command. There’s a second team sweeping their headquarters now. We successfully took The Gladius Company down!”
He was far too jubilant for what I considered a botched mission. I slammed out of the van with a huff. Goddamn it!
Rico was in the wind.
#savage love#agent riley brooks#captain drake walker#prince liam rys#trr fanfic#trr au#angelasscribbles#trr poly#the royal romance#the royal romance fanfic#trr#choices#liam rys#drake walker#choices fanfiction#playchoices fanfic#choices stories you play#drake walker x mc#liam rys x mc
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Marry Me
Song:https://youtu.be/p_IwENcMPOA
I wrote a little Drake x MC story based on Thomas Rhett's song Marry Me
Word count: 1503
Drake sat in the mahogany leather chesterfield in the center of his dark room. The faint beams of the early morning’s dawning sun leaked in through the drawn curtains of is large bedroom windows, casting dusty shadows around him. The day he had been dreading for the past couple months was finally upon him and he had since been able to sleep. Sitting there he stared out into the dark void through heavy red swollen eyes, everything around him fading until all he saw was darkness surrounding him. Reaching down next to him, Drake retrieved the nearly empty whiskey bottle from the ground by his feet, pouring the rest of its contents into the rock glass he had clutched in white-knuckled hand. Tossing the empty bottle aside he took a large gulp of the brown liquid, the liquor no longer burning his dulled senses.
Tears streamed down his puffy face as he thought back to the day, he had spent with Kennedy Olsen in New York City, talking about ideas of their perfect wedding as she helped him chose a wedding gift for his best friend and King, Liam. He remembered every detail perfectly, every glint her eye, every twitch of her lips as she described her perfect day. He transferred himself back to that wooden bench as he replayed the scene over in his head, like a reel of a constant torturous memory. The spark in her eyes told him she wanted to get married and every detail she described was his perfect scenario. Drake remembered her words perfectly. She wanted something small out in the country with her granddaddy preaching the service. He recalled that she wanted to carry magnolias because they were her mother’s favorite, and it would feel like part of her was there as she watched her daughter’s wedding from heaven. She had it all planned out to every minor detail and Drake could picture himself there in his black suit and black tie. He would take a sip of whiskey straight from his flask to calm his nerves before stepping up front to the alter, brushing his tears away from his cheeks before anyone would notice. Drake could perfectly see himself in her vision and his heart couldn’t help but fly. Yes, Kennedy Olsen wanted to get married, the only problem was, she didn’t want to marry him.
Anger and regret boiled under his skin, impatiently rocking forward in his seat. Drake felt like he was spiraling into a pit of darkness and despair, tossing the half-full rock glass at the wall, the crystal shattering on impact and the brown contents stained the white wall. Running his hands over his head, Drake fisted at his hair, letting out a painful cry as the memories of her flooded his mind, slowly tormenting him into a mentally instable state. His constant sobs tortured his exhausted body as hot tears rolled down his flushed face.
Standing he paced the floor of his suite, the gut-wrenching memories making it unbearable for him to sit still. He remembered the first night he almost kissed her. Kennedy had accompanied him to a local bar at one of the many cities they were visiting during Liam and Madeline’s engagement tour. He remembered how close they were sitting to one another and the flirtatious touches she would give him. Every soft touch of her silky skin burned into his flesh, awakening his senses. Each touch pushed his feelings further away from the mutual friendship they shared and into something more, something he was trying so hard to deny. They had been drinking when Kennedy suggested playing a few rounds of never have I ever. Of course, she was able to tease his true feelings out of him with every statement, revealing to her and himself that what was between them was more than friendship. He remembered how she leaned into him; her intoxicating scent of lilacs livened his senses as she placed a gentle hand on his knee. Drake’s body trembled, he was freaking out, he knew that they were friends, but he had thought of kissing her for forever. Leaning in and meeting her halfway, Drake’s lips were only centimeters apart from hers when her phone chimed with a message from Liam, interrupting their almost kiss. The second time he almost kissed her was when they were playing pool. He recalled how sexy she was leaning over the pool table, how he pulled her in close to him, only to be interrupted by the bar keep telling them it was closing time. Maybe if he would’ve had enough courage to kiss her then, he wouldn’t be where he was now. She was all he craved, and he would’ve given anything to just be able to hold her, but he could never reveal his true feelings, not when she was there for his best friend. Still fervently pacing the room he paused, hazily glancing around. Every emotion he had bubbled to the surface and it was becoming too much for him to handle. Setting his stare at the wall next to him he balled his fingers into a tight fist, drawing it back before throwing all of his weight into his swing as his fist connected with the wall, drywall crumbling to his feet as he withdrew his bloody hand.
Of course, she didn’t want to marry him, what did he have to offer her really, nothing compared to what Liam could. He was never good enough for anybody or anything, especially not when he was constantly walking in Liam’s shadow. How could he ever compete with a prince, a king? That’s just it, he couldn’t, and Kennedy proved that.
Drake always thought that Kennedy felt the same way, why else would she flirt with him? The small touches, the flirtatious words, and how she had leaned into him as if to kiss him, he knew it wasn’t just all in his head. But, when Liam announced their engagement, he knew it was too late. She didn’t want to marry him.
Now it was the day of her wedding, the day Drake had been dreading since they announced their royal engagement. Pulling himself together he put on his black suit and black tie, splashing cold water on his exhausted face and swollen eyes. Walking on autopilot down to the gardens, Drake saw the lavish decorations and the nearly five-hundred white chairs set up across the grounds, it was nothing like how Kennedy had described her wedding day to him. Glancing around him he saw her daddy and granddaddy, excitedly pacing the ground in front of him. Drake knew her daddy must have been dreading this day, but he’s not the only man giving her away today. Reaching his hand in his inside jacket pocket and retrieving his filled flask he took a strong shot of whiskey, the burn rushing down his throat was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He took a seat in the back as the dozens of people began to flood in. He’d try to make it through without crying so nobody would see. Kennedy wanted to get married, but she didn’t want to marry him.
Unable to be there any longer, Drake left, trying to put as much distance as he could between him and the palace. On his way through the empty corridors, Drake passed her suite, standing there he stared at her door, picturing her on the other side in her gown. He could’ve burst in right there and then to confess his feelings to her, and god help him he wanted to, but he couldn’t do that to her. Instead he would let her have her happiness, the happiness she found with another man, keeping his feelings to himself, never letting her know that Liam wasn’t the only man that loved her. Staring at her closed door for one moment longer, he whispered ‘I will always love you’ before rushing off.
Thirty minutes later Drake found himself in a small local bar just outside of the bustling capital. He loosened his black tie, pouring a shot of whiskey from his flask and into his coffee cup, swirling the liquids together before taking a sip. Resting his elbows on the counter, he hung his head in his hands, forcing his dry tears back as silent sobs jerked his shoulders. Yeah, she wanted to get married, but she didn’t want to marry him.
On the countertop next to him, his phone vibrated to life. Picking up his phone, the bright screen illuminated to life, scorching his puffy eyes as the blurry words came into focus. A lump formed in his throat when he opened the text, noticing it was from Kennedy. He read the text, it was only one word long, but it simultaneously made his heart sink and flutter, both terrifying him and making him smile, wondering what she needed to say. He looked at his screen again, rereading her one-word text.
Drake….
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TRR Drabble (Drake Walker x Harper Gale)
A little week four drabble (early) for @karahalloway. Thanks for participating this month! And thank you for writing for our little fandom and sharing your talents with us all. I still giggle when I think about this one 😂
Warning & A/N: No idea if this is in keeping with your Harper but the camping fic of yours gave me the idea along with the fact that something similar may, perhaps, might, by chance have happened once. But we don’t talk about that hehe
The fire crackled in front of her, warming her feet where she had them propped on the cooler. Her shoes and socks discarded beside her camp chair.
She took a sip from her glass of rosé. Plastic, of course. Drake didn’t trust her with glass out in the woods anymore. Not since she tripped that one time on a root and cut her hand on the broken glass.
The memory brought a smile to her lips. It had been the smallest of cuts but you would have thought she had cut her hand off by his reaction.
“What are you grinning about, Gale?” he asked as he stood and brushed his hands off on his denim jeans.
“Nothing. Just enjoying my wine,” she smiled. “And the view of course,” she grinned wider.
“Are you going to help?”
“I am. I’m way more helpful out of your way than in it.”
She raised her glass toward him as he shook his head with a chuckle and turned back to work.
It wasn’t long before the site was set up in the most orderly of fashions and he unfolded his camp chair beside her’s.
“I’ll get you a drink,” she leaned over to kiss him before leaping from her chair.
He watched her pull his glass and a bottle of whiskey from their places with a smile before turning to watch the fire crackle.
Until he heard a crunching sound and a small “uh oh” come from her direction and he looked over at her in concern.
“So…,” she said with a sheepish smile as she turned to face him.
“What was that noise?” he asked suspiciously.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“What did you do, Gale?”
His concern building as he made his way over to her.
“Good news is, your whiskey is fine.”
“And the bad news?” he asked as he took the offered glass and tried to see around her.
She shifted a fallen log with her foot and he saw the remnants of her wine muddying the ground beside shards of plastic.
“It was a plastic cup! How do you break a plastic cup?” he asked.
“With firewood?” she laughed as she stooped to pick up the pieces.
“Stop!” he said as he stilled her hands. “Go sit down. Knowing you, you’ll cut yourself on it,” he chuckled as he picked up the remaining pieces and she went back to her seat.
Drake returned a moment later with a new glass of wine.
“A sippy cup? Really?!”
——————————
All Choices Tag: @storyofmychoices @peonierose @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads
#choiceswriterappreciation2023#week 4#choices trr#drake walker x mc#my drabble#i like to live dangerously and so do not edit forgive my mistakes#gonna keep going with these today too
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Like Fall, Like Spring (Drake x MC)
PART TWENTY ONE - FINALE + EPILOGUE
A/N: don’t touch me, i’m not okay 😭😭😭 i’m going to miss my babies! please read till the end!
Drake ate in silence and Riley waited. He surely needed to address his storming out and then being MIA for almost a whole day, right?
When he was finished and still made no attempt to say anything, Riley sighed and began collecting empty plates. Just as she reached for his mug, he grabbed her arm and made her look at him.
“Are you okay?” She asked.
“I should be asking you the same thing, actually.” He rubbed his temple with his other, free, hand. “I left without saying anything but Leona hurt you too. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. It was a lot to take in. And she’s your family.”
“She should be yours too.” Drake let go of her arm and clenched both of his fists. “I needed time to think. It’s not easy… I mean, Leona was like a second mother to me. And then like a mother and a father, when mine died. It’s hard to see her becoming… this.”
“It’s okay Drake, you don’t owe me any explanation.”
“I do. You're my wife, you were directly affected. It felt like I’m losing someone all over again. First dad. Then my mom, to depression. I only half-have her now anyway. Then Savannah ran away. She came back but she has her family now. Then you… And now Leona. I don’t want to have her in my life if she treats you like this but it’s not easy for me.”
“You don’t have to cross her out of your life, Drake. She’s still your family,” Riley said softly, rubbing his back gently.
“So are you, Riley. And if she doesn’t want to accept you, I’m sorry. I will always choose you anyway.” He looked at her so affectionately she thought she’d cry.
“I’m sorry I didn’t choose you when I ran away. I promise I will always choose you, too. Always, Drake. You are my family. My whole world.” She was crying and Drake stood up and pulled her into his arms.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”
“I’m so– so– sorry,” she said through sobs.
“I forgave you, a long time ago. Please, forgive yourself, too,” he whispered and kissed her forehead.
They stayed like that, embracing and gently swaying to the music of their hearts, for a few minutes before Riley remembered something.
“Drake!”
“Hmh?”
“I forgot to tell you something! I– When Leona said those things about me, about the dog being still in the U.S., me having a job in New York, I–I do have my dog with Ellen, true, but only because she really likes him and wants to have someone around. And about the job…”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he repeated what she said just minutes before.
“I do. You’re my husband and you need to know. I declined the job in New York. Long time ago but it doesn’t matter. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I… I found a job, actually.”
“You did?” He pulled back a little to look her in the eyes.
“I had a crazy idea… I talked to Hana and… Hana and I are starting our own pastry shop! We found a place, talked to lawyers and owners and everything so it’s all legit and we have the green light! I mean, now that we’re no longer nobility we need to support ourselves and since I wanted to become a baker when I was younger I thought that was a great chance and Hana is an amazing baker so it could actually work and I know I never really asked you about your permission and maybe you had other plans and now I feel very stupid but I don’t want you to think I was hiding anything because–”
“Riley, hey, relax. Take a breath. Pastry shop, huh?”
“Yeah. Are you mad?” She asked.
“Mad? That my wife is fulfilling her childhood dream? That she starts a career of her own? That I’ll probably have lots of yummy things for free? Are you mad?”
Riley laughed, relief spreading through her body. “You can have anything you want. You’ll always be our most treasured customer.”
Drake smiled and leaned to kiss her. She melted into him, finally feeling like they were back together for good. Like they found back their missing piece and now they could be whole again. The familiarity of them overwhelmed her.
“Drake…” she moaned in between the kisses. “I…. have the best… idea… mmm.”
“What? Are we going to have dessert now?” He asked and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes slightly.
“No, but maybe later.” This time she pulled away. “I thought we could celebrate? If you’re up for this?”
“Mhmm, of course we can. Come here.”
“Not like this,” she laughed. “Okay maybe that too. I thought with Maxwell, Hana, Liv, Liam and the rest of ours.”
Drake opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “I was thinking only the two of us…”
“And I was thinking something like renewing our vows? A small ceremony? Since our wedding was a big one? Now that we’re no longer–”
“Nobility, I know. I actually think this is a nice idea.”
“Right? A second chance wedding!” She babbled on and Drake chuckled.
“Okay, okay. I get it. You can plan it if you want but now about that dessert you mentioned earlier…”
Riley burst out laughing. “So needy!”
But she didn’t protest any further and definitely not when Drake was showing off his ‘dessert’ skills.
~~~~
The ceremony was just like Drake and Riley wanted. Small. Intimate. Romantic. Cozy. Only their closest friends were invited, Ellen came and brought Lasse with her while Bianca declined saying she wasn’t feeling too well. Leona, for obvious reasons, was banned from coming. Drake protested wholeheartedly against inviting Olivia but Riley couldn’t imagine that day without her. After all, it was Liv that helped them get back together. Even if unintentionally.
The vows were renewed, Drake and Riley kissed as a husband and wife and they moved to the Valtoria gardens where the party began. Even though she wasn’t a Duchess anymore, she really liked the gardens of her duchy and Liam helped her organize the ceremony there.
After a few hours of dancing, eating and talking, Riley stood with Drake and watched Savannah and Bertrand running after Bartie, who was trying to mimic Maxwell’s crazy dance moves.
“How does he have so much energy? I’m beat!” Riley exclaimed, rubbing her back.
“He’s still a kid.”
“No, not Bartie. Maxwell!”
“Well... Technically it applies to Max, too. Want a drink?”
“Oh yes, I think I could use a drink.”
“I’ll get it for you,” Drake said and Riley nodded. She was looking at him with a big smile on her face, until he disappeared. She turned around and noticed she wasn’t the only person following him with her eyes.
The woman was definitely not invited; at least Riley didn’t invite her. Silky blond hair, beautiful smile and a bump. When the woman turned to look at Riley and their eyes met, Riley swallowed hard.
Mary-Anne was even prettier in person.
Her face lit up and started making her way towards Riley. When she finally reached her, she extended her hand.
“Hi, Riley!” Even her voice was attractive. Riley plastered a smile and shook Mary-Anne’s hand. How could she even compare to Drake’s ex?
“Hello.”
“I’m Mary-Anne, Drake’s friend from Texas by the way! You were probably wondering who’s that strange person bothering you,” she laughed and Riley fake-chuckled.
“Yeah, well, it’s a private party so I was a bit surprised. Drake invited you, I suppose?” She asked.
“Erm... Not really. Savannah did mention you were renewing your vows and since I couldn’t come to your wedding when Drake invited me I thought I’d come to this party. I--I’m sorry if it was a bad idea,” she added when she saw Riley pale. “I came to apologize, actually.”
“Really? What for?” Now Riley was interested.
“I... Um... Found out what Leona said about me to you. Sav called and asked if the baby’s Drake’s. Apparently that’s what Leona kept telling you. It’s not, by the way. The baby, I mean. It’s not Drake’s. It could never be.”
“Thanks... I mean, I knew it, Drake told me but thanks.”
“I felt really bad and I figured calling would be not enough so here I am. Listen, I’m sorry about Leona. She’s like that. She’s always had this vision of me and Drake married with ten kids on their family Ranch. We even tried to date to please her but we’ve always been more like siblings than lovers. And I love Leona.”
“Leona is lovable?” Riley raised a brow and Mary-Anne chuckled.
“Yes, well, I love her. She’s the only mother I ever had. I have four older brothers and a clueless father. He had no idea how to raise a daughter. When I got my first period and stained my jeans he thought I was dying. It was Leona who taught me about those things. I know she loves me and I guess that’s why she wanted me and Drake to work out. But it’s not going to. Besides, he’s so happy with you! When you left him and he was super upset, he got drunk and I found him in a bar. You know what he did? He showed me every single photo of you on his phone and described when it was taken, where and why in so much detail I was afraid we were going to spend a week in that bar. I’ve never seen him so in love. It’s a good look on him. I’m happy you’re back together.”
“Wow, I... I don’t know what to say. Thank you for telling me, that... does make me understand Leona a bit better. But I still don’t like her,” Riley added.
“And I’m here to change your mind. I’d be mad at her too if she did this to me.” Mary-Anne shrugged.
“And the father of your baby? Leona doesn’t like him?”
“It was a mistake. My mistake. I was sad and lonely and it was a one time thing with a guy I met in a bar. I don’t even know his name but it doesn’t matter. I was actually kind of happy I got pregnant. My father never cared too much about me, my brothers have their own life and I thought I might finally have someone in my life. It was like my lil miracle. My bestie. My family.” She cradled her bump affectionately. “It’s the two of us against the world.”
“You know what?” Riley asked her suddenly, a brilliant (in her opinion) idea coming to her. “I’m so glad you came! Let me introduce you to my friends,” she said and watched Mary-Anne’s face light up. Riley took her arm and led her in the direction of Liam and Maxwell. To be fair, she only wanted to introduce her to Liam in hopes something could happen between those two but Maxwell being there too was for the best. She wouldn’t want to be too obvious.
Apparently she was too obvious though because when she turned to go back to her place, smirking, Drake was already standing there, watching her, his eyebrow raised. He handed her the drink when she reached him.
“What are you trying to do?” He asked.
“Umm... Your friend came and I thought she was lonely so I introduced her to our friends.”
“Really? Just that?”
“Err... What else do you want me to say?”
“Riley, I’m not stupid. Are you trying to play a matchmaker? Because let me remind you, we needed therapy to work out.”
“That’s because you didn’t even know my matchmaking plan! I actually asked Liam to give us a month to work things out between us, it’s not really a legit--” she paused realizing she was about to confess to a lie.
“I actually do know it was your plan, believe it or not.”
“What?” She asked. “How? When? Why?”
“From the moment the two of you announced it. I’m not stupid and I can think. There has never been a rule like this and will never be. Not within the Cordonian mentality.”
“And... You just went with it?”
Drake shrugged. “I was mad at you. But I did have a bit of hope that maybe it would help us. So I didn’t say anything.”
“Drake Walker! I swear you always find a way to surprise me.”
Drake smiled and pulled her towards him. “I hope I’ll never stop surprising you.”
“Mhmm,” she murmured as he kissed her cheek. “I might have to start thinking of ways to surprise you, too.”
Drake froze and pulled back. He looked at her intently for a few seconds before cracking a smile. “Maybe not. I think I had enough of your surprises in this lifetime.”
~~~~
EPILOGUE - ONE YEAR LATER
“One more!” Maxwell yelled from his seat and pointed to an empty plate.
“That would be your tenth!” Hana yelled back and Riley stifled a chuckle. She kept making coffee until she felt a pair of arms encircling her waist.
“Eek!”
“Hello, I missed you,” Drake's voice was muffled as he buried his face in Riley’s neck.
“I missed you, too. Three days feel like three years without you,” she admitted. Drake kissed her and nodded towards coffee.
“Got one more for your beloved husband?”
“Always. And I also put away an orange and bourbon flavored cupcake for you. Since Maxwell eats most of our supply.”
Drake laughed and the whole shop seemed to be positively vibrating with him in it. He sat down on a chair closest to the counter, ignoring Maxwell patting an empty chair beside him.
Riley brewed Drake’s coffee (black, no cream, no sugar) and retrieved the cupcake, pretending she didn’t hear Maxwell’s gasp. She looked at her shop, her and Hana’s pastry shop and smiled. A lot of energy and effort went into their little venture but it was worth it. Hana and Riley were great partners and worked perfectly together. Riley learned a lot from Hana and Hana from Riley. Their business was flourishing, although it was to some extent thanks to Maxwell - he came every single day and ate at least seven pastries. How he kept in shape - that was the greatest mystery.
Drake also worked - he was a full time photographer now and even though he mainly took photos of different events in Corodnia, sometimes he had to go to other countries. If the job was longer than a week he took Riley with him - they didn’t want to be far from each other for too long. In between the jobs he also taught a photography course at the University of Cordonia and was considering switching to full time teaching and doing photography on the side. He felt he wanted to be home more often.
Her and Drake were also better than ever. They kept on going to therapy and worked through every single little thing together. Not only were they closer than before but also their marriage was stronger.
There were also other changes in Cordonia. Mary-Anne and Liam were raising her almost one-year old daughter together (to Cordonian citizens’ outrage) and planning their wedding (to Cordonian citizens’ joy). Mary-Anne finally found a community that cared about her, although it wasn’t the easiest for Leona, who felt like she lost two children.
As far as Leona was concerned, she reached out to Drake a few weeks prior, full of remorse. Drake didn't even want to listen to her but Riley insisted they work things out. They started talking, little by little. It still wasn’t a relationship Drake or Leona wanted but they were trying.
And there was one last change. A change that no one but Riley knew about. She smiled at Drake blowing her a kiss while finishing his cupcake. She would tell him soon. She only just found out herself, but her little, approximately six-week old secret, still nestled safely in her womb, was ready to be shared with her husband.
And she was sure it was going to be a whole different adventure.
THE END.
TAGGING: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @alesana45 @walkerdrakewalker @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14 @tessa-liam @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @twinkleallnight @rubiwalker @differenttyphoonwerewolf @nestledonthaveone @marshmallowsandfire @21-wishes @thequeenofcronuts @iaminlovewithtrr @angelasscribbles @ladyangel70 @tinkie1973 @belencha77 @lunaseasblog @alyshak92 @xpandass420x @queen-arabella-of-cordonia
Pssst! If you made it this far and also don’t want to say goodbye to Riley and Drake, let me know in the reblog/comments and I might have a little something for you 😏
#the royal romance#choices#playchoices#drake walker#the royal heir#the royal finale#drake walker x mc#drake x mc#drake x riley#drake walker x riley brooks#trr#my fics#like fall like spring
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The Royal Heir’s Royal Romance
Drake x MC
Heir x OC
#choices fanfic#choices Royal romance#the royal heir#the royal romance#choices royal heir#drake walker#Drake Walker x mc
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Midnight rain (by Taylor swift)is definitely about Riley choosing Drake walker over Liam
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United Front: A Drabble Me This/Bad Romance Story
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings: Riley x Drake, Drake x OC!F (past)
Rating: MA
Warnings for this chapter: Mature Themes
Word Count: 1,710
By @angelasscribbles
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Staking a Claim
Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings for series: Various
Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake
Word Count: 2,340
Rating: MA
Warnings for this chapter: Language mostly
A/N: This is for the @choicesholidays Valentine's Day prompts: "Be my fake date for a wedding."
The hair color is wrong for my Riley, but this image was perfect!
The copilot twisted around in his seat one too many times, craning his neck as if searching the cabin for something, jostling the pilot in the process.
Liam grunted in consternation. “Drake!”
Drake spun back around, “What?”
“What is your malfunction?”
“What do you mean?” Drake blinked at him in confusion.
“What do you mean what do I mean?” Liam grunted, “We haven’t made it through the preflight checklist because you keep turning around to stare into the cabin! What the hell is so interesting out there?”
“Nothing!” Drake rolled his shoulders, stared blankly out the cockpit window for a moment then turned back to Liam, “Can you see the guy in 12B?”
“What?” Liam’s head swiveled around and then back. “No. Why?”
Drake’s bottom lip protruded as he shook his head. “No reason.”
Liam watched him skeptically. Drake had been visibly agitated since he’d reported for duty. “There has to be a reason.”
“I…he just….he looks a little squirrely. You know what I mean? Untrustworthy.”
Liam’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is he a threat? Do we need to alert security? Did you see a weapon?” He whipped his head around quickly to try and get a good view of the man in 12B. “I can’t see anything. Riley’s blocking my view.”
“Is she talking to him?” Drake’s entire body moved just as Liam turned back around. Their heads collided with a resounding thwack.
“Ow! Fuck!” Liam grabbed his forehead.
“Sorry, sorry!”
“Seriously man, tell me what’s going on right now. I’m calling security!” Liam reached for the microphone but just as he got it to his mouth, Drake slapped it out of his hands.
“No!”
Liam watched in astonishment as the microphone flew out of his grip and hit the window then bounced off the dash. “Are you on drugs right now? Do I need to get another copilot?”
Drake gaped at him. “Seriously? When have I ever done drugs?”
“I don’t know man, but you’re acting really fucking weird.”
Hana ducked her head in to ask, “Are we almost ready? A couple of the passengers are getting antsy.”
“Which ones?” Drake asked.
Hana’s brows pulled together for a moment then smoothed out as she chuckled. “Oh. You know Riley’s ex is out there, don’t you?”
“What?” Drake’s eyes shot to Liam then back to Hana as he denied it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
A relieved breath whooshed out of Liam. At least he now knew Drake wasn’t on drugs and there wasn’t a terrorist on board. He stifled a laugh. “Sure you don’t.”
“I don’t!” Drake glared at them both.
Hana giggled as she backed out of the cockpit.
They finished the checklist and got airborne, but Drake’s agitation quickly returned. “Do you think he’s better looking than me?”
“Who?”
“The guy! In 12B.”
“How would I know?”
“You’re bisexual, right? You can judge that kind of thing.”
Liam scoffed. “First of all, I haven’t laid eyes on the guy. Second of all, I thought you didn’t care.”
“No, I don’t! I mean….just objectively speaking, out of curiosity….I overheard Hana call him eye candy. He can’t be that good-looking, can he?”
“I dunno Drake, Riley is a ten, so I imagine her ex is no slouch in the looks department either.”
“Great.” Drake huffed as he spun around in his seat again.
“Oh, for the love of God, just go look!”
“I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Because then she’ll know I care!”
Liam cocked an eyebrow at him, “So you do care?”
“I mean she’ll think I care!”
“You’re really an idiot sometimes, you know that?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Of course you don’t.” Liam shook his head. “The only person you’re fooling is yourself. Put the rest of us out of our misery and just tell the girl that you like her already!”
“I’m not going out there.”
“Okay.”
Drake tapped his fingers on his knees for several seconds before jumping out of his seat. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Sure you do.”
“I had a lot of coffee before we boarded.”
“Sure you did.”
“Fuck you. I’m going to take a piss.”
“Great. Tell Riley I said hi.”
Drake ignored him as he exited the cockpit and headed for the back of the plane where the restrooms were located. He slid his eyes sideways as he passed aisle 12 and scoffed to himself. The guy wasn’t that good-looking.
He was clean-shaven with a strong jawline, and raven hair swept back and gelled to perfection. Was that an Armani suit? How were his eyes that blue?
He slammed into the lavatory and locked the door to glare at himself in the highly polished silver surface of the mirror as he regarded his deep copper-colored eyes and messy, fly-away hair that barely saw a brush, much less hair gel. He ran a hand across the stubble dotting his jaw. It was a strong jawline, wasn’t it? Should he shave?
The guy in seat 12B looked like a CEO or something. Did she like that type? Drake was far more likely to be found in a tent than a boardroom. Did he even own a suit? He owned uniforms. Didn’t women like men in uniforms?
He made pretty good money as a first officer for Cordonian Royal Airlines.
Not CEO money.
“Fuck!” He spun and lashed out at the toilet. His foot connected to the stainless steel sending a sharp jolt of pain shooting up his leg.
There was a knock at the door. “Everything okay in there?”
Shit! It was Riley! “I’m fine. Dropped my…. Wallet…” Fuck, Walker! What the shit is wrong with you, man? Your wallet really?
“Are you sure because that didn’t sound like—”
“I said I’m fine!”
“Okay. Just let me know if—oh, excuse me what?”
From the other side of the door, a man’s voice murmured something he couldn’t make out then both people moved away.
Was that the ex talking to her? He forced himself to count to twenty so he didn’t just barrel out of the bathroom after them. He took several deep calming breaths like Max had tried to show him last time he had been upset about something. At least he thought it was what Max had done. At the time, he had mostly ignored him.
With an air of calm he most certainly did not feel, he exited the lavatory. His eyes went straight to seat 12B. Empty. He backtracked and ducked into the crew area.
Sure enough, there was Riley standing in the middle of the empty inflight catering kitchen talking to Mr. CEO.
All his jealousy evaporated in an instant as he took in her demeanor. Her arms were folded defensively across her chest and her face was furrowed into a frown. She was shaking her head as she leaned forward, her voice lowered but her entire body radiating her discomfort with the conversation.
The guy reached out and grabbed her arm.
She flinched away.
Oh hell no.
Drake didn’t remember moving but he was suddenly next to them, his hand wrapped firmly around the man's wrist. He flung the other man’s arm away from Riley and through gritted teeth asked, “Is there a problem here?”
The man gave him a startled look then annoyance flashed across his face. “We were just having a discussion.”
“Doesn’t look like the lady’s enjoying the conversation.”
“Mind your own business,” he shook his head dismissively and reached for her again, “Riley, if we could just talk privately—”
Drake intercepted the motion before he could touch her. “If you’re attached to that hand and wish to keep it, then I would strongly advise you against touching her again.”
He jerked his hand out of Drake’s grasp and rubbed his wrist. “Was that really necessary?”
Drake never took his eyes off the man as he leaned his body toward Riley, “Do you want to talk to this guy?”
“No.”
“But, Riley—”
“We have nothing to talk about, Nick!”
Drake angled his body so that he was blocking Riley from Nick’s view. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You heard her.”
Nick looked like he wanted to press the issue, but after taking in Drake’s stormy expression, thought better of it. He straightened his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “Fine. I’ll see you at the wedding. We’ll talk then.”
“You’re not coming to my sister’s wedding!”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’ll be there as Clarissa’s plus one.”
Riley shook her head back and forth. “Seriously? When we were dating, you couldn’t stand her!”
A gloating smile crept across his face. “Jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“Because you’re not over me, Riley. If you were, you’d have bothered to line up a date for the wedding.”
“I—”
“She has a date for the wedding.” Drake cut in as he casually slung his arm around her shoulders.
Nick turned his gaze to Drake for a long, evaluating moment. “Are you the new boyfriend then?”
“Yep. And I’m only going to ask you once to return to your seat. If you don’t stop harassing the flight crew, I will land this plane and have security escort you off of it.”
Nick’s eyes widened slightly as he huffed out, “You wouldn’t dare!”
Riley ran her hand down Drake’s arm as she smirked at Nick, “He would. He’s very protective when it comes to me. I wouldn’t test him if I were you.”
“Whatever,” Nick bumped Drake’s shoulder as he shoved past them and exited the kitchen.
Drake’s arm was still around Riley as he turned his head to watch Nick leave. “Let me know if he bothers you again and I’ll—”
Riley spun on him in fury, her fists raining blows on his chest. “What the fuck did you just do, Drake?”
His hand flew to his chest. “Ow! What the hell, Riley? I just rescued you from that guy!”
“I didn’t need rescuing, Drake. I can handle Nick. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a serial killer or something!”
Drake scoffed with a shake of his head, “I think the phrase you’re looking for is thank you.”
“Oh yeah? Really?”
“Yeah, really!”
“Do you know what you just did? Do you?”
“Um…got the asshole ex-boyfriend to leave you alone?”
“No, you fucking jackass.” She slapped his arm. “You just told him that you’re my boyfriend and my date to my sister’s wedding!”
“So?”
“So?” She threw her arms up in the air. “So when I show up at the wedding with no date and no boyfriend he’ll know that was a lie and I’ll be humiliated!”
“Oh.”
“Yeah…oh!”
They stood in silence for a long moment, Drake rubbing his chest and Riley fuming. Then Drake quietly said, “I’ll go to the wedding with you.”
“What?”
“I mean….if you want me to.”
“I…”
“I did get you into this situation. Let me make it up to you by getting you out of it. One fake boyfriend slash date for sister’s wedding coming right up!”
All the fight went out of her as she took in the hopeful smile on his face. “I can’t ask you to do that, Drake.”
“Why not?”
“Because the wedding is on Valentine’s Day and I’m sure you already have plans. I can’t ask you to cancel—”
“Pfffftttt.” He waved a hand dismissively in the air. “I do not have plans for Valentine’s Day!”
“You don’t?”
Did she sound hopeful?
“No, I do not. No girlfriend, no friend with benefits, no romantic entanglements at all.”
Except with you.
A delighted smile broke out across her face. “Okay, then.”
“So, we’re good?”
She gave him a flirtatious smile as she flipped her hair and turned to leave. “We’re good.”
“Okay, good.”
He watched her walk away with a contented smile on his lips then followed her out of the kitchen and back to the front of the plane. He glowered at Nick as he passed aisle 12.
Nick returned the glare as he adjusted his headphones and slid down in the seat.
When he stepped onto the flight deck Liam greeted him with smug satisfaction. “That was the longest piss in the world.”
“Shut up.” He slid into the copilot seat without looking at his best friend.
“So how’d it go? Did you get a good look at her ex?”
“Um….yeah… he’s a pushy bastard. I had to tell him to keep his hands to himself and….”
“And?”
Drake released a long-suffering sigh knowing Liam was going to find out sooner or later. Riley would tell Max and Max would tell everyone else. “I’m going as her date to her sister’s wedding.”
“Wow! That’s quite a jump from ‘I don’t like her like that’.” Liam chortled gleefully.
Drake kept quiet but his foot started tapping nervously.
“Oh, shit, there’s more! What is it?” Liam prodded.
“Ah…”
“Don’t make me call Max and find out.”
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Come on, what else?”
“It’s on Valentine’s Day,” he answered with a resigned sigh.
Liam practically danced out of his seat. “This is amazing! This is epic! Mr. I will never take a woman out on Valentine’s Day because that’s far too much pressure and it’s all about commercialization anyway is taking a woman out on Valentine’s Day. To her sister’s wedding!”
“Why does this make you so happy?”
“Because I get to say I told you so forever!”
“It’s not even a real date.”
“Sure it’s not.”
“It’s not!”
“Does she know that?”
“Yes! I just said I was her boyfriend so that Nick guy would stop—”
“Wait! Wait! You played the pretend boyfriend card to back off her ex?”
“Yeah…so?”
Liam threw his head back and belly laughed. “You are such a goner!”
Drake pressed his lips into a tight line and returned his attention to the control panel. He wanted to argue, he really did. But he couldn’t.
He was absolutely a goner.
And he was going to have to buy a suit.
Shit.
#cordonianroyalairlines#trr au#the royal romance#drake walker#drake x mc#cfwc fics of the week#choices fic writers creations#choicesholidays#liam rys
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the best mistake he never had [drake x Camille AU] [part four]
Lily burst into the house, trying her best not to cry. It was rare that Camille shouted at her and it had been a shock to the system for the five year old.
Camille preferred disciplining by talking. No corporal punishment, no shouting. She wanted to take the time to understand her daughter and explain why certain behaviour wasn't acceptable.
But seeing Lily with Drake had filled her with so much anxiety that she couldn't help it. She had shouted at Lily.
Lily went upstairs to find her grandma. She wanted comfort.
‘Grandma?’ she called.
‘I’m in bed, sweetheart!’ Gisele replied. ‘Come through.’
Lily entered the room. As soon as her grandma set eyes on her, her face fell. ‘Ohhh mon petit Fleur..’ she whispered. She reached out for her granddaughter. ‘Come here.’
Lily sniffled and climbed onto the bed, careful not to disturb her grandma too much as she looked so delicate. She gently laid her head on her chest and inhaled Gisele's scent of jasmine perfume and instantly felt her mind quieten.
‘What’s happened?’ Gisele asked quietly.
Lily sniffed. ‘Mommy shouted at me because I was brushing Lone Star and talking to Drake.’
She felt Gisele stiffen but she didn't question it.
‘And she said I shouldn't speak to strangers,’ Lily continued. ‘Because strangers are bad but Drake was nice.’
Gisele cleared her throat and cuddled Lily deeper. ‘It’s just you and your mommy,’ she said softly. ‘She wants you to be safe and since you don't know Drake, he is a stranger to you. Yes, he can be a nice man but that doesn't mean you should speak to him unless your mommy or I are there.’
Lily bit her lip. ‘That’s unfair on him and Lone Star.’
Gisele chuckled despite herself. ‘Lily, are you just mad because you want the horse?’
Lily turned and pouted. ‘No!’ she protested.
Gisele smiled and pressed a kiss on Lily's head. ‘You don't speak to someone you don't know unless you have your mommy or me there, okay? That's not just a rule for you, that's a rule for all children.’
Lily sighed. She knew she couldn't protest against that if the rule applied to all children.
She was a child who obeyed rules and liked everything to be just right. She rarely strayed from the safe path.
Lily also felt things deeply and that often meant she didn't want to upset anyone. She especially didn't want to upset Camille because Camille was her entire world.
She didn't want to upset her mommy, ever.
If that meant no more Lone Star or talking to Drake, then she wouldn't go near them again.
*******************
That evening, Drake was back in his local bar, where he tended to spend most evenings.
Yes, he had work at the ranch in the early mornings but Drake had since admitted to himself that he was basically a high functioning alcoholic and he could deal with a sore head and dry mouth if it meant he could drink whisky and forget about all this shit for a while.
This shit being meeting his daughter for the first time today and Camille's anger about it.
Fuck.
Drake downed his whisky and gestured to Leo, the bartender and friend, for another.
‘You alright man?’ Leo asked, frowning as he began to pour Drake another. ‘You’re quieter than usual.’
Drake smirked. ‘I’m fine, Leo.’
Leo raised his eyebrows and passed Drake the glass. He studied him for a moment, his green eyes roaming Drake's face.
‘So I heard Camille is back,’ he said bluntly. ‘And a mini Camille too.’
Drake gripped the glass. ‘Leo. Shut up.’
Leo proceeded to dry the wet glasses, not once taking his eyes off Drake. He didn't understand him. Sure, Leo was not a family man, he was allergic to commitment. If a woman he slept with had gotten pregnant with his baby, he would have run a mile.
But Drake wasn't like Leo. Drake, although a bit of a loner and hardly a womaniser, was the kind of guy who looked like he would want a relationship and a kid. The women he had dated in the past had always been long term.
Plus she was Camille Montespan. She was in Leo’s spank bank.
He loved her name. Fucking sexy and French.
Anyway, who in their right mind would reject Camille Montespan? She was the town sweetheart. Always friendly, always up for a laugh, drop dead gorgeous.
Pretty much every guy in Applewood had had a crush on her at some point, Leo included.
You sleep with girls. You marry women like Camille Montespan.
If Camille had slept with him and had his baby, Leo would gone against all of his instincts and settled down with her. Because you don't give up the chance to be with a woman like her. Even Leo knew that.
So why the fuck did Drake fuck it up?
He didn't know what had happened five years ago with Drake and Camille. Drake never spoke about it. Had it been a drunken fling? A secret romance?
All Leo knew was that Camille and his daughter were Drake's sore spots. You could insult him about anything and he would shrug it off, acting like he didn't care. But if you mentioned Camille and his daughter, Drake would turn defensive.
Before Leo could respond to Drake, the door opened and in walked Maxwell Beaumont.
‘Hey Leo!’ he greeted him as if Leo was the best thing in the world at that moment.
Leo smiled. ‘Hey Max. What can I get you?’
‘Ooohh.. a pina colada please.’
‘Coming right up, good sir!’ Leo said. Maxwell always ordered a fancy cocktail and it was always interesting to see what he would order his time.
Drake sipped his whisky and cast a glance over at Maxwell who was studiously scrolling through his phone and making a point not to speak to Drake.
‘How are ya doing, Max?’ Drake finally said, breaking the horrible silence.
‘Fine,’ Maxwell replied, his voice montone.
Leo eyed the two of them as he shook the cocktail shaker, wishing Drake would just stop trying.
Ever since Camille left town, Maxwell swore never to talk to Drake again. He was Camille’s best friend and incredibly loyal to her. If you hurt Camille, you hurt Maxwell.
He was like sunshine personified with everyone except Drake. Even though Drake understood, it didn't mean that he liked it.
‘So I saw Camille and Lily today -’
‘Don’t even say their names,’ Maxwell interrupted, his voice like ice. ‘Don’t you dare.’
Drake's jaw set. He picked up his glass of whisky and downed it before gesturing to Leo for another.
However, Leo was staring at Maxwell with his mouth open, cocktail shaker gripped tightly in his hands. He knew Maxwell hated Drake but Jesus Christ, he was quick to the punch.
‘Sorry..’ Drake muttered, taking a sip of his drink.
‘No, you don't say sorry to me,’ Maxwell said, his voice starting to rise, ‘you say sorry to Camille. But you won't because you really don't give a shit about her.’
Drake exhaled. ‘Leo, can I have another drink?’
Leo coughed and picked up the whisky bottle, pouring him another. He then served Maxwell his Pina colada, hoping the two of them wouldn't fight right here at his bar.
Drake downed the whisky.
‘Yup, get drunk like you always do…’ Maxwell muttered, his lips brushing the straw in his glass. ‘Classic Walker.’
Drake was up on his feet in an instant. ‘Right man, you got something to say? Fucking say it.’
‘Woah, calm down!’ Leo panicked. ‘You’re going to upset my other patrons…’
‘Who, Bill at the back? Drake hissed. ‘He doesn't give a shit.’
Maxwell sipped his Pina colada, cool as a cucumber. He looked away from Drake , not bothering to give him any eye contact. Drake stared at the side of his face.
‘You know it's none of your business what happened between me and Camille right?’ he asked, keeping his voice neutral. Unfortunately , his voice was slurring now thanks to the whisky he had downed.
‘I know you're her fucking guard dog who needs any excuse to jump but you don't know the ins and outs of this. You weren't there.’
Maxwell turned to look at Drake. His eyes were narrowed. ‘Excuse me?’ he whispered.
‘So guys, you watch the Texans game on Sunday?’ Leo asked, his voice high. ‘Great game -’
‘I get she's your friend and you are sticking by her but you don't know the full story so you can't exactly make your mind up about me,’ Drake continued. ‘You’re judging me without actually talking to me about it.’
Drake had a secret. Despite acting like he didn't give a shit about anything, he hated it when people judged him. All he wanted was to be accepted but people rarely did.
Maxwell rose so he stood over Drake, which wasn't hard as Drake was sitting on the bar stool. The tables would turn if Drake stood up because he had a clear five inches over Maxwell.
So he stood up.
Maxwell stared up at him, his eyes flashing. ‘I was there to pick up the pieces after you took her heart and ripped it into two,’ he said quietly, his tone dangerous. ‘I was there to listen to her as she told me how cruel you were, how you said it had been a drunken mistake, that it should never have happened. She was broken up, Drake. She felt like shit, like nothing-’
‘I didn't mean to make her feel like that!’ Drake burst out. ‘I didn't word it correctly-’
‘She told you that she was pregnant with your baby and you told her you didn't want anything to do with her!’
‘It wasn't meant to come out like that!’
‘Guys, please, can we stop?’ Leo interrupted, desperate for peace.
‘She always stuck up for you!’ Maxwell shouted, pushing Drake in the chest. Drake stumbled back, catching himself on the bar. ‘When everyone in school took the piss out of you, called you names, ignored you, she was there to defend you! She thought you were a good guy!’
‘I am a good guy!’ Drake shouted back. ‘I made a crappy decision but I am a good-’
‘No, you're a selfish asshole,’ Maxwell cut in. ‘You could have stood by her. You didn't have to say you'd step up and be a dad but for fucks sake, you could have at least paid her child support!’
There was a horrible, thick silence.
Leo looked between the two of them and exhaled. ‘Guys. Get out of my bar.’
Drake swallowed. ‘I.. I offered to pay her child support and she said she didn't want anything from me.’
Maxwell stared at him. ‘You should have ignored her and done it anyway. But instead you wiped your hands clean of them. Happy to stay in Texas working on that ranch and drinking yourself stupid at night. That's what you chose, Drake.’
Drake shook his head and raised his hands. ‘I can't take this anymore -’
‘Good,’ Leo interrupted, his voice sharp. ‘Both of you are done. Get out. I won't ask again.’
Drake grabbed his denim jacket and pushed some dollars at Leo. ‘Sorry Leo.’
Leo nodded mutely and took the cash. ‘Sober up, Drake. And you, Maxwell,’ he eyed Maxwell who was downing the last of his pina colada. ‘Don’t talk shit about something you don't know about.’
‘But I do!’ Maxwell protested.
Leo pointed at Drake who was now leaving the bar with his shoulders heavy and head low.
‘You clearly don't.’
#drake walker#trr fanfic#the royal romance#drake walker x mc#drake x camille#choices the stories you play
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The Proposal
Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairing: Drake x Riley
Rating: G
Warnings for this chapter: None
Word Count: 1,471
A/N: This is finally! @twinkleallnight ask from my prompt wheel event. The ask was for Drake x fluff and angst x secrets and romance. I decided that any fluffy, romantic gesture from Drake Walker is going to be angsty because he's unsure of himself. What other romantic gesture would you keep secret than a proposal? So here it is finally. Hope you enjoy!
Also submitting to @choicesjunechallenge for Proposal.
My other stuff: Master List.
“What’s going on in here?” Riley asked.
The conversation had ceased the moment she walked in. That was the second time in as many days and Drake had been acting squirely for a week. Fidgety, secretive, and quieter than normal. Not that he was ever a huge talker, but this was quiet even for him. He seemed lost in thought often and when she asked what was on his mind, he just dismissed her with “nothing.”
She sighed and shook her head when Drake once again responded to her question with, “Nothing.” The same answer he’d given her earlier when he’d hung up on a call that he’d clearly been in the middle of when she’d walked in the room.
She was starting to worry that there was someone else or that he’d realized he’d made a huge mistake wanting to be with her.
Not that she would blame him. She had come here for his best friend after all. But the spark with Liam had fizzled and died quickly. There was no way the royal council ever would have approved her as a match for him anyway and she had figured out not long after landing in Cordonia that there was no way she would be happy living under the restraints that Liam lived under.
She thought that Drake had moved past the fact that her initial interest had been in Liam, but maybe he hadn’t. She had never meant to fall for someone else after realizing she and Liam weren’t meant to be, but she had fallen for Drake in slow motion, and had been unable to stop it from happening.
Maybe he had just gotten swept up in the excitement of the engagement tour and the adrenaline rush of all the sneaking around, trying to be discreet as they cleared her name and now that it was all over, regular life with her was boring. Maybe he liked damsels in distress and now that she wasn’t one, he was losing interest.
She turned her attention to the other man in the room and demanded, “Max?” Surely Max would tell her what was going on.
Max gave her a wide-eyed stare, like a deer caught in the headlights before blurting out, “Nothing!” and bounding out of the room.
Well, fuck.
She turned back to Drake with a tremble in her voice, “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”
“What? Of course! Riley, baby, nothing is wrong!” Drake was shaken to his core that she thought that. He took her in his arms and pulled her tight against him as he told her, “Nothing is wrong! I love you! Please tell me you know that!”
“Uh-huh,” she nodded as she pulled away and gave him a sad smile, “I’ll leave you alone and let you get back to…whatever you were doing…”
He watched her leave with his heart in his throat.
Shit!
This was not supposed to happen. He was apparently a terrible secret keeper and a worse boyfriend. His girlfriend, the love of his life, thought something was wrong between them because he was making such a mess out of this.
He pulled out his phone and started typing into the group chat he had created a week ago.
Drake: Change of plans! We need to pull this off tonight! She’s suspicious and thinks something is wrong.
Max: Sorry, I have no poker face!
Hana: We can do this! Can’t we, Liam?
Liam: Of course! Anything for our two best friends my love!
Drake: Seven?
Hana: Seven it is. Max, come to my office so we can coordinate.
Max: On my way!
Drake pocked his phone and went to find Riley.
*****
After reassuring his girlfriend that everything was okay between them, Drake met his friends on the palace roof. “Oh my God, you guys, this looks amazing! How did you get it done so fast?”
There was a table draped with a white linen tablecloth, adorned with red and white roses and tapered candles. Twinkle lights stretched overhead and soft classical music floated through the air from hidden speakers.
“Being queen has it’s perks!” Hana giggled.
“She’s being modest,” Liam draped an arm around her shoulders, “My wife is amazing at everything!”
“Besides, you did all the planning,” Max interjected, “all we did was make it happen a few days earlier than originally scheduled!”
“Okay, okay,” Drake muttered as he walked around the area checking things, “Flowers… music… champagne….candles… what am I forgetting?”
“Uh…do you have the ring?” Max asked.
“Shit! The ring! Right!” Drake patted his pockets, then blew out a huge sigh of relief when he found it, “Got it!”
“Okay, now all we have to do is get Riley up here!” Hana nodded.
“I’ve got that part under control,” Drake answered, “Thank you all for everything!”
“Are you okay?” Liam peered at his best friend, “You look a little pale.”
“I’ve never been so nervous in my fucking life! What if she says no? What if she doesn’t want to get married? What if-“
“Hey, hey, hey!” Liam placed a hand on his shoulder, “She will!”
“Yeah, anyone can see how in love you two are,” Max assured him.
“As her best friend, I’m telling you, she’s going to say yes!” Hana added.
“Okay,” Drake took in several gulping breaths, “Let’s do this!”
*****
“We’re having dinner on the roof?” Riley asked as Drake led her through the door at the top of the stairs and out onto the moonlit rooftop of the palace.
“Yeah, I thought it would be fun.”
“Wow!” She breathed as she took in the scene in front of her, “You did all this?”
“I had a little help,” he admitted.
“Why?” She asked as her eyes took in the table that was set with fine China, crystal champagne flutes and actual silverware. “Not that I don’t appreciate a good, romantic gesture, but this is out of character for you…oh! Is this what you’ve been so secretive about lately?” She watched his face hopefully.
“What? I mean…yes, yes! This is what I’ve been planning! I wanted to recreate the night we met!”
Relief crashed through her as she sat in the chair that he pulled out for her. “I’m pretty sure there was no China or champagne that night…”
“Yes, but this was the best I could do in the palace kitchens! There are no plastic plates in the place. But look!” He pulled the cover off her plate to reveal a deluxe cheeseburger and fries.
“Oh my God! This looks amazing!” she laughed, “This is great! I was starting to worry about you for a minute there, Walker!” Burgers and fries were much more his speed, and hers, than any of the fancy dishes that usually came out of the palace kitchens.
“So, you like it?”
“Of course! But why all the secrecy? You scared the crap out of me! I thought you were going to break up with me!”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he ducked his head sheepishly, “I guess I’m not good at keeping secrets.”
“Ya think?”
His smile vanished as his countenance grew serious, “Riley, I never want you to be afraid of that. I want to be with you now, tomorrow and forever.”
Something in his tone made her body go still. Her eyes widened as she took in his serious demeanor, “What are you trying to say right now, Drake?”
“I’m saying…” he was suddenly down on one knee holding a ring up to her, “I love you, Riley Brooks and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you! Will you make me the happiest man on the planet and marry me?”
Her hands flew to her mouth as she sucked in a shocked gasp, “Drake!” tears started falling down her cheeks as she nodded.
“Yes? That’s a yes?”
“It’s a yes!” she nodded harder.
“Oh, thank God!” He slid the ring on her finger as his hands started to shake from the adrenaline that had dumped into his body.
He stood up and pulled her from the chair, crushing her against him as his lips crashed into hers.
When they pulled apart, she was laughing, “I can’t believe you thought I would say anything other than yes!”
“I have never been so scared in my life, Riley!”
She looked at him incredulously, “Did you really think I’d say no?”
“Maybe….”
“Not a chance! You’re stuck with me, now!” She teased as she admired the ring on her finger.
“Good!” He kissed her again then leaned his forehead against hers, “I love you, Riley.”
“I love you too, Drake,” she murmured as her hands ran through his hair.
The food was forgotten for the moment as they clung to each other with love and happiness flooding through their hearts.
#drake x mc#drake walker#angelasscribbles#the royal romance#the royal romance fanfic#trr#choices fic writers creations#choices#choices stories you play#cfwc fics of the week#drake walker x mc#drake x riley#one shot#fluff#proposal#choicesjunechallenge#choices monthly challenge
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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.
Tags (please let me know if you'd like added or removed): @choicesficwriterscreations @ao719 @txemrn @imashybish @queenrileyrose @kingliam2019 @riseandshinelittleblossom @dcbbw @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @amandablink @cordonia-gothqueen @sfb123 @jared2612 @harleybeaumont @bebepac @charlotteg234 @busywoman @malblk21 @angelasscribbles @bascmve01 @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @mysticalfangirl @umccall71 @fuckitweball0000 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @lovingchoices14 @emersyn-in-cordonia @aussiegurl1234 @karahalloway @the0afnan
#the royal romance#king liam#liam rys#choices the royal romance#trr#choices trr#trr au#choices#liam x riley#choices fic writers creations#ghosted#liam x mc#prince liam#drake walker#olivia nevrakis#trrmystery#what happened to riley?#where is riley?
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TRR Drabble (Drake Walker x Ava Flores)
Thank you for joining us this month @petiteboheme and for your super sweet messages and kind words these last few weeks! They have meant the world to me 💕 You make me want to love TRR with your fics.
Warnings & A/N: Hope this is in keeping with your babies. I got the idea from how much your Ava’s family reminds me of my own. This idea also comes from something that happened between my Grams and partner when they first met.
[I attempted to write a bit in a language I’m not strong in, so please forgive my Spanish. It is not my first language and I didn’t start learning it until like college (self taught) despite it being my mum’s first language.]
“We’re here,” Ava shouted over the din as she ushered Drake into the foyer.
His hands fiddled with the wine bottle he held, passing it back and forth between them like it weighed a ton.
He was nervous.
And if the clenched jaw didn’t give it away, his bouncing from foot to foot definitely did.
“Take a breath,” she whispered against the kiss she placed on his cheek.
“We’re in the kitchen,” a shout came from deeper into the house.
“Sounds like a lot of people,” Drake said as he stood frozen in place.
“It sounds quiet, actually,” Ava giggled and grabbing his free hand, pulled him with her into the kitchen.
“Mija!” came her mother’s joyous cry as she was quickly wrapped in a hug which turned into a line of hugs and kisses and various greetings as she was passed a crossed the room.
When the hugs and greetings and noise died down slightly, every eye in the room turned towards Drake.
Ava giggled from across the room. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. In fact, she had seen him looked more comfortable in Cordonia at fancy balls than he did in this moment.
She pushed her way through the crowd to stand beside him.
“Everyone, this is Drake. Drake, everyone,” she made the introductions.
There was a moment of silence before the room erupted again into hugs, kisses, and greetings and names introduced that he was sure to not remember.
When he came to a stop having met everyone, the flow turned back to the food spread across the counters, the island, the kitchen table and spilling out onto the dining room table.
Ava found herself sitting at the dining room table with some aunts and cousins. Drake watched from a spot along the island as they wrapped something in what looked like banana leaves.
“Pasteles en hoja. They are one of Ava’s favorite. And while her great-grandmother would be rolling in her grave to see them made now, it’s not often our baby girl comes home,” Celia said beside Drake as she peeled more plantains.
“Debes ayudar si vas a comer,” an older women interrupted with a smile at him from across the counter.
“Um, what? I’m sorry I-“ he asked bewildered as he turned his attention to the woman who’s name and relation he couldn’t remember.
Ava’s mother laughed beside him and patted his hand.
“Dolores. She is Ava’s abuelita,” she whispered to him before leaning back and speaking up. “She said you must help if you plan to enjoy eating with us.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he looked at the wine still in his hands and then to the food spread out on the island. “This is for you,” he held the bottle of red wine out to Dolores. “Ava tells me you enjoy making vino caliente when the family gets together.”
The woman’s eyes lit up as she took the expensive bottle and glanced at it with a smile.
“¿El buen vino?” she laughed. “Nunca buen vino para el vino caliente, ni para viejas hermosas, tonto corazón de melón.”
She laughed and gave him a quick kiss before patting his cheek.
“Um?” he looked bewildered at the people around him now laughing.
“She only uses the cheapest wine,” someone said to him. “And I do mean the cheapest,” and to make their point they made a sour face.
Dolores opened the bottle Drake had given her and poured herself a glass before producing another bottle from the lower cabinet.
“Solo este vino. Las cosas buenas que bebo,” she raised her glass toward Drake and took a large gulp of wine before gesturing for him to come help her chop some ginger root.
“I think she must really like you,” a cousin said beside him with a clap on his back. “She doesn’t let anyone help make her vino.”
——————————
All Choices Tag: @storyofmychoices @peonierose @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads
#choices trr#drake walker x mc#my drabble#i like to live dangerously and so do not edit please forgive any mistakes#choiceswriterappreciation2023#week 4
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Like Fall, Like Spring (Drake x MC)
PART TWENTY
A/N: maxwell has entred the chat. again.
It was over before Riley even realized it started. The meetings, one with Hana, another with a lawyer and then another one with a few more peope went smoothly and very fast. After mere two hours, everything was settled and Riley breathed a sigh of relief.
She knew Drake wasn’t home yet; he messaged her saying that Liam needed him for a few more hours. She sent a cryptic message back: she was busy as well and he didn’t have to worry about going back home late. Drake replied with a question: “Busy?” but Riley didn’t want to tell him yet. “Busy:)” was all she said back.
She smiled at her phone and texted Maxwell. He kept asking her when they could meet up to catch up (and Maxwell needed to know everything about how her and Drake made up) and Riley decided it was time. Seven minutes after her message, Maxwell was already waiting for her in the bakery and eating his first, out of five, cronut.
“I’m so happy you messaged me, Little Blossom! We haven’t talked in ages.”
“In fours days,” Riley corrected.
“That’s ages in my world. Come, sit. I ordered you a vanilla late.”
She obliged and took a sip of her drink. Maxwell knew how much she loved all those sugary syrups in her coffee and he always made sure to get her a coffee with one. That was one of their things; Drake claimed adding anything to coffee is a crime so she drank plain latte or a cappuccino whenever she was with him. Giving up milk was still too much to her.
“Sooooo! You and Drake, huh. The therapy. Camping. Huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and Riley laughed.
“Yes, the therapy helped and we made up. Happy?”
“Very!” He raised his oatmilk hazelnut caramel decaf macchiato with extra cinnamon and whipped cream in a toast. When it came to coffee drinks, Maxwell was even more extra than her. “Tell me everything!”
Riley took another sip of her coffee and began to tell the story, from the therapy, the camping trip to Leona’s phone call and their making up. She did leave out the actual making up in bed but she did tell him they kissed and that it felt like they were okay. Maxwell obviously read between the lines because his face was very smug.
“And what did you tell Leona? I hope you told her to kiss your ass. Or to back off! Or--”
“I just hung up.” She shrugged.
“What? Nooo! Riley, no! You can’t! You need to do something! Look, someone suggested you take a photo of you and Drake kissing and send it to her. Other people thought it’d be better if you sue her for emotional damage. And then this one person--”
“Maxwell, who’s suggesting these things and why do they know about our problem with Leona?”
“Umm... Would you like another coffee?”
“Maxwell!”
“Cronut, maybe?”
“MAXWELL!”
“Okay, so I made a poll online.”
“A poll? What?”
“Yeah, my fans were supposed to pitch their ideas to me, how they would deal with aunt Leona.”
“Maxwell! You didn’t! The whole Cordonia knows about my beef with Leona?” She hid her face in her hands.
“Noo! Of course not! It’s um... an anonymous website. No one knows it’s about you.”
“What do you mean anonymous?” Riley looked up at him.
“So... I’m writing fanfiction about you and Drake. Although it’s not really a fanfiction but rather a friendfiction, since I’m your friend, not a fan. Don’t worry I changed the names!” He said quickly seeing the horror on Riley’s face. “So Bailey is a poor woman from the U.S. and one day she met Blake, a handsome, grumpy whiskey addict and they fell in love with each other. But there were many obstacles, obviously. There was an awful old King who tried really hard to send Bailey back to America but luckily with a help of their amazing friend, lord Maximiliano, the handsome and courageous man who fought the old king himself, they were able to get together and get married. But then another obstacle came, namely Blake’s awful old witchy aunt Leana who loved the old King and wanted revenge. So she bullied Bailey into leaving and she left and then Blake was searching for her for months, with his best friend Maximiliano, who eventually found Bailey and reunited two lovers. And now my readers are waiting for the epilogue and suggesting different ideas what to do with Leana.”
Riley’s eyes widened and she was too stunned to speak for a few minutes. Maxwell took her shock for amazement and calmly sipped his extra fancy drink.
“I... I don’t know to say,” she finally croaked. “You’re writing fanfiction about us?”
“Friendfiction, and yes. I have over three thousand followers on Tumblr. Each chapters gets over four hundred notes! Can you imagine?”
“Does Drake know about this?” She asked.
“Do you think I would be so good-looking and alive if he knew?” Maxwell answered with a question and Riley nodded.
“That makes sense,” she murmured.
“So... About Leona, how about I--”
“No, Maxwell. I-- We will handle it ourselves.”
Maxwell shrugged. “Okay. But if you need ideas, you know where to find me.”
~~~~
After the weirdest afternoon with Maxwell, Riley was too tired to have any conversations with Drake. He asked her how she spent her day and she vaguely told him she met up with Hana and Maxwell to catch up. She left out the purpose of meeting with Hana and the fact that Maxwell wrote fan-- pardon, friendfiction. Drake told her about a few new ideas that Liam had for developing Cordonia and that Liam asked him to be the official photographer for all upcoming events.
They ate dinner together, watched a movie and went to sleep (together) as if that was their routine for years and they never had any breaks.
~~~~
The morning came too soon in a form of a phone call. Riley, rubbing her eyes in hopes to wake up faster, reached out for her phone to see who was calling her.
“If it’s Maxwell tell him I’ll kill him,” Drake murmured, still refusing to open his eyes and take his arms away from Riley’s waist. When she didn’t reply and they phone was ringing, he finally opened one eye and then another as concern began to paint his face.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
“It’s Leona,” she whispered, all pale and quiet. Drake sat straight abruptly. He was awake now.
“Put her on loudspeaker,” he demanded.
“Maybe we can just ignore her forever and--”
“Put. Her. On. Loudspeaker.” He repeated and Riley nodded.
“Hello?” She said.
“Riley! This is honestly rude to hang up and stop answering my calls.” Leona’s voice filled the bedroom. “Of course you’d end the call like a coward you are! You don’t want to hear about the things you’re ruining cuz’ it’s nice living in that happy bubble you built!”
Riley felt Drake stiffen next to her and her hands started getting sweaty.
“Leona, listen...” she began but the woman didn’t let her finish.
“No, you listen. I told you everything a few months ago. You made a good decision to leave and my poor baby was finally getting better. And I thought, wow, maybe I was wrong about Riley, maybe she really cares about Drake since she let him go. Maybe she really wanted the best for him. But then you come back. You don’t want to give him a divorce. You force him to live with you. Once again, you’re not letting him live the life he wants! You’re taking away his happiness! You’re so selfish, you can’t even look past your needs! It’s all about you! You don’t care about Drake, never did. He has a real chance to build something good with Mary-Anne, have a child with her, his child, may I add, live in Texas, just as he always wanted. Live the life he wants. Not you. How many times do I have to beg you to let my baby be happy?”
Riley paled even more and she wanted to throw up. What if Drake agreed with Leona?
“Leona, I--” She started but this time it was Drake who didn’t let her finish. He took the phone from her hands spoke to his aunt himself.
“Bullshit, Leona. You know nothing except for how to bully my wife.”
“Drakey? Of course!” Leona snorted. “Riley had to snitch, didn’t she? She--”
“I honestly don’t care what you’ll say about her. I have enough of your crap, aunt Leona. Nothing you described is my dream life. Because there’s no Riley in it. Maybe it’s time to accept it and stop calling her like a maniac because this will not change how I feel about her!”
Leona was silent for a few moments and Riley almost thought she gave up.
“So it happened, huh?” Leona’s voice sounds as if she was crying. “She finally turned you against me, huh? Against me, the person who helped changing you diapers. The person who was always there for you. Who was a mother and a father when your parents couldn’t. A person who has only your best interests at heart. She really is worth it, huh.”
“Leona...” Drake started and sighed. He looked equally mad and heartbroken. “You’re the only person who’s trying to meddle. This is my life, not yours. Please, accept that I make my own choices and I want Riley to be in my life. She’s my wife and I love her. I am happy when I’m with her. And I would appreciate if you stopped calling her.”
“Drakey, you don’t see it the way I see it! I’m older than you, I’ve seen things! You say that now but in a couple of months, maybe weeks, you’ll start feeling unhappy again! Look, she’s back in Cordonia but her life is in America. She’s no longer a Duchess but does she have any job? Did she do anything to stay here? To prove she’s about to stay? Even her dog is still in Vermont. Her job is in New York. That doesn’t look like someone who wants to stay with you, Drakey. It looks like a person who’s planning her life without you. And breaking our family in the meantime.”
Drake looked at Riley and she looked down. Leona had an awful talent to speak things that were true but in a such a way that it sounds worse that it was in reality.
“Leona...” Drake’s voice was breaking and Riley almost started crying herself. “I no longer believe you. I... You did it yourself, you know. You broke our family. I love Riley. Whether you accept it or not, I’m not going to change my mind. I don’t want to see you calling Riley ever again and I’d like to ask you to stop calling me as well. I... I don’t want to talk to you for a bit. And you can tell Mom, I’m not going to visit her in Texas this summer. I don’t want to be around you when you’re so full of hatred towards someone I love so much. And if you don’t comply... I’ll have to take it to the courtroom. You can’t harass us all you want without any consequences. Liam will help me make you unwelcome in Cordonia. So please, think about it and accept that I’m living my own life, separate from you.”
“Drakey...” Leona was crying. “She’s breaking the family. She’s turning you against me when I’m trying to protect you from a heartbreak, baby. Drakey, I love you, don’t do this.”
“Please, don’t call us again,” Drake said and hung up. Then he blocked Leona’s number on Riley’s phone and his.
“Are you... okay?” Riley asked when he handed her phone.
“No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Do you want--”
“I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in a few hours,” Drake said getting out bed and putting on his jacket. He didn’t even change from his pajamas. Riley followed him with her eyes and gulped. Did Drake realize he was making a mistake by being with Riley?
Drake opened the door and hesitated. He turned back, kissed Riley’s forehead and only then walked out.
~~~~
Drake was gone for most of the day. It was evening, the sky was already dark and Drake was still gone. He did reply to all Riley’s messages though, saying he needed more time and that he was okay but Riley still worried. It was getting colder and Drake was only in his PJs and a jacket. He didn’t eat the whole day.
Riley was making her teenth cup of chamomile tea when she heard Drake coming back.
“Drake!” She cried out and launched herself into him. He was very cold but his arms were still the coziest place known to Riley. He returned the hug and Riley felt melting into him.
“Are you better? You know what, just go change into warmer clothes and I’ll reheat the soup for you, okay? And I’ll make tea. Do you want me to add whiskey to it?” She asked.
“Riley--”
“Shh, we’ll talk when you’re not cold and hungry, okay? Don’t worry about anything!” She said it more to herself than to him. Truth be told, she was very nervous and didn’t know what to think. She only hoped Drake wouldn’t change his mind.
TAGGING: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @alesana45 @walkerdrakewalker @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14 @tessa-liam @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @twinkleallnight @rubiwalker @differenttyphoonwerewolf @nestledonthaveone @marshmallowsandfire @21-wishes @thequeenofcronuts @iaminlovewithtrr @angelasscribbles @ladyangel70 @tinkie1973 @belencha77 @lunaseasblog @alyshak92 @xpandass420x @queen-arabella-of-cordonia
#choices#playchoices#the royal romance#drake walker#the royal heir#the royal finale#drake walker x mc#drake x mc#drake x riley#drake walker x riley brooks#my fics#trr
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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day
Fandom: TRR
Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)
Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.
Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions
Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...
Word Count: 6,200
Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)
Chapter theme song:
A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.
Chapter 19 - Field Day
The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.
"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"
"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"
"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."
Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"
"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"
"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.
"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."
Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.
Talk about being a queen bitch...
Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."
Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"
"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."
The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."
"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"
Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.
"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...
...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.
"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"
"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.
My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"
"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."
"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.
"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"
"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."
"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.
Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."
"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.
Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.
Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.
"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"
"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"
"Will you attend the opera tonight?"
"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"
Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...
...and that's when I spot him.
My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.
Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!
He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.
Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...
...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.
"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.
Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.
Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.
"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.
Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"
"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"
"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"
"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"
"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.
A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.
"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.
"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."
Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."
"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"
Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."
"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."
"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"
"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."
"Oh..."
"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."
"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"
"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."
"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."
I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.
"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"
"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.
Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"
"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."
"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I nod.
Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."
"How?"
"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.
My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"
"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"
I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."
"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"
"Umm..."
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."
Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.
"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.
I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.
But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.
So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.
Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.
Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.
Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.
Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...
...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.
"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.
"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.
"Sorry, I had t—"
I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.
"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"
"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.
I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."
"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.
He shrinks instantly back from her.
My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"
"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."
A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...
"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.
The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.
"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"
His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.
"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."
In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.
"Sa mère la pute de—"
"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.
Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"
"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"
Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"
"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"
"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"
Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."
Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."
"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."
"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.
Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."
Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"
"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.
Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"
"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.
"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."
Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."
"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."
Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."
"Ducats?" asks Olivia.
"Euros."
I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.
"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."
"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."
"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."
"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."
Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."
Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."
"Who was this person?" I ask.
"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."
"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.
"A man."
Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.
"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.
"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.
"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.
"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"
"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.
"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."
"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.
"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."
His words hit me like a kick to the guts.
It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.
Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?
"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.
He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."
"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"
"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."
"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"
He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."
I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"
Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"
"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."
"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"
Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."
"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.
"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"
"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.
Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.
The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.
Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.
Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"
"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.
Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."
"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."
The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."
Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."
"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.
"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"
I reel back. "What! No! I just—"
"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."
My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."
"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."
"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."
"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."
I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."
"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."
"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."
"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."
"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.
Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."
"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."
Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."
"But—"
"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."
My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"
Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"
"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.
She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."
"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.
"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.
"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.
Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.
Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.
"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"
"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.
I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.
Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.
Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.
Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.
Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.
"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.
Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.
"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"
"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."
My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"
"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"
Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.
Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.
"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...
...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.
"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."
"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.
"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.
"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."
"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"
"Just around the corner."
I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"
With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.
Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.
We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.
And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.
"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!
Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.
"Umm..."
Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.
"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."
"Che tipo de scarpe?"
"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."
"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.
"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.
Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...
...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.
"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"
But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.
Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.
And these sandals definitely fit the bill.
Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.
"Size 36, please."
With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.
While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.
Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.
The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.
Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.
My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...
In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.
"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"
"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"
"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.
Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.
But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.
"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"
Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.
"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."
Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.
Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.
The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.
It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.
But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.
I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.
Eugh... I miss him...
Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.
Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...
...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.
Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.
"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.
Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.
My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...
...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.
The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.
"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"
"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.
The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"
Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.
I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."
"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.
"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"
His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"
"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.
Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.
"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.
Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"
"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.
Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.
"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."
I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.
No way...
The story continues in Chapter 20 (Coming Soon!)
A/N: As per usual, translations below:
At the bridal boutique:
Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!
Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady
Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?
C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?
Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—
Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!
Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch
Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!
Je le jure - I swear
Out and About
Par ici - This way
Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.
Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?
Prego - Please
Gracia - Thanks
De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady
Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?
Por mi amore?* - For my love?
*This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇
Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!
Cento euro - One hundred Euros
Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!
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