#drake walker fanfic

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Does Distance Make The Heart Grow Fonder? - Oneshot Isabella x Mafia!Leo (Rules of Engagement/The Royal Romance AU) - Part 1

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

TW: Cursing, Implied Violence, Violence, Implied 🍋

Tagging: @lorirwritesfanfic @drakewalkerfantasy @rainbowsinthestorm

@lorircreates @beyondsimsreality @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @secretaryunpaid @rafasgirl23415

“Look who’s back in town…” Liam grinned as he threw down the folded morning newspaper in front of Leo who was already in an Italian cut navy dress suit. His sea green eyes narrowed slightly as he read the headline article, ‘Exiled Crown Princess, Isabella Beaumont-Sánchez to take up Honorary Professor role at Cordonia University’ followed by taking in the professional headshot of the Laurentian beauty who looked no different to how she did when he last saw her at 21.

“At 26…” Liam cleared his throat, “She’s done pretty well for herself…” Leo pursed his lips in silence remembering the last time he saw her, how she ghosted him and how when his world fell apart - she wasn’t there to save him, save them. Lifting his coffee, Leo sighed before taking in the strong aroma, letting the warm liquid soothe his otherwise cold demeanour and with a grumble, he pushed the newspaper out of the way, “So fucking what…” The younger Rys son was taken back slightly at his brother’s reaction, he had loved this woman; she was on a pedestal and the main reason none of Leo’s relationships ever worked out but now she was here, in arms reach - he barely reacted at all. “Leo…” Liam tried to reason with him but was immediately cut off, “Brother…” Leo grunted, “I am warning you, one more word on the subject and I will personally cut out your vocal chords…”

A few weeks had passed. The former Crown Prince, now a well known mobster, found himself staring at his bedroom ceiling most nights lying in bed in his Valtorian mansion. He couldn’t forget what they had, what they were willing to sacrifice for each other to now not even uttering a simple hello or gesture. Leo blamed the Via Imperii for his lost love but once he too had been exiled and the Cordonian Kingdom overthrown, he tried to reach out again but his attempts remained unanswered. Did he really want to find out the truth or would the truth be too much to bear? To Leo, she was the only part of him that was still good, everything else was gone long ago. He was cold, calculating and no matter what he tried to feel something, it had no effect until he saw that picture Liam had shown him a few weeks earlier. After that, his body stung, every pain he locked away seemed to almost re-emerge all at once. “Fuck it” Leo grunted as he rolled over, punching his pillow to make it more comfortable, “Anything can’t be worse than this…”

The following afternoon, Leo had business to attend in the capital. “Does that sounds amenable sir?” Leo’s assistant spoke but Liam and Drake knew something was up, watching as Leo kept staring off out the boardroom meeting room, “We’ll come back on that…” Liam interjected, “Thank you Sofie, I can take it from here…” before Leo signed off something he might later regret his answer to and Liam wasn’t willing to take the wrap on something that when Leo came to that he would be pissed about. “I need some fresh air…” the former Crown Prince mumbled under his breath. Placing his heavily tattooed hands on the table, he pushed himself upwards, pulling his dark woollen coat around him. Turning up his coat collar and shoving his hands into his pockets, Leo walked where his heart took him, passing through the crowds who unknowingly were brushing shoulders with the mafia boss. It was only when Leo finally looked up, he found himself across the street from the University. “Fucking now or never I guess…” Leo shrugged, as he walked across the street.

It didn’t take him long to find out if Isabella was there or not; the packed lecture theatre gave it away. He slipped in quietly, hiding in the shadows as he watched her work. “But your Royal Highness, surely it is not fitting for someone of your stature to discuss economic growth in a democracy? Particularly when the democracy you were brought up in, it was your own family who created such laws?” Isabella’s eyes searched the theatre, her dark chocolate brown eyes narrowed slightly as she found her heckler. “There’s a few things I believe Señor that is important to have corrected - Please do not refer to me in any Royal regard, my name is Isabella Sánchez, so in this class, Ms. Sánchez is appropriate. Secondly, the Kingdom that I lived in may have been presided by a Royal family who were involved heavily in the decision making process, but there was an autonomous government in place to look out for the people… today, that Kingdom does not have said government and is ruled by one group of people - but that is a discussion for your European History classes, not mine…”

Without a blink, the petite brunette continued her presentation and no one else dared interrupt. If they had, Leo would have had their card marked immediately. He could feel her presence in the room, she was as captivating as she was all those years ago. Her posture and demeanour commanded respect even if she was no better than a commoner these days. Each word that she spoke, each syllable uttered, had authority. The former Crown Prince slowly began to smirk as he recalled the many times he and the Laurentian beauty found themselves after an argument in each others arms; Leo even admitted starting the argument just to have Isabella all riled up. Watching her pace from door to door as she spoke in her trademark 4” stiletto heels made Leo feel something; it wasn’t much but something. He was once completely infatuated by this woman; now she was an enigma to him. “Read up on the next few chapters…” Isabella spoke in her thick Laurentian accent that rolled off of her tongue as the lights in the theatre switched on.

Flicking through her notes, Isabella marked where she stopped, closing up her textbooks as the students filed out of the lecture hall; she didn’t notice the figure standing opposite her until he cleared his throat, “I think I prefer how Laurentian politics is governed now, more Cordonian in nature, don’t you think?” The former Crown Princess sucked in her cheeks at the distasteful comment before raising her head. Her almond shaped eyes widened in shock as her gaze met his, “Leo… I…” she stuttered, “What are you doing here?” The tall, sandy haired Cordonian raised his brow, “Surely it should be you answering that question, rather than me…” The Laurentian beauty’s expression softened as her eyes gazed upon the man she loved all her life. His tattooed skin told a story, each etching a different verse of the last eight years. “I needed a job…” Isabella finally cracked, “I’m sorry that’s it’s here…” Leo leaned over the table that separated them both with a mischievous smirk, “It’s rude for guests to just drop in without calling first…”

Closing the gap between them. Isabella didn’t flinch at Leo’s remark, she wasn’t afraid of him; no matter what he had become or what he had done. She wasn’t blind to his newly found reputation but hoped that what they had would keep her safe at least for now. Slowly, the petite brunette closed over the books she had with a smile, placing each one on top of the other. “It’s always good to see you Leo…” the older Rys brother moved to block in the former Crown Princess with a grin, “Have dinner with me…” he darkly chuckled, “Remind you of a little Cordonian hospitality…” Isabella pursed her lips, “I have prior commitments Señor… I must decline…” The sandy haired Cordonian clicked his tongue in annoyance, “What…?” How dare she even assume it was a no. “Bella…” Leo tilted his head to the left slightly until they heard a third voice in the background, “I… I am sorry, I didn’t realise that you were busy Ms. Sánchez…�� but before Isabella could reply back, two girls in matching uniforms, their hair braided the exact same way and both looking like a clone of their mother burst through the door.

“Mama!” They happily chirped, “Come on! We’re going to be late for Ice Skating!” Isabella slowly nodded with a wry smile, conscious of her audience, “Sí, mi querida… of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world…” ‘Mama?’ Everything was going so fast for Leo to comprehend what was unfolding in front of him. One of the girls looked up at him, her eyes narrowing as if she knew him from somewhere. They were both carbon copies of their mother, except for their striking hazel eyes and their hair a shade or two lighter. Isabella held them close to her, her arms across their chests as Leo took a step back, “Prior commitment… ah I see…” his gaze returning to the little girl who stared him down, “…well darlin’ enjoy your ice skating…” he began to smile warmly, shoving is hands once again into his pockets as those sea green eyes became lost, free falling almost in dark chocolate, “…We should take a rain check Ms. Sánchez…” As Leo walked away, Natalia pulled on her mother’s arm, “Mama… who was that man?” Isabella slowly rubbed the crown of her daughter’s head for comfort, “I knew him once upon a time mi amor, nothing to worry about…”

Later that evening, Liam found Leo outside with a cigarette, cradling a double measured whiskey. “You seem to be in a better mood…” the younger Rys brother brought his own drink to his lips, waiting for some type of acknowledgement. “I saw her today…” Leo finally spoke before taking another drag. Liam nodded, patiently waiting; not knowing if Leo would even discuss the subject further. “She looked good…” he mumbled, “…had two kids hangin’ off of her… some sorry sap got caught up, y’know?” Liam raised his brow in question, “How old were they?” The former Crown Prince simply shrugged, “Old enough to form sentences? Hell, how the fuck am I meant to know?” Sighing heavily, Liam knew he had to ask, cautiously playing devil’s advocate having known Isabella - it wasn’t in her nature to play around, unlike Leo. “Is there any possibility they could be yours?” but the question aggravated Leo even further, his whole body tightened at the insinuation.

With a clenched jaw, the older Rys brother spat back, “She would have fucking told me! That’s not shit you keep to yourself, Bella told me everything!” Reaching out, Liam patted his brother’s shoulder in comfort as Leo sighed heavily, his sea green eyes finally meeting Liam’s, “They went ice skating…” he finally cracked a very small smile through that cold exterior. Memories that he had pushed to the side for years kept flooding back to him; flashbacks of when he brought the petite brunette ice skating in Lythikos, spending evenings in the ski chalets cuddled up to one another by the fire. As Leo looked toward the distance one more, Liam squeezed his hand that still rested on his brother’s shoulder, “Brother…” he chimed, “You should speak with her… I can do some digging if you wish? Give Amalas a call?” but Leo just shook his head, “No need… Isabella can tell me herself when she’s ready…” he grunted as Liam nodded in acknowledgment. It was the first time in years that Liam had saw Leo have some form of human emotion. He always wanted to be a father, but no woman ever lived up to the unknown expectation of them. A few dates here and there but nothing serious, living up to his playboy persona but underneath it all; no one came close to what he wanted because he only wanted her.

[findingdrake]

The Common Romance

I finally landed in Melbourne, Australia. I have worked my ass off to get this dream job as a Software Engineer in this dream city. Getting the job wasn’t as difficult as getting the Visa. Even though my employer has sponsored me, the last formality for the visa is still pending. After landing in Oz, I have to attend an interview and get my visa stamped by the immigration officer. Pheww... "Keep calm, it’s the last step, and there are hardly any rejections at this step... Deep breaths...", keeping my composure, I head to my sister’s place, where I’ll stay for the initial days.

The next morning, I hurriedly collect my documents, and then take a cab to the Immigration office. As I walk across the Immigration Office my clumsy and anxious ass drops a document or my mobile or wallet every few steps.

Drake Walker, Immigration officer, I read the nameplate outside his office. I wait outside in the waiting lobby, impatiently making E-O-E-O faces. It’s been 2 hours, and my name has not been called. Everyone seems to have a prior appointment except me. Waiting... And waiting...

It’s lunchtime now. I know this because I see the immigration officer move out of his office, and yes, also there is a display board that says ‘Office will be closed for a lunch break between 12:30-1:30’. But mostly the immigration officer. I didn’t get a good look but he’s ruggedly handsome. Tall, I guess 6 feet and a good build. I follow him as if I was charmed. “Pss.. stop following the immigration officer you idiot!”, says my rational self. They win this time, but I am already in the canteen following him. I head to the vending machine while he is, well, I lost him. I look around as I get my snack pack. Obviously, he’s eating a salad. “Handsome men don’t eat like pigs and you”, says my critical self.

“How about we sit next to him? He’s eating alone”, says my swooned self.

“Have it occurred to you that maybe he wants to, not like he can’t get a company”, says Miss rational.

“I’ll sit next to him and bring up my visa appointment”, says my smart self. “And we can ogle at his handsomeness”, says Miss Swooned. So after a detailed discussion with myself, I decided to head to him with my snack pack and a water bottle. I hope he’s not done by now.

I am at his table and he’s busy looking at his phone. My tongue seems numb, but somehow I mutter, “I sit here!”. I wanted to make it a question, but it came out as an exclamation in broken English. He looks up. Those gorgeous eyes filled with depth and annoyance? He looks around, and he can see a few empty tables. “Covid protocol, can’t share tables”. “That’s not a covid protocol!”, my ego frowns as I take a seat at the next table.

“Ok! We have lost hope of a romantic relationship because of this pathetic and desperate start. Now, he’s the immigration officer, and you are the applicant. Try it that way”, came Miss Smart for rescue.

“I have an appointment for my 186 application with you. I need to get it stamped before I can join the office, so how long does it generally take”, I am suddenly more confident when I talk professionally, in a totally unprofessional and inappropriate setting.

At first, the handsome officer tries to ignore me and pretend that the question was not directed at him. But taking a quick look at my leaning posture, question mark face and constant stare, he sighs. “It can take 1-46 days.”

“His voice is so raspy and the accent…. Shut up slut!”, fight Miss swooned and Miss rationality.

“46 days?”, I was seriously concerned until I saw him give a sly smile.

“Emm... I can keep coming here for 46 days, no problem. Not like I have a job”, I smile confidently at him. I’m sure he can sense the cockiness in my voice.

“Should I wait the second half of today, Mr Walker?”, I dare to ask him, while this is going in my head, “Mr Walker, that sounds so sexy!”

He finished up, and I think early, because of my irritating presence. “I’m afraid we are all booked today and won’t be able to take any on-spot cases. You got your appointment right? You can come when you get a call”

“I’ll definitely cum when I get your call”, I blurt out.

“I won’t be calling you, my office will”, he said with a straight face.

“Why don’t you just jump into his arms, that will be more desperate and embarrassing”, he leaves with his salad plate while I’m being slut shamed by myself.

…………………………………………………………………………

“Come in!”, Drake tries to stifle a giggle and keep a straight face as he calls in the next applicant. A few routine questions before he stamps the Chinese family’s Visa.

“Come in!” he calls in the next applicant. “Fuck that idiot tiny woman! She ruined come in for me.”, Drake frowns, thinking to himself and the Pakistani applicant gets nervous. “Is anything wrong Sir?”, asked Ahmed. “No, Mr Khan, your papers seem just right. Welcome to Australia”. Drake goes about stamping his Visa.

“Next!”, Drake sighs tiredly as he calls the next applicant. 4 more hours of this before he glides towards his car.

…………………………………………………………………………

He likes taking the scenic route home. It’s long but has no traffic, it does remind him of a far land he once called home. This is a bittersweet path because Home is the beautiful memories, but home is also the pain and the betrayals. Some days, he can’t brace the memories, and either take a sharp u-turn to a different route or speed past this one. Today, was not such a day. Today he tried to distract himself. His hand reaches toward the car radio, but who is he kidding. Australian music doesn’t excite him like the Cordonian classics. It has been almost 2 years in Aussieland, but he still hasn't completely adapted. “Huh.. hmm. Hmm.. hmm..”, he tries to hum, but he knows he can’t do it. He’s clicking his fingers on the steering wheel. “Today was fine, that Syrian family totally deserves to move here. That’s what the humanitarian Visa is for. I’ll speak to Kyle to escalate the process tomorrow.”, he tries to think about something interesting in his day. “What else... the British journalist and that tiny lady can wait a few more days. The tiny lady, she was utterly annoying.”, he involuntarily chuckles at her naiveness. Then he freezes for a second. He clearly remembers how Naive Riley was. That’s exactly how she used to look at him, at Liam. He sharply crams the accelerator and speeds home, to his kids.

[flamingpudding]

Summoning Gone Wrong

Ties to: Ouija Board Prompt and Ghost Hunting Vigilantes Part 1 / Part 2

A/N: Thanks to @lazy-alex for commenting the base idea in Ghost Hunting Vigilantes for Tim trying to do a summoning that just goes wrong~

Danny calmly sipped the ecto-tea and resisted eyeing the ghost club Lady Gotham had placed next to her as she also drank her tea with all the elegance the spirit possessed. The Ghost King was pretty sure she had placed it like that, in his view, on purpose. He just wasn't sure if it was as a warning or as a preparation since the last couple of times he had been in Gotham, she had felt the need of using it against him.

"I am very glad that you are finally looking into that matter, your highness." The spirit commented, placing the cup back onto the table and refilling it. "I wasn't sure if you had been made aware of it before, if I had known that the old beings had not mentioned it to you before I certainly would have sooner."

Danny nodded. "Yeah, about that. What are these Lazarus Pits anyway? Clockwork only told me to look out for the color green, which is not helpful. And Pandora started on an entire history lesson regarding Lazarus and I am pretty sure that has nothing to do with these Pits your 'knights' mentioned."

Lady Gotham chuckled amused with mirth in her eyes. "They are only known as Lazarus Pits in the human world, my king, not in the Infinite Realms."

"So what…" Danny couldn't finish his question as his ghost sense went off. He really wanted to slam his head into the table. It had been months since his senses went off like that and he hoped it was just Cujo who followed him or Fright Knight. But as no one appeared to interrupt them, he got ticked off because that meant it was one of his former rogues who was up to something. He excused himself from his discussion with Lady Gotham who appeared even more amused than before.

Whoever it was he would send them straight back to the Ghost Zone, they were interrupting some important kingly business here!

A little earlier not too far away from the ghostly discussion, by a recent regularly vigilante visited occult site, three vigilantes stood before a summoning cycle.

Red Robin was crouching by the circle, chalk in hand as he drew runes and symbols on the ground all according to one of his research papers that summed up all the information he had gathered. Including information he had obtained from the Justice League Dark, mainly Constantine since the man owned him and wouldn't just tell on him, behind Batman's back.

It had been weeks since their last encounter with the teenage ghost. He didn't want to admit it but Red Robin was getting worried about the ghost. Both times when they left they sounded like something was hunting or hurting them and last time there was even that green swirly thing they saw for a short moment right after they had heard the ghost say their goodbyes with an actual voice. Besides, that ghost was a mystery to them and Red Robin wasn't known to leave any sort of mystery they encountered unsolved.

"Should we really do this without B?" Nightwing asked, eyeing the strange symbols the youngest among them was drawing on the ground.

"Fuck him. If we get him involved we wouldn't be doing this at all." Red Hood added crossing his arms. "I am more surprised that its only us three this time. I would have bet that at least one of the others would have joined too."

"Baby Bat is out on a mission with B. Spoiler and Orphan are on a outer space mission and Signal has an exam tomorrow." Nightwing shrugged. "It's probably better form Robin not to be here. He was pretty spooked after the last two times."

"Ha! Spooked? The kid is dead set on Pit Demons trying to kill us."

"We can't comple-"

"Finished the writing." Red Robin cut in dusting his gloves from chalk, he was still kneeling on the ground as he turned to the older two vigilantes holding his hands out expectantly. "Nightwing, you brought the candles?"

The vigilante in question handed over a plastic back with the label of a gas station. Red Hood titled his head in question, indicating that he was raising an eye brow under his helmet. The elder only shrugged sheepishly as Red Robin stared at the colorful duck candles it contained.

"I forgot you asked me to buy some and went last minute to the late night open counter gas station. They only had these colorful duck candles."

"Well our fucking ghost has some Humor. Might work better for them then."

Red Robin only sighed but still placed the candles in the circle the way Constantine had described to him. "We will have to see if this will work."

He had made sure to also draw up a protective circle around the summoning one just like Zatana had instructed and Constantine had insisted he would need. Lighting up the candles he stepped back next to his brothers.

"So according to Constantine, we are now supposed to recite a summoning spell and think about the ghost we talked to before to call them back to us."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"So…" Red Robin distributed a piece of paper to each of his brothers. "We start on three."

"One…."

"Wait let me read that shit first!"

"Two…"

"Slow down, little bird."

"Three."

The three of them definitely were not in sync. Nightwing struggled with some of the words while Red Hood ended up mixing in some chosen curse words when he stumbled over a word. Red Robin even though he had practiced before still struggled with some of the words also but still all three managed to get through the incarnation.

They waited with their breaths held for something to happen but the seconds ticked by, with nothing happening. After three minutes Red Robin let out a sigh, deciding that this was a failure.

Just as he was about to step up to the circle to blow out the candles, a green swirling portal like the one he had briefly seen last time opened on the ground where the summoning circle was and a figure rose up from it. The figure was entirely dressed in white with black gloves, boots, belt and hat. Their skin was just as white as the clothes they were wearing and the being was staring back at them with completely green eyes, no irises or pupils. They stood firmly and straight in the summoning circle, arms crossed behind their back and by the way they were holding themself appeared like an authority figure.

"That doesn't look like a 16 years old ghost." Red Hood commented, his hand resting on his gun holder as he stared down their summon.

"Red, you did follow all the instructions right." Nightwing asked his hands, also moving to take out his escrima sticks, eying the being that was now looking at them in what he assumed was contempt.

"Yes, I did." Turning to their summon the vigilantes eyed it carefully. "Hi, sorry about the sudden summon. You obviously aren't the 16 years old ghost we had been talking to before. So uhm, you are free to go again? Unless you happen to know a 16 year old ghost that had been to Gotham at least two times now?"

The summoned being didn't look like they were going to answer, instead they took out a green glowing book that had 'RULES' written on it and leafed through the pages. Stopping when it apparently found a certain page. Their eyes focusing on the page then back at them. Still not grazing them with an answer. Red Robin however noticed how their inclined their head, for a short moment, over to Red Hood before turning back to the book and turning a couple of more pages.

He hadn't been the only one as he felt Nightwing tensing next to him too as well as heard the soft click of Red Hood removing the safety from his gun.

"Unauthorized summoning with out of date summoning methods. Interruption of security works. Unauthorized usage of corrupted ectoplasmic waste and apparent coverup of a human infected by corrupted ectoplasm." The being listed and the three couldn't help but feel reminded of a policeman listing crimes.

"I, Walker, reappointed Warden by his majesty the Ghost King and self appointed head chief of the security department of the Infinite Realms, hereby declare all of you under arrest for the previously listed offenses. Especially you, punk." The ghost called Walker pointed at Red Hood who in return pulled out his guns pointing them back at it. "You will be presented directly to our King. To think there would be a subject that failed to report back their existence."

"The fuck you wanna do? I ain't going anywhere." Red Hood scoffed, his distorted voice sounding challenging towards the ghost.

"Not to be rude but how can he report something he didn't even know about." Nightwing added eying the ghost as well as the protective barrier. The being hadn't made a move toward them yet and it should keep it contained but that didn't mean they just could let their guard down, not like he would let them take any of his brothers anywhere either. He took a step forward in case he needed to cover his younger siblings, protectiveness stirring in him. "RR, did Constantine or Zatana give you a spell to forcefully send them back?"

"Not exactly but they said destroying the summoning circle should send them back instantly." Red Robin mused after glancing at his notes for a brief moment. He didn't dare look away from that ghost for longer than needed. Normally he would be thrilled about having summoned a ghost and probably ask it a bunch of questions he had, ever since their first encounter with that 16 years old ghost left him with a tone of unanswered ones, but not with this one.

"Maybe we should-"

"WALKER! NOT AGAIN! BACK TO THE ZONE NOW!" A white haired 16 years old looking flying boy appeared through the wall without destroying it like he just phased in. The three vigilantes stared at the new presence that looked rather ticked off. The teenager had a cosmic with green flame outlined looking crown floating over their head and were wearing a jumpsuit with a logo that looked like a flaming D.

"Hey could that be our little ghost bastard?" Hood more or less stage-whispered over to Nightwing and Red Robin.

"Looks 16, maybe younger but not like what I imagined." Nightwing mused.

"Ghost Kid -ahem- your Highness, perfect Timing. I was just about to apprehend-"

"No." The teenager interrupted, arms crossed as he floated before the other ghost. "We went over this when I appointed you as the Warden again. Back. To. The. Zone."

"Did… did that other ghost call him 'highness' just now?" The more he got to learn about ghosts the more questions appeared to come up and Red Robin would definitely need answers for all of them.

"Your Highness, we need to-"

"Back now!" The teen repeated as he moved his left arm to point at a portal he opened especially for Walker. "Or do I have to get Lady Gotham to kick you out of her haunt herself?"

Red Robin watched how the two ghosts appeared to have a stare down before the white one closed his rule book and bowed before leaving. Well he would have left if he didn't smack right into the protective wall the vigilante had set up before the summoning. Good to know that Constantine's advice worked.

"Pff - cough -" The teenager covered his mouth, hiding a laugh behind a cough as he closed the portal he had opened and reopened it inside the barrier. The white ghost only sent them the most disgruntled and offended glare Red Robin had seen in a while before going through the portal the teen had opened.

Before either of the three could say anything the teenager let out a sigh and muttered something about having to deal with Walker being naggingly annoying about security and summonings later again. As if noticing them for the first time the boy glanced over at them and instantly stiffed and Red Robin definitely saw recognition in the boy's glowing green eyes. Could it be...?

"Shit." The teenager cursed. Yup, that's him.

"You are-"

"Sorry, no time for talking, gotta get back to Lady Gotham." They interrupted before continuing to ramble on. "You don't really want to make an old spirit with a ghost club wait. You guys better forget what you saw here. I would like Man In Black wipe your memory if I could but well for now please don't attempt summoning like that again? Summonings like that are outdated and barely work correctly for us ghosts. Demon summonings are a different matter but for ghosts this won't work correctly anymore or at least not since I got the stupid crown. You either end up with some random ghost or Walker trying to arrest humans. I soo have enough of getting him back from all the attempts of arresting humans that broke 'summoning rules'. Maybe I should have Fright Night arrest Walker for forcing his summon whenever he notices human summons… Anyway! Don't try again. Okay? Okay. Thanks and bye!"

The boy blinked out of existence before any of them could get a word in. The three vigilantes stared at the now empty spot. Red Robin had so many more additional questions now after having heard the presumed ghost teens ramble. So if the summons from the Justice League Dark were outdated then maybe he would need to find a more modern summoning? Also the teen had mentioned a Lady Gotham and Red Robin could only assume that that had to be their local city's spirit judging by the name.

"Well… we know now what our ghost boy looks like." Nightwing offered after some time and Red Hood scoffed.

"How the fuck was that boy a ghost? He looked more like a meta kid than a ghost."

"Well judging by the voice he definitely was the one that talked the last two times."

"So Demon Brat's Pit Demon theory is true?"

"He didn't lo-"

"I am going to try and summon this Lady Gotham next." Red Robin cut in as he turned on his heel, determined to get to the bottom of this ghost mystery even if he had to pester the JLD members for a while.

""What?""

[karahalloway]

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

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

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

Word Count: 7,300

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

Chapter theme song:

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

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

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

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

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

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

"Yeah, but—"

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

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

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe this is a mistake...

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

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

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

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

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

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

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

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

"No..."

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

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

"Exceedingly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harper!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it then?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

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

Some much-needed progress at last!

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

Which reminds me...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

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

I heave a breath.

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

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

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

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

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

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

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

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

My heart drops. Oh, no...

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

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

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

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

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

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

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

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

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We found Tariq."

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

No way...

"Where?"

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

No corner... No mercy.

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

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

"Harper?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My jaw drops. "You what!"

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

"Then why...?"

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

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

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

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

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

"So… what did you do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

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

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

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

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bitch...

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

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

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

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

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

So much for making allies at court…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

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

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[angelasscribbles]

My Lonely Valentine (The Agreement) A One-Shot

Series: The Agreement

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this chapter: Lemons, or should I say almost lemons? Lemon adjacent?

Word Count: 3,269

A/N: This is a prequel one-shot. Occurs before the events in the main series.

Submission for the @choicesholidays Valentine's Day prompts.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley walked into the informal dining room of Balymore, her estate in Valtoria, to find the table draped with a red silk cloth, flames flickering from wrought iron candelabras, and gleaming silver cloches gracing the tabletop.

Her mouth fell open and she turned to her husband in name only in astonishment. “What is all this?”

“Oh…ah…” Drake stuttered over his words as his brain spun frantically trying to find the right thing to say that would make his romantic gesture less romantic and not awkward. “I…um…I know you were disappointed that Liam had to cancel your plans for today, so I just wanted to do something to cheer you up.”

Disappointed was an understatement. It was Valentine’s Day and Liam had cancelled their plans. She shouldn’t be surprised. She should be used to it. But it hurt. A good cry and a hot bath had helped, but after a long nap, she’d found herself ravenous. Her quest for food had led her downstairs where she’d followed her nose to find the source of the delicious aroma wafting up to her.

Confusion pinged through her as she took in his demeanor. “What about your plans? Didn’t you have a date?”

“Yeah, well, that fell through.”

“Oh, Drake, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was full of so much sympathy that he felt like an ass for lying.

“It wasn’t anything serious anyway.” The truth was, he had canceled the date when he’d realized Riley would be left home alone. He had only asked the girl out so that he wouldn’t be home when Liam arrived. Not out of jealousy, but fear of discovery. He was sure his best friend could read his love for his supposedly in-name-only wife all over his face.

It was getting harder to fight his feelings for her. The more Liam fucked up and neglected her, the harder it became.

He wasn’t jealous of Liam per se. He loved the guy, and he was fully aware of the myriad web of circumstances that had led to him having to marry for political alliances and not love.

Still.

The effect it had on Riley was the same and it hurt him to watch her suffer. He had agreed to marry her to keep her at court and near Liam. A marriage of convenience. A favor for his friends. An act of service for the two people he loved most in the world.

The problem was that the longer they lived together, the closer they became and the harder he fell. He had tried to fix it, put distance between them, but his stupid, traitorous heart wouldn’t let him move on. And he had tried.

The first year they were together had been so full of turmoil that he had just focused on getting her through it. Once they had moved to Valtoria and she had settled into her new position as Duchess, she had encouraged him to find a relationship of his own.

“You shouldn’t have to suffer just because I am.”

The full truth of the situation was that he had only half-heartedly dated so that she would stop worrying about him and his happiness. Because he would do anything for her. Even date other women. But his heart had never been in it.

Every relationship he had entered had ended before it really began. Two or three dates at most. Several of the women had dumped him citing with confusion that he seemed to actually love his wife.

Everyone on the planet could see that, apparently. Everyone but her.

Because she was too busy letting Liam break her heart over and over.

“Still. I’m sorry your date canceled. I know what that feels like.”

“I’m fine.” He brushed her concern off with a twinge of guilt but telling her that he had been the one to cancel would just open up questions he wasn’t ready to answer. Or more to the point, questions he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answers to.

He would confess his feelings right then and there if he thought she returned them. But she was in love with Liam. He knew that.

“Stop worrying about my love life and come eat before it gets cold.”

She inhaled deeply as she stepped toward the table, “It smells so good! What is it?”

“Deep fried chicken and cheese stuffed avocado.” He told her as he pulled her chair out for her.

Her face lit up as she sat. “Really?”

“Yes,” he affirmed as he took his own seat. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“But…how? I gave the kitchen staff the night off!” Neither of them had planned to be home.

“Oh, ah…” a flush spread across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I made it.”

She pulled the cloche off the plate then turned her head to him in bewilderment, “You made this?”

He scoffed while shaking his head. “Don’t act so surprised. I can cook. You know this.”

“I mean yes but this is next level!” The avocados were browned to perfection and served with a beautifully roasted Mediterranean vegetable medley, garlic mashed potatoes, and piping hot Ciabatta bread.

He tried to lighten the mood. “I’m offended that you’re this impressed, Riley. I have mad kitchen skills.”

“I know. I just can’t believe that you did all this for me.” A single tear slid down her cheek.

He leaned forward in concern, wiping the tear away. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s that about?”

“Nothing,” she smiled at him through the wetness pooling in her eyes. “These are happy tears. I didn’t think this day could be salvaged, but you somehow managed it.”

“Yeah, well, what are husbands for?” He gave her a disarming smile as he sat back in his chair and turned his attention to his plate.

She laughed at their shared joke. He always said that when he did something nice for her. It was funny because he wasn’t really her husband.

But he kind of was, wasn’t he?

She dropped her eyes to her plate to cover her sudden flush. He was always doing sweet things like this. He was always there when she needed someone to talk to. Though she would never tell Max or Hana, Drake had become her best friend.

He had left his job as a member of the King’s Guard to move to Valtoria with her. He had been there for her when her grandmother passed away. The last time Liam had stood her up, Drake was ready with her favorite pizza and a movie she’d been wanting to see.

What are husbands for?

It was beginning to feel less and less like a joke because it had become the truth.

How true?

She suspected Drake’s feelings for her. How could she not? She had pushed him to date others. It wasn’t fair to let him waste his life taking care of her when she was in love with another man.

Yet here he was, on Valentine’s Day, taking care of her once again.

She stole a surreptitious glance at him as they ate. Maybe he had deeper feelings for her than she initially suspected.

No, she was imagining things. He was just being a good friend. Because that is what he was. Her friend. And Liam’s.

Liam.

Guilt swirled through her at the thought of her supposed boyfriend. Annoyance followed the guilt. He had stood her up. Again. Why should she feel guilty for anything? He married another woman for the love of God.

Not because he wanted to.

The guilt was back at the reminder of the impossible situation Liam had been placed in, but it was mingled with hurt, embarrassment, and a fair amount of anger.

She knew everyone thought she was an idiot for waiting around on scraps of the king’s time and affection. For uprooting her entire life to chase after him to Cordonia in the first place, for staying even after his rejection, and for continuing to believe that she was a priority to him.

Everyone but Drake.

He never judged her.

She lifted her eyes to his face as he regaled her with tales of Max’s misadventures from when he had tagged along on Drake’s latest fishing trip with Bastien.

“… And then he tripped over the side of the boat and fell in the water!” Drake shook with laughter at the memory.

Riley forced an obligatory smile, but she had missed most of the story, her mind occupied with an entirely new idea.

Her eyes focused on his mouth hoping he didn’t notice the flush on her face as her mind refused to stray away from imagining what his lips would feel like on her neck, on her mouth…other places….

She forced her eyes down to her plate and focused on eating her dinner. The dinner that her husband in allegedly name only had taken the time to prepare with his own two hands.

When the meal was over, she tried to clear the table, but he wouldn’t let her. “No, no, I’ve got this! I’m just going to clear the table and rinse the plates real quick. Why don’t you go pick something to watch? Whatever you want.”

“You sure? You did all this work. The least I can do is let you pick the movie.”

“Nah.” He waved her offer away. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

A multitude of emotions swirled through her as she watched him walk out of the room with the dishes. If you’re happy, I’m happy. He meant that. He was always saying things like that. He was always going out of his way to do little things to make her happy.

She made her way to the media room and flipped absently through the streaming selections as a million images of Drake fell through her mind. Drake, making her laugh when she was sad. Drake, holding her when she cried. Drake, always keeping himself between her and the reporters. Drake, scrambling eggs in their kitchen at two a.m. because they’d stayed up late watching stand-up comedy specials again.

When had he become such a huge part of her life? Yes, she had married him, but that had been on paper only, so she could stay near Liam.

And yet it was Drake who had attended her grandmother’s funeral with her. It was Drake who had taken care of her when she had the flu last year. And it was always Drake who picked up the pieces after Liam shattered her heart time and time again.

Why was she keeping him at arm’s length?

He showed up in the media room with her favorite blanket, a steaming cup of hot chocolate, and a small box tucked under his arms.

She accepted the cup and the blanket while trying to peer at the box. “What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” He teased, holding it out toward her but up out of her reach.

Her eyes widened as she glimpsed the label. “Are those dark chocolate truffles?”

“Maybe…”

“Drake!” She laughed as she deposited her cup on the end table and made a grab for the promised treat.

He lifted them easily out of her reach with a teasing smile. “What? Did you want these?”

“You know I do!” She tried to pout but the smile tugging her lips upward made that difficult to maintain.

“I don’t know….” He pretended to think deeply about it. “Maybe I should keep these for myself.”

With a joyful laugh, she launched herself off the couch, her fingers touching, but not completely grasping the elusive chocolates. The impact of her body colliding into his, combined with his misstep as he tried to dodge her, sent him toppling backward onto the couch where he landed in a slightly reclined position. Her momentum carried her forward so that she landed on top of him, laying on his chest, looking up into his face.

They were both laughing as their gazes met. A sudden silence descended on them as they stared into each other’s eyes. The smiles faded as lips parted and breath caught.

She moved first, bringing her lips to his. Her kiss was tentative. His response was not.

His arms went around her, the box of truffles dropped and forgotten on the floor. He pulled her tight against him as his tongue deftly took control of her mouth. One hand tangled in her hair as the other slipped under her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back. A plaintive whimper escaped him as he pressed his rapidly growing hardness up into her.

Riley responded, melting into his embrace, no longer tentative. She pressed herself against him as their kisses became more passionate, almost frantic.

She broke the kiss to gasp for air. “Drake…should we—"

Drake froze for a moment, and then jolted upright, gently moving her off him. “Shit, Riley!” He raked a hand through his hair as he pushed himself back away from her. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry!”

“What are you sorry for? I kissed you!”

“It was just the heat of the moment.”

“Is that all it was?” She asked him softly.

“Yeah…” He responded unconvincingly.

“Are you sure it wasn’t more than that?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…” her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt nervously. “You made this whole romantic dinner…”

“I wanted to cheer you up. Because we’re friends and—"

“You went out of your way to get me my favorite candy.”

“No, I didn’t. I just….” He closed his eyes with a shuddering sigh before pushing through with the lie. “I was already in the store, and I saw it…”

“You’re a bad liar.”

His eyes flew open, and he fixed her a look that was almost pleading. “What do you want from me, Riley?”

“I think the question is, what do you want from me, Drake?” She scooted closer to him taking in the way he watched her warily. Like a rabbit watching a coyote approach, his face full of fear, longing, and a guarded passion.

He swallowed thickly and tried for a normal tone of voice. “The movie…”

Her hand slid up his thigh to the bulge in his pants. “A movie? Is that really what you want right now?”

“Fuck…” he breathed out in defeat as a shudder ran through his body. He grabbed her wrist to stop her but instead of pushing her away as he had intended, he found himself pulling her into him as he leaned forward, and then they were kissing again.

Lips and hands explored bodies and pulled at clothing. His heart thundered in his chest as a small part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to put the brakes on this.

That part was overruled as she pulled her top off and dropped it on the floor next to them. He stopped breathing for a moment as he drank in her naked form. He yanked his own shirt off and dove back in.

Riley arched her back as she gave herself over to the sensations cascading through her body. Drake’s hands on her bare skin were calloused, rough. The friction was a sharp contrast to the smoothness of her bare flesh. It felt good, forbidden, delicious. She shivered as goosebumps erupted along her spine.

His hot lips on her throat sent ribbons of white-hot desire shooting through her and coiling in her center.

She cried out in protest when he withdrew that touch. “Why are you stopping?”

“I…we shouldn’t…”

“Don’t you want me?”

A self-deprecating laugh slipped out of him. “I want you so fucking bad….you have no idea….. but not like this.”

“Like what?”

“You’re upset…vulnerable...”

“I was upset.” She drew his hand back to her body; he didn’t resist as she placed it so it was cupping a pert breast. “That’s not what I’m feeling right now.”

He was struggling mightily to keep his voice even as he gasped for breath. “…don’t want you to regret…”

“I won’t…”

“You’re in love with Liam…”

“I am…” She dropped her hand and pulled back a little. “We can stop if you want.”

“If I want?” His gaze searched hers, unsure exactly what he was looking for.

“Yes, you. I don’t want to stop.”

“But Liam—”

“I don’t want to think about Liam right now, Drake. I don’t want to think about tomorrow or what any of this means. But…” She moved away from him reluctantly. “I understand if you do.”

He instantly regretted the distance between them.

Before he could decide how to proceed, there was a knock at the door.

Drake’s eyes closed as frustration, relief and a smidge of anger pinged through him.

There was only one person it could be this late.

Talk about timing.

He quickly pulled his shirt back on and tossed her blouse to her. “I’ll go answer the door. You might want to fix your hair, it’s a little mussed.”

“Drake—”

“No, it’s okay,” he told her as he pulled her to him and dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head before pushing her gently away. “Go make yourself presentable. I’ll show Liam in.”

“Right.” She redressed and hurried over to the closest mirror to smooth her hair back into place.

Drake combed his fingers through his own hair on his way to the front door. Pulling it open, he greeted his best friend with, “Thought you couldn’t get away, Your Majesty?”

“Some last-minute things came up, but I finally managed to slip away.”

“It’s a little late. Valentine’s Day is pretty much over.”

Liam glanced at his watch as he stepped through the doorway. “Not really. Where is she? And why are you home? I thought you had a date.”

Drake shrugged. “She canceled on me. Sick pet or something.” He was only a little horrified at how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. “Riley’s in the media room. We were just about to watch a movie.”

Liam started down the hall. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, “Are you coming?”

“No. I’m going to turn in early. You two have fun.”

He needed a shower. A cold one.

He sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He slammed his bedroom door behind him and then leaned back against it, gently banging his head into it several times before muttering to himself, “The fuck did I just do? Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

He shed his clothes as he walked across to the room and into the ensuite. He needed relief.

The water pounded down on him as he wrapped his hand around himself. His head tipped back and his eyes fell closed as he remembered her half-naked form in front of him, the feel of her skin under his fingers, the taste of her lips…..

He groaned out loud as streams of milky whiteness pulsed out of him and splashed onto the tile. He placed both hands on the wall and leaned forward, letting the water run over the back of his head as he watched the detritus of his desire swirl down the drain.

It wasn’t the first time that his ardor for her had landed him in this position, but he knew it was different this time.

They had crossed a line tonight. A line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Even though they hadn’t done the deed, the genie was out of the bottle-- his feelings for her, their obvious sexual attraction to each other, all of it.

He just had no idea what to do about any of it.

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted - Altering Visions (Chapter Eleven)

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 f!MC (Riley Brooks)

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

A/N 2 - It's been a while 🥲. Here's hoping it doesn't take me another six months to post the next chapter 😬🫡.

PSA it's a long one. Whoops, lol.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Liam fluttered his eyes open a short time later and squinted them against the harsh, blinding light blocking his view. When he took a deep breath, a distinct, stale aroma invaded his senses; it sparked some kind of recognition even before he could fully view his surroundings. He slowly sat up with a groan and blinked until his vision centered. He glanced around and noticed the outdated wood panels, along with the oval shape of the sconces. There was only one estate in all of Cordonia with those outdated features, and he noted that fact immediately. 

Panic flourished through his body as Liam realized he awoke in Applewood. 

He frantically stood with labored breaths and patted his abdomen, almost to ensure he was real. He pinched his thigh and winced, afterward placing a trembling hand on the wall to steady himself. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend what transpired and how he’d gotten there to begin with.

The events of the night suddenly invaded his thoughts. The image of a lifeless Penelope in Landon’s arms engraved and forever etched itself into his memory; he felt guilty, enraged, defeated, and a slew of other emotions.

Penelope was the big break they’d hunted high and low for. She held vital information Liam desperately needed, but seemingly would take her secrets to the grave with her. He couldn’t understand any of it — nothing made sense. The list of unanswered questions swirling around was enough to make him nauseous. A carousel of sorrow and confusion he couldn’t seem to slow down — no matter how hard he tried. 

Amid his tilt-a-whirl moment, an angelic voice rang out not far away, drawing him back to the present. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” 

Liam’s thundering heart suddenly stopped as recognition swept over him. He’d been so entrapped in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed what portion of the estate he was in. 

Only a few inches away was a door he remembered all too well — Riley’s. His eyes welled with tears as his vision centered on the structure, but as much as Liam wanted to rush to her, he physically couldn’t. The receptors in his brain went crazy — a jolt of electricity shot to his legs, demanding he move, but his feet weighed hundreds of pounds. Dazed and confused, he could only gawk at the blockade separating them. 

“Lady Riley, we have much to discuss — have a seat,” another individual answered. Liam knew it was a male but couldn’t place his identity; although it sounded familiar, as if he could remember it from a vague, distant memory. 

“Tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here!” Liam’s blood ran cold at Riley’s tone; the fear and adrenaline were prominent in her shaky voice. His breaths quickened and his instincts screamed to rush to her, but again, his feet refused to cooperate. 

“That wasn’t a request — I told you to have a seat.” Again, Liam swore he could recall that voice, but couldn’t fully register it. He thought about it for a split second until the sounds of a loud screech and a shatter echoed behind the door. 

“Don’t touch me!” Riley hollered, instantly breaking Liam’s trance. He lunged for the doorknob, but when he twisted his wrist, it snapped and turned to dust in his palm. The disintegrated fragments floated to the floor in slow motion, his heart following suit. 

“You’re so beautiful when you squirm.” Liam gasped as he fully recognized that person — it was Tariq. “But if you don’t fucking stand still–”

“Riley! RILEY!” Liam forcefully pounded on the structure. “Open this door! Open it, goddamnit!” He bellowed, but the commotion inside continued, escalating by the second. The next instant, he sprinted down the hall, frantically hunting for somebody — anybody — to get him inside that room. “I need some help!” He hauled over to the other side and yelled once more, but faced only cold, deserted silence. 

His vision darted all around the area before he spotted a window at the end of the seemingly never-ending hallway. Liam sprinted to it and gazed at the scene below. Outside, he could see the country jamboree still in full swing. He scoured the crowd and spotted everyone except Riley; Drake, Hana, Madeleine, and upon further inspection, he saw himself at the head table beside his father. He stumbled backward with a strangled breath, truly dumbfounded by what was going on. 

As Liam recovered, he re-approached the window and banged on it. “Hey! Hey!” He wailed, but nobody below batted an eye. His hits came harder and harder, but the glass never even cracked; his hand took the damage, although he felt no pain. 

The only thing he heard was Riley’s pleas for help, the sounds making his desperation grow by the second. He rushed back to the door and ran full force at it, using his shoulder as a battering ram; it wouldn’t budge. He repeated the process — again and again — but never even split the wood. Liam let out a primal wail and fisted his hair, taking deep breaths to preserve any semblance of sanity. His pulse thundered in his ears and tears stung the corners of his eyes, while he frantically determined what to do.   

He took a step back and realized there was a shadow cast over the doorway. It appeared to be a man, standing with his arms crossed. He wasn’t sure if it was there before, but Liam waved his hand and nothing changed the stony silhouette. The fixture remained cemented in place, not flinching or moving a muscle, regardless of the commotion developing beyond.

“LIAM!” Riley suddenly screamed, ripping him from his trance. He was up against the structure in an instant, using every ounce of strength he had to force his way through, but his attempts were futile. Riley repeatedly called for him and every time, a dagger went straight through Liam’s already hollowed-out chest.

He couldn’t control his overflowing tears at hearing her cry out for him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get inside; they wouldn’t acknowledge him, nobody came to help, and there was nothing he could do except sit and listen. With a loud sob, he slid down the door and sat in front of it, hoping at some point it would open and he could get to her. 

Riley’s whimpers continued throughout the vicinity, but Liam’s skin turned ice cold as he heard laughter inside; not Riley’s, and certainly not cheerful. The vile sound caused all the color to drain from his face. He leaned his head against the door and completely broke down, letting the devastation and defeat wash over him. 

“I — I’m sorry Riley…” He swallowed thickly, but soon let out an anguished cry. “I’m so sorry…”

The room went eerily quiet for a long while; Liam couldn’t hear much except the sound of his heart shattering, but eventually, the voices began once more. With a shuddered breath, he held his ear up to listen. 

“When will I receive payment?” Tariq questioned. 

“You don’t need to worry about that. Where you’re going, you won’t need it.” 

“W–what do you mean?! I did what I was called to do!” Tariq’s panic was clear to Liam, even without seeing his face. His pulse somehow thundered faster, carefully processing every word.

“There is too much at stake — more than your simple mind could ever understand. For this to work, you need to disappear. You’re a weak, pathetic excuse of a man — we can not risk this entire operation being ousted because of a lousy nuisance.” 

“I swear to it — you have my allegiance and my silence.” Tariq pleaded. “I will disappear, and—” 

“You’re going to, alright — the both of you.” 

What little color remaining in Liam’s complexion drained, and the shakiness in his hands amplified. After a split-second of complete and utter stillness, the phrase resonated and ignited a deadly determination within.

Liam sprung up and kicked the door with all his might. “LET ME IN!” He repeated the process, but again, the barrier showed no signs of weakening. He threw his fists at the structure in a mad frenzy — anything to get inside and get to Riley, then deal with this — man. 

“Liam! Liam! LIAM!” Leo yelled. He repetitively jabbed the button next to Liam's head to summon the nurse, as his brother flailed in his hospital bed. 

Liam was being monitored for dehydration, severe exhaustion, and a touch of malnutrition. Doctors said he had a panic attack, which combined with everything else, made him lose consciousness. All his labs came back normal, thankfully; Leo was worried someone could have slipped Liam something, but the hospital was quick to put that suspicion to rest. 

Since Liam arrived, he had been resting comfortably, but that changed about twenty minutes ago; it started with small groans and subtle movements, but soon turned into blood-curdling cries and forceful thrashes. Leo hoped he would wake himself, but Liam was getting drastically worse with every passing second. 

Liam suddenly flew forward with a loud gasp. His tearful eyes darted all around the room while he grabbed at his gown-covered body. As the world centered, a tidal wave of frustration and confusion washed over him. 

When Liam stopped and stared down at his clasped hands, Leo cautiously re-approached the bed. “Liam?” When he didn’t answer, Leo spoke a little louder. “... Li?”

“I was there.” Liam weakly croaked, his vision locked on his lap.

Leo’s brows furrowed. “Where?” 

“I heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Riley…” Liam whispered, followed by a shuddered breath.  

“What about her?” 

“I was there… th–that night… just n–now—” Liam stammered, struggling to make sense of the situation. “I couldn’t get in…”

Leo’s heart instantly shattered at seeing the devastation in Liam’s features. “They gave you some medication, Li.” He reasoned. “It’s possible that—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam bellowed. The nurse appeared next to him and attempted to speak, but he shouted, “GET OUT!” 

Leo lifted his hands in surrender. “I believe you, Liam… Tell me what happened.” 

“She yelled for me…” Liam faintly answered, refusing to make eye contact. “She yelled and screamed and — I couldn’t get inside, Leo... I tried, but — I — I… I couldn’t save her…” 

Leo took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and responded in a calm, reassuring voice. “Liam, it’s been a long couple of days and I know this has been incredibly rough on you–” 

“STOP PATRONIZING ME! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” 

Leo remained reluctant to entertain this idea. He knew Liam was dreaming, but at that moment, he was completely irrational. Leo had never seen him in such a way, even when his mother died. Given the past couple of weeks, the events of that night, and the medication, there was no rationalizing with him — Liam was spiraling, and bad. But perhaps if he entertained the notion — for now — Liam would eventually calm down.  

Leo carefully spoke. “What did you hear?” 

Liam stayed silent for a long moment before he turned his head to meet eyes with Leo. The look on Liam’s face slightly took him aback; the determination in his features was deadly — his sunken, puffy eyes were nearly black. 

Liam let out a long, sharp huff of air and sternly explained, “There were two male voices. I can say with confidence one was Tariq, but as far as the other, I — I don’t know…” He shook his head with furrowed brows as he racked every recollection in his brain. He could almost visualize the man in question, but his face appeared blurred and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t clear the fog. 

“Alright, well, let’s just take a minute to—”

“They were fucking laughing, Leo. They assaulted her and laughed about it.” Liam growled, his chest rising and falling with every sullen breath. “I want Tariq found, now. He’s going to pay for ever laying a fucking finger on her. I swear to God, Leo — I will put an end to his sorry existence with my bare hands.” He clenched his palms, squeezing hard enough to turn his knuckles white. 

Leo once again held his hands up in surrender and replied in a soft voice. “I believe you. Just — take a couple of deep breaths and try to relax—” 

“What if she didn’t leave Cordonia?” Liam suddenly blurted out. “What if she’s…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly. No part of him wanted to finish that statement in any fashion; the unending possibilities gave him instant nausea. “That man… he said, ‘where you’re going you won’t need it’, and then h–he said both of you... BOTH OF YOU, Leo!” He ran his palms over his head from front to back, repeating the process with a crazed look in his eye. 

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Liam swiftly continued. “It would make sense… Tariq has been untraceable… But–but Riley…. She — Bastien told me she went back to New York. But that person… I know I heard him say it… Where you’re going you won’t need it, where you’re going you won’t need it—” He repeated to himself, his voice diminishing with every anguished syllable. He clutched his hands into fists and forcefully yanked at his hair, rocking himself back and forth. 

“Li,” Leo cautiously started. When Liam whipped his head to look at him, Leo was once more temporarily shocked by the fury and turmoil staring back at him; he realized Liam was hastily elevating himself to a dangerous level. “We can’t jump to conclusions… Okay? Let’s just take a deep breath and try to calm down—” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Leo! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam shouted as he ripped the IV from his arm, the pain not even phasing him. He ditched the rest of his connections shortly after and dashed out of bed. “Where are my CLOTHES?”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” Leo reasoned as he followed his brother’s movements. “All I’m suggesting is that we take a step back and really think about this—” 

“I’m tired of taking a step back! Look where that’s gotten us!” Liam seethed. “There is so much goddamn blood on my hands! I let her get hurt! I am responsible for all of this madness—” 

“Stop that — right now,” Leo sternly returned. “You know that is not true even in the slightest.” 

“Say it to MY FACE then, Leo!” Liam barked as he invaded his brother’s personal space. “LIE to my fucking face!” 

“It’s not a lie, Liam,” Leo stood a little taller. “You are not responsible–” He stopped as Liam rolled his eyes and looked away. This time, it was Leo who stepped up to Liam. “No — look at me,” He bore his eyes into his brother, forcing him to see the truth in his gaze. “You are not responsible for any of this, Liam. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.” 

Liam studied the conviction staring back at him and his frustration soared. He spun away and grabbed the bedside table, sending it flying with a primal roar. 

Leo flinched as the wood shattered against the wall, but knew he had to calm Liam down. However, the person he was trying to reason with was not the version of Liam he was used to; this was a side Leo didn’t know lay dormant in his normally calm and stoic baby brother.

“Liam,” Leo softly started. “This is an incredibly shitty situation, and I’m so sorry that you’re being put through this. I love you, and I’m always here for you no matter what.” He confidently stated, but after a moment of silence, hesitantly added, “But I just don’t think a dream is—” 

“I don’t give a damn what you say, Leo! Someone is going to pay for this!” Liam growled, his face reddening with every deep, labored breath. He directed his attention back to his earlier quest for his clothes; he didn’t know where he was going or who he was looking for, but someone was going to feel the wrath of the King of Cordonia — tonight.  

Olivia didn’t even bother to knock before she and Ray joined the room. The pair opted to stay behind and investigate in Portavira a little further — that is until a random guard threw them out. Without Liam or Leo there to ensure their access, they were told to vacate the premises shortly after Liam left for the hospital. Regardless, they had enough time to prove at least one pivotal thing about that ordeal, and possibly solve quite a few others — if Liam believed them. 

They walked in and stopped short at Liam’s crazed expression. “What’s going on?” Olivia sought. 

“I’m leaving,” Liam bit out through clenched teeth. 

“Hold on, we need to talk about something—” 

“Move out of my way!” 

Olivia arched her brow. “We need transparency, Liam. Tell me what is going on — calmly.” 

“I was there, Olivia! I heard it! They fucking attacked her!” Liam bellowed as he found his garments and rifled through the bag. 

Olivia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop his mad dash. “Liam, please — I need a full explanation. I’m not stopping you or downplaying anything, but we need to know what the hell you’re talking about.” 

Liam met her eyesight and saw the genuine interest in her gaze. He could tell Leo thought he was baffling, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t fathom the experience, but knew that was no dream; with every fiber of his being, Liam believed what he heard was reality. The universe mercilessly gifted him a blocked front-row seat — it was a curse, yet oddly a blessing. They spent all this time wondering what happened that night, but now he had a soundtrack to re-play. He wasn’t willing to rest until he deciphered this code, to ensure justice would be swift to all who deserved it. 

He explained in great detail his occurrence and exactly what happened. When he finished, he stared blankly at the floor, cradling his head in his trembling hands; he knew how wild it sounded but didn’t particularly care. It felt so real — so raw. Just thinking about the vile chortles raised goosebumps on his arms, and Riley’s screams now played on an insistent loop in his mind — torment that would never stop. Even if good trumped evil and Riley was located safely in the end, those sounds would be a continuous source of torture until he took his final breath. 

Olivia listened intently to everything he recalled. At the surface, she knew how preposterous it sounded — it was a dream, regardless of how strongly Liam felt otherwise. Her heart ached for her friend at that moment; clearly, everything that happened was taking a major toll on her childhood friend. 

But — given the bombshell she and Ray sat upon, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if there could be some truth to Liam’s encounter. 

Olivia sat forward and patted Liam’s leg with the gentlest of touches. When she spoke, it was calm and reassuring. “I’m not sure what to say, Liam. I realize you want to believe it to be true, but you and I both know it’s nothing concrete…” Liam opened his mouth to respond, but Olivia held her hand up to stop him, as she saw the fire burning behind his narrowed eyes. “Let me finish… I know tonight has been hard on you for a lot of reasons, but I believe Ray and I have found a very promising lead…”

Liam’s ears visibly rose as his interest grew. “What do you mean?” 

“Sir, I know it’s not what you initially hired me for, but there are a lot of things that do not add up in this current situation...” Ray started. “Between some of Lady Penelope’s behaviors, her father’s statements, and this—” He produced his phone from his pocket and handed it to Liam. “I find it very hard to believe she took her own life.” 

Liam glanced at the device in his hands and realized he was looking at a photo of Penelope’s last statements. He read through it and found nothing of relevance; no mention of Riley, her involvement in the scandal, the maid, nothing. It was incredibly vague, considering it was her concluding words to the world. 

“Why are you showing me this?” Liam demanded as confusion and annoyance rushed through him. 

Olivia produced a document from her pocket. After questioning the legitimacy of the note left in Riley’s room, she wanted to have it near in case the situation arose. “You remember my blackmail letter — the one I got the night of your coronation?” She handed him the paper.

Liam held both items and scanned back and forth; he gasped when he realized they were nearly identical. “But, this — this means—” 

“Someone took her out, Liam.” Olivia finished. 

“I’m not positive if someone would have done it for her, or if she felt pressured into doing it. Either way, since she was saying goodbyes to her family, that leads me to believe Penelope knew she was in danger and foresaw her demise.” Ray added. 

“This is impossible!” Liam shook his head, his rage returning full force. “How does this keep happening?!” 

Olivia and Ray shared a look; the two calculated a theory, and it seemed the more that unfolded, the greater that assumption solidified itself. There wasn’t a lot of evidence to point fingers, but Olivia realized they couldn’t wait any longer; if they were correct, this situation just escalated tenfold. Liam already teetered an incredibly dangerous ledge, but perhaps that’s what the circumstances called for. Plus, after his — experience, she knew he would believe them. 

Olivia softly started. “I need you to stay as calm as possible — at least until I’m finished and we know for certain who we’re directing this hostility at.” Liam nodded with furrowed brows, but Leo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know what to say about your — encounter, but — there is reason for us to believe Riley could be in Cordonia.” 

“WHAT?!” Liam practically choked as all the color drained from his face. Even though he was there and truly believed what he heard, someone else saying it out loud momentarily knocked the wind out of him. 

“I checked all outgoing flights from the night of the jamboree and she wasn’t on any of them,” Ray explained. “Every log received a thorough examination, even those with different destinations — she has yet to board a plane to exit the country, to this day. I’ve looked at other modes of transportation and she is the same as Tariq — there is nothing.” 

“But…” Leo hesitantly started after a moment of tense silence. “If that’s the case, then where is she?” 

Olivia sighed and her eyes softened. “We’re — not entirely sure at this point… Somewhere in Cordonia, but…”

“Believe me when I say I am checking everywhere.” Ray confidently inserted. “Every crack, every crevice — any place I can think of. If she truly is in the country, I will locate her.” 

“Okay, but — why haven’t we found her?” Leo returned. The uneasiness in his stomach suddenly bolted to the back of his throat, securing itself and taking root. As he took in Ray’s uncertainty, the lump multiplied in size. 

“I — I don’t have an answer for that right now,” Ray calmly returned. “But I’m working around the clock and using every resource I have to uncover her location. I know those sound like empty promises, but I assure you — I will not rest until Lady Riley is located safely.” He emphasized.

Liam’s heart pounded so fast, he was sure it would give out at any moment. “I — She — B–but —” He stammered, trying his hardest to comprehend the conversation. “Bastien told me—”

“I think Bastien is involved.” Olivia abruptly cut him off. “When we found Riley’s stuff, I swear to you, Liam, I saw the fucking guilt in his eyes. Plus, he’s got his hands in everything at court. I’m not saying he’s as powerful as you, but he can twist and manipulate things like no other because of his position.” 

Olivia continued. “To be honest with you, I don’t think any of us really believe Penelope killed that maid. During the social season, I saw her cry over a fucking crab bite — you can’t tell me she murdered someone in cold blood. Also, I’m thinking, based on his actions tonight, Bastien knew Penelope was already dead — I’m nearly certain of it.”

“Not to mention, he kept this information to himself until we were ready to question her,” Ray added. “I know for certain those reports take only a few days — most likely less if it’s a priority case. I haven’t seen the photos from your first crime scene, but I can tell it was a setup from Olivia’s descriptions. As the head guard, it would’ve been easy for him to manipulate the situation.” 

“Are you sure, though?” Leo interjected. “I mean, I’ve dealt with Bastien a lot over the years, and I can say he is not a genius. Maybe the opposite — butter knives are sharper than he is.”

“He’s capable, though — that’s what troubles me. I think most of the time he gives off the impression he’s useless, but he’s highly trained in a sum of areas.” Olivia explained. “I sincerely doubt he’s the mastermind behind everything, but I’m confident he’s the reason we keep being set back. Who’s always around? Who’s the one directing these ‘investigations’? It’s him.“

“I — damn…” Leo ran a hand through his hair with wide eyes. “You’re not wrong, and it does kind of make sense…” 

Everyone suddenly recognized Liam remained mute as they spoke. His face showed no emotions; he only stared at Olivia as if she wasn’t even there with an unreadable expression. Liam was a world away as various open ends snapped themselves into place. The murky waters of uncertainty clarified, and the bottom of the cesspool became sharper with every jumbled thought dashing through his mind.

All security decisions went through Bastien, including unauthorized entry into an estate. Bastien was the one investigating the maid’s death, and he was accountable for the search for Riley and Tariq — until Ray came along. Bastien didn’t want to let Ray into Penelope’s room because he knew what was in there, and realized Ray would see right through it; past the stuff even Olivia would have missed. He could outsmart her, but knew he couldn’t Ray, which ultimately meant Bastien knew of Ray’s true purpose. He continuously told Liam he was working to provide answers, but suddenly, he believed Bastien’s intentions to be the exact opposite. 

This whole time, a mole sat right under his nose, continuously feeding them the vaguest of answers. Every time they took a step forward, it was never because of Bastien, but someone always ensured they took two back. He didn’t understand how whoever held the cards seemed to be a move ahead, but now — it made sense. 

Liam thought back to all these instances and realized he didn’t remember seeing Bastien. The night of the country jamboree, a different person escorted him to his room at the end of the night. He never questioned it because it wasn’t unheard of for guards to switch out positions, but now he wondered where Bastien truly was. 

The night of the Apple Banquet, he recalled seeing him at the start of it, but not again until Bastien barged in to inform him of the discovery. Now, he couldn’t help but speculate Bastien took the maid’s life himself, or at least staged the scene to frame Penelope. 

Tonight, before Bastien came to Liam and gave him the news of their suspect, he was nowhere to be found; until Olivia, Ray, and Leo left to interrogate Penelope. 

When Bastien told Liam their person of interest was Penelope, he was in a state of disbelief. Liam questioned him, but Bastien stood his ground. However, now he believed with everything in him, Bastien knew she was already dead and intended to manipulate the circumstances further.

Since he opened his eyes to the truth, he often felt as if he mindlessly ran in a circle, desperately trying to piece small portions of a scattered puzzle together. Now he realized he was — and Bastien directed the never-ending laps, all while dangling tiny slivers of hope in front of Liam’s face — taunting him.

Ultimately, Liam concluded without a shadow of uncertainty — Bastien knew what happened to Riley, and likely held knowledge regarding her location.

Liam suddenly shot up from the edge of his hospital bed. “BASTIEN!” He bellowed at an ear-piercing volume, loud enough to rattle the windows. 

Leo winced. “H–he’s not here, Li.”

“What the fuck do you mean, he’s not here?!” 

“There’s some other guy outside!” 

“He was still lingering around Penelope’s room when Ray and I left.” Olivia chimed in. 

“That’s it — I’m going to find him,” Liam growled through clenched jaws. 

“Liam, wait—” 

“NO MORE WAITING, OLIVIA! Do you see what is happening?! All the blood that’s being shed?! This has to stop!”

“I know and I agree. But we need some kind of strategy–”

“No — this ends now.” Liam bit out. He hastily made his way to the bathroom with his bag of clothes, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Olivia had half a mind to stop Liam until they had some kind of plan, but also felt time was of the essence. If they couldn’t prove Riley left the country, their urgency had to intensify. Her location remained unknown, but they believed she was at least in New York. When Ray first mentioned the possibility that she never left the country, Olivia didn’t want to believe it; after Penelope’s untimely demise, she realized this was a vicious, bloody pattern, and the suspicion needed to be taken seriously.

As the body count rose, Olivia’s concerns steadily increased. If history repeated itself, everyone involved would meet a deadly fate, but they didn’t have a detailed log of all entangled in this web. They had no clue where Riley’s name lay on the list of potential victims, and now they held very little information regarding her whereabouts. An involuntary shudder traveled down Olivia’s spine as the air in the room shifted, filling with an amplified haze of grim uncertainty felt heavily by everyone.

Olivia wholeheartedly believed Riley was alive, but for how much longer she couldn’t determine. The lingering feelings of uneasiness in her gut told her they were correct — she never left Cordonia — and if that was the case, her safety was more in question now than ever before.  

Within the hour, Liam left the hospital and was on his way back to the main estate in Portavira. Although doctors wished to keep him longer, he left AMA — he didn’t need fluids; he didn’t need rest; he needed Riley. If Bastien knew something, he was going to tell them, even if he had to use brute force.

A part of him didn’t want to believe it, but the more he pondered, the more sense it made. A small portion of his heart wanted to give Bastien the benefit of the doubt, but that was no longer an option. The betrayal Liam felt was like no other and quickly created a raging storm inside of him, simply waiting to be unleashed.

Hearing Riley could still be in Cordonia, combined with his out-of-body experience, the need to locate her was higher than ever. Of course, he wondered where she ended up when he believed she went back to the States, but now even that was up in the air. The one thing holding Liam above water was knowing she was far away from the carnage, but that was no longer a valid crutch. The waves of despair rose dangerously high, threatening to overtake and drag him under in one fell swoop. 

Liam tried his hardest to push the instantaneous bad thoughts away, but could feel it in his bones — Riley was in danger. From the beginning, he’d always thought something felt off, but he let his pride stand in the way of seeing the truth. Now it was impossible to ignore, as it tore away at his conscience. Guilty wasn’t even a suitable word to describe how he felt, knowing his negligence let this monstrosity escalate as it had. He turned his back on Riley when she needed him most; she screamed for him, yet he tried his damnedest to leave her in the past for so long. 

However, he used all his willpower to remain in the moment and stay afloat; the only thing he cared about was Riley. Even if they found her and she wanted nothing to do with him, he simply needed to see with his own two eyes that she was safe. He didn’t want to think about why she could still be in Cordonia, but the growing ache in his chest told him it wasn’t a good reason. 

The SUV pulled up to the front entrance of the estate, and Liam didn’t even wait for it to come to a complete stop. He rushed out and barged in through the front doors with fire under his feet. The halls remained eerily quiet as the nobility slept, but he was sure word traveled about not only his hospital stay but Penelope’s tragic passing. Leo, Olivia, and Ray all trailed behind as he ran at top speed. 

Liam dashed up the stairs and rounded the corner, but abruptly stopped once Penelope’s room came into view. The door had yellow caution tape covering the opening, and Liam heard Bastien’s voice inside; the sound reigniting the rage burning deep within. He went to make a bee-line for the door, but a timid hand on his forearm ceased his movements. 

“Y–Your Majesty,” Emmaline got out through hiccups. She retracted her hand with wide eyes and shakily bowed as he faced her. Liam’s features momentarily softened as he took in her running mascara and puffy eyes. “P–Please, Sir… I beg you to reconsider… Please — s–she wouldn’t d–do this…” 

Liam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We were told they’ve ruled Penelope’s d–death… They w–were picking everything up but n–nobody would listen to us! That wasn’t her handwriting. She–she wouldn’t do this… None of it… She was happy — she wouldn’t—” Emmaline shook her head as more tears fell. 

Liam placed a gentle hand on Emmaline’s shoulder and firmly responded, “I apologize for what you were told, but that is not the case — it will become a homicide investigation as soon as I can get someone else assigned. I promise you — I am going to figure out what happened and ensure she receives the justice she deserves.” 

Emmaline swallowed a sob. “W–where did they take her body? They wouldn’t tell us. T–they came in and ripped my baby out of my arms and I don’t know where she is and—”

“Wait, who took her?” 

“Your head guard said h–he had the authority to — remove her.” Emmaline squeezed her eyes closed as her tears fell harder, trying her hardest to wake herself from this nightmare.

Liam used every ounce of resolve he had not to march straight up to Bastien and securely wrap a hand around his throat. “Emmaline, I assure you — I will find her and bring her home. You have my word — I am going to figure this out.” He reiterated, but the fury coursing through his veins was at an all-time high. The amount Bastien thought he could get away with made Liam sick to his stomach, but he was determined to put a stop to it. 

His answers were suffusive for Emmaline, so she bowed and made her leave. After taking a microscopic moment to gain some clarity, Liam addressed Ray. “Since I am removing Bastien, I need you to take over. And I want you to backtrack and look into Rhonda’s homicide as well. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to find anything, but I want you to double-check. I’ll ensure you have access to everything you need, and I’ll inform everyone you are now in charge here. The crown will compensate you generously for your additional time and effort.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ray returned with a confident smile.

“Leo, I need you to figure out where he’s sending Penelope. I’m going to ask him, but in case he won’t tell me, I need her found before anyone messes with or blatantly destroys her body — there is no doubt in my mind that’s where she’s headed. Grab Maxwell and have him help you — I want her returned at once.” 

“You got it.” Leo nodded before he swiftly vacated the area. 

“I’m going to need some guards with me to do this,” Liam spoke, more so to himself than anyone else. 

“Guards?” Olivia repeated. 

“Yes. I won’t risk something happening to him — we will immediately detain Bastien. If he did nothing wrong, I’ll release and reinstate him, but until then, I am officially removing him from his position as head guard.” Liam answered, but regardless of what he said out loud, both of them knew Bastien was guilty; they just weren’t sure of the extent. 

Olivia smirked. “Welcome to the game, King Liam. Would you like for me to assist with questioning?” 

“I have a different job for you first. I need you to sneak into the security office and search through everything. If he’s working to cover up crimes or anything of that nature, he’s got to have something on him — I’m sure of it.” 

“Knowing that cockeyed baboon, I’d say that’s a safe assumption.” Olivia snickered. “But I don’t know if I like the idea of you interrogating him by yourself...” She cast him an unsure glance. 

“I don’t plan on it, Liv. I just need to find Drake.” 

Almost as if on cue, Drake emerged from Penelope’s doorway, carefully dodging the caution tape. He glanced around and as his eyesight landed on Liam, he furrowed his brows and approached. “What’re you doing here, Li? Are you alright?” 

“We have something to take care of.” Liam quickly and quietly laid out the current plan, as well as a vague description of their accusations. 

“Fuck, man… I gotta admit — I had no clue why Liv and that guy had to leave, but I got to stick around.” Drake shook his head, trying to comprehend this blindsiding revelation. 

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say he wanted someone Liam trusted around but needed to ensure the person was completely and utterly clueless,” Olivia inserted with a crooked grin.

Drake scoffed. “First of all, fuck you. Second, you might actually be right, but — you’re still a flaming bitch.” 

“Stop trying to flatter me, Walker,” Olivia retorted, afterward focusing on Liam. “Are we doing this?” 

Liam let out a deep huff of air. “Yeah, we are. Let’s do this.” He responded with the utmost resolution. He squared his shoulders, craned his neck from side to side, and strode into the room with Drake close behind. Olivia took off in the other direction to do her part in Liam’s plan, moving with brisk precision to reach her destination. 

As he entered, Liam got the attention of a few guards and motioned for them to follow. Bastien examined underneath Penelope’s bed, completely oblivious to the added presence in the room. He cleared his throat to gather Bastien’s attention, and Liam noticed his shoulders tense as he identified who stood before him. 

Bastien slowly rose with uncertainty painted on his features. “Your Majesty? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be receiving treatment?” 

Liam chortled as he stalked toward Bastien. He kept a smile plastered in place and shook his head, muttering to himself. When he made it directly in front of him, Liam lowered his voice to a low, gravely rumble; the fake grin he wore instantly replaced by a menacing scowl. “... I bet you’d like that — wouldn’t you?”

Bastien visibly and audibly swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, sir, but I—”

“Of course not.” Liam dismissively agreed. He took a couple of steps back and shrugged. “Regardless, you’re coming with us.”

Panic flashed in Bastien’s eyes; it was brief, but Liam caught it. “With all due respect, I’m not quite finished investigating Lady Penelope’s suic—”

“That is not what this is, and you damn well know it!” Liam abruptly shouted. A tense silence hung for only a moment until he cleared his throat and flatly added, “This is a homicide, and you are no longer a part of it.” He met eyes with one guard who got the silent order loud and clear, the other following suit. They rushed Bastien and captured his arms behind his back, securely holding him in place.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bastien hollered as he attempted to evade their grip. 

“You’re being taken into custody.” 

“Whatever for?!” Bastien demanded. 

Drake stood in Bastien’s line of sight, mirroring Liam’s irate features. He held his gaze for a long, heated moment before snapping, “You’d better hope and pray we’re wrong, Bastien.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Drake?!” Bastien yelled, squirming against the grasp of those holding him.  

Neither answered the question but merely glared at him; the sheer betrayal and outrage they felt radiated off of them, eliciting a shiver to run down Bastien’s spine. He calmly reasoned, “Sir, I don’t know what this is about, but we can have a rational conversation without all of this nonsense.” He motioned to the guards holding him. 

“No, I don’t think we can, because you see —” Liam stalked toward Bastien, staring into his eyes so intently that he could almost see the wall behind him. As he made it into his comfort zone, Liam lowered his voice and rasped, “They’re only here to get rid of your body if I have to.” He smirked at Bastien’s wide eyes, as well as his complexion paling instantaneously. 

Liam held Bastien’s gaze but addressed the guards. “Take him down to the cells. I’ll be right behind you.”

As they dragged Bastien away, he hollered and stirred up a fuss. Liam ignored his pleas, instead trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. He wanted clarity, but a part of him dreaded Bastien’s confession; it would be another stark reminder of what his negligence caused. The guilt tearing away at his insides was at an unfathomable level, but he had to push that aside to focus on the task at hand.

He tried to keep his composure, but the gloves were off; there was no more control. Bastien knew something and regardless of what he had to do, Liam was hell bent on making him talk. Innocent lives taken and families destroyed, along with Riley’s heinous attack — all of which rested heavily on his conscience. He was determined to serve a steaming hot platter of justice to all he deemed deserving, regardless of what it took.

The next step in making that happen was getting a pig to squeal. 

As he stood next to Drake, the facade of a composed monarch slipped onto the floor. He didn’t have enough strength left to keep it together. He embraced his emotions and vowed to follow their direction, but the only thing remaining was pure, unfiltered rage. 

Gone was the timid, people-pleasing prince with his mother’s baby-blue eyes. Instead, a carnal lion with dark, dilated pupils awakened, centered on the dangling piece of meat in his face — Bastien. 

[camillemontespan]

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

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

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

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

He hadn't meant it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Camille..’ he murmured. ‘I can't.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Camille had given birth to Drake's baby.

A daughter.

Drake had a baby girl.

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

FIVE YEARS LATER

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

‘Yes!’

‘Gloves?’

‘In my pocket!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What’s his name?’

‘Steve!’

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

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

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

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

Lily grinned. ‘You too mommy.’

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

Camille arrived at work swept off her feet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Texas,’ Camille sighed.

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

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

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

End of conversation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their little circle of two.

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

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

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

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

‘Mommy, it's a lady called Bianca?’

Camille’s blood ran cold.

Drake's mom.

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

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

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

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

‘I’m good, you?’

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

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

Camille felt her heart drop. Not her grandma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was an awkward silence until Bianca broke it.

‘How is she?’

Camille swallowed. Bianca had never met her granddaughter.

‘She’s great,’ Camille said simply.

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

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

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

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

She needed to see Gisele.

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

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

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

[cordonianroyalairlines]

Turbulence

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake

Word Count: 1,534

Rating: MA

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

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

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

“So, what’s up with you and Riley?”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

“Really?” She perked up.

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

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

“Oh, definitely you know!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know we don’t normally-“

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

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

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

“I have the flight controls,” Drake answered.

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

“Listen, Riley, I like you but-“

“Oh, you like me? Like a friend?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“That’s…I’m not….since when-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I-“

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

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

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

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

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

Tariq’s eyes widened as the liquid sloshed out of the top of the bottle in midair, spewing wildly and covering him in outrageously expensive, vintage red wine. “You did that on purpose!” He screeched as he jumped out of his seat.

“Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts!” Riley called from the front of the plane as she caught herself on the wall, “Just a little turbulence!”

Liam frantically tried to make his way back to the cockpit, but Tariq was blocking the aisle, demanding Max be fired while Max ineffectively wiped at the spreading stain with a cocktail napkin.

Tariq’s face had gone a deep shade of crimson, “Captain Liam, I demand that he be reprimanded!”

“Move you jackass!” Liam yelled as he shoved the man aside in desperation to make it back to the flight deck.

By the time Liam crashed through the cockpit door, the plane was righted, and Drake was on the intercom doing damage control, “Just a little unexpected turbulence. We apologize for the momentary roughness, but it should be clear skies and smooth sailing from here on out.”

“What the fuck was that?” Liam demanded as he retook his seat and started double-checking everything on the instrument panel, just to be sure.

“Turbulence,” Drake answered but he didn’t make eye contact and his face was red.

The door creaked open, and Riley stuck her head in, “Is everything okay in here? Drake was that because-“

“Everything is fine,” he yelled, “It was turbulence! Please return to your duty station crew member!”

Liam’s eyes flicked from Drake to Riley and back again. A broad smile spread across his face as Riley backed out of the cockpit, “Oh, I see. Turbulence….” Liam relaxed back into his seat; all his panic washed away as understanding settled over him.

“Shut up,” Drake still wasn’t looking at him.

“Turbulence never looked so good,” Liam chuckled as he updated the flight log and triple-checked the instrument panel.

Drake shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then glanced at his watch with a sigh. It was going to be a very long flight.

[tessa-liam]

Smoke and Mirrors

9-Hidden in Plain Sight 

Book: The Royal Romance Finale, AU

Series Premise: Hidden in the shadows, poised to challenge the status quo are enemies of the state. The loyalties and honesty of family and friends will be tested. ‘Keep your friends close, your enemies closer’. 

Smoke and Mirrors Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks-Rys, OTP ‘LiRi’ 

2nd Pairings: Leo Rys x Amalas, Drake Walker x F!OC Delaney Leigh, Olivia Nevrakis x M!OC Alex Cossoy 

*Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

*Not Beta’d, please excuse all errors 

Rating: M🔞*Series Warnings:  NSFW material, sexual innuendo, adult language/swearing/drinking/gun violence. Not recommended for anyone under 18 years of age. 

Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff 

Words: 2394 

Chapter Summary: It’s the evening of the Celebration Ball and the big reveal of the Royal twins. Lena is interrogated by Interpol. Liam and Leo discuss a potential threat to the kingdom. 

Smoke and Mirrors

9- Hidden in Plain Sight 

Music Inspiration: Sway, Michael Buble; Claire De Lune, London Symphony Orchestra; Late Night Talking, Harry Styles 

A/N2: My submission for @choicesseptemberchallenge2023, @midnightmelodiz , Day 6 – Dreams, Day dream, “I’m in love with you?” 

A/N1: My submission for @choicesflashfics @jerzwriter Week #49, Prompt 1- “You take my breath away every time I see you.” 

The King’s chamber was illuminated only by the soft light of the full moon where the King and Queen lay together. Riley was fast asleep, her head resting on Liam’s chest, her very pregnant belly snuggled safely against his side. Liam looked over at his sleeping wife, his heart swelling with love for her and their sons. In three short weeks, his family will grow to five; that time coming very quickly now.

Cordonian Royal Palace

He lay awake; sleep eluding him again for another night. Mentally organizing his schedule for the upcoming month, his thoughts eventually returned to that conversation with Drake that they had on the beach the day before. His confession...

‘Watching you with Brooks, all these years... I want that too.’ 

‘Pretending to be happy is pretty damn exhausting.’ 

Sighing, Liam was pleasantly surprised when he heard a soft voice. 

No one else would have caught it, but Liam did. He ‘read between the lines’ of what Drake had said, like he was remembering a bad dream. Did Drake just admit that he still had feelings for his wife? Were those feelings that he had years ago still present and relevant to him? 

“How long have you been awake?” Riley whispered. 

He kissed her forehead and placed his hand on her baby bump. Stroking her belly, he could feel the soft kicks under his palm.

“Not long, love” he murmerred.

“What are you thinking about?” Liam hesitated before answering. 

Riley turning her head to look up at him, “you think too much sometimes.” 

“A conversation that I had. I am not quite sure if it was real or if it was a daydream.” Liam kept his answer opaque on purpose, not wanting to divulge too much detail to her. 

Liam chuckled, “Are you complaining?” 

“Never,” she replied, yawning. “I love you,” she added sleepily. 

His body relaxed, as he closed his eyes, “I love you more.” he murmured, tightening his arm around her protectively. 

Cordonian Palace Ballroom 

The Ballroom was filled with guests awaiting the King’s announcement scheduled for later in the evening. 

Royalty from neighboring kingdoms, nobility, politicians, and ambassadors from allied countries came from long and short distances to partake in the black-tie festivities. Music filled the air as waitstaff circulated amongst the crowd with glasses of wine and flutes of champagne. 

“I’m glad you decided to attend this event with me,” Olivia said smiling at Alex. 

“I must be honest with you, Livvie. I usually attend these functions as the enforcer. I am not used to wearing a ‘monkey suit’,” Alex smirked. He seemed to be comfortable among all the guests, nonetheless. 

Olivia grinned back at her partner, but her smile quickly faded when she spotted Amalas and Leo huddled together on the other side of the dance floor. They appeared to be deep in conversation and were not paying any attention to their surroundings.  

Alex noticed Olivia’s expression change. “Everything okay?” he asked with concern. She nodded, trying to force the smile back onto her lips. 

“I thought that Leo was coming on his own tonight.” 

“Liv, that doesn’t mean that he can't talk to anyone once he gets here,” Alex rebutted. Olivia sighed loudly and continued to watch the couple from afar. 

A waiter approached, carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Alex accepted a small sampling as Olivia continued to study the couple without saying another word. Alex shook his head; he knew what was bothering her.   He also wished, he was mistaken.

As the orchestra began to play the first few notes of the Cordonian national anthem, the press began to gather around the dais waiting for the King to enter the ballroom. 

The King’s guard fell into strategic positions when the herald announced the arrival of the Royal family. 

Liam strode up to the lectern that was atop the dais wearing his full military regalia. Riley, walking with Eleanor, joined him and stood next to his side. Regina and Leo stood close by next to the dais. 

The crowd hushed in anticipation. Clearing his throat once before speaking, Liam began, “Good evening, everyone,” he proclaimed. 

“It is my pleasure and honor to welcome you all here tonight. I know many have been waiting patiently for the queen and I to make an official announcement concerning our ‘additions’ to the Royal family.”  Liam turned to wink at Riley.

The ballroom attendees erupted in whoops and cheers. 

Liam acknowledged his delighted guests with a broad smile and waited a few minutes for the accolades to subside. Continuing with, “thank you, thank you!” 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to have my princess here to help me....” Liam turned and beamed, chuckling as Ellie clapped her hands with a peal of laughter as her uncle Leo scooped her up and joined his brother. 

“Well, Ellie, what do you think?” Leo asked, smirking at Liam. 

“Daddy, look.” Ellie exclaimed and pointed to a bevy of blue balloons filled with helium that were being released behind the crowd overtop the dance floor. 

“Everyone, our twin boys, our princes, are expected to arrive at the end of this month.” Liam lifted Riley’s hand tenderly to kiss. 

Riley joined Liam as he took her hands and led her to stand beside him at the lectern.  

Thrilled at the excitement, Liam continued once the audience returned their attention back to him.

Liam waited for the crowd to settle down after the announcement. 

The applause was deafening as everyone celebrated. 

After posing for pictures by the press, Liam led Riley to the dance floor as the orchestra began to play the beginning notes of ‘Clair de Lune’. As they danced, it felt like time stood still; as guests formed a circle around them, Liam kissed Riley’s hand and placed it atop his chest over his heart as they swayed together in time to the music.  

“It must have something to do with the love of my life in my arms,” Liam simpered. 

“How is it, that.... Liam,” as she smoothed down his lapels, “you take my breath away every time I see you.” 

“Always the charmer, Your Majesty." Riley whispered, kissing his lips sweetly. 

*** 

Drake held Delaney close to his chest as they watched the King and Queen move together in the center of the dance floor. 

“They look so perfect together,” Delaney sighed. Her voice was laced with envy. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll find someone special someday.” Drake answered sarcastically. 

Delaney laughed. “That’s so easy for you to say.” Slapping his arm.

Drake grinned, “you'are damn straight, Leigh. When I first met you, I had no idea what my future would hold. You showed me things that I had only dreamed of having with someone. … and I have treasured every minute of your love.”  

 Growling, he leaned over and kissed her fiercely on the lips. Just as Riley and Liam walked past them. Delaney noticed the look on Drake’s face when he locked eyes with Riley. It gave her an uneasy feeling. He seemed to be lost in thought.  

Smiling playfully at him, Delaney asked in jest, “I’m in love with you too?"  

She frowned. “Something wrong?” 

His eyes shifted away from Riley, and he shook his head. 

“No, nothing at all.”  

But he didn’t fool her. Delaney, now was positive that her concerns were justified, stepped back. 

“Good evening, you two.” Riley beamed as she turned towards Delaney and Drake.  

“You two are getting married! Congratulations...I am so happy for you both.” Riley put her arm around her shoulder for a side hug.

“Thank you so much,” Delaney replied, hugging Riley in return. 

“Yes, congratulations you two,” Liam reached over to kiss Delaney’s cheek. 

“I am impressed, Walker.” Riley snickered as she hugged her friend.  

“Wow, settling down and saying goodbye to the bachelor life.” Liam smirked, shaking Drake's hand.

“Who would have thought,” Riley chuckled. 

“Yeah, yeah, Brooks, get your shots in now.” Drake responded, not making eye contact. 

Interrogation Room A, Interpol Headquarters, Lyon, France 

Lena sat back on her chair with her hands folded in her lap. She was flanked by two men in dark suits. One of the men was a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair. His name was detective Lefebvre, and he had been assigned by Inspector Ryerson to investigate her case. The other man was the head of Psychiatrics and was assigned to conduct an evaluation of her psychological state by King Liam Rys of Cordonia. 

Across the table, sat Lena’s legal defense attorney, assigned to represent her by the Royal estate of Vallenheim. 

Detective Lefebvre cleared his throat. 

“Miss Runarsdottir, I understand you are familiar with the Cordonian Royal family?” 

Lena nodded. “Yes, I have met King Constantine Rys, my father. My stepmother, Queen Sigrid, raised me when my mother Eleanor Rys was murdered. I know of but never met my brother Liam or my stepbrother Leo.” 

“And what do you know about them?” he asked. 

Lena’s mouth went dry. She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare. 

“I don’t have any other information about them,” she lied. 

“Do you mean to tell me that you knew nothing about your brothers even though you were caught outside the buildings they were in this past summer?” 

Lena stared at him unflinching. 

“How did you know where to go?” he asked again. 

“I’m sorry, I can't help you.”  

Lefebvre slammed his fist against the table, making Lena jump in surprise. 

“Don't play with me. You’re either lying or delusional.” 

Lena bit her lip. She sat stoically and kept her emotions hidden. 

“I am not playing around. I have no information.” 

Feeling frustrated, Detective Lefebvre changed his strategy. 

“Miss Runarsdottir, who is Bastien Lykel? 

“Who?” 

“Bastien Lykel,” he repeated. 

Lena’s face paled. “I don’t know anyone named Bastien.” 

“Are you sure?” he pressed. 

“We have CCTV evidence of your conversation with him in the holding cells at the Cordonian Palace.” 

“I-I-” she stammered. 

“You were seen talking to him at least three times before you escaped those holding cells in Cordonia. Is that correct?” 

Again, Lena sat in silence. 

“Choose wisely, Miss Runarsdottir, and answer my questions. What is the nature of your relationship with Bastien Lykel?” 

Lena’s breathing quickened and her hands began to shake. If she told the truth, she was dead.

“Let the records show that Miss Runarsdottir is not cooperative.” 

Cordonian Ballroom 

Leo was speaking to Rashad at the bar when Liam approached after having a debate with an American ambassador. 

“Hey Li, I see you survived your conversation with Smithfield.” Leo smirked as Liam ordered a scotch and shot it back quickly. 

“Barkeep, another round for my brother and I’ll take the same.”  

“Why, thank you Leo.” Liam clapped his back. 

“Where is your beautiful Queen?” 

“Riley is upstairs with Ellie. Being so close to her due date, she needs to be off her feet to rest from tonight’s festivities. She is exhausted.” 

Leo nodded. “Totally understandable, but Li, why are you still down here?” 

“Because I need to talk with you and apologize about the other day.” Liam responded. 

“No apologies needed.  I was being an asshole and you called me out.” Leo grinned. 

“Well, I overreacted. You pressed a nerve when you mentioned father.” 

Leo smirked, “good, because I agree with you and I believe you are ‘right on the money’.  

Liam chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Again, that’s what makes you the better King,” Leo winked 

“I do have information for you." Leo continued. "Amalas gave me an update on Interpol’s case on Lena and Bastien.” 

‘Liam winces slightly at the mention of Lena, but he does not interrupt.’ 

“Lena is being uncooperative when questioned by the detectives. Nice touch, by the way, for assigning a psychiatrist to oversee her testimony.” 

“Well, it’s the least I could do knowing what father did to her, and her future.” 

“’Amalas has uncovered a few suspicious ‘coincidences’, but nothing damning enough’ to help shed light as to what her motives are.” 

“So far, the information that he divulged on the estate of Vallenheim has been verified as true. It was uncovered that he has affiliations with members of the Vallenheim royal guard.” 

“Has there been any progress on Bastien’s involvement?” Liam inquired.

“Director Ryerson has scheduled an official update for Monday morning with me. Apparently, Interpol has uncovered a black ledger. It was 'hidden in plain sight'." 

“Care to join me, Leo?” 

Leo responded, “I will be here.” 

📌 @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @jared2612 @irisk12 @thesvnsins @walkerdrakewalker 📌

[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance Retelling Masterlist

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

The Royal Romance, Book 1 🏰 - Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (part 1/part 2/part 3/part 4/part 5/part 6/part 7) - Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia - Bk1 Ch3: Reunited

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

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

Read Part 1: Here

Read Part 2: Here

Read Part 3: Here

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

TW: Cursing, Implied Violence, Violence, Implied 🍋

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[choicesficwriterscreations]

TRR F/AotW - Dec 10-16, 2023

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA | 🌟= Holidays 2023

DRAKE WALKER

All I Want for Christmas - Part 2 ✒️🏳️‍🌈🌟| Drake Walker x MC, Liam Rys x Maxwell Beaumont - @angelasscribbles Chapter 7: Questions

The Best Mistake He Never Had - Part 2✒️| Drake Walker x MC - @camillemontespan

The Dark Kingdom (Series) ✒️ Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC, Drake Walker x MC - @angelasscribbles Chapter 7: Questions Chapter 8: Man on a Mission

LEO RYS

Midnights Like This (Series) ✒️| Leo Rys x OC, Liam Rys x OC - @queenrileyrose Part Thirteen: What if We Ruin it All

LIAM RYS

Dashing Through the Snow ✒️🌟| Liam Rys x F!OC - @kristinamae093

Forevermore (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| King Marquise (Liam Rys) x MC - @khoicesbyk Chapter 3: Ties That Bind

Midnights Like This (Series) ✒️| Leo Rys x OC, Liam Rys x OC - @queenrileyrose Part Thirteen: What if We Ruin it All

Side by Side (Series) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @ownworldresident Chapter 1: Not a Fairy Tale

Sometimes Not (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC - @ao719 Part 12: It's Always Been You

The Dark Kingdom (Series) ✒️ Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC, Drake Walker x MC - @angelasscribbles Chapter 7: Questions Chapter 8: Man on a Mission

Unexpected (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC, Maxwell Beaumont x MC - @angelasscribbles Chapter 9: Uncertainty

MAXWELL BEAUMONT

Snowed In ✒️🌟| Olivia Nevrakis x Maxwell Beaumont - @alj4890

Unexpected (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC, Maxwell Beaumont x MC - @angelasscribbles Chapter 9: Uncertainty

OLIVIA NEVRAKIS

Snowed In ✒️🌟| Olivia Nevrakis x Maxwell Beaumont - @alj4890

Main CFWC F/AotW | BOLAS F/AotW OPEN HEART F/AotW

[lawsend]

Murder at Vista Heights Chapter 3

Series: Law’s End

Episode 1: Murder at Vista Heights

Fandom: The Royal Romance (loosely, there’s not much canon in here).

Pairings: None yet

Word Count: 2,521

Rating: MA

Warnings for series: adult themes, any given chapter may contain murder, violence, language, drinking, drug use, etc.

My other stuff can be found on my main blog @angelasscribbles here is the Master List.

“Well?” The chief of homicide demanded a glower on his face.

“I…this has to be some kind of mistake…” Liam’s face was ashen as he pulled the sketch from Bertrand’s hands.

Max gripped Riley gently but firmly by the shoulder and pulled her back and to the side, quietly shifting them out of anyone’s direct line of sight.

Riley allowed herself to be moved. If no one noticed her, they would speak more freely, and she might learn something.

“Are you questioning Ms. Nevrakis’s ability to render an accurate image from the witness’s verbal account?”

“What? No, of course not!” his eyes jumped to Lilith and the woman he had questioned earlier. Lilith’s sketches had helped catch plenty of perpetrators. She was very good at what she did. Still.

He stalked across the room and thrust the sketch under the older woman’s nose, “Mrs. Haltom, this is the man you saw arguing with the victim?”

Riley strained to hear, holding her breath as she leaned in their direction.

“That’s the man I saw leaving his apartment after hearing the argument.”

“Did he say anything as he was leaving? Anything you can positively attribute to him?”

“Yes, he said ‘If you don’t back off, I’ll personally fucking kill you!’”

“I…thank you,” Liam’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “You can go now.”

“Max!” Riley hissed as she drug Max toward the door the woman was headed for, “We have to follow her and see if she’ll tell us-“

“You’re not going anywhere!” Liam’s voice thundered out, freezing her in place, “Stay right there! I’m going to need a word with you!”

“Fuck!” Riley muttered as she watched Liam and Bertrand disappear into the chief’s office, “She’s getting away!”

“I’ll go!” Max offered, hesitating as he waited for her response.

“Yes!” Riley made a shooing motion with her hands, “Go! Get her full name and phone number so I can question her later!”

“On it!” Max scrambled out the door and down the hall after the witness.

Riley sauntered closer to Liam’s desk, her eyes scanning the top of it for any files or notes that might be left lying around in plain sight. Her eyes flicked over to the glass window of Bertrand’s office.

She’d give a lot to be a fly on the wall in there right now.

Her gaze fell back on the paperwork scattering Liam’s desk. There was a manilla file folder labeled, “Hayes”. She glanced quickly around the room. No one was paying any attention to her.

Her fingers tugged the folder out from under the two others and slid it to the edge of the desk. Flipping it open, her eyes scanned the first page quickly. Before she could turn to the next page, she was startled by a voice from behind her, “Can I help you with something?”

Shit!

She jumped guilty and spun around to find an unfamiliar man standing behind her. He had shaggy shoulder-length brown hair, hazel green eyes, and a deadly serious expression on his face. Her eyes dipped to take in the badge clipped on his belt and the gun holstered on his hip.

“I was waiting for Liam- I mean detective Rys, he told me to wait here.” She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart thundering guiltily in her chest.

The detective’s gaze stayed stern as he asked, “Did he tell you to go through his confidential police files?”

“Ah…n-no…I wasn’t…I mean, I didn’t mean to, I just…I was looking for a pen and some paper so I could jot down a few notes.”

“Right.” His eyes narrowed.

“It’s okay, Flynn, Liam did tell her to wait here.” Lilith came to her rescue, handing her a pen and notepad, “Here you go. Why don’t you have a seat right over there.” She pointed to a couch near the wall.

“Thank you,” Riley gave Lilith a grateful smile and slunk away quickly before she got herself arrested.

The hardened homicide detective’s face softened as he turned his attention to the redhead, “I wasn’t trying to be an ass, but she was digging through confidential files!”

“I’m sure she didn’t realize it.”

Flynn threw a dark glance at Riley as he harrumphed before remembering the two cups of coffee in his hands. He thrust one toward Lilith, “Here. I…uh, thought you might like some coffee.”

“Oh! I…”

“Cream with two sugars, right?”

“That’s right! How’d you know?”

Flynn shrugged as he moved to the desk next to Liam’s and busied himself scooting folders around randomly. “That’s how you always take it. I’m a detective. I notice things.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” Lilith dropped her eyes to the cup in her hand as her cheeks flushed.

Riley clocked the interaction with interest and filed it away for future reference. Information was power and you never knew what secrets might come in handy down the road.

Liam shook his head as he faced off with his superior officer, “No. No! There’s no way Leo did this!”

“Liam….I know he’s your brother, but-“

“Look, sir. I know that his background is problematic but-“

“Problematic?” Bertrand snorted, “That’s the understatement of the year!”

“Like I said, I’m aware of his issues but-“

“I just don’t think you can be objective about this case. I’m transferring it to-“

“Sir, with all due respect, I’ve already investigated the scene, deposed the witnesses, coordinated with-“

“Yes, but if your brother is the perpetrator-“

“He’s not!”

“Even if he’s not, he’s at least a suspect and I need someone on this case that will give full and equal consideration to all leads!”

“Okay. How about this? You leave me on the case until and unless Leo becomes the prime suspect! Please, sir! Give me a chance to exonerate him!”

Bertrand pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger as he regarded the earnest detective sitting across from him. He knew that Liam struggled against the same obstacles that he himself struggled against. Namely, a family legacy of corruption.

Liam was assigned to the seventh precinct because Bertrand had been the only chief willing to take a chance on him. Liam was the son of Constantine Rys, the not-quite-disgraced former Sheriff of Lantano County, and younger brother of Leo Rys, a fully disgraced former vice detective in the CCPD.

Bertrand had seen himself in the younger man when he’d agreed to hire him. In contrast to his father and brother, Liam was by the book, conscientious and honorable. Leo though… he lived on the other side of the law now and gave two shits less who knew it.

“Liam,” Bertrand said gently, “I don’t think you see your brother clearly-“

“I do, sir. You don’t know him the way I do!”

“Maybe not, but we both know what he’s capable of, Detective.”

Liam shook his head vehemently, “That was different! He wouldn’t just-“

“And what if he did?” Bertrand snapped, “What if all the evidence points to him?”

Liam glared at his boss for a minute before wilting, “Then I’ll arrest himself, sir. No one is above the law.”

“Right now, everything points to him. We have an eyewitness that puts him at the scene, and multiple witnesses that overheard the very loud, very heated argument just hours before the murder!”

“I have another suspect!” Liam protested, “I was just about to interview the informant!”

Bertrand nodded his head, “Tell you what. I’ll leave you on the case for now, but O’Malley takes the lead. You’ll assist him and I expect hourly updates! Is that understood?”

“Yes! Thank you, sir!”

“And Liam…if it turns out Leo did this, you’ll have to step away.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

Max slid himself onto the black faux leather couch next to Riley.

“Did you get the information?” She whispered.

“Oh yeah,” his grin lit up his whole face, “Her name, her number, her life story, the fact that she has a granddaughter my age who’s single and a dinner date for six o’clock tonight!”

“Six o’clock?”

“She’s old, Riley.”

“Fine. Six it is. I’m impressed, Max! How’d you get her to agree to dinner?”

He shifted uncomfortably, “I agreed to meet her granddaughter. She’s coming to dinner too.”

Riley clapped both hands over her mouth as she tried to repress the giggle that threatened to bubble out of her.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. The shit I do for you…”

“Ah, Max, you love this as much as I do! And who knows? Maybe she’ll be a hottie and you’ll hit it off!”

His shoulders slumped as his eyes tracked across her face, “That’s not very likely.”

“Why not?”

Before he could answer, the door to Bertrand’s office opened and Liam stepped out.

“O’Malley!” Bertrand barked.

Flynn pulled himself away from Lilith and jogged across the room as Liam made his way back to his desk and motioned for Riley and Max to take the chairs across from him.

Liam drew in a deep breath to steady himself before lifting his eyes to Riley, “You said you have a suspect with motive. Who?”

“William Sloan.”

Liam blinked slowly, “William Sloan? The CEO of Sloan Enterprises?”

“That’s the one!” Riley smiled brightly at him.

“What’s the motive?”

Riley glanced around the office then leaned over the desk, “His wife, Katie Sloan might have been sleeping with the victim!”

“Might have been? Based on what evidence?”

“Well, he was concerned enough to hire a private detective to have her followed and she was followed right to a meeting with the murder victim.”

Liam sat up in interest, “When was this meeting? Where did it take place? Who was the private detective?”

“Oh…um…” she slid her eyes sidewise to Max.

Max straighten in his chair as he counted backward in his head, “Five nights ago, at the bar in the lobby of the Savoy Hotel.”

Liam’s gaze swung from Riley to Max in surprise, “Now I know you’re not a private investigator, are you?”

“No, officer, I’m a photographer.”

“So how do you know this and who-“

Riley placed a hand on Max’s chest to forestall any further comments from him, “Max just happened to see them there and he’s reporting it to you, as a good citizen.”

“Uh huh,” Liam leaned back in his chair as he returned his attention to Riley, “And how do you know about William Sloan hiring a PI?”

“I can’t reveal my sources,” She returned his gaze levelly.

“Riley, I’m going to need a little more to go on than your word.”

“Well, I would imagine you can pull security footage from the bar on the night in question.”

“We can and we will. It would be really helpful if you would just tell me the name of this PI.”

With a coy grin, she placed her elbow on his desk and leaned her chin in her hand, “And what do I get out of that deal?”

His mouth went dry as he properly identified the teasing lilt in her tone and the flirty flutter of her eyelashes. This woman was infuriating. She had no right to be so frustrating and alluring at the same damn time. She did things to him that he didn’t like to admit. But she was a reporter and had already proven that he couldn’t trust her. He hated that he knew exactly what it sounded like when she came and that he desperately wanted to hear it again.

Pushing his sudden arousal to the side, he shook his head, “Helping solve a murder? Isn’t that enough?”

“If I go around throwing my sources under the bus, they’ll stop telling me things.”

“Fine,” Liam blew out a frustrated sigh, “Is there anything you can tell me? Do you know the nature of Katie and Trent’s relationship? Was she cheating on her husband with him?”

“I don’t know if she was sleeping with him or not, but Trent and Katie used to be engaged!”

“Did they?”

“Yes, you can look that up. It’s a matter of public record.”

“Oh, I will,” he pushed away from his desk, walked around it, and motioned toward the exit, “Now, unless you have anything else useful to tell me-“

Riley and Max stood, but while Max headed for the exit, Riley turned back to Liam, laying a hand on his arm she lowered her voice, “I hope this is enough to take the suspicion off your brother.”

His face paled, “You heard all that?”

“Enough,” she shrugged, “For what it’s worth, if you say he didn’t do it, that’s good enough for me. I believe you.”

He stared at her hand on his arm for a long moment before lifting his eyes to her. He found nothing but sincerity there as he whispered, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she smiled as she dropped her hand away from his arm and turned to go.

“Riley, wait!” He reached for her and spun her back toward him, “Please…don’t print my brother’s name.”

“Liam….I have a duty as an investigative journalist-“

“Please!”

She hesitated. The vulnerability in his eyes and the pleading in his tone conspired to weaken her resolve. “Fine. I won’t print his name for now but once you narrow down a suspect, you tell me first!”

“Riley, you know I can’t-“

She placed her palm flat on his chest, “I’m not asking you to give me confidential information. All I’m asking is that once the information is cleared for release to the press, you slip it to me first!” Because fuck that smug bastard Neville. This was her story and she intended to scoop him on every detail. “Deal?”

Liam’s jaw clenched as he considered her offer. “As long as the information has been cleared through official channels, then fine, I’ll call you before I send it to public relations.”

She gave him that smile again. The one that made him feel like he could climb a mountain for her if she wanted him to. She leaned forward and went up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his cheek, “I think this is going to be a very mutually beneficial arrangement, Detective.”

He watched her walk toward the exit, and Max, who was waiting with his hands shoved in his pockets, giving Liam an appraising look.

Max placed his hand on the small of her back as they exited, shooting a glance back at Liam as he did so.

Interesting. Liam was suddenly curious about the nature of her relationship with her photographer. But there was no time to worry about it now. Right now, he had much bigger problems.

Liam’s head was spinning with the information he had just obtained. Far from exonerating his brother, this new piece of evidence could bury him further. Katie Sloan nee Vanderhilt wasn’t just Trenton Haye’s ex-fiancée, she was also his brother’s ex-girlfriend. If Katie Sloan was rekindling old flames, could she have fallen back into Leo’s bed? Pitted one lover against another?

With a sigh of trepidation, he pulled his phone out and dialed, “Leo, it’s Liam. I’m going to need you to come down to the station and answer some questions.”

[karahalloway]

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

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 (Coming Soon!)

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

At the bridal boutique: Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

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

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Out and About Par ici - This way

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

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Por mi amore?* - For my love? *This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

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

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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

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[angelasscribbles]

Daylight

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Riley x Readers Choice

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Infidelity. Angst.

Word Count: 547

A/N: This is for the @choicesprompts Song Rewrite Challenge. My song is Daylight by David Kushner. I heard this song and I knew I had to write something with it! I have left it up to the reader which man is which.

My other stuff: Master List.

I dress hurriedly in the darkening of my room, not bothering to turn on a light as the sun dips below the horizon. I’m late because I almost didn’t go. But my position rather requires it so here I am.

I turn and look back at my rumpled bed. Still warm from earlier. Her scent still lingers in the air. I shake my head and force myself to step through the doorway.

Another interminable ball. I’m going because I must. But she will be there.

As I leave my room and stride down the hall, I tell myself that it won’t matter. I’ll ignore her. It won’t happen again.

But I know it’s a lie.

I can't even look my best friend in the eye anymore. He’s like a brother to me, he’s the one person who has always been there for me. And I’m sleeping with his wife.

Guilt claws through me as I enter the room and he greets me as he always does. Genuinely, warmly. He trusts me and that trust sends shame twisting through my chest.

Every time I swear it's the last time but then I see her, and I'm lost again. Drowning in desire and despair.

I've tried to end it. I have fought myself so long and so hard. I’m exhausted, defeated. Then there she is. It always ends the same. Me looking down at her. Her looking up at me with those bright eyes, total surrender written all over her face.

I hate myself for what I’m doing to him. To her. She drowns in guilt too, yet it doesn’t end.

I’ve tried to move on but there is no one else. Not for me. And not for him.

I slap my best friend on the back, avoiding eye contact as I struggle not to look for her….and fail.

She smiles that smile that I know is only for me and all my resistance falls away. I smile back. This thing between us. I love it and I hate it at the same time.

I love her. I hate myself.

I beg God for forgiveness every night. But I know I would resist it if an out was actually presented to me. I don’t want out. Not really.

I just want her. But not like this. I’d ask her to leave him, but I know she won’t. And I don’t really want her to. Because as fucked up as it sounds, we both love him. Which is why he can never know. Which is why it has to stop.

But as I take her in my arms on the dance floor, I know it will never stop. Because I’m weak when it comes to her.

This is how I know God has forsaken me. I love them both, but to give one what they need is to betray the other. So I persist in this state of sin from which I can never atone.

I dip her low on the dancefloor and whisper in her ear, “It’s over.”

She agrees.

But we both know it’s only a matter of time until the next time. I sigh as I pull her back up, hug her close to my body, and let myself believe the lie, just for tonight.

It’s over.

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted- Blindsided (Chapter 1)

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 F!MC (Riley Brooks), hints of Liam x Madeleine

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.

A/N2: This has been heavily preread by a number of amazing people. There's so many to list, and most of you requested to be tagged anyway. But you know who you are, and your help and guidance has been crucial during this process.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Liam quickly made his way through the halls of the Applewood Estate, intent on reaching his destination. He had received a text from Maxwell requesting him to come to Lady Riley’s room. Although bewildered and slightly concerned, the Prince agreed to Maxwell's summons at such an early hour. 

He approached the door and knocked; Maxwell quickly opened it and ushered him inside without saying a word. Liam took notice of Maxwell’s red-rimmed, swollen eyes. His usual peppy demeanor was nowhere to be found, instead replaced with despondency. He began pacing back and forth anxiously in the space between the couch and the bed. 

As Liam entered the room, he saw Bertrand in a chair in the corner; his elbows were on his knees, his head rested in his palms. His shoulders subtly shook, and Liam swore he could hear his breath hitch. Bertrand did not stand for or acknowledge the Prince’s entrance, not that Liam wanted him to; it was just very un-Bertrand-like and gave Liam an uneasy feeling in his stomach. 

And he didn’t see Riley.

“Maxwell, what’s going on?” Liam asked as he took a couple of slow, cautious steps further inside.

“It’s…It’s Riley…”

Liam gave Maxwell a quizzical look. “What’s wrong? Where is she?” He felt his heart rate quicken immediately. The air in his lungs suddenly had a burning sensation with every breath he took. 

Maxwell stopped his movements and turned to him, “That’s just it… She’s… She’s gone…” he covered his face, as his emotions began spilling over. He took a deep, shaky breath before he started again, “I came to get her this morning to leave, and…”

“What do you mean, she’s gone? She’s here somewhere! Perhaps she’s at breakfast… o-or with Hana.” 

“Look in the closet! Look in the dresser! Everything’s gone!” Maxwell cried and resumed his earlier steps.

Liam turned and strode to the closet, stopping to flip on the light switch. Empty.

He rushed across the room to the dresser and ripped open all the drawers. Empty. 

Liam stood and stared wide-eyed at the empty drawers. He ran his trembling hands through his hair as his mind raced, trying helplessly to find a solution that made sense. However, he could hear no coherent thoughts at that moment over the sound of his heart as it thundered in his ears. The burn in his chest intensified; his windpipe felt as if it were slowly constricting with every labored breath he took.

“What?! No…. No…. You-you were supposed to leave in a little while, right? That’s why she packed all her belongings. She-she could have left before you or-”

Drake heard the commotion from his room next door and barged into the room. Liam turned from his spot by the dresser to face him, his usual stoic facade replaced with a distressed expression that made Drake’s anxiety heighten. Maxwell stopped his movements to face him, but quickly started again. Bertrand raised his gaze momentarily, but immediately put his head back in his hands once he saw who it was at the door. 

Drake slowly entered the room and cautiously approached Liam. “Um……… Everything alright here?” 

“No! They’re saying Riley’s gone! That’s… that’s absurd! I just spoke with her last night!” Liam barked. 

Drake’s eyes widened, but he shook his head. “No way! I would’ve heard her! I was right next door.” He turned to face Maxwell. “She’s here somewhere, Beaumont. Stop freaking people out over nothing! Did you even try calling her?!” 

“Of course, I tried calling her! I’m not a complete idiot! That’s how I found this!” Maxwell huffed as pulled a phone from his pocket.

Riley’s phone.

Both men froze and stared, perplexed, at the phone in Maxwell’s hand. They slowly turned their attention back to his face. Maxwell looked up to meet Liam’s gaze and saw the anger and confusion in his eyes. 

Liam had grown impatient and moved to where he stood in front of Maxwell. “I demand to know what is going on. NOW!” He bellowed as he leaned over the shorter man.

Maxwell winced at Liam’s volume. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath to stabilize himself before he started. “I knocked on the door like I always do, and she didn’t answer. I turned the doorknob just to see if it was open, and it was. So, I came in…” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was to no avail. “I looked around and noticed her stuff was gone, but it didn’t phase me at the time since we were supposed to leave soon... So I… I called her……”

“Out with it, Beaumont!” Drake shouted. 

Before Maxwell could respond, Bertrand piped up from his spot in the corner, head still in his hands, “Show them.” Both men snapped their heads over to Bertand, then slowly panned back to Maxwell, who had returned his gaze to the floor. 

When Maxwell met their eyesight again, his tears streamed freely down his face, “I could hear her phone ringing... I… I found it inside the bedside table…. And I found this with it…” He pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket, and carefully sat it on top of the phone.  

Liam took the device and paper gingerly. The room was silent, aside from heavy breaths of anticipation. He stared at the paper for what felt like hours before he slowly unfolded it. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces as he read it:

I’m sorry.

-R

A knock on his study door interrupted Liam from his daze. He spun away from his position at the window behind his desk and sat up straight in his chair. He busied his hands with a stack of papers that lay in front of him before he granted them entrance. 

“Hey, Li.” Liam looked up and saw Drake enter, and stood to shake his hand as he approached his desk. 

Liam headed towards the bar cart in the corner and poured a drink of scotch for himself and Drake. He took both glasses and went back to his desk; he handed Drake one as he went before he settled back into his chair. 

“So, what brings you by, Drake?”

“Oh, I was out and about, thought I’d stop by. I was actually hoping to bust you outta this place for a bit. Hit that bar we used to go to, even invited the Beaumonts.” 

Liam feigned shock. “You, Drake Walker, invited the Beaumonts?!”

“I can take it back.” Drake smirked with a shrug.

“No, I was just shocked you willingly want to hang out with Maxwell. And they’re actually going to come this time?”

“Max is. Sounded excited. He said he was more than ready to ‘trade the spreadsheets in for a dance floor’,” Drake rolled his eyes, “but it’ll be nice to see him, kinda miss that little fucker.”

“I agree. He always had a way of making things lighter. Well, before….” Liam trailed off and stared blankly past Drake to the fireplace. 

“Yeah, I know. I feel bad for them. But nobody saw that shit coming, nobody.” Drake sighed before continuing, “Look, man, let the past be the past. Stop sitting here sulking! Look to the future!”

“I don’t know what’s worse, thinking about the past, or a future with Madeleine.” Liam made a face of disgust. 

“Touche, but you’re a smart man! I know you can get out of that! I don’t know how, but I’m sure you can find a hidden Royal loophole or some shit!”

Liam let out a heavy breath. “I wish it were true, but at this moment, I am indeed engaged to Madeleine, with no end in sight.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try to be happy, Liam!” 

Liam ran a hand down his face before he responded, “I don’t think I know what happiness is anymore,” in a soft voice.

“Come on, Liam. Let’s go out and have some beers, like we used to! Forget about all the bullshit for one night? Especially before the engagement tour kicks off.” Drake suggested hopefully.

“I’ll have to let you know about that. Actually, I have a dinner meeting with the French ambassador, and I’m not sure how late it will be when we’re finished.” Liam gave Drake a sad smile. “But please make sure they stop by if they show up. They should not be trying to hide from me, anyway. I’m their friend. And if anyone understands and sympathizes with the mess they’ve found themselves in, it’s me.”

Drake returned Liam’s sad smile before he stood once more and extended his hand for a handshake. As their hands met, they heard a sharp knock at the door. Liam followed Drake across the room and patted him on the back as he did so. When he opened the door, both his and Drake’s jaws hit the floor.

“Olivia!?” they both gasped at once.

“Surprised to see me?” Olivia smirked as she strode past them into the room and sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. 

Liam and Drake stood, eyes wide and mouths agape, staring at her. She crossed her legs and rested her hands in her lap, and began tapping her manicured nails on her thigh. After a few moments, she rolled her eyes and quipped, “Most people usually greet one with a ‘hello’ or, in my case, ‘Greetings, esteemed Duchess Olivia Nevrakis’.”

Liam closed the door and he and Drake crossed the room to the set of chairs in front of the couch Olivia sat upon. They remained silent, each trying to gather their thoughts. 

Finally, Liam spoke. “Where have you been?” 

“Around.” 

Liam scoffed, “I was going to pick you but you fucking disappeared! You left me wondering why not one, but two of my suitors hightailed it!”

Olivia kept her tone neutral, despite Liam’s apparent anger. “I didn’t have a choice… I received a letter the night of your coronation. It said if I refused to leave, they would release a media narrative exposing my parents' true demise.” 

Liam felt indignant. “What?! But they died in a political assassination, Olivia! We’ve known this since we were children!”

“That’s what I thought as well, but along with the letter, I received evidence. They did not die protecting the Crown, they died trying to overthrow the Crown.” Olivia pulled a manila file folder from her bag. She opened it and put the letter, along with the proof, on the table in front of them. 

Liam scanned over every detail as his mind overflowed with questions. Olivia’s admission shook him, but he remained steadfast with his frustration over her secrecy. Drake sat next to him with his own stunned expression as his mind developed questions and assumptions of his own. 

As he continued to filter through the papers, Liam looked at Olivia with narrowed eyes and snapped, “Why didn’t you tell me?! I could have helped you!” 

Olivia looked away from Liam and quietly said, “I… held my parents on a pedestal for so long. To have all that information dumped on me at once…” she shook her head, “I just fled… I wish I hadn’t, but at the time…”

Although he continued to feel slightly frustrated Olivia hadn’t told him, Liam relented. “I wish you would have said something before you left, but I also understand your reasoning. You obviously know I had my own… things happen that night, so I cannot hold your reaction against you.”

Olivia didn’t respond, but nodded her head in acknowledgement. Liam continued, “Who sent you this?”

“I’m not sure. I tracked it through six different middlemen, but I’ve hit a dead end. All I know is whoever did this went to great lengths to keep their identity hidden.”

Olivia regarded her friend and King sitting in front of her closely, as he continued through the documents. Even before she started dropping truth bombs on him, he didn’t look like Liam. His eyes were tired, the bags notable. She noticed a forming 5 o’clock shadow on his face and saw that his forehead appeared permanently creased with worry lines. 

Olivia had been watching the news to see how Liam was faring during his first couple months as King. She could see his eyes, devoid of emotion, as he gave press interviews. He gave a forced smile, and his shoulders slouched ever so slightly. His voice missed that gusto he used to have, and his laughs were clearly a front. To anyone else, he was Liam, being the dutiful King. But Olivia knew him better than that. Even from afar, she could tell Riley’s sudden departure and the scandal had taken a toll on him. 

Olivia wasn’t sure how Liam felt about the rumor, or if he looked into her disappearance at all. She knew that approaching the subject could go a multitude of ways, but she had to take her chances. In the couple of months since Liam’s ascension, Olivia had plenty of time to piece things together. But Liam hadn’t known about the blackmail they had threatened her with. 

Olivia sat forward and tentatively asked, “Liam, what do you know about the Riley situation?” 

Liam scoffed, “What do you mean ‘Riley situation’? She disappeared! Left a note and vanished. But apparently not before fucking Tariq!” he huffed.

Okay, anger it is, Olivia thought to herself. She sat forward and leveled her eyes with his. “Did you do an investigation?”

“Bastien searched for her after she left and found nothing.” 

“But did you inspect the estate? Or her room? Any place that could have held some kind of trace?” 

“I was a little busy, Olivia. The Social Season couldn’t come to a standstill.” 

“I get that, but you didn’t think to investigate after the fact? You just accepted that Riley had apparently chosen to run off into the night with Tariq, of all people?”

“What was I supposed to do? Put the Social Season on hold hoping to find a ghost? Or waste time trying to find her after I took the throne, when I clearly had more important matters to attend to? She packed her shit and left without a word to anyone. And yes… apparently with Tariq.” Liam snapped as he shook his head

"Are you serious right now?" Olivia exasperated, her face in a completely dumbfounded expression. 

"There isn’t even any evidence to support this baffling theory you’ve concocted!”

“Oh, but there is, if you know what to look for,” Olivia smirked. 

“I don’t have time for this. I have a dinner meeting soon and I need to prepare.” Liam insisted as he stood from his chair and walked back to his desk. 

“You don’t find it at all odd that someone took photos of her from outside a fucking window? How did they even get such an angle when Riley’s room was on the second floor of the estate?” Olivia questioned from her position on the couch.

“Maybe they just got caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing.” Liam retorted, as he gathered stacks of paper on his desk. 

“Liam, man, I think you should hear her out…” Drake cautiously said as he stood from his chair and crossed the room to stand in front of Liam. 

“Why? Why should I?” Liam asked, face red with indignation, “You just told me to leave the past in the past. Now suddenly it’s okay?”

“Look, all I’m saying is it would make sense.” Liam gave Drake a scowl, but he continued, “I don’t want to believe that the Brooks we knew would do that! If there’s a chance that something happened to her, or she got set up, I wanna know…”

Liam squinted his eyes at Drake before he snapped, “Maybe we didn’t know her at all!!” 

“I call bullshit! I think you know deep down, she did not run away with fucking Tariq!” Olivia abruptly interjected. She had to count to ten in her head, as any sense of calm she had felt was quickly vanishing as Liam remained in denial.

In all honesty, Liam wanted to believe something was amiss in the beginning. When Bastien searched for her and found no signs of her in New York, it devastated Liam. He assumed she had left because the pressure of being with him was too great a burden to carry. He went through the last bit of the social season like the good Prince he was supposed to be. Although he felt numb, like a large portion of himself had disappeared with Riley.

Liam had thought of a last-minute plan to continue his search for her, but abandoned all efforts when the scandal came to light. His devastation turned to rage, mostly stemming from public humiliation. He knew the blame ultimately lay with himself for his reaction to the story, but it was easier to blame Riley; she was not around to defend herself, anyway, and no evidence proved otherwise.

Liam convinced himself that her affair with Tariq was the answer to the question of why Riley had left. Although, he often found his heart to be in turmoil with his head over the decision. 

Liam had since thrown himself into his work. He found the longer he kept his Crown on, the less time he spent spiraling into the ‘what ifs’. It was useless to fight against it, although he found it to be easier to ignore as time carried on.

More than that, he needed to mend the dent his reputation had suffered right off the bat. His reign began with disgrace and indignity; he was bound and determined he would not find himself back in that position again.

But as Liam stood there and listened to Olivia and Drake, he could physically feel the brief glimmer of hope he had buried so long ago start flickering within. It was incredibly subtle, but there nonetheless.

Liam sighed and reluctantly walked back to the chair across from Olivia, Drake close behind. 

“Okay. I’ll listen.” Liam said as he sat down, his tone neutral. 

Olivia pulled a set of the photos of Riley and Tariq out of her manila folder. Although they appeared substantially enlarged compared to the small tabloid size Liam and Drake had seen before.  

She presented them with an image, a closer shot of Riley and Tariq, Riley's back pressed against the window. She held it up to them and continued, "There’s no sign of physical affection on Riley’s part. See her arms? It looks as if they're directly at her sides, there's no extension to her elbows whatsoever. Not anything huge, but worth noting in my eyes, considering she isn’t touching him in any photo."

“Her touching him is the least of my worries here, Olivia.” Liam snapped.

Olivia picked up a different picture, another close up of Riley and Tariq, but their bodies had marginally turned. “This one, you can see her head turned slightly to the side. If you look closely, you can see discoloration around her eye, as well as what appears to be a laceration on her cheek.” She sat the photo on the table for Liam and Drake to see. 

“Could have been different lighting, a shadow, anything. This proves nothing.” Liam shook his head, his irritation escalating.  

Olivia did not say a word, only sat a photo on the table that was a full view of the entire window. The angle remained similar, but this was the only one where Riley and Tariq had completely changed positions; this time they stood face to face. Riley's back was nearly out of view, but a hand of Tariq's was around her waist. Her face was hidden facing the opposite direction, but Tariq wore a wide grin on his that was clear as day, even in the low lit night. But that is not what had been troubling Olivia the most. 

“This is the original. At first glance, all you would see is Tariq and Riley. But when you increase the exposure…” Olivia trailed off and reached for yet another photo; the same as before, but much brighter. 

Liam and Drake sat forward, each man hunting intently to see the relevance. Drake saw it first and gasped when he spotted it. Liam turned to Drake with a look of puzzlement, silently asking what he had found. Drake pointed to a corner of the photograph, away from Riley and Tariq.

“Is… is that?” Drake stammered.

“A person? Yes.” Olivia answered with certainty.

“Who is it?” 

“I can’t tell who it is. I spoke with someone about trying to do facial recognition, but they said because of the quality of the photo blown up, it wouldn’t be possible. The original is too dark to even recognize a face.”

“So it’s a dead end, and this has been a waste of time!” Liam exclaimed. He shook his head and sharply sighed before he continued, “Look, Olivia, I appreciate what you were trying to do, but this isn’t a mystery. She left.”

“You still don’t see it, do you?”

“No, I saw it. There’s an excellent possibility it’s once again just a shad-”

“Do not say it’s a fucking shadow, Liam! You can clearly see a person’s silhouette there!”

“But not prominent enough to be identified.” Liam said in a flat tone. 

Olivia rolled her eyes before she snapped, “Okay. So it’s unidentifiable. But can we talk about why there’s some random person in the corner watching while they’re apparently ‘having relations’?!”

Liam became mute, aside from his heavy breaths, the agitation he felt written all over his face. Although a part of him wanted to counter, he couldn’t establish a response to Olivia’s question.

Olivia smirked at Liam’s silence. “That’s what I thought.”

“I think it’s worth checking out…” Liam snapped his head over to Drake with a look of annoyance, but Drake continued. “You can’t deny there’s someone else in this picture, Liam!” 

“How do we know these are real and not fabricated?!”

Olivia narrowed her eyes at Liam. “You think I’d bring you doctored photos? Really?”

“I’m not saying you would purposefully! I'm only saying it's a possibility!” 

Drake answered, “We’ve spent all this time wondering what happened and why she left. We finally have some kind of lead, and you don’t want to check it out?”

Liam groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Even if I wanted to investigate further, once the Engagement Tour starts I will be incredibly busy. I don’t have the time, nor the patience, to investigate grainy photos.” He stood from his chair and rushed back to his desk. “I’m glad you’re here, Olivia. Hopefully, you’ll be joining us on the engagement tour. If you two will excuse me, I must be going.” 

Olivia and Drake watched as Liam quickly gathered his belongings, strode to the door, and slammed it shut behind him. They sat in silence for a few moments, each trying to gather their thoughts about the situation that sat in front of them. 

Drake finally quietly spoke. “You think something could’ve happened to her?”

Olivia sighed, her eyes softening at the question. “I really don’t know. I have a hunch that my blackmail and whatever happened to Riley share a relation. If I wouldn’t have left, there would have been two scandals that hit the news cycle that night. That doesn’t sound coincidental to me.”

“No, it doesn’t. But what do we do about Liam?”

“Has he been like this since the coronation?”

Drake exhaled and nodded his head. “Pretty much, yeah. He goes back and forth from depressed to straight up pissed off. I’ve never seen him so unhinged. After she first left, it was almost like he was grieving a loved one who had passed away.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, I very much remember watching Liam sulk in the corner with you all night at the Beaumont Bash.”

“Yeah. But after the coronation, you could almost see the switch flip. He wasn’t really sad anymore, just fucking enraged. Wouldn’t talk about her, wouldn’t even let me talk about her. He’d get irate and leave.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah… He’s calmed down a lot, but I know it’s eating him inside. He can sit here and tell us he doesn’t believe it, but I think he’s known from the beginning that something wasn’t right…”

A brief stillness overtook the room before Drake leaned forward and asked, “You know why he was so mad you left?” 

“Because he got stuck with she-demon?” Olivia chuckled.

“Well yeah, there’s that. But… he had a plan.” 

“A plan?” Olivia asked, her confusion prominent. 

“Yep… He was going to pick you so he could keep looking for Riley after the coronation.” 

Olivia’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

“That’s what he said, anyway. But after the scandal… He never spoke of it again. I don’t know if he gave up because he had to pick Madeleine, and felt like he couldn’t look for her or…” 

“I should be spiteful that I was the second choice to begin with, but I take the utmost satisfaction in knowing Madeleine was publicly the third choice.” Olivia laughed with a sneer. She continued, “But I don’t think for a second he truly believes that bullshit story. He’s only covering his own ass for how he reacted.”

“Oh yeah. Connie ripped him big time for that.” Drake stated with wide eyes. 

“I imagined so.”

A content silence overtook them, aside from the sounds of light rain as it tapped against the windows. Drake sat back, turned his head to the ceiling, and let out a breath of air. 

“I always wondered how she got out of there. There were so many people there, and I was in the room right next to hers…” Drake trailed off.

“And you didn’t hear her, or anything?”

“Not a peep.”

“That is odd.”

Drake sat up and faced Olivia. “I think we should check into this. I know Liam didn’t seem to believe the idea, but there has to be something out there. Some kind of clue, anything. Even if we find out, she really ran off with Tariq.” His face grimaced at the thought. 

“Oh, I plan to. The blackmail I received and whatever happened to Riley have to be connected, I just don’t know how, yet. But they’re messing with the Duchess of Lythikos, and I don’t take kindly to threats.” 

“Well, I wanna help.”

Drake’s phone chimed with a text message. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw that Maxwell had answered his earlier text. He quickly shot a response before he turned back to Olivia. “I’m gonna go meet Maxwell for a couple of drinks. You wanna come? Maybe Max knows something, or we can try to assemble a plan of some sort.”

Olivia debated it briefly before she let out a heavy breath. She rubbed her index finger and thumb over her nose and whispered to herself, “Zenobia give me strength.” 

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