#you will not notice the fact that i missed details on plush jane on the first ask

[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

*Standing ominously nearby with a jug of milk*

1/10

better view of jane below

[minah-delacroix]

At any price (part V)

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah, Sungjae, Tyler, Tara, Ashleigh, Daniel, Jane, Mark, Jaehyun

Word count: 2 k

Wilde

“Minah,  we’re about to leave, come down now or you will have to drive yourself to your grandparents’” Tara warned from the foyer, where Jane, Jaehyun, Daniel, Tyler, Mark, and herself had been waiting for the Delacroix heiress for what it seemed to be an eternity —though Mark had pointed out it’d only been fifteen minutes.

“For God’s sake, calm down, T. I’m all ready” Minah spoke and all eyes turned to look at the top of the stairs, where she had made her appearance looking like taken straight from a runway, clad in a sexy Elie Saab crop top and short skirt ensemble of glittering burgundy sequins. A Stella McCartney fake fur coat rested on her shoulders and covered her bare arms up to where a pair of satin gloves hid her skin.

Everybody looked pretty much ready for the party, but the moment Minah stepped in, her friends suddenly looked underdressed or paling in comparison. Not even Jane’s see-through dress posed her much competition and even Jaehyun seemed to have sucked in a breath the moment Minah finally made it down the stairs.

“Wow, you look-” Tyler’s mind ran through a litany of adjectives from gorgeous to the cliched stunning, but when he eventually picked one Daniel was speaking for him.

“Overdressed” He deadpanned.

“You’ve never read Wilde, right?” Jane threw a nasty glare at the man and slid a hand in the crook of Jaehyun’s elbow, pulling him forward till she was close enough to wrap her free arm around Minah’s shoulders. “You look amazing, your grandfather is probably gonna pop a vein” She reassured, slightly pushing her friend toward the door.

Laughing, Minah hoped her grandfather would rather ignore her presence. One of the benefits of attending an event in a property bigger than a stadium was that avoiding people was not supposed to be that hard of a task.  

Minah was about to let Jane drag her outside the manor when Tyler cleared his throat. She broke from her friend’s hold and spun to face him, her smile vanishing when she took notice of how handsome he looked. She paused to look at him from head to toe. Tyler wore a black suit with gold details that caught the dim light of the entrance hall and gave him some sort of god-like glow. She had a brief recollection of standing in front of him at the winter ball of Le Rosey when they were teenagers and she had to gulp when she realized the frisson of electricity waving through her did not exist in high school.

“Is there a problem?” Minah asked, not knowing what else she could possibly say. Tyler laughed shaking his head and enjoying the confused expression on her face, he took her hand lightly into his and lead her to the limousine waiting for them.

Tara and Mark followed them, but before walking through the threshold the woman turned around, looking at Daniel inquisitively

“Why are you standing there? Aren’t you coming?”

“What did Wilde say?” He asked, as though Tara wasn’t looking at him with thinly veiled annoyance etched on her face.

“A good friend will always stab you in the front?” Tara offered, her face softening a bit as she spoke.

“No, babe, I think Jane meant, you can never be overdressed or overeducated.” Mark corrected his girlfriend as he slid an arm around her waist.

As Daniel slipped into the car and took the only available seat between Jaehyun and Mark, he thought to himself that Tyler’s little sister and Oscar Wilde were right. Watching Tyler practically wrapped around Minah, acting as though he would’ve kissed the floor she walked on really felt like a stab.

Closing doors

After briefly watching the garden's decoration —including the 25-feet tree that was supposed to be lit up at midnight— and having Tara gush about how the Delacroix Manor could as well fit the description of the fairy palace of some fantastic tale she’d been told as a kid, the group of friends split up in different directions. Tara and Mark met up with some of their college friends and were dragged by a very excited Arabella Black to greet their old classmates. Jane and Jaehyun had been summoned by Jane’s aunt and they were trapped in a business conversation with Minah’s great-aunt Adelaine, and Daniel had bumped into some old flame —or at least that was what Tara said— as soon as they set foot in the patio. That left Minah and Tyler walking into the Delacroix Manor on their own.

The first thing that caught their attention was the large group of children dressed in outfits that resembled terribly the unmistakable Vienna Boys' Choir uniform following a very stressed-looking man that Minah recognized as the bursar of Wiener Sängerknaben through the foyer.

“Don’t tell me, your family-“ Tyler scoffed in disbelief.

“They’re an NPO, they need help with their expenses and my family has the money to waste on ridiculous things like trees and flying a team of fifty people from Austria.” Minah said unapologetically, “Besides-“ She blocked Tyler’s way to stop him from walking further into the house “It sounds hypocritical coming from a man who has his own patissier and eats food engraved with his family’s coat of arms” she teased. “Not to mention the girls who offer to undress him before a bath like servants from the fourteenth century” She added, moving to the side and leading Tyler through the spacious hall where waiters served glasses of port and offered cocktails exclusively created for the occasion.

“For your information, I don’t need to pay anyone to undress me” Tyler replied defensively “And besides, they only offered because I told them you were a princess and they took it literally,” he said cheekily, giving Minah a lopsided smile.

Minah was so entertained that she didn’t notice Sungjae and Ashleigh arrive.  

____

It was nearly midnight when Tyler managed to save Minah from a boring conversation with Countess de La Condamine, an avid gossip better known as Radio One France. The middle-aged woman had been passed down a fortune almost as great as the Delacroix’s, but she surely lacked their manners and class, so when Tyler rang Minah from across the room, she sighed relieved to have an excuse to avoid answering questions about who the handsome man with Jane Durand was or why the granddaughter of Madame Amelia Wu was dating the son of Korean immigrants.

“Took you long enough,” Minah said moving through the crowd, her phone still pressed against her ears and her eyebrows raised judgmentally.  

Tyler laughed on the phone “I thought I would let you have some fun before interrupting” he also started working his way through the crowd to meet Minah halfway.

“As much fun as one can get being interrogated by the Gestapo” She scoffed on the other end of the line.

“So, tell me, Miss Delacroix, what’s the best spot to watch the Tree Lighting?”

“Meet me at the staircase, I know the best spot for it”

——

“Welcome to my hidden refuge,” Minah said ushering Tyler into a spacious suite on the top floor. The room had a sloping roof and huge floor to ceiling windows that gave views over the extensive gardens of the manor. Though the place was as equally elegant and expensive-looking as the rest of the house, there was a certain relaxed vibe to it. Tyler thought to himself that it had a lot to do with the plush sofas in pastel colors arranged opposite each other in front of the fireplace, where flames flickered. Or maybe it was the Christmas tree decorated with cute animals like owls, deers, and squirrels or the fact the suite smelled like a mixture of pine and lilies that reminded him of Minah’s room in the winter campus of Le Rosey.

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for so long and this is the first time I’m watching how the Delacroix kick off Christmas season” Tyler commented, admiring the scene through the window.

“Hey, here’s to new traditions” Minah handed him a glass of scotch and held her own glass up high.

“To new traditions” Tyler repeated, toasting with a flourish.

Minah watched delighted how the  Christmas lights were progressively lit up throughout the garden, offering quite a spectacle. Meanwhile, people started to gather around the patio as the Tree Lighting neared.

“This couldn’t get any better,” Tyler said, watching the hundreds of golden lanterns lighting up across the courtyard.

“Oh, no, believe me, it does” Minah pulled open the French doors and lead Tyler to the narrow balcony that reminiscent of the Parisian Haussmann buildings, was decorated with low, wrought-iron railings painted in black. “It’s the best view to the gardens”

“Not to mention I have the prettiest girl in this party beside me” The corners of Tyler’s mouth curled up, making a soft laugh escape from Minah’s lips.

“Oh, shut up”

“Make me” Tyler closed the space between them, enjoying the feel of Minah’s skin as he slid his hands around her waist. She tipped her head in return, showing her neck for Tyler’s lips to attack. The next bit seemed quite inevitable, but then, the distant sound of a giggle and moaning caused Minah to push Tyler so abruptly he nearly fell on his bottom.

Minah mindlessly rushed through the balcony and Tyler’s voice floated behind her as she turned the corner, trying to stop her. Whether he could anticipate the scene that was about to unfold in front of them or not, it was already too late when he caught up with Minah. She’d already caught Sungjae and Ashleigh having sex in what once was supposed to be their secret spot.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” Minah’s jaw dropped open “Whatever happened to setting boundaries?” She could only hear the words fell past her lips as though some stranger was speaking for her because her attention was focused on the way Sungjae was still gripping Ashleigh's hips and all of a sudden images from the past four years flashed before her eyes.  His lips pressing into the skin of her neck, lips eagerly making their way down her body, the way he whispered love phrases into her ear. The weight of the memories was enough to make Minah gasp for air, as if some invisible force was preventing her from breathing.

“This is not what it-“ Sungjae began.

“Wait, does this mean you two used to do what we were just doing up here?” Ashleigh questioned, eyes on Sungjae as she tried to hide behind him.

“Every year before the Tree Lighting Ceremony” Minah shook her head “This is my house, I’ve marked my territory all over this roof” She stated shamelessly, although she could barely keep her voice even.

“Is that why you brought him up here?” Sungjae glared at a spot behind Minah, which she assumed was where Tyler stood.

“No!” Minah denied with a scoff.

“Why do you care?” Ashleigh asked covering her scrawny figure with Sungjae’s shirt.

“I don’t” Sungjae replied defensively “It doesn’t mean anything”

At this point, Minah was surprised there was no steam escaping her nostrils. Feeling anger wash over her, she let out a forced, vicious laugh.

“Yes, he is right. It doesn’t mean anything” Minah picked Ashleigh’s polyester top from the floor and something that she recognized as one of Sungjae’s many black blazers “Clearly nothing is sacred anymore”

“Minah-“ Whatever Sungjae was planning to say, he didn’t because Minah turned around and threw their clothes over the railing.

“I should’ve listened to Tara when she told me to close the door on you” Minah inhaled sharply, walked through the balcony’s doors, and shut them close in his face, securing them from inside. As she turned around she could hear Sungjae’s voice calling after her, but surprisingly enough all she could think of was that she needed to find Tyler and head back home.

...

[thespecialrelationship-phff]

Chapter 4

FLOTUS POV—4 weeks until Invictus

It takes a week for shit to hit the fan.

It’s a Thursday morning, I’m sitting in my office when my phone rings. Through the open door I hear my Secretary answer it, Office of the First Lady

A pause and then, Oh, wow, uh yes sir.

I wince. Sir can only mean one of two things and neither are good options. A second later my secretary has popped her head in, “Good morning Miss, pardon the interruption but that was the President on the phone.”

“Personally?” I ask, surprised. My father rarely uses my office phone to reach me. If he’s calling it’s usually my cell phone.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Well this can’t be good.” I stand, closing my laptop. “Do you know where Anna is?”

“No Miss.”

“It just keeps getting better and better. “If she comes back just let her know I’m headed to the Oval.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you.”

And I begin the long walk from the East Wing, where I plan parties, to the West Wing, where my father runs the country. I’m followed by my two secret service agents, closely on my heels.

We take the elevator down to the lobby of the East Wing, the dark paneled room, empty this morning.  Then we walk down the East Collonade, enclosed, unlike its counterpart. The wall of windows does little to keep out the April chill. I suppose it will be nice to enjoy the sunshine of Orlando in a few weeks.

My heels click and echo across the tiled floor of the visitor’s lobby. The lobby connects to the ground floor of the residence which will then lead me to the West Wing. Coincidentally my office is one of the farthest rooms from my father’s office. I imagine that the separation has kept many Presidential marriages alive. Today though, it’s just a pain for my feet.

I open the door and walk into the vaulted center hall. I shiver, it’s always cold and a bit gloomy down here. Not to mention that the marble faced walls are dated, old-looking. Perhaps next term we could redecorate.  I’m sure that’s a project Jenkins would love for me to waste my time on.

The plush carpet muffles the sound of my heels as I keep walking. Belatedly, I notice the dividers towards the end of the hall.  The staff only puts those up if there’s going to be…

A door creaks open followed by the sound of shuffling feet and then a booming voice, “Yes, that was the Vermeil Room, or sometimes known at the Gold Room.”

A tour. For fuck’s sake.

I’m walking swiftly trying to cut in front of the group but the tour guide sees me. She’s one of the older women who has been here longer than I’ve been alive. Unfortunately for me she’s part of the generation that believes in the duty of the First Lady to see and be seen. “Or casually known as the First Ladies Room, due to the number of portraits of First Ladies.  Speaking of which, we’ve run into a special guest.”

The group files out as I wait patiently, caught in the docent’s trap. We both know that I can’t leave now. My secret service detail step to either side of me and a few steps back. Far enough to be unobtrusive, but near enough to help.

The group ohs and awes when they notice me. I smile and wave slightly.

The guide clears her throat, “May I introduce Miss Margaret Kennedy Penelope Frances Conrad Randolph, First Lady of the United States.”

Wow, I can’t believe she went with the full name. Again, I smile, noticing that a few people are frantically fumble for their cell phones. “Welcome to the White House, I hope you’re enjoying your tour. My father and I consider it a privilege to be able to open the Residence to tours.” I recite the speech that was written for this very occasion.

The group of large, probably Midwestern tourists continue to stare at me. I nod slowly, “Well then.  Unfortunately, I’m on my way to a meeting with the President.” The word elicits the response I knew it would, wide eyes, nervous glances. It’s really too easy.

“Perhaps just one photo for the group?” The tour guide says, shit I really should remember her name.

“Of course,” I say looking at the eager faces of the group. My smile is plastered on, “Why don’t you hold the camera, uh Jane.”

A little boy towards the front whispers, “I thought her name was Mary.”

Oh fuck all.

I chuckle, a lie quickly springing to my lips, “Oh, it is. That’s just my nickname for her since she’s just so sunny, like a June day.”

It’s absolute bullshit but Mary doesn’t say anything. She knows it’s her duty to make me look good. Luckily the little boy is satisfied.

I stand in the middle of the group and they all crowd around.  We take a few photos and I promise to post them on twitter for the families to have. As I turn to leave a little girl with bright red hair blurts out, “Are you dating Prince Harry?”

The question throws me for a moment. I almost ignore the question until I see that the whole group is waiting for the answer. Usually, questions like these are dismissed by the adults of the group as childish fantasies. But this time it isn’t.

“Oh, no we’re not.” I say. “We’re working together on the Invictus Games.”

“But the internet-” A woman, I’m assuming her mother places a hand on her shoulder. The little girl is quiet.

I think I know why I’m being called into dad’s office.

As the awkward silence descends on the group I realize I have to salvage the situation or this is all the group will remember. “He’s very nice though and I’ll be seeing him again in Orlando.  Have you been there?”

She nods.

“Well in a few weeks the city will host the Invictus Games.  All of you should tune in, it should be great.” Smiling, I step back slightly. “Please, enjoy the rest of your tour.”

With that I leave them, quickening my pace slightly.  The last thing I need is to be stopped by another tour. My brain is spinning. Obviously there’s something in the news today about Harry and I.

I had thought we escaped with little press since it’s been a week since the visit.  Apparently not.

The palm court is thankfully empty and I choose to use the colonnade instead of walking through the press offices. A little chill is worth avoiding the prying eyes and questions of the press corps.

The agents open the doors and I pass into the West Wing, gone is the relative tranquility of the East Wing or Residence. The West Wing is never tranquil. I walk through the rather small corridors, assistants and interns pause as I walk past. It’s odd, most of them are around my age.

I follow the familiar hall to the secretary’s office, the gateway to the President.

“Morning Beth.” I wave. “I believe I was summoned.”

Beth was hired on during the transition. Truthfully, I don’t think anyone knows much about her at least not much beyond the fact that she came highly recommended from some high-powered law firm. She’s a force of nature in her smart business suits and tightly coiffed hair.  There are very few people who can inspire fear in the hearts of Washington’s elite and Beth is one of them.

“Yes, just one more minute.” She smiles. “You look beautiful today.”

“Thanks. I suppose I’m not dressed for an Oval Office meeting.” I say, glancing down at my over-the-knee boots.  

“Nonsense.” She says. “You can go in now.”

“Thank you.” I walk through the thick door leaving my secret service detail behind.

Walking into the Oval Office is still a little jarring even three years after we first moved in. I can't help it, I don't think anyone can. It exudes confidence and power.  The plain beige walls aren't ornately decorated nothing in the room is, and yet it's intimidating as if it was gilded. The cream contrasts beautifully with the deep blues of the curtains and rugs.  

Of course, it doesn’t help when it’s your father sitting behind the large, dark wooden desk. This really isn’t going to be good. He’s in full presidential mood. If this was a casual call he would be sitting on one of the couches. To make matters worse, Jenkins is standing just off to his left.

He looks up when I walk in. “You’re late.”

“I ran into a tour group, dad.”

“I see.’ He gestures to the delicate chair in front of his desk, “Come sit Margaret.”

I take the seat offered and look at my dad. He’s in a full suit, immaculately tailored, his eyes are tired. In the last few months the strain of the job has really started to show on his face.

“So what’s going on?”  I ask, even though I already have a good idea.

“It’s about Invictus.”

“I’m sure it will blow over, gossip always does.”

Both men look at me as if I’ve grown a second head.

Dad speaks first. “Margaret, what are you talking about?”

I narrow my eyes, not the reaction I was expecting. “What are you talking about?”

Jenkins steps forward, “I received your official and final schedule for the Invictus Games from Kensington Palace.”

I stay silent, waiting for him to reveal more. Instead he hands a sheet of paper to me. I scan over the minimalist document. When I return to the top of the page I have to school my features.

May 8th:

 7:00 AM Interview with Ramona Robinson (also attending HRH Prince Henry of Wales)

6:00 PM Opening Ceremonies begin—opening remarks FLOTUS

He did it, just like he said it would. Triumph washes over me. I’m going to make a speech. I could get my voice back.

The silence apparently eats away at Jenkins. “They have you scheduled for a joint interview and a speech.”

“I see.”

I’m going to pretend nothing is wrong with the arrangement as is. Even though we all know an interview with me will make headlines not to mention a speech.  It’s their own fault really. They’ve kept me from the public for this long.

“They didn’t run this through my office.” Jenkins practically growls.

His office? Fuck this.

I sit up straight and glare at him, “I think Kensington went through my office since the appearance doesn’t involve the President and therefore not the President’s office.”

“That’s not how it’s done.”

I shrug, “What would you like me to do?”

Jenkins looks grave, but smug. “Decline.”

My eyes widen then glance to my dad. He’s looking at me thoughtfully. I wait for a second, wondering if he’ll disagree. Quickly, I realize he’s on Jenkin’s side, hence why he’s here.

I’m giving him an opportunity to be on my side, to fulfil his promise to me. But he sits there, staring at me impassively.

So, this is how it’s going to be. I cross my arms. “That might be a little rude. We’re a month away from the games.”

“They’ll get over it.”

“Harry was very adamant about having my speak.”

“So it’s Harry now?” My dad finally speaks up. He sounds just like he did when I brought my first boyfriend home

“Really, dad?”

He shrugs, smirking a little bit. I figure it won’t do any good to remind him that I’m almost thirty years old.

Jenkins clears his throat, “Sir, we have a meeting with the joint chiefs in a few minutes. We should resolve this.”

My dad nods, standing. “Margaret, do you want to do the interview and the speech?”

“I think it would be a good gesture towards the Games and the Royal Family.” It’s the appropriate answer.  The other answer is hell yes I want to do it.

“Keep it.” He strides around the desk and places a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll lend you my speech writer.”

“Thanks dad.”

He nods, “Now go, I don’t like the way that General Mitchum looks at you.” I know he’s only half joking about the General. “And send in Beth as well please.”

“Of course.”

I step out into the secretary’s room and let out a breath I had no idea I had been holding. Dear God, that was nerve-wracking. “Miss?” Anna is standing there.

“And where the fuck have you been?” I demand.

“I think there’s something you need to see Miss.” Anna is holding her tablet out to me as I begin walking the trek back to the East Wing.

“What?” I ask as hit the colonnade.

“It’s about the trip to-”

“Miss Randolph!” I curse. Jenkins has followed me down the colonnade. Anna and I both turn. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“Yes?” I say tersely.

“These are for you.” He hands me a stack of magazines and newspapers. “You’re front-page news, not like you aren’t accustomed to it, but nevertheless congratulations.”

I ignore his taunting words and focus on the stack of publications he’s handed me. People happens to be on the top of stack. It’s a split picture of Harry and I with the bold lettering ‘ROYAL ROMANCE’ emblazoned across the tops of our head.

Today is just not my day.

I don’t have to look through the rest of the stack to know they hold more of the same. Moreover, I refuse to stand here and read them in front of Jenkins’ ugly face.

“We’re not going to issue a correction.” I say.  It’s not a question, it’s a statement. If my Office bothered to address every tabloid they wouldn’t be doing much else.

“No. We’re not.” Jenkins smiles. “And these are only the print sources. I’m sure Anna has the digital ones for you.”

He’s really starting to get on my fucking nerves.

I hand the folder to Anna who staggers under the weight of it for a second.

“Being a sore loser isn’t attractive Jenkins.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says shrugging.

But he does. He’s pissy that I bested him in front of my dad this morning. For once in the last three and a half years he didn’t get what he wanted. Boo-fucking hoo.

I realize I have nothing else to say to him today. I walk away Anna trailing at my heels.

She knows well enough to not say anything, at least not yet.

When we pass through the residence I stop and veer upstairs. I don’t feel like going over this in the East Wing offices.

We arrive in my bedroom, “Anna, set those things down in the sitting room. I just want to take off these boots.

Carefully I tuck my boots in the storage beneath the large federal style bed that dominates my bedroom, usually referred to as the Queen’s bedroom. I preferred the lighter federal style to the dark Victorian décor of the Lincoln bedroom.

When we moved in I simply asked that the antique furniture be reupholstered with light blues and dark creams instead of the ghastly green that was in here before.

“Kennedy?” Anna calls.

“I’m coming.” I grab a bottle of wine I have stored in one of the cabinets. I think the secret service pretends that they don’t know that I have it. I appreciate the semblance of privacy. “Wine?”

“I’m fine Kennedy.”

I sit down and sip. “Okay, how bad is it?”

“Well…” Anna fans out the magazines and swipes through her tablet. “You’re on the cover of every major domestic tabloid and made it into the fluff sections of the few major ones, the Times, Journal and the Washington Post. Internationally, the coverage is there just not as strong.”

“They even picked up this gossip?” I ask incredulously.

“Affirmative.”

“And what are they saying?”

“Most of the tabloids are running a variation of the instant chemistry angle and that the two of you are excited to see one another at the Games.”

At least they’re talking about the games, I suppose. So it’s not a total loss. “How about the actual newspapers?”

“Unfortunately those stories allude to a possible conflict of interest.”

“What?”

“Well they cite sources that say you’re speaking and giving interviews, something you don’t normally do and they’re wondering why.”

“They think Harry is motivating me.”

“Exactly.”

Today keeps getting better and better. And here I thought people would be anticipating a more public role.

“But, they are also looking forward to your involvement.”

I sigh, “Find me a British publication please. I’ll read People first I suppose.”

I settle in to read the bullshit. Usually, I stay away from the tabloids but this is unchartered territory for me. When I was seeing Trevor I got a little coverage, but nothing like this.

London-U.K. Apparently sparks flew last week when POTUS and FLOTUS visited the United Kingdom. The world anxiously watched Margaret Randolph’s first visit overseas but no one quite expected this. Inside sources reveal that Margaret and Prince Harry hit it off. Apparently, Prince Harry had always had a bit of a crush on the eligible bachelorette and meeting her in person did not disappoint.

           Photos from inside Kensington 1A, reveal the two speaking closely, chuckling over something. There’s a definitive sparkle in the Prince’s eyes.

           And now it seems the feeling is reciprocated. The First Lady scheduled a brunch meeting for the following day, squeezing in some extra one-on-one time into her busy schedule. She arrived to the trendy restaurant off of Grosvenor Square in a pair of tight skinny jeans, a white floral blouse and a camel hair jacket we need in our closets.

           Other diners remarked that the two enjoyed a long brunch complete with two bottles of prosecco! The couple were laughing, the source continued, “Overall I would describe the atmosphere as flirtatious. It seemed like a date.” A date!

           Prince Harry and the First Lady are officially our favorite couple.  We’re already designing our hats for this royal wedding…who knows.

When I finish I down my glass of wine before pouring another one. That was mind-numbingly painful. How do people actually believe this nonsense.

“So brunch is turning out to be damning.” I remark.

“Yes, I think that is fueling most of these stories. Apparently the waiter was not discreet.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” She hands me the tablet. “Here’s the DailyMail.”

“Oh goody.”

ROYAL ROMANCE: Prince Harry and First Lady, Margaret Randolph meet for romantic brunch after stuffy Kensington Palace introduction.

§  Clandestine brunch arranged by FLOTUS

§  Prince Harry and Margaret were “flirtatious” while sharing bottles of prosecco

§  Sources say FLOTUS was smitten with the gallant Prince

           Apparently, FLOTUS prefers one-on-one time with the Prince. After what Kensington Palace referred to as a productive dinner between the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, Prince Harry and the First family, it seems that the First Lady wanted to be ore productive.

           The Prince and Margaret Randolph met at a trendy restaurant off Grosevnor Square.  The brunch was not on the First Lady’s official agenda. That didn’t stop a crowd of paparazzi and admirers from camping outside the restaurant. The First Lady’s first overseas tour was closely followed by her international fan base.

           Twitter was nothing short of obsessing over photos of the couple from the brunch.  Multiple users proclaimed that the two were perfect for one another. And it didn’t take long for the photoshops to come rolling in. Miss Randolph does pull off a tiara rather well.

           Without question international eyes will be fixed on Orlando in just four short weeks when the potential lovers reunite.

“This is nauseating.”

“I would agree Miss.”

“Kensington hasn’t commented on any of this correct?”

“They’ve issued their standard, ‘Kensington Palace does not comment on the personal life of members of the Royal Family.”

“They realize that just makes it worse, right? If they had called it a business meeting, we could have deflected it.”

“Perhaps they didn’t want it deflected? Apparently you’re worth more as a potential love interest than a First Lady.”

I realize she’s right. By flirting and being casual I played right into Harry’s hands. I should have stayed distant, remote. So much for being the user for a change. “God dammit.”

“Kennedy?”

“The good news is that I’ve confirmed the interview and speech. Jenkins tried to take it away, it didn’t work.”

“Good.”

I nod, thinking over the best way to minimize this romantic drama from here. “I just have to be the picture of professionalism during the Games. I must prove that I’m in control. I’m not doing the speech and interview for anyone else but me.”

Anna coughs, “Um and the veterans of course.”

I blink, “Right, well that goes without saying.”

Two weeks later things have begun to settle down.  The papers have stopped dragging out the no story of Harry and I’s relationship, for now. I know that it will pick up again once we get to Orlando. But I have my plan, be professional, distant and untouchable.

Most of all don’t flirt with him. I must resist that urge.

I’m in my office prepping for an engagement later today when there’s a knock on my door. ''Come in.''

Anna walks in with a rather concerned look on her face, unusual for her. ''Miss, Prince Harry has been calling you for the last thirty minutes or so.''

''What do you mean?'' I blurt out.  Immediately my eyes stray to the phone on my desk, which has been mercifully silent all morning. ''My phone hasn’t rang.''  And then I add. ''Also, why would he be calling me?''

''He's calling on your personal cell phone.''

“My cell-” My office is silent as her words sink in. Then I explode. “My fucking cell phone?”  

To her credit Anna doesn’t flinch. ''I'm investigating it Miss. I have confirmed that is indeed the Prince calling though, it would be best to answer it.''

I shake my head, ''Why on earth would he call me on my cell?''

Probably because I flirted a little too much.

The giggling, my hand on his hand, the entire end of the brunch. Yeah, he’s probably calling to set up a fucking date.

I take a few deep breaths. ''Find out who gave him my number and start with Jenkins.  He's up to no good.''

''As usual.''

I take one more deep breath and focus on my cellphone. I had silenced it this morning but looking at it now I can see the numerous missed calls from an international number. Here goes nothing, I return the call.

''Hello?'' The familiar voice comes across the line.  

''Prince Harry? It's Ke- Margaret Randolph, I'm returning your many calls.''

''Ah, yes Margaret.  Thank you for returning my call.'' I wince at his use of my first name or maybe it's the way he says my name. His accent somehow adds another syllable, drawing it out just slightly with a bit of lilt that threatens to bring a smile to my face.

I revert to formalities for distance. ''Of course, Your Royal Highness.''

''Of course I wouldn’t have had to make so many calls if you had answered one of the first five you know before I had to make the next ten.''

He says the sentence so dryly that for a moment I think he's actually offended. If anyone should be offended…

''That was sarcasm Margaret.''

And I can perfectly imagine the smile on his face as he says it. This man is going to kill me.

I cough slightly. ''Well good. To what do I owe this pleasure, on my personal cell phone nonetheless.''

He chuckles, a purely masculine sound. ''Your father's chief of staff gave it to me.  His name was Steve something or other I figured it would be alright.''

''Right, of course.'' I immediately say. No one outside of the White House needs to know how much I despise Jenkins.  

''And considering we'll be working together. It might be easier to forego some of the security surrounding both of our persons. When we get to Orlando we'll have easy access to each other.''

I try not to visualize any alternative scenarios for the words 'easy access to each other.' Did I imagine that his voice sounds a little deeper over the phone? I must have.

''Margaret?''

''Oh, sorry.  Yes, that makes sense.''

''Lovely. So the reason I called was that we are about to post the full video of your challenge and our response. Would you like to watch it first?''

Yes, but I don't really want to prolong this conversation any longer. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay steady against his accent. ''I'll watch it on the internet a bit later. I trust that our teams did a good job.''

''Come on, it will just take a moment.'' There's pleading in his voice but he's clearly joking.

''Okay, send it to me.''  I rattle off my e-mail and sure enough there's an email with an attachment at the very top.

I play the video, it starts with what's obviously a brochure for the Invictus Games and Harry's voice. The camera pans out and Harry isn’t alone. He's sitting next to the f-ing Queen. ''Oh fuck me.'' I curse under my breath.

''Did you say something?''

''Nope!'' I say a little too loudly. ''Looks great so far!''

Harry's phone rings and he says that it's a message from me. The short video my dad and I made last week plays.  I roll my eyes, not even the president of the United States can make that face look cool. But it's definitely a challenge and most people will probably think it's funny. When our video is over the Queen looks at Harry, brow raised and goes 'Oh really?'  Harry turns to the camera and 'drops' the mic. Oh my god, the internet is going to lose their shit.

When the video is finished I try to take a moment to fully comprehend everything: the bond between the Queen and Harry, the Queen's side-eye (which was one point) and that challenging glint in Harry's eyes. Even through a computer screen he manages to be mesmeric.  

''So, what do you think?''

''It looks great.'' I decide to say, then focus on the practical. I can't quite say I'm jealous that your social media video was better than ours or that I found it difficult to drag my eyes away from your stupidly handsome face. ''It will definitely generate interest.''

There's a long heavy pause before he answers. ''Yes, it definitely will.''

Well this feels awkward now. I wonder if I've hurt his feelings.

''Um, please give our thanks to the Queen. It was a surprise seeing her.''

''Believe it or not it didn’t take that much convincing.'' He says, his voice back to that friendly quality. ''She's planning on winning you know.''

''To finally put us colonists in our place?'' The teasing phrase slips out before I can stop it. My dad wasn’t kidding when he said we were competitive.

He scoffs, ''Please, allowing you all to leave the Empire was the best thing to happen to us.''

''Oh was it now?'' I laugh lightly. ''Spending 80 million pounds and fighting for eight years is allowing? And here I thought we spoke the same language.''

''You do speak the Queen's English and the language of the Bard, you're welcome.''  His words are teasing and quick. And of course he ignores my statistics about the cost of the revolution.  

He laughs loudly now.  Ashamed to say that even his laugh is infectious and I start to laugh as well. It feels good to laugh even if I'm not quite sure what I'm laughing about at this point. Something about the inane conversation I'm having with a Prince of our former colonial motherland.

Harry eventually quiets, ''This went better than I thought it would Mar.''

The shortened name draws me back to my sentences. Focus Margaret, anything much more than a friendship with him is going to ruin everything. I can't let his enticing, no annoying, laughter or banter make me forget that.

“I was nervous it would be awkward…” belatedly I realize he’s still speaking.

“Awkward?”

“All of the tabloids a few weeks ago.” He says and I know he’s referring to our brief stint as the top news story.

“Yes, that was quite surprising.”

He’s not speaking and I’m wondering if he waiting for me to say something else. Resolutely, I keep my mouth shut, less chance of me saying something dumb, or flirtatious that way.

He sighs, “Any publicity is good publicity I suppose.”

The familiar annoyance creeps up again. He could at least have the courtesy to admit that he’s using me. Could at least do me the respect of not treating me like an idiot. But he doesn’t, he’s just like the others.

If I remember that it will be easy to maintain the distance no matter how charming he might be.

''Yes, well I'm glad you thought so sir.'' I respond briskly. ''Is there anything else you needed from me today?''

There's silence on the other end, my abrupt change in tone no doubt causing it. ''Uh, no I don't think so.''

''Perfect. Then the next time I'll see you is in Orlando.''

''Well, yes but-''

''Unless your office has bestowed any other duties upon me or my staff.'' The sentence ends up sounding a little harsher than I originally intended. I bite my lip.

''No, we do not.''

''Then I'll see you in Orlando.'' I infuse some cheer and gratitude in my voice. ''And of course, thank you to Her Majesty, it was an honor starring with her.''

''Well yes, and thank you to your father as-'' I hang up.

I stare my cell phone like it's betrayed me for a few seconds before I scream in frustration. Anna immediately bursts in followed by a secret service agent. ''Miss?''

''I'm fine, I'm fine.'' I wave the agent away with a smile. ''Can you stay Anna?''

''Yes Miss. Is there a problem?''

''Prince Harry is the problem.''

''Oh?''

I sigh, ''He's annoys me, doesn’t think much of me.''

A perfectly arched eyebrow raises, ''Oh?''

So Anna has never been overly loquacious. ''But still manages to be so damn charming.''

''I'm confused Miss.''

I hold my head in my hands for a second, desiring nothing more than a large, a very large margarita.  ''Just make sure I remember that I care more about my reputation, and making a difference than a pretty face.''

''I doubt you'll forget that.''

''Just remind me on the off chance I do.'' I groan. ''It's not like we would even get along.  We're complete opposites.”

''Complete opposites.'' Anna agrees vehemently.

I look up quickly, ''What do you mean by that?''

She blinks, ''Just that like you said,'' She stutters for a moment. ''You and the Prince have completely different approaches to life.''

''Riiiiiiiiight.''  

Chapter 3                                                                                             Chapter 5