There was no denying that by the time the pair was done with the appetizer, every person in the restaurant already knew who the two people sitting at the corner were. Professionals having lunch in their business suits, the waiters, and even the cook who prepared their meal tried their best to pretend that there was no important person in the room, but the quick sideways glances, stolen photos, and whispered observations betrayed their otherwise cool demeanor. It was precisely that instance, the feeling of being scrutinized like an exotic animal in a cage, that Luke disliked the most when in a room with commoners, even the schooled ones. It was as if those pairs of eyes were waiting to be graced with a glimpse of imperfection of the otherwise perfect portrait of the crown prince.

He was sure that there were criticisms to be told about the brunch date. Perhaps it would the choice of restaurant, the rather obvious disguise, the food he ordered for the two of them, the way his hair was fashionably mussed, or the expectations of the public that he did not meet. Of all these, the latter was the juiciest and most salable story. He was accustomed to circulating rumors and half-truths about him. It was alright, because he cannot please everybody, but it was his belief that that for every person that criticizes him was a person who praises his deeds. Instead of worrying about the general public’s image of him, Luke was more interested in how that morning’s charade would affect the queen’s opinion towards him.  

“But you are no longer poor, Ms. Black,” he said, examining a string of mozzarella as he cut a piece from his slice and pulled it to his face. Technically, her net worth had dramatically increased after she won the contest, and it would further improve after marrying Luke. He wondered if she was already resigned to the fact that poverty was her past and the good graces of the royal family was her future. “You own a royal suite, designer shoes and clothes, an army of maid servants. Your family is well compensated. If you would require your own transport, it will be provided for you. There is no longer a need to work a day in your life.” Except to carry in her womb and deliver into the world Luke’s heir. He pushed the piece of pizza in his mouth and chewed slowly. Her usefulness would end after the birth of New Rome’s little princes and princesses. [I]’Then you can marry nobility,’[/i] he remembered the queen saying. Just like she did after she killed her first husband, just like every other ruling monarch before her did. It was meant as an encouragement for Luke to go through with the engagement, a prize that the queen was dangling in front of his eyes saying that she would give her blessing to whoever of noble birth he wished to marry. Even Sophia Keller, who was seen by Queen Camilla as a bad influence on Luke could be his second wife when Rhiane was gone. 

Rhiane’s fate was sealed when she joined the contest. The whole kingdom was aware of what was at the end of the road looked like for the winner of the title princess elect, yet Rhiane voluntarily entered. If she herself had forfeited her life, then who was he to care? It should be the least of his worries. Besides, he didn’t even like the farmer girl. At the end of the day, what bothered Luke was the fact that he would precisely be like his mother and the murderers of the innocent before her.

“On the contrary,” he continued after swallowing his first bite together with the thoughts of the future, then leaned forward to emphasize his point. “You have everything. And whether I like it or not – we both know my sentiment on this issue – you even have me.” What more could she ask for? He wanted to ask but thought that it sounded like a product advertisement. With a napkin in hand, he reached towards the side of her lips and dabbed away a non-existent stain. “So now you have precious lot to lose, princess.”