Of course, he used her first name. There was no point in antagonizing his fiancée when in an hour she would have it in her hands the power to either keep his secret or divulge it to the kingdom. Not that he would let her get away with it if she did spill the beans but disclosing the whereabouts of his secret hideaway would cause an irreparable damage to both the island and his relationship with the princess elect. 

The crown prince paused midway in chewing the lobster he popped in his mouth to stare at the princess elect after short but rather effective reasoning that involved filling the gaps and triggering romantic fantasies. It just didn’t match. The woman who had blatantly disregarded the most basic of table manners was the same person as the princess who talked to him about how she planned to manipulate the public. If he did not know better, he would have thought that she was one of the noble born ladies who were informally schooled in the art of deceit. 

He only resumed eating after she was done talking about her less than malicious plan and motioned for Luce Viscomi to come closer. There might be merits in humoring the princess elect once in a while, Luke thought. For instance, when they were not fighting, he noticed that she seemed more inclined to perform her job as the ‘brand ambassador’ of the crown. Like when she singlehandedly started a rumor, which was not really a rumor, about the engaged couple already sharing the crown prince’s suite. He very nearly choked on a strand of linguini. Thankfully, there was a glass of water within reach.  

Narrowing his eyes at Rhiane, he added without looking at Ms. Viscomi, “While you’re at it, Ms. Manager, I need fresh change of clothes to be brought here. I’m using your shower, Rhiane.” Emphasis was placed on her name.

Ms. Viscomi’s eyes couldn’t have gone any wider or rounder. The woman had been working with the queen’s PR team for almost seven years. Before that opportunity arose, she was part of the royal court, being of noble birth as most of the trusted staff were. Needless to say, she had witnessed the crown prince’s development from the sweet little boy to the rebellious teenager up until the court nurtured in him an arrogant, self-absorbed, royal who saw himself above everyone else especially the commoners. Therefore, it didn’t surprise her that he left the royal engagement ball with his rumored favorite lover, nor was she shocked to find an irritated Luke when she first met with the newly engaged couple that morning. But after spending a day together, she wondered what was so special with this peasant that after only a day, she had made the crown prince decide that he was better off sharing his personal space with her. 

Still, she complied without voicing her questions. It was a material she could use anyway, which made her job a lot less stressful. At least the crown prince seemed to be cooperating.

“Are you sure that you are a farmer? No, the more appropriate question is: are farmers in New Rome this shrewd?” Luke was saying in a quiet voice as the maidservants led by Ms. Viscomi prepared to transfer Rhiane’s clothes to Luke’s suite. “I don’t recall giving you permission to make our sleeping arrangement public. Requesting your maid servants to transfer your belongings [i]discretely[/i] to my room is one thing, but declaring it to Luce Viscomi is insane.” The whole kingdom – his peers, his advisers, his so-called friends, his lady friends, Sophia –  would know of it for sure. Ms. Viscomi would personally see that nobody would be ignorant of the blooming relationship between the prince and the peasant. “I will appreciate it if you will inform me about your plans before you execute. Especially in matters that has to do with my life.” 

He placed his utensils down beside the unfinished plate of pasta and waited for her to leave the table before he would do so himself.