@vietmyke No, not yet. The invite expired. Please send me a new one :) thanks!
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Luke preferred the ride back to the castle to be as serene and as quick as possible after the eventful brunch turned lunch date. His tolerance for common people, regardless of their standing in the society, had exceeded its limits after all those camera flashes, inquisitive stares, and attempts to strike a conversation. Add to the list the audacity of a lowborn woman to make him wait. He wondered how much longer the farmer girl would have lasted had he not taken her away by force. That she did not fight him back using that brazen tongue of hers told him that she was worse than she would let show. It was just fitting that she thanked him for saving her from the corner she had backed herself against.
The Austre, dropping its guise as just a regular craft, coasted freely on the highway with its two front escorts clearing the way. Other vehicles shifted to either side of the highway to give way to the VIP as was mandated in the law. Even the business district, which had the busiest air and land highways, found a way to let the convoy pass without pause. No red light stopped them, not even the speed limit could limit their flight.
Just then, he caught a subtle motion of his passenger from the corner of his eye and at the same time the smell of pastries wafted from the small package she was carrying. He stole a sideways look, careful not to be interpreted as overly interested in her dessert. From his peripheral view, he watched her take a dainty bite and looked pleased. She didn’t seem to like either the food he ordered for her at the restaurant, his romantic attention, and his money – to her, all of these were less than the box of cannoli. Surely there was something he was missing. And perhaps he should try one.
Without asking permission, without even thinking that it was necessary to ask permission, Luke’s right hand dove in the box. His eyes met hers. For a split second, he thought that she was going to protest, but being a man of action that he was, he didn’t give her a chance to say anything. Without cutting eye contact, the crown prince bit the treat in half then stuffed the other half in his mouth, allowing the creamy, sweet, slightly tangy taste, with hints of chocolate fill his mouth. “Not bad.” He shrugged, then tearing his stare from her, fished for another cannolo.
The couple together with their escorts arrived earlier than expected. Their arrival was greeted by a very happy looking Ms. Viscomi, a nurse, and a wheel chair. The appointed Image Manager was cradling her computer and grinning ear to ear as Luke stepped out of the Austre. One of the security men opened the door for Rhiane and assisted her to the nurse with the wheel chair. “Sit on the chair, Ms. Black. Or do you now prefer the warmth of my arms?” Luke asked slowly, lazily. In case she still had it in her to resist the assistance.
“Your highness, Ms. Black,” the Image Manager started after Rhiane was comfortably seated on the chair. “While waiting for you, I have browsed some of the contents that came up, and comments from different people, plus the photos. This is what it says so far.” She turned to Rhiane and her face lit up more. “What a stellar performance, Ms. Black! The public adores you. Your energy and humility do not come off as fake and the public feels very strongly towards you. You are a very relatable person and a good role model for the youth. As for his royal highness.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side. Ms. Viscomi cleared her throat. It was her job to coach them. She was resolved not to be intimidated by either of the couple, especially not by the crown prince. “Your highness, with all due respect, your good looks and birthright will not do all the work for you. Although you have a solid fanbase of people who respects and believes in you as a leader, at one point you should learn to be a relatable persona to the masses. Like Ms. Black.” She smiled, gesturing to Rhiane. “Sweeping her off her feet, publicly showing your care for her, being the protective and possessive fiancé. That’s what our people is looking for that’s --”
“Enough, Ms. Manager. I’m not interested to hear what the internet is telling you. Tell me instead what the queen thinks.”
The smile on Ms. Viscomi’s pretty face faded as she met a question that she was not prepared to answer. “I – uh. Your highness, unfortunately I have not yet conferred with the queen. But I will let you know this evening.”
Finished with the manager, Luke turned his attention to the nurse. “Did you bring pain medications?”
“Yes, sire.”
The prince nodded once before starting to walk towards the elevator. “Ms. Viscomi, do talk to the queen and let me know what she thinks. Her opinion is all that matters at this point.”
“Just a reminder. Ms. Black has a scheduled interview at seven o’clock tonight. Preparations will start at six o’clock,” she called after them.
The nurse, unsure what to do, followed Luke to the elevator. He led the way to the elevator in silence, neither acknowledging the presence of his fiancée nor the nurse. His suite was seated a couple of floors beneath the top floor of the towering structure. It was on the same tower as Rhiane’s, but multiple floors up. If hotels had penthouses, Tower five of Castello di Firanze had Luke’s royal suite. It was an irregularly shaped room, a pentagon with unequal sides, due to the structure of the building itself. The walls were mostly made of thick glass that, without partition, would boast one hundred and eighty degrees view of the capital itself. For the crown prince’s privacy, anybody on the outside would not be able to see the interior, regardless of the lighting conditions. The suite was divided into five sections – the bedroom, the living area and an open kitchen, the office and library that housed a physical collection of books, the bathroom, and an indoor pool.
Upon exiting the elevator, the three of them were treated to a view of the city beyond the sparkling water of a rectangular pool. Luke didn’t seem impressed though. To the right of the elevator was a wall. He continued walking until they reached a door which he unlocked by pressing his palm against the pad beside the door above a keypad that servants used when they needed to clean the suite. Once inside, a modern and minimalistic living area greeted them. It flowed naturally to an open kitchen, which Luke rarely used. The source of light that morning was not the various fixtures installed around the room, but natural light. A wall left of the main door separated the living area from the sleeping area, an enclosed area to the left before the kitchen was the bathroom. “You may leave us,” he told the nurse before freeing himself from his jacket and heading to the bedroom. Luke had disappeared on the archway, but as if he had forgotten something, stepped out again. “Come here and get some proper rest instead of sleeping while I’m talking to you. You may use my bed or the floor, whichever suits you best. It doesn’t matter to me. The sheets will be replaced before tonight anyway. I really do need to get things done, and looking after you, my fear fiancée, is taking up my time.”
The Austre, dropping its guise as just a regular craft, coasted freely on the highway with its two front escorts clearing the way. Other vehicles shifted to either side of the highway to give way to the VIP as was mandated in the law. Even the business district, which had the busiest air and land highways, found a way to let the convoy pass without pause. No red light stopped them, not even the speed limit could limit their flight.
Just then, he caught a subtle motion of his passenger from the corner of his eye and at the same time the smell of pastries wafted from the small package she was carrying. He stole a sideways look, careful not to be interpreted as overly interested in her dessert. From his peripheral view, he watched her take a dainty bite and looked pleased. She didn’t seem to like either the food he ordered for her at the restaurant, his romantic attention, and his money – to her, all of these were less than the box of cannoli. Surely there was something he was missing. And perhaps he should try one.
Without asking permission, without even thinking that it was necessary to ask permission, Luke’s right hand dove in the box. His eyes met hers. For a split second, he thought that she was going to protest, but being a man of action that he was, he didn’t give her a chance to say anything. Without cutting eye contact, the crown prince bit the treat in half then stuffed the other half in his mouth, allowing the creamy, sweet, slightly tangy taste, with hints of chocolate fill his mouth. “Not bad.” He shrugged, then tearing his stare from her, fished for another cannolo.
The couple together with their escorts arrived earlier than expected. Their arrival was greeted by a very happy looking Ms. Viscomi, a nurse, and a wheel chair. The appointed Image Manager was cradling her computer and grinning ear to ear as Luke stepped out of the Austre. One of the security men opened the door for Rhiane and assisted her to the nurse with the wheel chair. “Sit on the chair, Ms. Black. Or do you now prefer the warmth of my arms?” Luke asked slowly, lazily. In case she still had it in her to resist the assistance.
“Your highness, Ms. Black,” the Image Manager started after Rhiane was comfortably seated on the chair. “While waiting for you, I have browsed some of the contents that came up, and comments from different people, plus the photos. This is what it says so far.” She turned to Rhiane and her face lit up more. “What a stellar performance, Ms. Black! The public adores you. Your energy and humility do not come off as fake and the public feels very strongly towards you. You are a very relatable person and a good role model for the youth. As for his royal highness.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side. Ms. Viscomi cleared her throat. It was her job to coach them. She was resolved not to be intimidated by either of the couple, especially not by the crown prince. “Your highness, with all due respect, your good looks and birthright will not do all the work for you. Although you have a solid fanbase of people who respects and believes in you as a leader, at one point you should learn to be a relatable persona to the masses. Like Ms. Black.” She smiled, gesturing to Rhiane. “Sweeping her off her feet, publicly showing your care for her, being the protective and possessive fiancé. That’s what our people is looking for that’s --”
“Enough, Ms. Manager. I’m not interested to hear what the internet is telling you. Tell me instead what the queen thinks.”
The smile on Ms. Viscomi’s pretty face faded as she met a question that she was not prepared to answer. “I – uh. Your highness, unfortunately I have not yet conferred with the queen. But I will let you know this evening.”
Finished with the manager, Luke turned his attention to the nurse. “Did you bring pain medications?”
“Yes, sire.”
The prince nodded once before starting to walk towards the elevator. “Ms. Viscomi, do talk to the queen and let me know what she thinks. Her opinion is all that matters at this point.”
“Just a reminder. Ms. Black has a scheduled interview at seven o’clock tonight. Preparations will start at six o’clock,” she called after them.
The nurse, unsure what to do, followed Luke to the elevator. He led the way to the elevator in silence, neither acknowledging the presence of his fiancée nor the nurse. His suite was seated a couple of floors beneath the top floor of the towering structure. It was on the same tower as Rhiane’s, but multiple floors up. If hotels had penthouses, Tower five of Castello di Firanze had Luke’s royal suite. It was an irregularly shaped room, a pentagon with unequal sides, due to the structure of the building itself. The walls were mostly made of thick glass that, without partition, would boast one hundred and eighty degrees view of the capital itself. For the crown prince’s privacy, anybody on the outside would not be able to see the interior, regardless of the lighting conditions. The suite was divided into five sections – the bedroom, the living area and an open kitchen, the office and library that housed a physical collection of books, the bathroom, and an indoor pool.
Upon exiting the elevator, the three of them were treated to a view of the city beyond the sparkling water of a rectangular pool. Luke didn’t seem impressed though. To the right of the elevator was a wall. He continued walking until they reached a door which he unlocked by pressing his palm against the pad beside the door above a keypad that servants used when they needed to clean the suite. Once inside, a modern and minimalistic living area greeted them. It flowed naturally to an open kitchen, which Luke rarely used. The source of light that morning was not the various fixtures installed around the room, but natural light. A wall left of the main door separated the living area from the sleeping area, an enclosed area to the left before the kitchen was the bathroom. “You may leave us,” he told the nurse before freeing himself from his jacket and heading to the bedroom. Luke had disappeared on the archway, but as if he had forgotten something, stepped out again. “Come here and get some proper rest instead of sleeping while I’m talking to you. You may use my bed or the floor, whichever suits you best. It doesn’t matter to me. The sheets will be replaced before tonight anyway. I really do need to get things done, and looking after you, my fear fiancée, is taking up my time.”
Five minutes alone in the open and all the pretense of being a commoner vanished into thin air. Instead, Luke was sitting alone on the bench meant for the waiting customers with a pair of uniformed guards on both ends. Other than the overly casual clothing, he was back to his old self – an untouchable brooding royalty.
In all fairness, he did not ask the other people sharing his bench to leave, the hostess did. She told them to give him space, which he thought was for the best, for after he was rejected by the farmer girl he was not in the mood to socialize. It was his order, however, for two members of his bodyguards to station themselves at either end of the bench and secure his privacy. The others he instructed to control the media people. That was after he stepped out of the restaurant earlier only to be greeted with flashes of cameras and journalists asking his statement about the Victor’s Ball.
The general peace and order was under better control after the press was gone. The slowed down steps, curious stares, and stolen shots taken by the by-standers were tolerable as long as they kept their distance. With the hood of his jacket over his head, he could at least pretend that nobody was watching him.
While his future bride was wasting precious time indulging strangers’ request to have a photo taken with her, he found time to browse through his electronic correspondences again. He was not lying when he told the manager that he had better things to do. Among the most pressing matters were the looming deadline for the ratification of the revised tariff rates for the import and export of agricultural products with other European nations, the letter he received from the Prime Minister of the Arab States recommending the revocation of the appointment of Ambassador Dewitt, and of course the continuous gain in momentum of the rebellion in the outskirts of the kingdom. Between the three, he was most concerned about the rebellion, although he would not cause unnecessary panic by voicing it aloud. The queen might think it was a matter of making a show to entertain the public by parading her son and a woman who she chose from the dirt of the farmlands. Luke could not disagree more. The rebellion was a real threat to the crown and neither he nor the proficient liar he was bound to wed would be able to stop it by pretending to be in love. Their grand ruse might buy him time, but it would not solve his problem.
Speaking of his partner in crime, it was about time she stepped out of the restaurant. He checked the time. Twenty minutes and thirty-two seconds had passed. Unbelievable. Nobody, except the queen, had the right to make him wait. How long did it take for the shutter of a camera to capture a photograph anyway? Did she suddenly turn their lunch date into her own personal pictorial? Brushing back brown locks over his brow, he pocketed his gadget and wordlessly stepped back into the industrial revolution-themed restaurant, where he found a queue.
Unsurprisingly, Rhiane was at the head of the queue. She was smiling in front of the camera together with three other women. The princess elect’s casual style stood out against her companions’ sharp suit and businesslike hairstyles. Also not surprising was the fact that she seemed to be genuinely enjoying the attention of these people. Luke would give her three months at most before she’s tired of everybody in the kingdom and beyond who would constantly watch her every step and every article of clothing she would choose to wear. But he could not wait for her to tire from all the attention. Besides, it was obvious from her posture that she was favoring her good foot.
Luke waited for the photographer to signal that she was done taking the photo of the four women. It was his cue. Not minding the line, he walked up to Rhiane who was still glowing with happiness because of the little box of cannolis she was holding. The crowd did part for him not because he was the crown prince, but perhaps because his steps were heavy with purpose that he might as well shove them aside. “Let’s go,” was all he said. The manager would try to protest, though weakly, but one look from his cold eyes was enough to make the otherwise confident woman shrink. He did not apologize, nor did he explain his sudden intrusion. Luke just swept in, picked her up into his arms and carried her like a princess away from the gawking crowd, whose emotion was a muddled mixture of confusion, dismay, and perhaps a little wonder.
“You are not obliged to indulge them,” he told her under his breath once they were outside the restaurant and his two bodyguards were a protective barrier between them and anybody who would dare stop the crown prince. “Especially if you are in pain.”
Luke traced the path they made earlier when the arrived at the building. They exited at the back entrance and were welcomed by more than a dozen lenses of photographers, like snipers but in plain sight. His jaw tightened, reigning his temper in. If his mother’s court was a den of snakes, then the media, he thought, was a pool of hungry piranhas. If it was not against the right of the citizens, he would order every media outfit to be shut down because of their promulgation of exaggerated stories for the sake of ratings. What then would they make of that unexpected appearance of Luke and Ms. Black.
Thankfully, the couple arrived at their transport without incident. Luke carefully put Rhiane to her feet. One of his bodyguards opened the door of the hovercraft, but he waited for her to enter before he walked to the other side. The prince motioned for one of the men to come to him. “Contact the palace and request for a wheel chair at the landing pad.”
He bowed and saluted, then traced a pattern on his communication band and walked away. There was nothing left to do then but to enter the Austre. He turned the ignition on and vertically launched the craft. Unlike when they were on the way to the restaurant, he was not feeling chatty that afternoon. Instead, he turned the sound system on hoping that the music would calm his head.
In all fairness, he did not ask the other people sharing his bench to leave, the hostess did. She told them to give him space, which he thought was for the best, for after he was rejected by the farmer girl he was not in the mood to socialize. It was his order, however, for two members of his bodyguards to station themselves at either end of the bench and secure his privacy. The others he instructed to control the media people. That was after he stepped out of the restaurant earlier only to be greeted with flashes of cameras and journalists asking his statement about the Victor’s Ball.
The general peace and order was under better control after the press was gone. The slowed down steps, curious stares, and stolen shots taken by the by-standers were tolerable as long as they kept their distance. With the hood of his jacket over his head, he could at least pretend that nobody was watching him.
While his future bride was wasting precious time indulging strangers’ request to have a photo taken with her, he found time to browse through his electronic correspondences again. He was not lying when he told the manager that he had better things to do. Among the most pressing matters were the looming deadline for the ratification of the revised tariff rates for the import and export of agricultural products with other European nations, the letter he received from the Prime Minister of the Arab States recommending the revocation of the appointment of Ambassador Dewitt, and of course the continuous gain in momentum of the rebellion in the outskirts of the kingdom. Between the three, he was most concerned about the rebellion, although he would not cause unnecessary panic by voicing it aloud. The queen might think it was a matter of making a show to entertain the public by parading her son and a woman who she chose from the dirt of the farmlands. Luke could not disagree more. The rebellion was a real threat to the crown and neither he nor the proficient liar he was bound to wed would be able to stop it by pretending to be in love. Their grand ruse might buy him time, but it would not solve his problem.
Speaking of his partner in crime, it was about time she stepped out of the restaurant. He checked the time. Twenty minutes and thirty-two seconds had passed. Unbelievable. Nobody, except the queen, had the right to make him wait. How long did it take for the shutter of a camera to capture a photograph anyway? Did she suddenly turn their lunch date into her own personal pictorial? Brushing back brown locks over his brow, he pocketed his gadget and wordlessly stepped back into the industrial revolution-themed restaurant, where he found a queue.
Unsurprisingly, Rhiane was at the head of the queue. She was smiling in front of the camera together with three other women. The princess elect’s casual style stood out against her companions’ sharp suit and businesslike hairstyles. Also not surprising was the fact that she seemed to be genuinely enjoying the attention of these people. Luke would give her three months at most before she’s tired of everybody in the kingdom and beyond who would constantly watch her every step and every article of clothing she would choose to wear. But he could not wait for her to tire from all the attention. Besides, it was obvious from her posture that she was favoring her good foot.
Luke waited for the photographer to signal that she was done taking the photo of the four women. It was his cue. Not minding the line, he walked up to Rhiane who was still glowing with happiness because of the little box of cannolis she was holding. The crowd did part for him not because he was the crown prince, but perhaps because his steps were heavy with purpose that he might as well shove them aside. “Let’s go,” was all he said. The manager would try to protest, though weakly, but one look from his cold eyes was enough to make the otherwise confident woman shrink. He did not apologize, nor did he explain his sudden intrusion. Luke just swept in, picked her up into his arms and carried her like a princess away from the gawking crowd, whose emotion was a muddled mixture of confusion, dismay, and perhaps a little wonder.
“You are not obliged to indulge them,” he told her under his breath once they were outside the restaurant and his two bodyguards were a protective barrier between them and anybody who would dare stop the crown prince. “Especially if you are in pain.”
Luke traced the path they made earlier when the arrived at the building. They exited at the back entrance and were welcomed by more than a dozen lenses of photographers, like snipers but in plain sight. His jaw tightened, reigning his temper in. If his mother’s court was a den of snakes, then the media, he thought, was a pool of hungry piranhas. If it was not against the right of the citizens, he would order every media outfit to be shut down because of their promulgation of exaggerated stories for the sake of ratings. What then would they make of that unexpected appearance of Luke and Ms. Black.
Thankfully, the couple arrived at their transport without incident. Luke carefully put Rhiane to her feet. One of his bodyguards opened the door of the hovercraft, but he waited for her to enter before he walked to the other side. The prince motioned for one of the men to come to him. “Contact the palace and request for a wheel chair at the landing pad.”
He bowed and saluted, then traced a pattern on his communication band and walked away. There was nothing left to do then but to enter the Austre. He turned the ignition on and vertically launched the craft. Unlike when they were on the way to the restaurant, he was not feeling chatty that afternoon. Instead, he turned the sound system on hoping that the music would calm his head.
What just happened?
The crown prince’s stare traveled from his outstretched hand to the farmer girl to the plastic cards screaming his name until it finally rested on an unassuming take-out box, which his bride to be seemed to find more interesting than anything he had offered thus far. Discretely, to save some dignity, he pocketed the hand he offered her while she drowned herself in glee at the thought of taking home the sweets. A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, he thought, watching her face light up even more. Sooner than later, when her stomach was bloated and would not fit in the dresses that her stylists picked for her, she would regret ever having met those tasty little devils.
The she got up then eagerly took the waitress’ hand in hers. In any other situation, it shouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn’t even mind if she was grasping the hands of another man, because they did agree to live separate lives despite being a couple. But the issue was that he offered his hand – the hand that would one day lead the kingdom of New Rome – and the farmer girl had the nerve to not only turn away, but also walk away. As if a woman of low birth such as her would ever have any offer more attractive than his. Such was what he was talking about when he told her that the poor did not know how to hold on to what they have. He had offered her the gift of financial freedom by authorizing her to access his personal finances and instead of the simple thank you that he would most certainly welcome with a smile, Rhiane, who he found out was as ungrateful as her brethren, chose to threaten him and walk away with a box of cannolis from another commoner.
Luke watched her chase after the kind-hearted stranger who presented her with such mediocre gift from a not so notable establishment. His irritation with the turns of events failed to show on most of his face, except his eyes. He was not a good liar after all. The glare that he was shooting at the perpetrator who stepped up to admit his crime was enough of a warning to not push it, but he and his friends apparently did. Luke could not fault the group entirely, though. They were encouraged by her fiancée, who claimed that she was indebted to these people. With a sigh, he picked up the plastic cards from the table and tucked both in the inner pocket of his jacket. One of those days, he would have to lecture her about corruption and how seemingly innocent ‘gifts’ come into play. Like what was happening, she was already granting the stranger and that place a favor.
“Ms. -- Rhiane, don’t,” Luke warned quietly behind her, but he guessed that she would do what she pleased anyway. He wanted so bad to drag her out of the establishment and into the safety of the hovercaft then fly away home. The only thing stopping him was the crowd present at the restaurant who would most certainly judge him and liken him to a barbarian who had no respect for women. Therefore, all he did was issue a warning and wait for her next move.
Her answer, or acknowledgement that she heard her, was cut by the entrance of the store manager. It was the same woman who Luke rejected when she told him that the newly engaged couple’s lunch was on the house. Unlike her politely blank face upon hearing his rather straight-forward rejection, the store manager was beaming. “Ah, this is great. Guard, please allow one of the photographers in,” she declared, very happy to be on the receiving end of the free publicity. She was smiling and was talking to Rhiane when she continued, “I’m sure Ms. Black and her new friends would love their photo to be taken by a professional.”
As the guard sought out to fetch one of the photographers, the store manager turned to Luke. As she met his then freezing glare, her face lost a degree of her enthusiasm and her voice fell into a more formal tone. “Would you care to join the photo, your highness?”
“No thanks,” he answered without hesitation. “I have better things to do.” In truth, he did not care to have his face or name linked to an establishment such as The Briks. He did not want to be misinterpreted as endorsing the restaurant, because if he did, then his peers would talk about the questionable taste of the crown prince.
The restaurant fell silent after the prince’s refusal. The energy that his fiancée brought to the room with her contagious smile and energy was dampened by a simple ‘no’. It was as if the people didn’t know that he was not one who would indulge in such petty acts. Or perhaps they had thought that Rhiane coming into his life had changed their crown prince. They were wrong. “I will be waiting outside when you’re done paying your debt and after granting every other person’s request,” he whispered as he passed her by.
Outside the restaurant was not an improvement in the scenery. Apparently, the news that the newly engaged royal couple was having lunch at The Briks spread like wildfire. Cameras snapped as he stepped out of the restaurant. Luke pulled his hood over his head as he found himself a vacant spot on the bench beside visibly ecstatic young professionals who were torn between approaching and ignoring him. If they had known him well, they would have decided to do the latter, but perhaps encouraged by the one photograph he allowed to be taken with, one started a conversation with a polite “Excuse me, your highness.”
He was rescued from another plain no by a phone call, which he was only too happy to answer. “Cally,” he said, placing the straightened band to his ear.
“Luuukeee! It’s all over the internet.” The princess sounded amused it made him feel a little better, less irritated. “My dear brother. Did you not know how to date a woman?”
“What? What do you mean I --”
Calista laughed at the other end of the line. “It’s all over the internet! I’ll send you the links. But let me tell you this now. If you’re going to date any woman, you don’t ignore her, or she will certainly get the wrong message. It’s obvious how you find your phone more interesting than your date. Ok. Got to go, I have an appointment for my nails. See you later. Love you. Remember what I told you, Luke.”
"Wait, Cally."
"Yes?"
"I was wondering. Where in the capital do you find the best tasting cannolis?"
There was a thoughtful pause from the other end. He hoped his sister did not know yet about the little gift presented by one of the patrons of the restaurant. "I would suggest the royal kitchen?" Cally answered. "It makes the best of everything, you know it."
"No," he sighed. Of course the royal kitchen would be the best bet, but he didn't want anything homemade. "I need it to be from a fancy place, with fancy packaging and all those things that women likes. Send me a message when you find it?"
"I don't know what you're up to, but okay."
The crown prince’s stare traveled from his outstretched hand to the farmer girl to the plastic cards screaming his name until it finally rested on an unassuming take-out box, which his bride to be seemed to find more interesting than anything he had offered thus far. Discretely, to save some dignity, he pocketed the hand he offered her while she drowned herself in glee at the thought of taking home the sweets. A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, he thought, watching her face light up even more. Sooner than later, when her stomach was bloated and would not fit in the dresses that her stylists picked for her, she would regret ever having met those tasty little devils.
The she got up then eagerly took the waitress’ hand in hers. In any other situation, it shouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn’t even mind if she was grasping the hands of another man, because they did agree to live separate lives despite being a couple. But the issue was that he offered his hand – the hand that would one day lead the kingdom of New Rome – and the farmer girl had the nerve to not only turn away, but also walk away. As if a woman of low birth such as her would ever have any offer more attractive than his. Such was what he was talking about when he told her that the poor did not know how to hold on to what they have. He had offered her the gift of financial freedom by authorizing her to access his personal finances and instead of the simple thank you that he would most certainly welcome with a smile, Rhiane, who he found out was as ungrateful as her brethren, chose to threaten him and walk away with a box of cannolis from another commoner.
Luke watched her chase after the kind-hearted stranger who presented her with such mediocre gift from a not so notable establishment. His irritation with the turns of events failed to show on most of his face, except his eyes. He was not a good liar after all. The glare that he was shooting at the perpetrator who stepped up to admit his crime was enough of a warning to not push it, but he and his friends apparently did. Luke could not fault the group entirely, though. They were encouraged by her fiancée, who claimed that she was indebted to these people. With a sigh, he picked up the plastic cards from the table and tucked both in the inner pocket of his jacket. One of those days, he would have to lecture her about corruption and how seemingly innocent ‘gifts’ come into play. Like what was happening, she was already granting the stranger and that place a favor.
“Ms. -- Rhiane, don’t,” Luke warned quietly behind her, but he guessed that she would do what she pleased anyway. He wanted so bad to drag her out of the establishment and into the safety of the hovercaft then fly away home. The only thing stopping him was the crowd present at the restaurant who would most certainly judge him and liken him to a barbarian who had no respect for women. Therefore, all he did was issue a warning and wait for her next move.
Her answer, or acknowledgement that she heard her, was cut by the entrance of the store manager. It was the same woman who Luke rejected when she told him that the newly engaged couple’s lunch was on the house. Unlike her politely blank face upon hearing his rather straight-forward rejection, the store manager was beaming. “Ah, this is great. Guard, please allow one of the photographers in,” she declared, very happy to be on the receiving end of the free publicity. She was smiling and was talking to Rhiane when she continued, “I’m sure Ms. Black and her new friends would love their photo to be taken by a professional.”
As the guard sought out to fetch one of the photographers, the store manager turned to Luke. As she met his then freezing glare, her face lost a degree of her enthusiasm and her voice fell into a more formal tone. “Would you care to join the photo, your highness?”
“No thanks,” he answered without hesitation. “I have better things to do.” In truth, he did not care to have his face or name linked to an establishment such as The Briks. He did not want to be misinterpreted as endorsing the restaurant, because if he did, then his peers would talk about the questionable taste of the crown prince.
The restaurant fell silent after the prince’s refusal. The energy that his fiancée brought to the room with her contagious smile and energy was dampened by a simple ‘no’. It was as if the people didn’t know that he was not one who would indulge in such petty acts. Or perhaps they had thought that Rhiane coming into his life had changed their crown prince. They were wrong. “I will be waiting outside when you’re done paying your debt and after granting every other person’s request,” he whispered as he passed her by.
Outside the restaurant was not an improvement in the scenery. Apparently, the news that the newly engaged royal couple was having lunch at The Briks spread like wildfire. Cameras snapped as he stepped out of the restaurant. Luke pulled his hood over his head as he found himself a vacant spot on the bench beside visibly ecstatic young professionals who were torn between approaching and ignoring him. If they had known him well, they would have decided to do the latter, but perhaps encouraged by the one photograph he allowed to be taken with, one started a conversation with a polite “Excuse me, your highness.”
He was rescued from another plain no by a phone call, which he was only too happy to answer. “Cally,” he said, placing the straightened band to his ear.
“Luuukeee! It’s all over the internet.” The princess sounded amused it made him feel a little better, less irritated. “My dear brother. Did you not know how to date a woman?”
“What? What do you mean I --”
Calista laughed at the other end of the line. “It’s all over the internet! I’ll send you the links. But let me tell you this now. If you’re going to date any woman, you don’t ignore her, or she will certainly get the wrong message. It’s obvious how you find your phone more interesting than your date. Ok. Got to go, I have an appointment for my nails. See you later. Love you. Remember what I told you, Luke.”
"Wait, Cally."
"Yes?"
"I was wondering. Where in the capital do you find the best tasting cannolis?"
There was a thoughtful pause from the other end. He hoped his sister did not know yet about the little gift presented by one of the patrons of the restaurant. "I would suggest the royal kitchen?" Cally answered. "It makes the best of everything, you know it."
"No," he sighed. Of course the royal kitchen would be the best bet, but he didn't want anything homemade. "I need it to be from a fancy place, with fancy packaging and all those things that women likes. Send me a message when you find it?"
"I don't know what you're up to, but okay."
I misinterpreted the use of Discord. So now I'm back :)
@vietmyke Also finished the sheet for review. Let me know if there is anything I need to change.
@vietmyke Also finished the sheet for review. Let me know if there is anything I need to change.
Sorry, I might have to withdraw at this point :( I might drag the pace because of major the timezone difference.
The instructions he was typing in response to the alert that popped-up stating the situation outside was left unfinished, the notifications forgotten, when his date leaned forward and regarded him with a sweet smile that he knew by then meant that she was not at all happy. When she commented with sarcasm about him having “intimate familiarity with the poor,” the prince raised a brow and gestured towards her with his left hand to answer her thinly masked mockery of his observations. He was familiar with a poor alright, he just witnessed how she imprisoned herself in a cage of poverty when the key was within her reach, dangling in front of her eyes.
Luke leaned forward with his elbows on the table, so he was staring her at eye level. If she would prattle on about the credit cards, then it would just prove his point. But Rhiane listed for him the things she failed to do or experience, the material things she was deprived of, and the sacrifices she made, then topped it with a challenge. It was an unfair task to ask it from somebody who she met not twenty-four hours ago. Luke would have no answer to that challenge, and maybe Rhiane was not expecting any. Her pleasant façade would not matter if anybody got close enough to their table. Luke could discern the ire he awakened with his words from the tone of her voice to the subtle tightness of her lips, so much like the queen.
Honestly, he would not care for her opinion about the noble houses should she feel like expressing it, he had thought that she would not care about his opinion on the less fortunate ones as well. He expected a debate based on logical arguments, but the farmer girl was arguing on an emotional level. In the first place, the prince’s intent was not to insult her roots. He leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest, prepared to ask her to calm down then clarify that he did not mean to insult anybody but was just stating his belief, when she issued a threat.
Luke wanted to ask her to repeat herself. Perhaps she was at such an emotional state that it clouded her better judgment, that she did neither mean what she said, nor did she intend to blackmail him to bend to her will and ask him to alter his beliefs. As if he was not her future husband and king. As if she and her family was not living on his good graces.
Anyway, agreeing would have meant admission that he was wrong. “When I told you be a princess, I did not mean be this way,” he ground out. Blackmail was a frequent weapon against a fellow noble, because in his world personal image and popularity mattered. Rhiane was quickly learning how to wield it. Unfortunately, he would not give in just like what they used to say in the military – “never negotiate with a terrorist.” Yet if he disagreed, he may soon find out that the queen restricted his freedom further to five or, worse, three meters. She was a self-professed liar and he believed it. She may also be a good actress, because lying and acting was one and the same. He would not take any chances. Luke had agreed to be seen in public with her for the sake of preserving his limited freedom, he would not endanger it by losing to this argument.
He remembered his cousin Marcel telling him that he discovered an effective way to silence any woman. Luke had not yet had the chance to test that theory until that morning. Without a word, he pushed his chair back and with two steps came to stand beside her. It would have looked that he would force her out of her seat, but in a quick succession the crown prince gently touched her chin and tilted her face to his. He bent his body over her and before she could push him away, touched his lips to hers.
It was unlike the personality he had since showed her. The gesture was kind and tender, even polite. A kiss of well-rehearsed pair of lips, devoid of emotion and yet full of passion. If she wished, she could pull away any second. Though it would not look good on her though to openly reject her fiancé’s romantic gestures. Some might even conclude that the absence of the crown prince at the Victor’s Ball was due to the apparent rejection of the princess elect.
Luke pulled away enough to be able to look her in the eyes. A smile that was almost a grin was on his face. “Be my guest,” he finally whispered, answering her threat. “What tragedy might the princess elect cry about? That she had lost her first kiss unwillingly to her fiancé? You may either take the cards and pretend to happily walk away with me with your dignity intact or cause a scene that you will surely regret.” Isn’t it what she wanted – to make the ruse as believable as it could be? Luke rose to his full height and offered his hand once again to her. “I’m sorry that I forgot to ask for your opinion on the food, and for being too busy with work to talk to you,” he said intentionally louder, but not to the point that he was declaring it for everyone to hear. Luke was not known to admit his fault. To hear him say that he was sorry was something the public would dwell on for a few days or weeks. Whether he was sincere or not would be left for the public to debate on. “Let’s go home.”
Luke leaned forward with his elbows on the table, so he was staring her at eye level. If she would prattle on about the credit cards, then it would just prove his point. But Rhiane listed for him the things she failed to do or experience, the material things she was deprived of, and the sacrifices she made, then topped it with a challenge. It was an unfair task to ask it from somebody who she met not twenty-four hours ago. Luke would have no answer to that challenge, and maybe Rhiane was not expecting any. Her pleasant façade would not matter if anybody got close enough to their table. Luke could discern the ire he awakened with his words from the tone of her voice to the subtle tightness of her lips, so much like the queen.
Honestly, he would not care for her opinion about the noble houses should she feel like expressing it, he had thought that she would not care about his opinion on the less fortunate ones as well. He expected a debate based on logical arguments, but the farmer girl was arguing on an emotional level. In the first place, the prince’s intent was not to insult her roots. He leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest, prepared to ask her to calm down then clarify that he did not mean to insult anybody but was just stating his belief, when she issued a threat.
Luke wanted to ask her to repeat herself. Perhaps she was at such an emotional state that it clouded her better judgment, that she did neither mean what she said, nor did she intend to blackmail him to bend to her will and ask him to alter his beliefs. As if he was not her future husband and king. As if she and her family was not living on his good graces.
Anyway, agreeing would have meant admission that he was wrong. “When I told you be a princess, I did not mean be this way,” he ground out. Blackmail was a frequent weapon against a fellow noble, because in his world personal image and popularity mattered. Rhiane was quickly learning how to wield it. Unfortunately, he would not give in just like what they used to say in the military – “never negotiate with a terrorist.” Yet if he disagreed, he may soon find out that the queen restricted his freedom further to five or, worse, three meters. She was a self-professed liar and he believed it. She may also be a good actress, because lying and acting was one and the same. He would not take any chances. Luke had agreed to be seen in public with her for the sake of preserving his limited freedom, he would not endanger it by losing to this argument.
He remembered his cousin Marcel telling him that he discovered an effective way to silence any woman. Luke had not yet had the chance to test that theory until that morning. Without a word, he pushed his chair back and with two steps came to stand beside her. It would have looked that he would force her out of her seat, but in a quick succession the crown prince gently touched her chin and tilted her face to his. He bent his body over her and before she could push him away, touched his lips to hers.
It was unlike the personality he had since showed her. The gesture was kind and tender, even polite. A kiss of well-rehearsed pair of lips, devoid of emotion and yet full of passion. If she wished, she could pull away any second. Though it would not look good on her though to openly reject her fiancé’s romantic gestures. Some might even conclude that the absence of the crown prince at the Victor’s Ball was due to the apparent rejection of the princess elect.
Luke pulled away enough to be able to look her in the eyes. A smile that was almost a grin was on his face. “Be my guest,” he finally whispered, answering her threat. “What tragedy might the princess elect cry about? That she had lost her first kiss unwillingly to her fiancé? You may either take the cards and pretend to happily walk away with me with your dignity intact or cause a scene that you will surely regret.” Isn’t it what she wanted – to make the ruse as believable as it could be? Luke rose to his full height and offered his hand once again to her. “I’m sorry that I forgot to ask for your opinion on the food, and for being too busy with work to talk to you,” he said intentionally louder, but not to the point that he was declaring it for everyone to hear. Luke was not known to admit his fault. To hear him say that he was sorry was something the public would dwell on for a few days or weeks. Whether he was sincere or not would be left for the public to debate on. “Let’s go home.”
The Briks, like most casual restaurants, was a place where groups of people sit together to share a meal and personal anecdotes among themselves. Therefore, when picking a place to eat, ambiance was as important as the quality of food. At The Briks, for example, the owner made sure that the interior exuded a cozy atmosphere of a certain period in history that was very much different than the present age. It gave the patrons a place to speak without being disturbed, an illusion of detachment from the hustle and bustle of the capital, and a way to ease stress even just for a few hours. To boost the old world feel, the piped music was from the pre-war era. Luke was sure that the song playing at that moment was not recorded during the Industrial Revolution, because it was impossible. The subtle melody that filled the room sang about a perfect moment spoiled by ‘saying something stupid like I love you.’
And then she went and spoiled the ambiance with her sudden burst of laughter. The crown prince faked his laughter, though it was pitiful compared to her heartfelt outburst. Those who were occupying tables nearest to theirs lost control over their curiosity and openly stared with questioning eyes. Luke met some of those eyes and shrugged. Had she laughed at something else entirely, he would have enjoyed the sound of pure mirth, but it was obvious that her reaction was because of something he said. He was not trying to be funny.
Luke started eating his pizza again as she composed herself, and continued doing so while she explained how she saw her present situation. That she likened herself to a pet almost made him laugh. Luke had a pet growing up. It was a wolfdog he named Seamus, which he bought during one of his overseas trip. He chose the keep the dog, because it was something he liked. On the contrary, keeping Rhiane was neither his choice nor his liking. He would have pointed that out in the middle of her sentence if his mouth was not full. Because it was, he let it go.
Rhiane's was a personality unlike the princess elect he envisioned, a woman who would be blinded by the prestige and the fortune that came with the title, not to mention being wed to the crown prince. Rhiane was the complete opposite of the princess elect that lived in his imagination since he found out about the breeding tradition of his family. She knew what she had gotten into and focused only on the task at hand that she refused to acknowledge the benefits. But when she started addressing his last statement, Luke put down his fork and knife.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” There was a trace of amusement at the corner of his lips. Did she expect him to say that he was even contemplating on surrendering himself to her? “We were talking about the charm of poverty, about economic standing, and what came with your title as princess elect. Being associated to the heir of the crown is among the many prizes you get when you won the title. Disregard emotions and any notion of a romantic relationship, because your observation is correct.” He said it plainly. Better that they set expectations straight on the first day of their fake relationship than one of them confuse a kind gesture with a show of affection sometime in the future. He didn’t plan on lying to her, because in the end it would only make his life more miserable, and she appeared to be an intelligent woman who would easily see through him.
“Think of me as your endorser. You do know how advertisements work, do you? Why brand owners pick celebrities to represent their products. It is as if the credibility of the endorser is extended to the product. What I’m saying is as my future wife, legally you have me as kind of your endorser. You will carry my name and the authority that comes with it.” He shrugged. That was how the law was written, that she would be part of the royal family when they were wed to be one. “Don’t demean yourself, because it reflects back to me. Instead, be a princess.”
Luke reached for something inside his jacket’s pocket then laid on the table two plastic cards. He slipped it over to her side before withdrawing his hand. Both cards were under his namesake and were represented by different banks. Although most of his transactions can be done wireless, he always carried with him the cards and some bills in case a disruption in signal would occur. “Take it and use it however you please. I will have the banks authorize you to transact on my behalf. You say that poverty has its charms. Maybe that is true, maybe it’s why those who are born poor remain poor, because they are too used to having nothing to lose that they have no clue how to not lose what they already grasped in their hands.”
Before she can react or protest, Luke requested for their bill and immediately paid for it as well, refusing the store manager when she offered the lunch to be free as the restaurant’s gift to Luke’s and Rhiane’s engagement. Checking the notifications, however, he learned that as his mother predicted, several photographers had camped outside the building waiting for them.
And then she went and spoiled the ambiance with her sudden burst of laughter. The crown prince faked his laughter, though it was pitiful compared to her heartfelt outburst. Those who were occupying tables nearest to theirs lost control over their curiosity and openly stared with questioning eyes. Luke met some of those eyes and shrugged. Had she laughed at something else entirely, he would have enjoyed the sound of pure mirth, but it was obvious that her reaction was because of something he said. He was not trying to be funny.
Luke started eating his pizza again as she composed herself, and continued doing so while she explained how she saw her present situation. That she likened herself to a pet almost made him laugh. Luke had a pet growing up. It was a wolfdog he named Seamus, which he bought during one of his overseas trip. He chose the keep the dog, because it was something he liked. On the contrary, keeping Rhiane was neither his choice nor his liking. He would have pointed that out in the middle of her sentence if his mouth was not full. Because it was, he let it go.
Rhiane's was a personality unlike the princess elect he envisioned, a woman who would be blinded by the prestige and the fortune that came with the title, not to mention being wed to the crown prince. Rhiane was the complete opposite of the princess elect that lived in his imagination since he found out about the breeding tradition of his family. She knew what she had gotten into and focused only on the task at hand that she refused to acknowledge the benefits. But when she started addressing his last statement, Luke put down his fork and knife.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” There was a trace of amusement at the corner of his lips. Did she expect him to say that he was even contemplating on surrendering himself to her? “We were talking about the charm of poverty, about economic standing, and what came with your title as princess elect. Being associated to the heir of the crown is among the many prizes you get when you won the title. Disregard emotions and any notion of a romantic relationship, because your observation is correct.” He said it plainly. Better that they set expectations straight on the first day of their fake relationship than one of them confuse a kind gesture with a show of affection sometime in the future. He didn’t plan on lying to her, because in the end it would only make his life more miserable, and she appeared to be an intelligent woman who would easily see through him.
“Think of me as your endorser. You do know how advertisements work, do you? Why brand owners pick celebrities to represent their products. It is as if the credibility of the endorser is extended to the product. What I’m saying is as my future wife, legally you have me as kind of your endorser. You will carry my name and the authority that comes with it.” He shrugged. That was how the law was written, that she would be part of the royal family when they were wed to be one. “Don’t demean yourself, because it reflects back to me. Instead, be a princess.”
Luke reached for something inside his jacket’s pocket then laid on the table two plastic cards. He slipped it over to her side before withdrawing his hand. Both cards were under his namesake and were represented by different banks. Although most of his transactions can be done wireless, he always carried with him the cards and some bills in case a disruption in signal would occur. “Take it and use it however you please. I will have the banks authorize you to transact on my behalf. You say that poverty has its charms. Maybe that is true, maybe it’s why those who are born poor remain poor, because they are too used to having nothing to lose that they have no clue how to not lose what they already grasped in their hands.”
Before she can react or protest, Luke requested for their bill and immediately paid for it as well, refusing the store manager when she offered the lunch to be free as the restaurant’s gift to Luke’s and Rhiane’s engagement. Checking the notifications, however, he learned that as his mother predicted, several photographers had camped outside the building waiting for them.
I don't usually post unfinished sheets, but let me place this here just to show my intention to join. Too tired to finish the whole sheet, but I'll get back to working on it tomorrow.
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