Hello everyone, I am an oldie who was part of this fandom group for years until too much negativity poured into it. I let go for a while and decided to come back, but seeing that the TRR fanbase has quietened down breaks my heart.
Not only was TRR fun, wild, and romantic, but it was so much fun because of the wonderful fanbase that supported it.
I MISS YOU GUYS!!!!
Some of you might roll your eyes or laugh when I say this, but coming onto Tumblr and engaging with you all was my therapy.
So..... I would like to get the ball rolling by starting a Royal Romance Writing Reboot.
Please share this post so we can reach out to everyone! Whether you enjoy reading, writing, artwork, or just like sharing your thoughts, I hope you'll jump on the train.
My hope is to get everyone involved again and launch some fun events. within the next couple of weeks.
Drake struggled, his boots dragging in the dirt as he tried to turn back to her. "Emilia!" he choked out, his voice cracking. He fought the guards with the last of his strength, but he was too weak. They slammed him into the hard bench of a utility vehicle, the door slamming shut behind him with a metallic clack that echoed like a guillotine blade. He fought to escape, pulling at the handle, the window, anything to get back to her. But it was no use. All he could do was press his face to the glass, his one good eye wide and filled with a desperate, crushing sorrow. As the engine roared to life, he watched Emilia struggle against the guard, tears streaming down her face. He managed to mouth one final thing before the car lurched forward.
I love you.
The tires spun, spitting gravel into the air, and the car sped down the driveway. Through the smeared, reinforced glass of the rear window, he saw the gates of Applewood receding. He saw the cluster of figures in the courtyard—a blurred tableau of grief and shock—and at the centre, he watched as the girl he loved more than life itself collapsed to the ground. Her screams reached him even over the growl of the diesel engine, a high, thin silver thread of sound that seemed to wrap around his throat and pull until he couldn't breathe.
"Emilia!" he sobbed, lunging again for the door handle, his fingers clawing at the cold metal. This time a heavy hand shoved him back. One of the guards, a man whose face was nothing but a shadow beneath a peaked cap, didn't even look at him. "Sit down, Walker. Don't make this harder than it already is."
"Please," Drake gasped, the word tasting of copper and bile. His left eye was swollen almost entirely shut, the skin tight and throbbing with every heartbeat. "You don't understand. She’s... she’s alone. She needs me. Just let me out at the end of the drive. Please. I’ll walk to my mums. I’ll hide. The King doesn't have to know."
The guard in the passenger seat turned around, his expression flat and bored. "The King knows everything he needs to. Shut the fuck up and stay in your seat."
Drake didn't shut up. He pleaded until his throat felt like it had been scraped with glass. He offered them his life, his silence, his soul—anything to just be allowed to turn back. To see her again, to hold her, to tell her he loved her. But it was no use. He watched the familiar landmarks of Duchy Ramada flicker by in the moonlight: the stone bridges, the ancient oaks, the rolling hills where he had spent his childhood, and recently where he had dreamed of a future that was being incinerated with every mile.
Eventually, the adrenaline began to bleed out, replaced by a cold, hollow vacuum. He leaned his head against the vibrating glass of the window. He could feel it then—the physical sensation of his heart tearing. It wasn't a metaphor. It was a jagged, searing heat in the centre of his chest, a structural failure of his very being. He closed his eyes and sobbed, the sound muffled by the roar of the tires on the asphalt.
The drive felt like an eternity and a heartbeat all at once.
The air grew cooler as they climbed toward the northern frontier. Finally, the vehicle slowed. Up ahead, the floodlights of the border crossing cut through the dark like accusatory fingers. Drake watched with a deadened stare as they passed through the checkpoint. The guards exchanged a few hushed words with the border patrol, a clipboard was signed, and just like that, the sovereignty of his life was handed over.
They drove a few miles further into the French countryside, pulling over onto a desolate stretch of road flanked by drainage ditches and skeletal trees.
The door was wrenched open. The night air hit Drake’s face—sharp, indifferent, and smelling of damp earth.
"Out," the guard barked.
Drake stumbled as they hauled him from the bench. His legs, stiff from the beating and the cramped ride, gave way immediately. He hit the gravel on his hands and knees, the sharp stones biting into his palms.
"Listen close," the lead guard said, looming over him. The man’s boots were polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the moonlight. "You are now persona non grata in the Kingdom of Cordonia. The gendarmerie has your details. If you so much as dip a toe across that line, you’ll be arrested before you can draw breath. Trespass, assault of a Royal, subversion—we’ll stack the charges until you rot."
"But I didn't do anything wrong!" Drake cried, his voice breaking into a jagged wreck. He looked up, his one good eye searching for a shred of humanity in the guard’s face. "I love her! Please, I’m begging you... take me back. I won't go near the manor, I swear. Just let me stay in the country. Let me be near her."
The guard leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, venomous hiss. "You aren't listening. You're never going to see your little girlfriend again. You’re a ghost now, Walker. Move." He pointed a gloved finger toward the dark horizon of France.
"No! Please!" Drake stayed on his knees, his hands clasped in a desperate prayer. "I love her!"
"I said now!" The guard’s hand went to the holster at his hip. "One more word and I’ll arrest you right here. And mark my words, boy—if we catch you back in Cordonia, you won't live to see the dawn. Do you understand me?"
Drake looked at the gun, then at the road, then back toward the home that was no longer his. The weight of the King’s shadow was absolute. He saw the truth in the guard’s eyes: they would kill him. And if he was dead, he could never find a way back to her.
He didn't speak. He simply nodded, a slow, broken movement.
He tried to stand, but his equilibrium shattered. The guard, losing patience, grabbed him by the collar of his ruined t-shirt and hauled him up, then gave him a violent kick.
Drake’s boots tangled. He went down hard, his temple striking the packed dirt of the shoulder. A flash of white light exploded behind his eyes. He tried to push himself up, but the world was spinning, the stars above swirling into a chaotic vortex. The very stars he and Emilia had made love under not two hours earlier.
He lay there in the gutter, the cold mud seeping into his clothes. He couldn't move his arms. He couldn't move his legs. He couldn't even call her name anymore.
He could only listen as the engine of the royal vehicle revved a predatory growl in the silence. Drake watched through a haze of pain as the red taillights faded into the distance, two small, bleeding eyes retreating back toward the border, back toward the country that was no longer his home, and back toward the girl he loved who was screaming for him in a cage of gold and silk.
Then, the darkness swallowed everything.
*****
The first thing Drake registered wasn’t the pain. It was the rhythm. A rhythmic, relentless drumming against the hollow of his skull, syncopated with a cold, biting wetness that seeped into his very marrow.
Rain.
It wasn't a gentle mist; it was a deluge, a sky-borne assault that turned the world into a cacophony of splashing water and gurgling runoff. His t-shirt, once crisp and clean, was now a bloodied, sodden rag that clung to the jagged landscape of his bruised back. Every drop felt like a needle, stealing what little body heat he had left.
Then came the voice.
It was high, melodic, and filtered through the grey static of his consciousness like a beacon.
“Monsieur! Monsieur! Oh, mon dieu!”
He forced his good eye open. The movement felt like peeling back a scab. The world was a smeared watercolour of charcoal sky and murky, tea-coloured water. He was still in the ditch; his face pressed into the silty bank. Time had lost all meaning. Had it been minutes? Hours? The light was so flat and dying he couldn't tell if it was dusk or a storm-darkened noon.
But he wasn't alone. A shadow hovered over him, crouching down at his side. A silhouette against the weeping sky.
His heart, a battered organ that should have been too tired to hope, gave a violent, sickening thump against his bruised ribs. The cadence of the voice, the frantic edge of it—his mind, desperate and delirious, offered up a name like a prayer.
“Em?” he groaned. The word was a wet rattle in his throat, tasting of copper and silt.
The shadow leaned closer. He could smell wet wool and something herbal—lavender or sage.
“Em?!” he said it louder this time, a frantic command for the universe to be kind just once.
“It is okay, sir,” the voice replied, the French accent thick and soothing. “We are going to help you. You are going to be okay. Breathe, monsieur.”
Drake blinked, squinting through the stinging rainwater. He looked up, searching for that specific, electric flash of tropical blue—the eyes he had memorized countless times; during the heat of passion, when she laughed, and in the quiet of the night when they reflected the moonlight that bounced off the lake. Her eyes. The eyes that had been his only North Star.
But the eyes looking back at him were different, a deep, earthy chocolate brown. Strangers' eyes. Wide with pity and alarm.
The realization hit him harder than any guard’s boot.
Desperation took hold, he tried to heave himself upward, to crawl away from the reality of his banishment. A white-hot spike of agony lanced through his side, a jagged lightning bolt that seemed to pin his lungs to his spine. The air left him in a sharp, strangled hiss.
He collapsed back into the muck, his chest making a horrific, wet rattling sound. Every inch of his body throbbed in time with his pulse—the dull ache of his jaw, the sharp stabs in his abdomen, the searing heat where his eye was swollen shut.
Oddly, the physical pain was a mercy. It was sharp, it was real, and it provided a momentary dam against the howling, freezing void where his heart used to be.
“Emilia,” he sobbed one last time, the name a broken exhale.
The pain surged, a rising black tide that swallowed the brown-eyed stranger and the grey sky alike. Before he could hear her reply, the world tilted and vanished, dragging him back into the quiet dark.
*****
The next time the world coalesced, it didn't arrive with the sting of rain or the smell of mud. Instead, it was ushered in by a profound, disorienting warmth.
The weight on his body was no longer the sodden, heavy fabric of a ruined t-shirt, but something light and aerated. It felt like a cloud had settled over him. For a long moment, he simply drifted in the sensation of softness, his mind trying to reconcile this comfort with the memory of the gravel digging into his palms.
Then, he felt a rhythmic, gentle movement. A soft pressure brushed against his forehead, moving with agonizing tenderness to sweep the matted hair back from his eyes. It was a human touch—warm, rhythmic, and devoid of the violence he had experienced recently.
Drake forced his good eye open. The sudden intrusion of light made his vision swim, but as it cleared, he saw a room bathed in the honeyed glow of afternoon sun. Golden dust motes danced in the light pouring through a nearby window, illuminating the rough-hewn timber of the ceiling. On a small wooden nightstand, a cluster of wild yellow flowers sat in a glass jar, their petals vibrant and defiant.
He groaned, the sound vibrating through a chest that felt like it had been crushed by a tectonic plate. As he tried to shift his head, the movement pulled at the taped bandages across his ribs, sending a white-hot flare of agony through his side.
"Shh... it is okay," a voice murmured. It was the same melodic, high-pitched beacon from the storm, but clearer now, stripped of the wind’s howl. "You are safe now. You are going to be alright."
He managed to turn his head an inch. The brown eyes were back, framed by thick, dark lashes and a face of striking, dark skin. Her raven hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and her expression was one of guarded, gentle concern.
"What is your name?" the woman asked, her voice dropping to a soothing hum.
"Drake," he choked out. The name felt like a jagged stone in his throat, his voice so raw it sounded like a stranger’s.
"My name is Kiara," she said softly. She dipped a cloth into a basin of cool water and began to run it over his face, dabbing away the dried salt and the phantom heat of his bruises. "You are lucky my brother and I found you when we did. The storm... it was not kind. Who knows what might have happened to you if we had not seen you in the light of the truck."
"Where... where am I?" Drake’s voice was a ghost of itself.
"At our home. Mine and my brother’s. We are not far from the road where we found you."
Drake’s mind struggled to track the distance. "How... how long?" He swallowed hard, the copper taste still lingering. "How long have I been here?"
"A couple of days."
Drake’s eyes flew wide, a cold spike of panic flaring in his chest, sharper than any physical wound. Days? The thought echoed like a death knell. Every hour he was unconscious was an hour the King’s men could have used to cement his disappearance. Every day was a day Emilia had spent thinking he was gone forever.
He tried to heave himself up, but his equilibrium was shattered. He cried out as a jagged pain ripped through his midsection, his breath hitching in a series of sharp, shallow gasps.
Kiara’s hand was on his chest in an instant, her palm a steady, grounding weight against his skin. "Shh! Do not move. You are pretty beaten up, Drake. Your ribs—they are not happy with you."
As the heat of her hand radiated through him, Drake realized with a start that he was bare beneath the quilt, save for his briefs. He felt exposed, stripped of his last defences.
"Where are my clothes?" he rasped, his hand clutching at the edge of the blanket. "My things?"
"We took them off," Kiara explained, her tone matter of fact yet kind. "They were covered in mud, and blood. They were no longer clothes, only rags. We have washed what we could, but... you needed to be clean for the wounds to heal. What happened to you? Were you hit by a car?"
"No. I..." Drake winced, the memory of the king fists and the guard’s boot returning with sickening clarity. He tried to sit up again, driven by a desperate need to find his boots, to find the border, to find her.
"No, no," Kiara insisted, gently but firmly guiding him back down. "Just rest. I will bring you something to eat—a broth. You must be hungry, no?"
Drake collapsed back against the pillows, the brief exertion leaving him trembling and grey-faced. Despite the days of forced sleep, he felt a bone-deep exhaustion that went beyond the physical. It was the exhaustion of a soul that had been hunted. "Thank you," he managed to whisper.
Kiara gave him a small, encouraging smile and stood. "Just rest, Drake. You are in a good place now."
She slipped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Drake lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of a domestic life he no longer possessed—the clink of a spoon, the low murmur of another voice in the kitchen.
A sudden breeze billowed the light curtains at the window, bringing with it the heavy, sweet scent of blooming jasmine from a vine outside.
The smell hit him like a physical blow. Jasmine.
It was the scent of the Applewood gardens. It was the fragrance that lingered on Emilia’s neck when they made love. It was her perfume, her essence, her ghost.
His heart gave a violent, painful thud against his fractured ribs, and for the first time since he collapsed in the ditch, the silence of the room was broken by a jagged, heaving sob.
"Emilia," he choked out, his fingers curling into the soft sheets until his knuckles turned white. "I’m sorry... I’m so sorry..."
He lay in the golden light of a country that wasn't his, smelling a flower that reminded him of everything he’d lost, and wept for the girl he loved.
*****
A short while later, the door creaked on its hinges, a low, complaining sound that sliced through the heavy silence of the room. Drake didn't turn. He remained frozen, his cheek pressed against the cool pillow, his gaze anchored to the window. Outside, the French countryside rolled away in a blur of emerald and beige, a landscape that felt alien and indifferent to the boy who had grown up in the cradle of Cordonia. The tears were silent, hot tracks that pooled in the hollow of his eye socket before spilling over his nose.
The floorboards groaned under a heavy, deliberate tread. A shadow fell across the bed, smelling of woodsmoke and yeast.
"Hello," a voice said—deeper than Kiara’s, with the same melodic lilt. "My name is Zeke. I am Kiara’s big brother."
Drake forced his head to turn, the movement sending a dull, throbbing ache through his neck. He quickly dragged the back of a trembling hand across his face, trying to scrub away the evidence of his breaking heart. He looked up at Zeke. The man shared Kiara’s striking features—the same deep, obsidian skin that seemed to drink in the afternoon light, and hair as dark as a raven’s wing.
"Drake," he managed to rasp, the word a dry rattle. He tried to offer a smile, but it was a fragile, ghost-like thing that didn't reach his eyes.
Zeke didn't comment on the tears. He simply nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. He stepped closer, the wooden tray in his hands rattling slightly with the weight of a ceramic bowl and a thick hunk of crusty bread. With practiced gentleness, Zeke set the tray on the nightstand and reached out to help Drake sit up.
As soon as Drake’s weight shifted, the world exploded into white-hot glass. He let out a sharp, strangled hiss, his fingers digging into the quilt as his fractured ribs protested the movement. Zeke’s hands were steady, like pillars of oak, supporting his back until he was propped against the headboard.
"Here," Zeke murmured, holding a glass of water to Drake’s cracked lips.
Drake tried to gulp it down, the cool liquid feeling like a miracle against his parched throat, but Zeke pulled it back slightly. "Slow down. You’ve been through hell, my friend. We do not want you making yourself sick."
Drake nodded, his chest heaving with shallow, careful breaths. "Thank you," he whispered, the water easing the grit in his voice.
Zeke pulled the chair from the corner, the legs scraping softly against the floor, and sat beside the bed. He watched as Drake began to eat. The broth was warm and savoury, tasting of leeks and chicken, and though his jaw ached with every swallow, the hollow void in his stomach roared for the sustenance.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Zeke asked quietly. "I assumed you had been hit by a car. You have some pretty nasty bruises, and there is a gash on your ribs that... if it had been any deeper, you would have bled out in that ditch."
Drake paused, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. The memory of the King’s signet ring catching the light just before it smashed into his cheekbone flashed through his mind. "I got the shit beaten out of me," he said, his voice hardening with a sudden, jagged edge of resentment.
Zeke leaned back, his dark eyes narrowing. "By who?"
"The father of the woman I’m in love with."
"Merde," Zeke breathed, a low whistle escaping his teeth. "What did you do to make him do that?"
"Nothing!" The word burst out of Drake, followed immediately by a wince as the outburst pulled at his chest. "I just fell in love with his daughter. That’s all. And she fell in love with me. But her father... he doesn't think I’m good enough for her. He nearly killed me when he found out."
Zeke looked at the purple swelling of Drake's eye and the raw, angry marks on his throat. "I can see that."
Drake looked around the room again, the reality of his situation settling in like a heavy fog. "Why didn't you take me to a hospital?"
"We couldn't," Zeke explained, gesturing toward the window where the sky was beginning to bruise with the approach of evening. "The storm was a monster. We are quite remote here, Drake. The roads are dirt and clay—they are unusable when the sky falls like that. The nearest hospital is almost forty miles away. So, we brought you here. I patched you up, cleaned the silt from your wounds, and made sure you stayed warm."
"Thank you," Drake said, genuinely moved by the stranger's grace.
"It is not a problem. I am just glad we found you. Kiara... she has barely left your side since we brought you in."
Drake looked at the empty spot by the bed where she must have sat. "Really?"
"Mmhmm. She is an incredibly caring person. She hates to see anyone hurt. Ever since our parents passed, it has just been the two of us. She has a big heart."
"I'm sorry to hear about your parents," Drake said softly.
"Thank you."
The meal was gone quickly, leaving Drake feeling a flicker of strength return to his limbs—a false confidence born of desperation. He gripped the edge of the mattress and tried to swing his legs over the side, intent on finding his boots.
"No, no—woah!" Zeke was on his feet in a heartbeat, his large hands pressing firmly but gently against Drake’s shoulders, pinning him back to the pillows. "Where do you think you are going?"
"Cordonia," Drake gasped, his face turning a sickly shade of grey as the pain flared again. "I need to get back there. I need to find Emilia... the woman I told you about. I need to be with her. I have to make sure she's alright."
Zeke shook his head, his voice firm. "I am sorry, Drake, but you are in no state to go anywhere. Even if you could walk, the roads are all still flooded. If it is anything like the last great storm, we will not be able to get a truck off this land for at least a week."
"No," Drake groaned, his eyes wild with panic. "I need to see her. I'll walk if I have to. I'll crawl."
"Drake, listen to me," Zeke said, leaning in so their eyes locked. "You will not even make it to the front door without collapsing. Your body is broken. You need to rest. You need to regain your strength. Once you can stand without shaking, and once the roads are clear... then you can go. Okay?"
The fight drained out of Drake. He looked at his hands—the hands that had held Emilia, that had caressed her soft skin, now scarred and trembling. Zeke was right. If he died on the side of a French road, he would be a ghost to her forever. He nodded, sinking back into the pillows, the defeat tasting more bitter than the copper in his mouth.
"Good," Zeke said, softening his tone. "Get some rest. If you need anything, just call. I will be just down the hall."
"Do you have a phone?" Drake asked, hope flared briefly.
Zeke offered a small, apologetic shrug. "I am afraid not. The nearest phone box is about a mile from here, out on the main road. It likely would not even work in this weather."
Drake sighed, a long, ragged sound. He looked up at Zeke, a new idea taking root. "What about paper and a pen? Is there a post box nearby?"
Zeke smiled, a flash of white teeth in the dimming room. "That, I can do. There is a post box at the end of our drive. I would be happy to post anything for you."
"Yes. Please. Thank you."
Zeke walked to a small, scarred wooden desk in the corner. The drawer slid open with a dry rasp, and he pulled out a few sheets of cream-colored paper, a ballpoint pen, and a single envelope. He walked back and placed them in Drake’s lap.
"Rest, Drake," Zeke said, giving his shoulder a final, supportive squeeze before turning to leave.
Alone again, Drake sat up a little further, wincing as his ribs shifted. He stared at the blank, white page. The scent of the jasmine from outside was still drifting through the screen, filling his senses with the memory of the girl he had lost.
He clicked the pen, the sound sharp in the quiet room. His hand shook as he touched the tip to the paper. then he began to write.
My dearest Emilia,
My hand is shaking as I write this, and I’m not sure if it’s the cold or the simple, staggering weight of how much I miss you.
I am in France. It seems your father’s men didn’t want me dead quite as much as he did—or perhaps they just wanted me far enough away that I would become a memory. They left me in a ditch not far from the border, battered and broken, as the sky turned into a monster.
I thought of you then. When the rain was stinging my skin and the world was turning dark, I thought of your face. It was the only thing that kept me breathing.
Two strangers, a man named Zeke and his sister Kiara, found me. They brought me into their home, and they are kind, Em. They’ve patched me up and fed me, but the storm has washed out the roads, and even if it hadn't, I can barely stand without the world tilting on its axis. My body is a map of what happened that night, but please, do not weep for me. I am okay. I am alive. And as long as there is breath in my lungs, I am yours.
It feels like a lifetime since I last held you. I close my eyes and I can still feel the way you fit against me, the scent of your hair, the way you laugh when you’re trying to be serious. I miss the quiet way you look at me when you think I’m not watching—the look that makes me feel like I’m the only man in the world who matters. You are the light guiding me through this fog, the only North Star I have left.
I find myself thinking of the things I can never give you. I am so sorry, Em. I am sorry I wasn't born with a title or a name that carries weight in a royal court. I am sorry that my hands are calloused and my pockets are empty, and that your father sees me as nothing more than a shadow in his opulent world. I know I am not good enough by their standards. I know they see me as a commoner who stole a princess.
But please believe me when I say that while I may not have gold to offer you, I have a devotion that would outlast the very foundations of Cordonia itself. My love for you isn't a duty or a political match—it is my blood. It is the very marrow in my bones. You are my home, Emilia. Not a castle, not a country. Just you.
I promise you, with every shattered piece of my heart: I am coming back. I will crawl across every inch of this continent if I have to. No distance, no storm, and no king can keep us apart forever. We will be together again. One day we will find our own sanctuary, far from the shadows of the crown.
I will write to you every single day until I can say these words to your face. Stay brave for me, my beautiful girl.
Fandom: The Royal Romance (loosely, there’s not much canon in here).
Pairings: None yet
Word Count: 1,961
Rating: MA
Warnings for series: adult themes, any given chapter may contain murder, violence, language, drinking, drug use, etc.
My other stuff can be found on my main blog @angelasscribbles here is the Master List.
Liam was apocalyptic when he burst through the apartment door. “What happened to collaboration, Walker?”
“I called you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you called me.” Liam fumed as he pulled on a pair of gloves before entering the kitchen. “After you contaminated my crime scene!”
“Oh, calm down. No one contaminated anything. I know how to—”
“And you brought a reporter here!” He shot a withering glare across the room at Riley.
The unflappable reporter smiled and gave him a little wave. “I’m a witness now.”
Drake held both hands up in the air in front of him. “To be fair, she brought me here so…”
“Just shut up, both of you.” He shook his head as he made his way over to the body where the medical examiner was already crouched over the victim. “Hey, Hana. How’s it going?”
“I can’t complain,” she smiled up at him, “But this poor girl…”
“Yeah. What do we know so far?”
“Blunt force trauma to the head.”
The apartment was swarming with officers. One of them approached him, “You must be the homicide detective from the seventh precinct.”
“That’s right, Liam Rys.” He shook the squat balding guy's hand.”
“Steve Carlson. The twelfth precinct is happy to collaborate with you, but this is our case.”
“Of course, but the vic was a suspect in my case.”
As the two detectives hammered out jurisdictional concerns, Drake made his way over to Riley. “You sure know how to get a guy sideways with people he’s supposed to be getting along with.”
“How was I supposed to know our witness was going to be dead when we got here?”
He just smiled as he shook his head. “I told you that you were going to be trouble.”
“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.” She teased.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he mused.
“Have you learned anything new?”
“You’ve been with me the entire time we’ve been here.”
“Not true. You were with the police when they searched the place while I was exiled to this couch, waiting to be questioned.”
“Well, I didn’t learn much except…”
Riley perked up. “Except what?”
Drake paused to consider what he should tell her. His client had only hired him to investigate Trent’s murder. Sarah’s murder was likely related, but he couldn’t fathom a motive for either Katie or William Sloan to have killed her. So what he had learned didn’t fall under client privilege. He didn’t see how the information could hurt his client, and that’s all he cared about.
“Except that the murder weapon was her own rolling pin.”
“She was killed with a rolling pin?”
“It was one of those heavy, marble ones.”
“Huh.”
“Huh, what?”
“Weapon of opportunity.”
“Looks like it.”
“Just like Trent’s gun.”
“That’s a pattern.”
“Yeah… but…. “
“What?”
“Ok, so the motive was jealousy. Sabrina kills Trent, then gets in her car and goes to kill Sarah, right?”
“That’s the working theory, yeah.”
“Why didn’t she just bring the gun with her? I mean, she didn’t know there would be a handy murder weapon lying around this place. She could have just brought the gun.”
“Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly. She shot Trent and panicked.”
“Panicked.” Riley raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Then drove across town to kill the mistress?”
“Am I supposed to understand how murderers think?”
“Yes. I would think so. It’s your job.”
“I mostly track down cheating spouses and runaway kids, Riley.”
“This is your first murder?”
“Well, no, but still—”
“Come on. What else have you got? You must know something.”
“I know that the police found two airline tickets in Trent’s possession, and Sarah’s bedroom looks like she was packing for a trip.”
“So, Trent and Sarah were about to skip town together?”
“Looks that way. And there was an engagement ring with the tickets.”
Riley’s eyes widened. “So, Sabrina found out he was about to wife up her competition?”
Drake nodded. “Motive enough for you?”
“Maybe,” Riley’s gaze swept around the room distractedly.
“What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up.”
“Seems pretty cut and dried to me.”
They were distracted by a disturbance at the door. A plainclothesman was yelling, “Sir! Sir! You can’t be in here!”
They turned to find Max in the doorway. “I was just—”
The man yelling at Max whirled on the uniformed officer who seemed to be escorting him and continued, “What the fuck are you doing letting a reporter up here?”
“Reporter?” The cop recoiled. “I thought he was the crime scene photographer!”
Returning his attention to the man with the camera, the plainclothesman shook his head. “You do realize it’s a crime to impersonate—”
“I wasn’t impersonating anyone! I was called to the scene!”
“By who?”
“That would be me.” Riley stood up and waved to Max.
“You have no authority to—”
She blinked innocently at the officer. “I just needed a ride home. I’m too shook up to drive.”
The man grunted in consternation. “Fine. But he can wait for you downstairs.” Turning back to Max, he made a shooing motion, “Go!”
“I’ll be waiting outside,” Max called to Riley as he was roughly escorted from the apartment.
Drake turned to her in astonishment. Lowering his voice so the police wouldn’t overhear, he hissed, “You drove yourself here. And if you’re really too upset to drive…which I sincerely doubt, I could have given you a ride home. I’m right here.”
She shrugged and gave him a devious grin. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” Her fingers flew over her keyboard as she texted Max to get photos of the outside of the building and the police going in and out.
He reached out, grabbed her arm, and dragged her closer. “Yes, they can actually! Do not give them a reason to charge you for impeding an investigation!”
“I’m happy to know you care, but they can’t arrest me for calling a friend for a ride.”
“Don’t play stupid, Riley. It doesn’t suit you. You’re a reporter, he’s your photographer, and he totally just tried to bullshit his way into a crime scene.”
“Max just gets enthusiastic—”
“Max does whatever you tell him to do. I’ve known you for a day, and I already know that. He’s young and naïve, and if you’re not careful, you’re going to get him in trouble.”
“And you’re underestimating him. Max can take care of himself.”
“Yeah? And how would you feel if he got arrested because of your antics?”
“Antics?” She arched an amused eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, antics. It’s a valid word!”
“Ok, grandpa.”
“Grandpa? Really?”
Riley shrugged. “If the shoe fits…”
Drake grunted in consternation. “Whatever. Just answer the question. How would you feel if you got him arrested?”
“Well, if he managed to get himself arrested, which is highly unlikely, mind you, then I’m sure his family would send a cadre of lawyers to get him out and probably sue the police for arresting him in the first place.”
Drake blinked. “Who’s his family?”
Riley’s mouth fell open. “Seriously? He’s a Beaumont! Didn’t you notice his last name when you were writing those checks to him?”
It took Drake’s brain several seconds before the pieces fell into place. “Wait. You mean those Beaumonts?”
“Yeah. Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Riley! Maybe because it never occurred to me that a member of a notorious crime family would be moonlighting as a photographer for what amounts to peanuts!”
“First of all, all the crime was committed by his great-grandfather, and allegedly his grandfather, not him. The Beaumonts are legitimate now! Second of all—”
Drake snorted loudly. “Yeah, okay.” Everyone knew that Beaumont Enterprises was a front for organized crime. Or at least suspected it. No one had ever been able to prove any accusation. Probably because of all the lawyers.
“They are! And even if they weren’t…. that’s hardly Max’s fault.”
“Hey, I get it.” He put his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “No one likes to be judged by their family.”
Something in his tone drew a sharp gaze from her. “Judging from my research, your family seems pretty exemplary. Something I missed?”
He shook his head emphatically. “I’m just saying, some people may be trying to live down their family’s infamy, while others are busy trying to live up to an impossible standard.”
Her demeanor softened. “I get that.”
“Really?” He sounded skeptical. “Judging from my research, you’re the most successful person in your family.”
“Really.” She nudged him gently. “All that success is a stunning disappointment to parents who saved all their lives to pay for their daughter’s wedding and want nothing more than grandchildren.”
“Ouch. I’m sorry.”
“Nah. It’s fine. I’ve learned to live with it.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing.”
“Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”
They both looked up at the sound of a throat clearing. Liam fidgeted uncomfortably. “Am I interrupting something?”
Drake was the one who answered. “Nothing we can’t continue later. Did you need something?”
“I just wanted to let Miss Brooks know that she’s free to go and to remind you not to keep spilling secrets to the press.”
“I didn't spill anything she wouldn't have found out on her own.” A note of admiration crept into his voice as he continued, “Have you read any of her articles? Do you know how many awards she’s won?”
Liam frowned. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, she's really good at what she does. She doesn’t have to steal information from me. She’s the one who pointed me to Sarah in the first place.”
“Did she now?” Liam turned a thoughtful gaze to the reporter. “How did you find out about Sarah?”
“I’m an investigative journalist, Detective. I investigated.”
“If you had information pertinent to the case, why didn’t you share it with law enforcement?”
“I did.” Riley gestured to Drake.
“Right.” Liam scoffed. “In the future, please refer any and all relevant information about my active murder investigation to me. The officer in charge. Got it?”
“Got it.” She gave him a mock salute.
“Riley,” he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I know you’re mocking me, but I’m serious. There are protocols and procedures for a reason! I’m simply trying to do my job, catch the bad guys and keep the general public, including you, safe!”
“I know, Liam. I just—”
“Do you? Because I have a code of conduct that I live by, and I take my oath to the badge seriously!”
“I do know that. You are an honorable man, Detective Rys. Which is something I really admire and respect about you.”
Surprise flashed across his face. “Do you really feel that way?”
“Yes, Liam, I do.”
Drake cleared his throat. “Ok, I don’t mean to interrupt a moment here, but—"
“There’s no moment.” Liam snapped.
“Are you sure? Because to me, it looked like—”
“I’m sure. I just wanted to impress upon Miss Brooks the importance of staying out the way of an active investigation.”
“So just to be clear, you're not interested in dating her?”
“No!”
“Great!” Drake crowed before turning his attention back to Riley. “Now, about that dinner…”
Liam paled. “Wait—"
Drake slapped him on the back with a grin. “Too late, no take backs!”
Riley shook her head. “Guys, I’m standing right here!”
“Detective!” A plainclothesman approached Liam with a cell phone in his hand. “The chief has a question for you.”
“Alright, I’ll be right there.” He gave one last look over his shoulder before walking away. “I mean it, stay out the way, Riley.”
Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach, but everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.
Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)
A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found. Not beta'd. Barely edited (fuggit, we ball).
A/N 2 - I'M BACK! Well, for now, anyway 🙃. It's been over a freaking year since I updated this (how tho???! 🥲) or even looked at it but I got the urge the other day during some free time to work on stuff! (By the way, you can catch up here if you need a little refresher!) I know the fandom is *actually* dead at this point but I honestly don't care. Lol. Imma finish what I started, even if it takes 10 years 🫡.
A/N 3 - Listen I researched some stuff and I have a little medical experience but I am not a doctor so don't come for me over any inaccuracies. It's just a story 😎.
Characters belong to Pixelberry.
Tags - @choicesficwriterscreations
After Liam, Leo, and Regina decided at the Portavira hospital, Constantine was quickly airlifted back to the Capitol to join his home team of medical staff. His doctors worked tirelessly to get him stable, but his condition remained fluctuant since he arrived at the Cordonian Medical University. They hadn’t received a recent update, but Liam was determined that the moment he was able, he and Constantine would pick up their conversation right where it left off.
The anxiety he felt was like no other. He hadn’t slept in days and didn’t remember the last time he consumed something other than coffee. Time molded together, and he wasn’t sure what day of the week it was. The search for Riley drove him right to the gates of insanity, but Liam was determined, with everything in him, he was going to find her, no matter what it took.
The tension in the waiting room was a palpable force. Liam paced the area tirelessly, biting his nails until each finger bled. Leo stared into space and bounced his leg rapidly, filling the air with the sound of his pants as they rubbed against the upholstery of his chair. Regina watched the pair with pinched brows, and the longer she stared, the higher her curiosity rose. She noticed well before today that their demeanors had been different lately, and she heard of Liam’s hospital stay only a few days prior. His body language was off the charts at all moments, but she didn’t have any idea what could have created such trouble for them. She speculated but didn’t know for certain if her hunch was correct. All she knew was that something was indeed being kept from her.
Regina observed until she could no longer stand the tension and her curiosity got the better of her. “Liam… Are you alright?” She faintly asked, but her voice nearly echoed in the stillness.
“No, I’m not. He has to make it.” Liam answered, all the while continuing his pacing.
Regina's features softened. “I understand this is difficult to process, but everything is going to be alright—”
“No, it’s not!” Liam suddenly yelled, startling Regina and causing her to jump. “I need to know who did it. I have to know.”
Regina’s brows furrowed, her confusion reaching its peak. “What do you mean?”
Liam spoke again, but Regina quickly realized he spoke to himself instead of her. He walked in a short line then back again, his eyes glued to the floor and when he answered, his words were fast and muddled. “I just don’t understand. Who could’ve talked him into this mess? Was it Madeleine?” He pinched his brows and stopped before he shook his head. “No, no — he wouldn’t do what just anyone says… And that’s way too obvious, right? Right.”
Regina interjected, “Liam, what—”
“The council? Was this a collaborative effort? Is everyone guilty?” He continued, as his face quickly shifted from a bright shade of red to nearly white. “Can I trust anyone? Is this a sign to abdicate and call it a win?” He paused, the wheels visibly cranking inside his head before he spat out, “That solves nothing and doesn’t keep her safe! What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”
“Liam!” Regina yelled, stopping him in his tracks. Her eyes widened, she cleared her throat, and she smoothed down her skirt when his fiery gaze centered on her. “I apologize for the outburst, but what in the world are you talking about?”
“What?”
“You said something about Madeleine? And the council?”
Liam could only stare at Regina. He swore all that was happening inside his head, but it seemed lately there was no difference between the two. “I — uh…” He swallowed thickly as he silently weighed his options.
He didn’t know if he should tell Regina. It wasn’t because he believed she could be involved, but he didn’t want to risk putting her in danger. But now that the thought arose, it played repetitively, causing his heart rate to increase because maybe she could know something.
At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him if even Leo had a hand in it.
He shook the thought quickly, willing his paranoia to stay at bay. However, he also realized if Constantine had told anyone about his indiscretions, it would’ve been Regina, and his conscience wouldn't allow him to dismiss her as a person of interest.
Liam let out a sigh, placed a hand on Regina’s shoulder, and led her to a chair. He sat down beside her and addressed her in a low, stern tone. “What’s spoken of here does not get repeated. Are we understood?” He momentarily cursed himself because he wasn’t trying to come off this way to Regina, but he was so far over the ledge, that he could practically see underneath.
Regina agreed, and Liam swiftly caught her up to speed on what they knew, and her tears freely fell by the time he finished. She had no idea these things had happened and felt like a fool because she was a reigning monarch at the time the initial incident transpired. This was just as much her fault as it was Constantine’s, and she felt guilty for assuming what the media presented was correct.
“Liam, I didn’t know… I’m so sorry this has happened…” Regina started as she wiped her cheeks. “I heard you were running some kind of investigation, but—”
“You know about the investigation?” Liam hastily inquired, his red eyes not even blinking as he awaited her answer.
“It was hard to miss, unfortunately.” She sadly smiled. “I’m afraid most people know you were looking into Lady Riley’s whereabouts, but they don’t know how deep it runs.”
“Who’s been talking about it?”
“The truth?” Liam nodded, so Regina finished. “... Everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes, Liam… Word traveled around the court fast after you hired some kind of investigator—”
“They know about Ray, too?” Liam repeated in complete disbelief.
“Yes, but everyone assumed you were simply looking for Lady Riley to demand an explanation. No one has mentioned anything about her still being in the country, or anything else, for that matter.”
“Do you know anything about it? Did father ever mention it?”
“No, he didn’t,” Regina answered through clenched teeth. “And if he pulls through this, he had better pray to the heavens above for protection, because I have a lot to say to him regarding the matter.”
“What about the murders?” Leo interjected. “Has anyone said anything about those?”
“No. Most don’t even know who the maid was, and Penelope’s death hasn’t circulated the rumor mill yet.”
Liam ran a hand down his face as he let this conversation seep in. Nothing they’d done was secret. Sure, some aspects were, but they had been so careful to keep this under wraps, yet this information seemed to spread like wildfire.
This raised the question — was there yet another mole? His vision briefly connected with Leo’s and his expression echoed Liam’s, confirming that his suspicion wasn’t just paranoia.
“Regina, you can’t tell anyone —”
“You have my word, Liam.” Regina softly interrupted. “If I can do anything to help you in any way —”
“No.” Liam sternly answered. “I don’t want you anywhere near this — forget this conversation ever happened. I trust you, but I don’t want you getting mixed up in this.” He stopped himself, not knowing if he spoke he truthl. He didn’t know if he trusted her, but unless he received a reason, Regina’s name moved to the bottom of his list of suspects.
“But if someone mentions it…” Leo trailed off.
A doctor appeared in the doorway a moment later and bowed to the trio, interrupting the moment. “Your Majesties, my name is Doctor Gordon —”
Liam shot up from his seat. “How is he? Is he awake?”
“I’m afraid he’s not, sir, but we’ve stabilized him. We’re waiting on a few more lab results and his vitals are fluctuant, but for the time being, he seems to be on a steady level.”
“What happened?”
“Unfortunately, this can happen in carcinoma patients. The cancer already dwindles air and the lungs overexert and overpower the heart, triggering a myocardial infarction.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Liam practically barked as his patience ran thin.
“He suffered a heart attack. In any other circumstance, his survival rate would be high, but because of the cancer, unfortunately, his heart was already weak.”
“A heart attack?” Liam mimicked in disbelief.
“Yes, sir — a pretty nasty one. All we can do is keep him comfortable—”
“Don’t say it,” Liam gritted out through clenched teeth. “There has to be something you can do.” He pleaded, his desperation quickly skyrocketing. “We have funds — get a fucking specialist or something!”
Dr. Gordon winced at his volume. “Sir, he’s not eligible for any kind of surgery — his lungs will collapse the second we administer anesthesia. We’re giving him medications to keep him relaxed and manage his pain, but I’m afraid there’s not much more to be done...”
Liam could only stare at the man in front of him as if he spoke another language. This should not have been a surprise; they all knew Constantine was on borrowed time, but the convenience of hitting another roadblock regarding Riley couldn't be denied. That was his father, and he wanted to be sad that his life was essentially ending, but all he felt was anger and regret that he didn’t get the chance to uncover the final hidden piece of the puzzle, leading him to wonder if he would ever be able to find her again.
“Will he wake back up?” Liam tentatively asked, holding onto any little sliver of hope.
“I’m not sure, sir. He could, but it all depends on him right now. There’s nothing we can do to bring him out of it — it’s just a waiting game at this point.” The doctor responded with a sad smile. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Can you take us to him?” Regina tearfully inquired.
“Of course, ma’am.” Dr. Gordon bowed.
Leo and Regina went to follow, but Liam couldn’t force himself to go. If his father was not yet awake, he had somewhere else he needed to be. He wanted to feel guilty for not staying, but he meant what he said to Constantine; he was no longer his father. All he could picture was a monster who turned a blind eye while letting someone hurt the woman his heart still cries for. Perhaps his feelings would change with time, but for right now, he felt nothing but hatred for his sperm donor.
And his conscience screamed at him, demanding he go check out his father’s suggestion — the tunnels.
As a child, he’d heard fables and stories of the dreaded, abandoned area, hidden deep under estates from some older nobles. However, it never received recognition from a technical standpoint, only hearsay; it wasn’t something you’d learn about during a lesson or schooling of any type.
Liam honestly didn’t know if his father was being truthful or just trying to provide him with some kind of answer to deflect his anger. He had no reason to trust a word that came out of Constantine’s mouth, but he couldn’t deny the sudden jump he felt as he mentioned it; like a blast of lightning struck him, sending a jolt of electricity down the length of his spine. Rationally thinking, he was wary of believing his father, but his heart’s reaction couldn’t go unnoticed.
Either way, he felt he needed to check. They had to address anything and everything they found, and this would be no different. He assured himself that if Olivia were there, she would’ve already left to secure the scene. The rest of the duchies would get attention later, but right now, he needed to check his home turf.
Leo noticed Liam didn’t follow and turned around to see the wheels actively working in his brother’s head. “Li…”
“You go. Stay with him in case he wakes up.” Liam answered, his eyes centered on the palace in the distance as he peered out a window.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to check,” Liam said, more to himself than Leo. “He mentioned the tunnels — if she could be there, I have to look.” He swallowed down a lump of bile as he thought about what he might find, but either way, he needed to know.
“Liam, I know you want to, but —”
“I have to, Leo.” He swallowed thickly and quickly blinked, willing the sudden burn behind his eyelids to go away. “I have to.” He whispered.
“Then I’m coming with you,” Leo responded with utmost determination.
“No. I want you to stay with him.”
Leo’s mouth fell agape. “That is not happening —”
“I’m ordering you not to leave his side, Leo, not until I say it’s okay.” Liam rumbled. “Don’t fucking test me. I’m not in the mood. I need you here.” He turned and strode away before Leo received a chance to respond.
Leo watched Liam go with wide eyes. He didn’t know what to think or do in this situation. He couldn’t fathom that his father had done such a thing — that he stooped so low. Leo had his issues with Constantine, but nothing even close in comparison. However, he realized Liam was a walking ball of rage; there was no telling what he would do, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. Right now, he only saw the anger he felt at the moment. He was oblivious to what his actions could spiral into, and Leo couldn’t help but feel like this game was far from over.
Leo quickly pulled his phone out and called Drake, who was close by, to tell him to keep an eye out for him. It wasn’t because Leo wanted to stop him; he only wanted to ensure Liam did not go alone. He realized there was no telling what could be waiting — if anything — but on the chance there was something down there, Liam would not walk into it by himself.
Liam returned to the palace a short time later and instead of heading through the front doors, he veered left. He walked directly beside the building, surveying the concrete siding with his eyes and hands, mindlessly searching for something he wasn’t even sure existed. He didn’t know if anyone was around, and didn’t know if he had a guard trailing behind him. The only thing his brain registered was his footsteps in the grass and the immediate view in front of him.
To know Riley could have been here this entire time, right under his nose, made him sick to his stomach. Not only did he turn his back on her, but he potentially walked right above her all day every day, wishing she was there; now, there was a chance she was the entire time, and he couldn’t even begin to process it.
He still couldn’t fathom how this entire operation happened right under his nose. If Olivia hadn’t spoken up, someone would have covered this whole thing up. He not only abandoned her, but he also allowed this madness to happen. The guilt he felt at that moment was hard to ignore, but as he mindlessly trekked around the outside of the palace, searching for the unknown, his hands shook as he realized what could lie before him.
Riley could be inches away; he swore he could sense her aura near. His footsteps quickened and echoed in the stillness, even in the moistened grass, as he let that thought resonate through his body like lightning in his veins, fueling him forward. He was on a mission and saw nothing except his end goal.
Riley was close, and he was going to rescue her.
A hand on his shoulder startled Liam. He spun around with his fist cocked, ready to strike, but he stood down when he saw Drake. “It’s just me, Li…”
Liam raised his palm. “Don’t try to stop me, Drake. I’m going to find it.”
“I know, man. I’m coming with you.”
“No, we don’t know what’s down there—”
“Exactly. No way in hell are you going in there alone.” Drake swiftly interrupted. “Come on, let’s go.” Without a second of hesitation, he walked a few feet away from Liam to the back of the palace, directly to a wall covered in thick vines. He brought out his pocketknife and sliced through the shrubbery, revealing a large stone door.
“How did you know?” Liam rasped as he finished, his steely glare centered on Drake.
Drake recognized his hostility and raised his arms in surrender. Liam didn't outright accuse him of anything, but the fiery blues staring back at him told him exactly what he was thinking. “I’ve run around this place unattended for most of my life, Liam.”
Liam shook his head to clear the chaos. His features softened, and he released a deep breath before he replied, “Right… Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“S’all good, man.” Drake returned with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Ready?”
Liam mindlessly nodded, and the two started their venture. They swung the stone door open and saw a set of stairs that led into the vastness of the unknown, the chilled temperature seeping out and coating their skin in goosebumps. Liam entered first, Drake hot on his heels, and they cautiously began the descent.
Every creaky step echoed against the concrete walls, amplifying the tension until they reached a long, dark hallway. The depths of the palace tunnels were cold, damp, and incredibly creepy. A combination of dust and mold littered the air, and spider webs covered most of the walls. It truly mimicked what you’d see in movies, even down to the dull illumination from flickering sconces. The further they traveled, the worse it got and the higher their anticipation rose.
They followed until they reached a dead end. Both men glanced around, but neither could understand. They found the end of the tunnels and didn’t find a sign of anyone. There were no cells or doors, as Constantine suggested, and no signs of any life around. The only sounds to be heard in the deafening silence were their ragged breaths, mixed in with their pounding hearts as they let this conclusion sink in.
“Goddamnit! He fucking lied to me, Drake! Again!” Liam suddenly erupted, his voice nearly loud enough to burst an eardrum as it echoed off the stone walls. “He won’t have to worry about his heart giving out — he needs to be more concerned with what I’m going to do once I get back to that hospital.” He went to storm away, but Drake suddenly stopped him.
“Hold on a sec, Li.” Drake pulled out a small book from his jacket pocket and opened it. “I went to the library and got that book when Leo called to warn me you were coming and where you were going, just in case we needed it. Okay, we’re here…” He pointed at the page before both men carefully assessed the old, dusty map.
“What is that?” Liam asked as he motioned to a dark area. It appeared to be a door of some kind, although they saw no trace of anything as they peered around.
“That’s gotta be what we’re looking for. These maps don’t have the hidden shit on them, but there’s usually always a clue somewhere or an indicator of some kind.”
“How do you know all this?” He inquired as he skeptically eyed his best friend.
Drake smirked. “What do you think I did all those years when you were busy doing prince shit? I know every crevice of this place — if she’s here, we’re going to find her.”
“How are we going to find the door?”
“I dunno.” Drake shrugged. “We might just have to feel along the walls, or look for anything out of place.”
“Like creepy, floor-to-ceiling paintings in an otherwise empty hallway?” Liam asked as he pointed to a portrait hung not far away, conveniently placed in a darkened shadow.
“That’d do it,” Drake answered as they made their way over.
Liam touched the art and tried to move it, but even when he used all his might, it wouldn’t budge. He felt all around the area, searching for a lever or some kind of pulley, but uncovered nothing of relevance.
Drake took a step back and searched his memories as desperation started to creep in. He spent most of his childhood exploring the palace in moments of boredom. Liam joined when he could, but Drake had to entertain himself when he couldn’t fathom being around Maxwell or Olivia and often ended up in areas he knew he wasn’t supposed to be near, including this one.
When he was younger — probably ten or eleven — he found himself in this same tunnel. Somehow, he opened the secret door, but he got scared when he peeked in and quickly left. It was a complete accident; he didn’t even remember how he got the door to open. The only thing he recalled was that he stumbled and hurt his shoulder on the wall, then he flailed for balance as he began to fall. When his hand reached out for leverage, instead of connecting with the stone as intended, he grabbed the sconce and accidentally turned it in his descent. As he stood, he pushed on the painting to regain his leverage, and then...
Drake suddenly looked up and saw a light beside the portrait. All the other sconces held varying illumination, but produced light in some fashion; this was the only one they’d seen so far that was completely black — not even a faint spark. He approached and, without a second thought, he turned it to the side. Liam watched with furrowed brows and opened his mouth to speak, but a loud click silenced him. Suddenly, the outline of a door appeared and stopped him in his tracks, causing his breath to sputter.
He pushed on the wall before another click sounded and the door slowly crept open, revealing a darker, tighter hallway, somehow leading deeper and further into the unknown. The area was nearly completely black and smelled incredibly moldy, with hues of cigar smoke and sweat mixing in with a plethora of other rancid scents. Drake pulled his phone out, turned the flashlight on and peeked in, but they couldn’t see anything except a long, seemingly never-ending pit of darkness.
Liam went first but stepped slowly as his anticipation rose. Although he wanted to rush through, his anxiety multiplied as he took in the eeriness before them. His unease quadrupled, an anvil-sized chill traveling down the length of his spine and back up again. When they approached the end, the vicinity held a little more light from dim, flickering sconces, but not enough for them to see clearly.
They made their way to the end of the hall by feeling along the cold, moistened walls, except this time, one lone, stone door with corroded metal bars awaited them at the end. Drake and Liam’s hair on the back of their necks stood straight up as they saw a chain and padlock lying on the floor, the structure slightly ajar. Liam cautiously approached and pushed it open with shaky hands, swallowing thickly to contain the vile as it rose to the back of his throat.
As they stepped over the threshold, they saw a line of what appeared to be small holding cells; three, to be exact. The boxes were small with just enough room for the few pieces of furniture. The first two were empty and the cots were perfectly made, showing no signs of anyone. They approached the last and Liam’s heart sank into the pits of his stomach as he realized it was vacant as well. However, his mind started to race as he realized this one clearly housed someone at some point; a tray of untouched food sat on a small table in between the toilet and bed, which was unmade and tousled, causing his hands to shake uncontrollably as he tried to process this scene.
“Holy shit…” Drake gasped as he took in their surroundings. “How did we never find this?”
“I don’t know… I think the better question is, how did someone else find it?”
“They didn’t, Li. Someone knew this shit was here and how to access it — nobody just stumbled upon this.” Drake rubbed his chin, his disbelief shining brightly as he tried to make sense of this new revelation. “There’s no fucking way.”
Liam stepped toward the bed and lifted the pillow to his face. He inhaled a deep breath and a faint floral fragrance invaded his senses and sparked some kind of recognition, but he couldn’t pinpoint if it was Riley or not. “Do — do you think she was here?”
Drake momentarily remained silent as he weighed his words, figuring out the best way to be honest with his best friend without completely demolishing the fragile remnants of his hope. “Clearly someone was, but it’s hard to say if it was her…” He faintly answered.
Liam nodded and returned the pillow, his heart racing while every worst-case scenario ran through his head. He shook it off and instead touched the tray of food and as he did, sweat immediately poured down his forehead, and a sudden chill swept over his entire body, as if he'd opened the door to Lythikos' keep in the middle of a snowstorm, as he realized —
The food was still warm.
“Drake…” His voice trembled, and he spoke quietly as his eyes surveyed the room. “Someone was here recently — like, within a few hours, maybe less… I can’t help but feel like they knew we’d come down here.”
“What do you mean?”
“That door was open on purpose, Drake, and this food is still warm. They wanted us to know someone was in here.”
Drake momentarily considered it before he responded, “You’re right, but how do we know who it was?”
“I don’t know… I need to contact Olivia and Ray to let them know about this. If my father was correct, these could be in all the duchies...” Liam trailed off with a hopeless expression. He shook his head with his hands on his hips, desperation setting in. “What am I supposed to do, Drake? I — I’m at a complete loss. No matter what we do, we still can’t seem to get ahead and now they’re taunting me, too.”
“It does seem like they’re taunting you a bit,” Drake agreed as he looked around the deserted box with barely enough for both of them to stand in.
“Do I send out teams everywhere? How can I do that without someone knowing? They already knew we were coming here, and I didn’t even tell anyone! The investigation may as well be on the evening fucking news!” Liam shouted as his composure turned to ash and he let the tidal wave of his emotions wash over him.
“I — I wish I could answer that, Li, but I’m not the one to ask… You need to get Olivia and Ray in on this as soon as possible.”
“I just need to see her, Drake…” Liam admitted, his lip involuntarily quivering. He stopped his steps but refused to make eye contact. His tears threatened to spill over, but he couldn’t decide if they stemmed from sadness, frustration, defeat, or all of the above.
Drake noticed Liam’s shift and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I know… Everything is gonna work itself out.”
“How can you say that? You’ve seen what’s been happening!” Liam exclaimed as he shook Drake’s palm away, his agitation returning full force. “I can’t keep doing this cat-and-mouse game. I’m canceling the tour — right now.”
Drake’s eyes widened. “Li, I don’t think —”
“There’s nothing else to do, Drake! I can’t keep going back and forth. Between this, and now my father, I can’t keep pretending everything is okay.” Liam shook his head as a lone tear traveled down his cheek. “I can’t.” He brokenly whispered.
Drake’s features softened. “I know this is a fucking nightmare, but you can’t do that, Liam, not until we know Brooks is safe… You can probably get away with postponing some stuff because of your dad, but you can’t outright cancel everything…” He swallowed thickly as he tried to keep his head level. He pushed aside his own desolate feelings to console Liam, but between worrying about Riley and dealing with Bastien's betrayal, he didn't know how much longer he could keep on this show. His best friend needed him to be strong and coherent, but the strength he rallied to be Liam's backbone ran sparse. They’d been through a lot together, but this situation put a whole new meaning to the term through hell and back.
Liam didn’t answer, but deep down, he knew Drake was indeed correct. Until Riley was directly in front of him, he couldn’t do anything to further irritate whoever held these cards, as much as that infuriated him. This entire tim,e everyone kept telling him he was the king — that he was in control — but that was never true. He was merely a puppet in someone else’s scheme and he found himself helplessly stuck, even though he wanted to throw in the towel. The thought of abdication crossed his mind on more than one occasion, but again, until Riley was one hundred percent safe, he couldn’t do anything.
“Maybe we should get ahold of Olivia and see what she thinks about this,” Drake softly suggested after a long moment of silence.
Liam couldn’t muster a response, but he nodded and mindlessly made his way out. They headed back to the main floor of the palace to the grand staircase in complete silence, the tension looming among them thicker than ever before. Liam didn’t have any idea where he was going, nor did he register any scenery on their walk; he couldn’t think straight.
So much ran amok through his already jumbled thoughts. Since his father told them of the hidden tunnels, he hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Leo, Regina, and now Drake. Bastien was no longer around, yet someone still beat them down there. He wanted nothing more than to believe it could have been Riley in that cell, but he didn’t know what to conclude. Nothing made sense. He felt as if the world around him was on fire, but he had no choice other than to walk through the flames with a smile.
Drake led Liam to his office, thinking that would be the best place for them to do something productive. He stepped aside to allow him access to unlock the door, and Liam mindlessly put his key inside the lock, not noticing that it wasn’t even necessary. The structure creaked open, but Liam suddenly froze as he took in his surroundings.
He knew when he left last he shut everything off, but a fire roared in the hearth and the TV was on a national news station, although muted. The blinds on his windows were open, the opposite of how he left them. The lamp on his desk shone brightly, and he undoubtedly knew that was the very last thing he’d turned off when he left.
Without a shadow of uncertainty, he knew someone had been there.
The temperature suddenly dropped, and an eerie sensation filled the air — one that was becoming all too familiar. Liam stepped over the threshold and took a couple of slow, cautious steps forward, ignoring the goosebumps coating his entire body. The anticipation of the situation multiplied until it became a tangible force — a living, breathing creature that derived from his demons, laying dormant, waiting for its next moment to rise and unleash hell upon his world. The room remained silent, but it wasn't content or peaceful; instead it felt louder than the screams of his deep anguish. For the first time in months, the whirlwind of his thoughts halted, but it was far from a relief. A sense of dread rushed over him so viciously that it nearly took him to his knees, but he didn't falter. He stood taller to project dominance over the mythical figure of his emotions, but he knew the attempt was subpar at best, and his demons saw how close he was to breaking.
He spun around in the middle of the room with pinched brows as he surveyed his surroundings. “What the hell?” He whispered, his voice slicing through the silence like a knife.
“Careful, Li…” Drake spoke as he followed closely, his eyes darting all around to look for any kind of threat.
“Someone’s been here…” Liam spoke as he did the same, combing the vicinity with a dissecting gaze.
“Yeah, but again, who?”
“That seems to be the question of the day,” Liam acknowledged as he noticed a lit candle on the coffee table. The pool of wax was only a small circle around the wick, which led him to decide that whoever lit it did so only minutes ago. “Someone is playing with me, Drake…” He trailed off, the hair on the back of his neck rising to attention as he extinguished the flame.
“Is there a guard close by? Maybe we need to let them handle this…” Drake suggested as his unease continued to grow.
Liam ignored him and mustered every ounce of strength he had to calm his rising anxiety. Even though he searched the room from top to bottom, he saw no prominent threats. Other than the things he’d already noticed, nothing else stood out. There were no signs that anyone had broken in or stolen anything; it almost appeared as if someone simply wanted him to know that they were there.
He carefully approached his desk with Drake glued to his side. He intended to grab the phone and call Olivia to see what she suggested they do next. However, as he scanned over the contents on top of the mahogany structure, he realized something he’d never seen lay directly in front of his chair. His hands trembled as he picked up the item, but when recognition swept over him, it was accompanied by anguish that resembled a dagger to the gut.
It was a folded-up newspaper from the day Riley became the Apple Queen, but someone scratched out her face in red marker on the front-page picture of her and Liam, and covered her body in obscenities. Large, animated tears streamed from Liam’s eyes, and his smile was transformed into a large, dramatic frown. The underlining in the attached article emphasized Riley’s commoner status, while others highlighted passages about an ‘enamored prince’ and her likelihood of success. He scoured the text underneath until the passage broke off and continued on a different page, but as he went to unfold it, something dropped from inside the paper.
Drake curiously crouched as he observed the contents meet the floor. He could tell papers or cards of some sort fell, but those became momentarily forgotten as something else dropped. It didn’t take long for him to realize it was human hair; long, silky strands of blonde mane, and a substantial amount of it.
He swallowed thickly as he recognized Riley as the only person they knew with blonde hair — aside from Madeleine, but her locks were nowhere near as lengthy as Riley’s. He bent down and picked up a wad for himself and Liam to see along with everything else, but as he realized what else he held, he stopped breathing.
With the hair were photos — Constantine at the hospital, Liam entering the palace that night, Penelope’s body arriving back in Portavira, Olivia and Ray investigating — all things nobody should have known anything about.
Before he could process anything, Drake’s vision went past what he held and landed on the now-opened paper still in Liam's hands. He furrowed his brow as he spotted something scribbled on the inside and motioned to it, causing Liam to look down with confusion written on his features until he saw peeks as well. He brought it to his face with visibly shaky hands and held his breath as he prepared himself for the worst, but within seconds, any and every ounce of hope burst into flames.
Liam dropped into his office chair, and Drake watched his complexion drain until he mimicked a ghost, his breathing steadily increasing in pace and intensity. His tears fell freely until he nearly sobbed, the shift happening so fast that Drake was momentarily speechless.
He quickly sprang into action and crouched in front of Liam. “Li — calm down. Take a couple of deep breaths… Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
After a few seconds of stillness, he answered, “I — I don’t know if there’s a-anything left to be d-done, Drake.” Liam got out through gasps and hiccups, making no attempts to cover his deteriorating state.
“What’re you talking about? We can’t give up now!” Drake hollered.
Liam remained silent for a long moment, the tension thickening by the second. His tears dried and the ache in his chest expanded until it exploded, leaving nothing but agony behind. “I don’t think we have a choice in the matter…” He responded, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion.
“Bullshit. What was it? Lemme see,” Drake demanded as his irritation skyrocketed. He was not willing to let Liam give up — not now. Whatever it was, they could and would deal with it. He didn’t know how, but someone had to keep some hope flowing in an otherwise grim situation.
Liam didn’t answer, but shook his head and stared blankly into space as he let the wave envelop him whole. His breath hitched and, although he tried to fight it, his tears flowed freely once more. He fisted his hair, and his shoulders shook with anguished sobs, the sound reverberating off the walls. Drake hastily snatched the item from his hands as his agitation got the best of him, even though he was experiencing a side of Liam he was sure nobody had ever seen. He held the paper in front of his face for only a moment before his irritation instantly dissipated, instead replaced with overwhelming anxiety as he’d never felt before.
They concluded Riley was in the country and speculated she was being held hostage, but they didn’t know for sure. They had very little information to prove where she was or wasn’t, and they tried not to jump to conclusions without having all the facts. Of course, her sources of identification would be required to vacate the country, but it wasn’t impossible to do. It wouldn’t have been easy, but people cross borders all the time — it was a far-fetched theory, but Drake held onto every little sliver of hope that she escaped after all.
However, as he stared down at the message left for Liam, there was no longer a need to theorize — the implications rang loud and clear. Within the blink of an eye, any semblance of hope turned to dust as they let the situation sink in.
The paper landed on the floor in front of the lengthy window behind the desk. Outside, a storm raged on, perfectly depicting the tidal wave of emotions coursing through the room and the graveness of the situation at hand. The rain against the glass suddenly increased, turning from a light tap to a full-blown knocking sound accompanied by forceful winds, making the trees sway violently. Liam remained in his daze as he stared blankly into space, but the gentle fall of the paper echoed in his ears as it met the floor, drawing his attention there.
His gaze zeroed in on the message, the illumination from the lightning flashing over it and displaying the consequences of his denial right before his face —
You’re running out of pawns, Your Majesty. Will she be next?
Naked, and still struggling to catch my breath, I glanced up at the man I’d just agreed to marry.
Liam stared down at me with such utter devotion in his gaze that it sent butterflies exploding through me.
It also terrified me.
There had been no romantic proposal or declaration of undying love.
I had agreed to marry him to keep him alive. Our discussion about how that would work and what it would look like had been interrupted by a vigorous bout of lovemaking when the electricity that always snapped between us exploded, the potent mix of physical passion and intense emotion as we danced around the topic of my unspoken feelings for him cumulating in the physical expression of everything that I could not bring myself to express verbally.
Not yet.
I needed to ensure his survival first.
“Move into my room.”
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea…”
“Why not? You spend almost every other night in here, anyway.”
“That’s true, but…”
The knowledge that the rest of those nights were spent with Drake hung in the air between us.
He rolled off me and sat up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. “I’m not asking you to end your relationship with Drake. Just so we’re clear.”
“No?”
He turned his head back to make direct eye contact as he answered. “No.”
I found nothing but sincerity in his determined gaze. “Even after we’re married?”
“Even after.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows skeptically.
“Really.” He fixed me with a determined gaze. “We have a thing here called a Cordonian Arrangement. It’s an official codicil to the marriage contract that allows for an open relationship with no negative consequences to either party in the event of a divorce.”
“And you’d agree to that?”
“Of course, I would. I want you to be happy. I want Drake to be happy. I want to be happy. This seems like the best way to accomplish all of those goals.”
I stared at him for several heartbeats as I took that in. Then I nodded. “All right.”
The weight of the crown dropped away from his expression as that boyish grin I first saw in New York appeared. “Alright, you’ll move in with me?”
“I’ll consider it,” I told him as I got up and started collecting my clothes.
“Do you really have to rush off? We could order some food and—”
“I think you know that I have to go talk to Drake now. He can’t find out about our plan from anyone else.”
“Yes, I understand.” He ran a hand along his jawline with a sigh. “Listen. I know this isn’t a traditional love story. I know you’re only marrying me to keep me safe.”
I turned to eye him suspiciously because I could hear the “but” in his voice. “But?”
He rewarded me with that smile that could light the entire country. “But you do love me, or you would leave safeguarding my life to the King’s Guard.”
I felt dismay sweep through me. “Liam, this isn’t some fairy tale where love conquers all.”
“Isn’t it?” He stood and took my hand. “All I’m saying is that it’s okay if you don’t say it out loud. I love you and I’ll say it enough for both of us.”
“Liam…” He deserved to have someone tell him they loved him. He deserved to be told how amazing he was. He deserved all the romance and the fairy tale ending.
“It’s okay, Riley, I get it. Catch the bad guys first. Romance later. Go. I have things I need to be doing, anyway. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I didn’t have to go far. Drake’s room was just down the hall from Liam’s. He opened the door, surprise and happiness lighting his features when he saw me. “Riley! Come in!”
I walked into the room and straight into his arms. He wrapped me in a tight embrace and buried his nose in my hair. “Damn, I missed you.”
“It’s only been two days,” I laughed.
“That’s two days too many.” His arms tightened around me before dropping away. “Now, tell me about Hidar.”
“I’ll tell you everything, but first I want to know how you’re handling the news about having a sister you never knew existed.”
“I….” he looked lost, an expression I’d never seen on his face before. With a great sigh, he raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. “It’s a lot. I mean… do I tell my mom? Does she already know? I have no idea how I’m supposed to approach this.”
“Hey.” I took his hand in mine. “You don’t have to figure it out alone, okay?”
“Thank you.” He squeezed my palm. “Having you on my side means a lot to me.”
I returned the squeeze with a smile. “Always.” I realized with sudden clarity that I meant that. I wanted to be there for him as much as I wanted to be there for Liam. My determination to leave after wrapping the case up had been slowly dwindling, day by day, without me even noticing.
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but after a brief hesitation, he released my hand and gestured to the couch. “Please, have a seat and tell me how the mission went.”
We exchanged details of our respective missions. Drake ended his story by expressing frustration with Nick. “It’s like he didn’t even care that Rico got away!”
“Well, he accomplished his goal, and that’s all that matters to him.”
Drake looked at me in astonishment. “He loved you, Riley. Maybe still does. How can he not care about the threat to your life?”
“I’m not sure he loved me as much as he loved the idea of having a wife and a family. He projected a lot of shit onto me that was never actually about me.”
Drake nodded. “Yeah, I got that from my conversation with him.”
“Oh?” The corners of my lips quirked up. “You discussed me with him?”
“No!” His eyes widened in panic for a second, and then he blew out a loud breath. “Okay, yeah, I did.”
“It’s okay,” I laughed. “I would have done the same thing in your place.”
He brightened at that confession. “Yeah?”
I bumped him with my shoulder. “Yeah.”
He was silent for a long moment as he pinched the skin between his thumb and index finger on his left hand with his right hand, a gesture I’d come to associate with nervousness on his part.
“What is it?” I prompted.
“It’s just that there’s only a few days left in the social season and—”
“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that.” I interrupted him. If he were about to make some declaration of love or beg me to stay, I needed to stop him. It was now a moot point. “I’m not leaving at the end of the social season.”
I don’t think he could have looked more surprised if an alien had just landed on the front lawn. It took him a few seconds to collect himself. His gaze pierced me to my very soul. “I’m not complaining about you hanging around longer, but why? What’s changed?”
“The mission has expanded.”
“In what way?”
“I think we can take the whole thing down. And it’s imperative that we do.”
“Why is that?”
“You have to realize by now that even if we take down the local faction, Liam will still be in danger. Via Imperii leadership wants Cordonia’s coffers.”
“We’ll up our border security. Make it harder for them to get a foothold here again—”
“We have to take down the whole thing. It’s the only way to keep Liam safe.”
“Okay….” He studied me carefully, trying to figure out where this was going. “I’m not disagreeing, but unless I’m missing something, we don’t have what we need to take the whole thing down and he’s going to be in danger from the local faction the moment he chooses anyone other than Madeleine at the selection ceremony. So that’s the biggest, most immediate threat. Taking them down will keep him safe for now and give us time to figure out how to counteract any future threats.”
“I have a plan for that. I know how to keep him safe from the local faction and buy us time to take down the whole thing.”
“How?”
“Simple. I’m going to marry him.”
“What?” Shock flashed across his face, followed by anger as he jumped up from his seat and thundered, “The fucking hell you are!”
I followed him to my feet. I locked my jaw and thrust my chin out defiantly as I tried to make him understand. “Drake. Listen. He has to pick a wife in less than a week! He won’t choose Madeleine. If he picks anyone other than her or me, they’re going to kill him!”
“They’re going to try—”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Of course not! But—”
“But nothing! If we don’t take down the whole thing, then all we’re doing is postponing it. The Via Imperii will eventually regain a foothold in Cordonia. If he marries me, it buys us the time we need to take the entire thing down. It’s the only way to keep him safe and you know it.”
“We could—” he paused, his expression making it obvious that he was spinning through scenarios in his head. “Or maybe….. If we…. Okay, what if…. fuck!”
Bingo. The moment he realized I was right.
He stared at me with desperation in his eyes. “There has to be another way!”
“There’s not.” I knew it. He knew it.
His shoulders slumped in defeat. “What does this mean for us?”
“Nothing,” I assured him as I stepped closer and took his hands in mine. “I’m marrying him to keep him safe. He’s already agreed to a Cordonian Arrangement.”
The desperation in his eyes was replaced with a sliver of hope. “So, does this mean that you’re staying at court after the case wraps up?”
“What?”
“Surely you know that the moment your picture is plastered in newspapers all over the world as the future Queen of Cordonia, your career in the GIA is over. Have you thought about that?”
“Of course I’ve thought about it! It’s all I’ve thought about since I opened my big mouth and blurted it out!”
“You can take it back....”
“I can’t... and I don’t think I want to.”
“Do you…. Love him?”
I could tell how hard it was for him to ask that question, and I knew that the question he really wanted to ask wasn’t if I loved Liam, but if I loved him.
It was time for me to stop being a coward and face my feelings.
I reached up and touched his face as I answered. “This is a complicated situation. I have feelings for both of you that I never saw coming. Liam seems genuinely okay with me having a relationship with both of you. How do you feel about that?”
Of all the reactions I had expected at this moment, amusement wasn’t one of them.
He grinned at me with nothing but happiness shining from his eyes. “Did you just admit to having feelings for me?”
A sound that was half laugh and half scoff escaped me. “That’s what you got out of that?”
He grabbed me around the waist and tugged me closer. “That’s the important part!”
Then he was kissing me and every question I had was answered, every doubt erased.
“Mm-hm,” I murmured as I leaned into him.
We both moved our bodies closer to the other. His hands caressed my face and shoulders. His fingers traced down my back as mine threaded through his hair. He released my lips so he could nip and lick along my collarbone. I arched my body into him in encouragement.
His phone chimed, and he froze. “Shit!” He rested his forehead against mine as he expressed a few colorful opinions about the interruption and the character of his commanding officer.
“It’s okay, I have a couple of phone calls to make anyway,” I told him as I struggled to disentangle myself from him. “We can continue this later.”
“Continuing this is the only thing on my priority list,” He assured me as he returned the text.
“Don’t let your boss hear you say that!”
“I don’t give a damn who hears it!” He returned his phone to his pocket and lunged at me for one last kiss before hurrying out the door to a meeting that I had made him late for.
Alone in his room, I decided there was no time like the present. I took a deep breath as I punched in the familiar phone number.
My boss wasn’t as understanding as Drake had been. “I understand your concerns, Agent Brooks, but the social season ends in four days! We have everything we need to take down the Cordonian branch right now.”
“I need just a little more time and we can take down the whole thing! Isn’t that what we’re all about? Taking down the bad guys?”
“Of course. But once the social season is over, you’ll have no more reason to remain in Cordonia. You’ll have no cover.”
“Oh, I will.”
“I’m listening.”
I filled her in on my plan. She was less than thrilled with my ideas, to put it mildly. “Absolutely not!”
“If you’ll calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m telling you no! You cannot marry him for the love of God!”
“Why not?”
“You know why not! Right now, the social season is just local news. An engagement will be bigger news, and an actual royal wedding will be broadcast across the globe! You’ll be compromised! Your face will be splashed on newspapers everywhere! You’ll be worthless as an agent!”
“That’s not true—”
“It is true! You’ll be too recognizable to work undercover.”
“Are you saying you’d fire me?”
“I’m saying, at the very least, we’d have to pull you from fieldwork. We can’t, and we won’t, send a compromised agent into the field. Not only would it compromise you, but it would also endanger every agent working with you and you know it! We won’t allow that, and neither will any other agency. You do this, and your career is over, at least as a field agent.”
“It’s the only way to keep him safe and infiltrate Via Imperii leadership.”
“Brooks, I mean it, do not do this!”
“I’m doing it. So, tell the team to stand down. Please! If you take down the local branch, my cover is blown. I’m marrying him, regardless. You may as well take the win I’m offering you. I can deliver the entire organization. Give me another week.”
Barton was silent for so long that I thought the connection had been lost. Defeat and a note of awe were in her voice when she finally answered. “Fine. One more week. I never thought I’d see the day Riley Brooks leveraged her career over a man.”
“It’s the only way to keep him safe long enough to get what I need to take down the Via Imperii.”
“Right.” I could hear the smirk in her voice from across the Atlantic. “That’s your only concern.”
I chose to let that go and thanked her for giving me another week. It should be all I needed. It had to be all I needed because Rico was still out there somewhere and the moment the engagement was announced, there was nothing stopping him from leaking my actual job to the press. We needed to be ready to breach within hours of the announcement. Preferably before.
Fortunately, my impending engagement to Liam also gave me the bargaining chip I needed to infiltrate the highest level of the Via Imperii.
I lifted the phone that was still in my hand and dialed Sigrid’s direct line. She sounded both annoyed and impressed. “How did you get my private number?”
“Did you forget who my aunt is?”
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to let you know that though it won’t be official until the selection ceremony, Liam has gotten down on one knee and proposed to me.” I crossed my legs as I spoke, getting into character. I let the entitlement drip off my words. “You should see the diamond. It’s exquisite!”
That piqued her interest. “Forget the diamond, have you seen the marriage contract?”
“I’m holding it in my hands right now.” I lied.
“How much access does it give you to the finances?”
“Plenty.”
“How much influence does it give you over policy decisions?”
“Liam is still the monarch with final decision making power on everything. But don’t worry, I can sway his decisions in the correct direction.”
“You’re very confident in yourself.”
“I am.”
“I hope it’s well founded confidence.”
“It is. But as you know, Liam is very devoted to the people of Cordonia, so swaying him to see our side of things is going to take a little effort. I’m up for the job, but I need to know what I’m getting out of it.”
I could hear the suspicion dripping like venom from her words. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” I paused for dramatic effect. “If you want access to Cordonia’s bottomless coffers, I need something in return.”
“You’re already a member in good standing. What more do you want?”
“This is a lot of money we’re talking about. I want some input into how it’s spent. I think that’s reasonable.”
“You want a leadership position.” I heard the surprise in her tone, tinged with a hint of awe.
She had underestimated me.
“I do.”
“And what makes you think I’m in a position to make that happen?”
“Come on, Sigrid, there’s no way that a woman as driven and intelligent as you isn’t in the upper echelons of this thing. Do you really expect me to believe that you’re bowing down to someone like Eirik Midsommar?”
There was a long pause as she considered how much to trust me. I had appealed to her ego, and it worked “Fine. I’ll set everything up. Be here in two days, with the signed and notarized marriage contract in your hands, and we’ll talk.”
“Great. See you in two days.”
She hung up on me without saying goodbye. I didn’t care. Everything was falling perfectly into place.
A/N: This is for the @choicesholidays Valentine's Day prompts: "Be my fake date for a wedding."
The hair color is wrong for my Riley, but this image was perfect!
The copilot twisted around in his seat one too many times, craning his neck as if searching the cabin for something, jostling the pilot in the process.
Liam grunted in consternation. “Drake!”
Drake spun back around, “What?”
“What is your malfunction?”
“What do you mean?” Drake blinked at him in confusion.
“What do you mean what do I mean?” Liam grunted, “We haven’t made it through the preflight checklist because you keep turning around to stare into the cabin! What the hell is so interesting out there?”
“Nothing!” Drake rolled his shoulders, stared blankly out the cockpit window for a moment then turned back to Liam, “Can you see the guy in 12B?”
“What?” Liam’s head swiveled around and then back. “No. Why?”
Drake’s bottom lip protruded as he shook his head. “No reason.”
Liam watched him skeptically. Drake had been visibly agitated since he’d reported for duty. “There has to be a reason.”
“I…he just….he looks a little squirrely. You know what I mean? Untrustworthy.”
Liam’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is he a threat? Do we need to alert security? Did you see a weapon?” He whipped his head around quickly to try and get a good view of the man in 12B. “I can’t see anything. Riley’s blocking my view.”
“Is she talking to him?” Drake’s entire body moved just as Liam turned back around. Their heads collided with a resounding thwack.
“Ow! Fuck!” Liam grabbed his forehead.
“Sorry, sorry!”
“Seriously man, tell me what’s going on right now. I’m calling security!” Liam reached for the microphone but just as he got it to his mouth, Drake slapped it out of his hands.
“No!”
Liam watched in astonishment as the microphone flew out of his grip and hit the window then bounced off the dash. “Are you on drugs right now? Do I need to get another copilot?”
Drake gaped at him. “Seriously? When have I ever done drugs?”
“I don’t know man, but you’re acting really fucking weird.”
Hana ducked her head in to ask, “Are we almost ready? A couple of the passengers are getting antsy.”
“Which ones?” Drake asked.
Hana’s brows pulled together for a moment then smoothed out as she chuckled. “Oh. You know Riley’s ex is out there, don’t you?”
“What?” Drake’s eyes shot to Liam then back to Hana as he denied it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
A relieved breath whooshed out of Liam. At least he now knew Drake wasn’t on drugs and there wasn’t a terrorist on board. He stifled a laugh. “Sure you don’t.”
“I don’t!” Drake glared at them both.
Hana giggled as she backed out of the cockpit.
They finished the checklist and got airborne, but Drake’s agitation quickly returned. “Do you think he’s better looking than me?”
“Who?”
“The guy! In 12B.”
“How would I know?”
“You’re bisexual, right? You can judge that kind of thing.”
Liam scoffed. “First of all, I haven’t laid eyes on the guy. Second of all, I thought you didn’t care.”
“No, I don’t! I mean….just objectively speaking, out of curiosity….I overheard Hana call him eye candy. He can’t be that good-looking, can he?”
“I dunno Drake, Riley is a ten, so I imagine her ex is no slouch in the looks department either.”
“Great.” Drake huffed as he spun around in his seat again.
“Oh, for the love of God, just go look!”
“I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Because then she’ll know I care!”
Liam cocked an eyebrow at him, “So you do care?”
“I mean she’ll think I care!”
“You’re really an idiot sometimes, you know that?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Of course you don’t.” Liam shook his head. “The only person you’re fooling is yourself. Put the rest of us out of our misery and just tell the girl that you like her already!”
“I’m not going out there.”
“Okay.”
Drake tapped his fingers on his knees for several seconds before jumping out of his seat. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Sure you do.”
“I had a lot of coffee before we boarded.”
“Sure you did.”
“Fuck you. I’m going to take a piss.”
“Great. Tell Riley I said hi.”
Drake ignored him as he exited the cockpit and headed for the back of the plane where the restrooms were located. He slid his eyes sideways as he passed aisle 12 and scoffed to himself. The guy wasn’t that good-looking.
He was clean-shaven with a strong jawline, and raven hair swept back and gelled to perfection. Was that an Armani suit? How were his eyes that blue?
He slammed into the lavatory and locked the door to glare at himself in the highly polished silver surface of the mirror as he regarded his deep copper-colored eyes and messy, fly-away hair that barely saw a brush, much less hair gel. He ran a hand across the stubble dotting his jaw. It was a strong jawline, wasn’t it? Should he shave?
The guy in seat 12B looked like a CEO or something. Did she like that type? Drake was far more likely to be found in a tent than a boardroom. Did he even own a suit? He owned uniforms. Didn’t women like men in uniforms?
He made pretty good money as a first officer for Cordonian Royal Airlines.
Not CEO money.
“Fuck!” He spun and lashed out at the toilet. His foot connected to the stainless steel sending a sharp jolt of pain shooting up his leg.
There was a knock at the door. “Everything okay in there?”
Shit! It was Riley! “I’m fine. Dropped my…. Wallet…” Fuck, Walker! What the shit is wrong with you, man? Your wallet really?
“Are you sure because that didn’t sound like—”
“I said I’m fine!”
“Okay. Just let me know if—oh, excuse me what?”
From the other side of the door, a man’s voice murmured something he couldn’t make out then both people moved away.
Was that the ex talking to her? He forced himself to count to twenty so he didn’t just barrel out of the bathroom after them. He took several deep calming breaths like Max had tried to show him last time he had been upset about something. At least he thought it was what Max had done. At the time, he had mostly ignored him.
With an air of calm he most certainly did not feel, he exited the lavatory. His eyes went straight to seat 12B. Empty. He backtracked and ducked into the crew area.
Sure enough, there was Riley standing in the middle of the empty inflight catering kitchen talking to Mr. CEO.
All his jealousy evaporated in an instant as he took in her demeanor. Her arms were folded defensively across her chest and her face was furrowed into a frown. She was shaking her head as she leaned forward, her voice lowered but her entire body radiating her discomfort with the conversation.
The guy reached out and grabbed her arm.
She flinched away.
Oh hell no.
Drake didn’t remember moving but he was suddenly next to them, his hand wrapped firmly around the man's wrist. He flung the other man’s arm away from Riley and through gritted teeth asked, “Is there a problem here?”
The man gave him a startled look then annoyance flashed across his face. “We were just having a discussion.”
“Doesn’t look like the lady’s enjoying the conversation.”
“Mind your own business,” he shook his head dismissively and reached for her again, “Riley, if we could just talk privately—”
Drake intercepted the motion before he could touch her. “If you’re attached to that hand and wish to keep it, then I would strongly advise you against touching her again.”
He jerked his hand out of Drake’s grasp and rubbed his wrist. “Was that really necessary?”
Drake never took his eyes off the man as he leaned his body toward Riley, “Do you want to talk to this guy?”
“No.”
“But, Riley—”
“We have nothing to talk about, Nick!”
Drake angled his body so that he was blocking Riley from Nick’s view. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You heard her.”
Nick looked like he wanted to press the issue, but after taking in Drake’s stormy expression, thought better of it. He straightened his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “Fine. I’ll see you at the wedding. We’ll talk then.”
“You’re not coming to my sister’s wedding!”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’ll be there as Clarissa’s plus one.”
Riley shook her head back and forth. “Seriously? When we were dating, you couldn’t stand her!”
A gloating smile crept across his face. “Jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“Because you’re not over me, Riley. If you were, you’d have bothered to line up a date for the wedding.”
“I—”
“She has a date for the wedding.” Drake cut in as he casually slung his arm around her shoulders.
Nick turned his gaze to Drake for a long, evaluating moment. “Are you the new boyfriend then?”
“Yep. And I’m only going to ask you once to return to your seat. If you don’t stop harassing the flight crew, I will land this plane and have security escort you off of it.”
Nick’s eyes widened slightly as he huffed out, “You wouldn’t dare!”
Riley ran her hand down Drake’s arm as she smirked at Nick, “He would. He’s very protective when it comes to me. I wouldn’t test him if I were you.”
“Whatever,” Nick bumped Drake’s shoulder as he shoved past them and exited the kitchen.
Drake’s arm was still around Riley as he turned his head to watch Nick leave. “Let me know if he bothers you again and I’ll—”
Riley spun on him in fury, her fists raining blows on his chest. “What the fuck did you just do, Drake?”
His hand flew to his chest. “Ow! What the hell, Riley? I just rescued you from that guy!”
“I didn’t need rescuing, Drake. I can handle Nick. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a serial killer or something!”
Drake scoffed with a shake of his head, “I think the phrase you’re looking for is thank you.”
“Oh yeah? Really?”
“Yeah, really!”
“Do you know what you just did? Do you?”
“Um…got the asshole ex-boyfriend to leave you alone?”
“No, you fucking jackass.” She slapped his arm. “You just told him that you’re my boyfriend and my date to my sister’s wedding!”
“So?”
“So?” She threw her arms up in the air. “So when I show up at the wedding with no date and no boyfriend he’ll know that was a lie and I’ll be humiliated!”
“Oh.”
“Yeah…oh!”
They stood in silence for a long moment, Drake rubbing his chest and Riley fuming. Then Drake quietly said, “I’ll go to the wedding with you.”
“What?”
“I mean….if you want me to.”
“I…”
“I did get you into this situation. Let me make it up to you by getting you out of it. One fake boyfriend slash date for sister’s wedding coming right up!”
All the fight went out of her as she took in the hopeful smile on his face. “I can’t ask you to do that, Drake.”
“Why not?”
“Because the wedding is on Valentine’s Day and I’m sure you already have plans. I can’t ask you to cancel—”
“Pfffftttt.” He waved a hand dismissively in the air. “I do not have plans for Valentine’s Day!”
“You don’t?”
Did she sound hopeful?
“No, I do not. No girlfriend, no friend with benefits, no romantic entanglements at all.”
Except with you.
A delighted smile broke out across her face. “Okay, then.”
“So, we’re good?”
She gave him a flirtatious smile as she flipped her hair and turned to leave. “We’re good.”
“Okay, good.”
He watched her walk away with a contented smile on his lips then followed her out of the kitchen and back to the front of the plane. He glowered at Nick as he passed aisle 12.
Nick returned the glare as he adjusted his headphones and slid down in the seat.
When he stepped onto the flight deck Liam greeted him with smug satisfaction. “That was the longest piss in the world.”
“Shut up.” He slid into the copilot seat without looking at his best friend.
“So how’d it go? Did you get a good look at her ex?”
“Um….yeah… he’s a pushy bastard. I had to tell him to keep his hands to himself and….”
“And?”
Drake released a long-suffering sigh knowing Liam was going to find out sooner or later. Riley would tell Max and Max would tell everyone else. “I’m going as her date to her sister’s wedding.”
“Wow! That’s quite a jump from ‘I don’t like her like that’.” Liam chortled gleefully.
Drake kept quiet but his foot started tapping nervously.
“Oh, shit, there’s more! What is it?” Liam prodded.
“Ah…”
“Don’t make me call Max and find out.”
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Come on, what else?”
“It’s on Valentine’s Day,” he answered with a resigned sigh.
Liam practically danced out of his seat. “This is amazing! This is epic! Mr. I will never take a woman out on Valentine’s Day because that’s far too much pressure and it’s all about commercialization anyway is taking a woman out on Valentine’s Day. To her sister’s wedding!”
“Why does this make you so happy?”
“Because I get to say I told you so forever!”
“It’s not even a real date.”
“Sure it’s not.”
“It’s not!”
“Does she know that?”
“Yes! I just said I was her boyfriend so that Nick guy would stop—”
“Wait! Wait! You played the pretend boyfriend card to back off her ex?”
“Yeah…so?”
Liam threw his head back and belly laughed. “You are such a goner!”
Drake pressed his lips into a tight line and returned his attention to the control panel. He wanted to argue, he really did. But he couldn’t.
