Series:TRR(following the events of Book 2, with changes)
Pairing:Drake Walker x OC (Harper Gale)
Rights belong to Pixelberry, most characters and some dialogue belong to them.
Book Synopsis: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning… Harper came to Cordonia looking for adventure, and ended up finding love… not in the arms of a prince, like she thought she might, but in those of his commoner best friend, Drake Walker. But even though Prince Christian has chosen someone else to be his fiancée, Harper’s hope of a happily-ever-after with Drake is put to the test when she finds herself in the centre of a contrived sex scandal. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name?
Missed Book 1? Catch up on the events of the social season in (Un)Common Attraction.
Chapter Summary: Harper and Drake have a rude awakening… and Christian unveails an unexpected surprise.
Word Count: 6,400
Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, some smuttiness, angst, aggravation)
A/N1: So… I know people were hoping for Part III of Extraction, but a few weeks ago, I got hit with the scene that starts off this chapter, so I ended up writing out the whole thing (and starting on the following chapter as well, because that follows directly after the events of this chapter). Hopefully this doesn’t cause any major disappointments! My plan is to get back to Extraction and/or Sleepless in New York after I post Chapter 13… She said… hoping that the fickle muse will be cooperative
A/N2: Big thank you to @angelasscribbles for pulling me out of a massive tagent / rabbit hole that I accidentally threw myself down half-through this chapter, and for brainstorming the second half of the chapter with me! Also, big shoutout to hubby (who is worming himself into my writing process more and more as time goes on - the sneaky rascal! ) for helping me out with a bunch of details for this chapter!
A/N3: Finally, special shoutout to @thegreentwin for insipring the bonus content at the end of the chapter. If you have not read The Rebel Prince, please do so! It is cute, funny, insightful and the gossip magazine covers that accompany several of the chapters are something else!
The loud buzzing rattles me from sleep. Scrunching my eyes together, I snuggle deeper into Drake’s chest, hoping that if I ignored the ominous sound, it will just disappear.
Bzzt… bzzt…
But… no such luck.
“Sorry, baby…” mutters Drake into my hair. “Need to check who that is.”
“Can’t it wait…?” I groan, tightening my hold on his hand.
After gluing Drake’s arm back together, putting our blood-splattered clothes in the sink to soak, and having a long, hot shower to wash away the stresses of the day, we hadn’t ended up falling into bed until close to midnight. And I even though I had slept quite well — thanks to Drake’s comforting presence by my side — I was not ready to wake up just yet because I knew that if I did, then this brief, peaceful interlude was going to be over.
“Probably not, by the sounds of it,” he admits as his phone buzzes adamantly again.
“But it’s still dark…” I protest.
“I know. But it could be important…” he murmurs, laying a soft kiss on my shoulder as he draws his free hand up my body.
His fingers coasting over the exposed skin of my stomach causes my body to arch back against him. “More important… than what you’ve obviously got in mind?” I ask as my backside brushes against the tell-tale bulge of his morning wood.
Bzzt… bzzt… bzzt…
“Evidently…” he sighs, dropping his head against the crook of my neck in defeat.
Untangling himself from me, he rolls over with a grunt of disapproval to check his phone.
I flop face-first into the pillow. “Will we ever be able to just wake up at a normal time like normal people…?” I grumble against the silk-clad goose-down.
It was bad enough that I could literally count on one hand the number of times Drake and I have been able to fall asleep in the same bed since we’d become semi-official. But even when we’d managed to carve out some much-needed couple time, we weren’t even allowed two minutes to enjoy waking up together because one or both of us was always needed for some urgent thing at stupid-o'clock in the morning.
“Probably not while the tour’s underway,” he admits, falling back into his space next to me. “And definitely not while the Beaumonts run your schedule…”
“Is that who it was?” I ask, twisting around to settle my head against his shoulder with a frown. My bleary eyes widen as they land on the time at the top of the screen. “Are they being serious right now!”
“You know they don’t sleep,” he reminds me, scrolling through his texts.
“But it’s not even 5am!” I protest. “What the hell could they want at this time?”
“You, apparently,” he observes, tilting the screen so I could read the messages.
“Wow…” I breathe. “Our room switch caused quite the Beaumont meltdown, huh?”
“Seems so…” he agrees, locking his phone and dropping it back onto the bedside table. “But at least we know it’s a solid countermeasure.”
“Yes and no…” I grumble. “They still woke us up, didn’t they?”
“True…” he concedes, turning to face me with that impenetrable look of his. “But they’re not in here with us.”
“Don’t count your blessings yet, bud,” I warn as he snakes his arm around my waist. “They could get desperate and start searching all the rooms in the manor.”
“That’s why I locked the door,” he states, pulling me on top of him. “So, unless they’ve got a battering ram, they ain’t gettin’ in.”
“Mmm…” I purr, luxuriating in the feel of his solid warmth beneath me. “I love the way you think. But shouldn’t we put them out of their misery?”
“They’ve survived this long,” he declares roughly, splaying a possessive hand on my ass. “They can wait five more minutes.”
“You sure?” I gasp as he pushes me down against his now very indisputable arousal. “It sounds like Bertrand is about to have a coronary.”
“Max likes to over-exaggerate…” he murmurs, threading his other hand into my hair to draw me closer. “Plus, my alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so…”
Beep…beep…beep…beep…
His head drops back against the pillow. “…motherfucker.”
“You were sayin’…?” I ask sweetly, reaching over to turn the blaring off.
“Can’t catch a fuckin’ break…” he grits, digging his fingers into the softness of my backside, as if this would help alleviate his aggravation.
“Says the person who had to be convinced to stay last night…” I remind him, bopping him on the nose.
“Because I knew how goddamn hard it was gonna be to leave in the morning,” he growls, flicking his tongue over the underside of my finger hungrily as I trail it past his mouth. “Especially since we never finished what we started back at Maddy’s.”
“I thought we did finish…” I tease, rocking my pelvis against him. “Very loudly.”
He swallows a groan as I feel his length nudge me through his boxers. “And was it enough?”
I flick my eyes up to his coyly as I continue to trail my finger down his chest. “Wasn’t it?”
“Like hell.”
In the next instant I find myself pinned beneath him, a leg hooked over his arm and his mouth claiming mine as he drives purposefully into me.
“Drake…” I moan against his lips, feeling him grind against the damp lace of my underwear, teasing me with the promise of fulfilment.
“Fuck, Harper,” he growls, nipping my bottom lip. “You have no idea… how much I want you… how much I always want you.”
“You have me,” I assure him, wrapping my other leg around him, wanting to feel all of him with all of me. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Having you… doesn’t make me want you… any less,” he huffs, meeting my eyes with his molten espresso gaze as he continues to move against me. “If anything… it makes me want you more. Christ, I want you… And it’s never enough.”
He was right. Our much-too-brief reunion two nights ago hadn’t been nearly enough to make up for the time we’d had to spend apart. And the undeniable urgency of his need sparked my own desire alight faster than dropping a match into a butane canister.
“So,have me,” I urge breathlessly, sliding my hands down his back to grip his ass, as he’d done with me.
He rams into me once more with a guttural sound before pulling back, breathing hard. “Don’t tempt me, girl. I’m barely holding it together as it is. If we start, I’m not gonna be able to stop.”
“Then don’t,” I prompt, coasting a hand around his waist to slip it beneath the waistband of his boxers.
A low groan rattles in his throat as he grits his teeth, fighting for control. “Trust me. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t. Not until I’ve fucked you six ways to Sunday on every available surface in this room. And then some…”
His eyes meet mine with a darkly feral look that instantly drenches whatever part of my panties remained dry… before he drops his gaze ruefully.
“…but we can’t. The Beaumonts are already going ape looking for you, and the rest of the court’s about to descend on us. And we both know that you ain’t exactly quiet when we get going…”
“You complainin’?” I ask cheekily, wrapping my fingers around the protrusion straining the front of his boxers.
“Never,” he grins, bucking into my palm. Turning serious, he adds, “But you screaming the manor down isn’t conducive to our plan to get your name cleared. So, we gotta wait.”
“Can I convince you to stay five more minutes…?” I counter sweetly, giving him a meaningful squeeze. “Seeing as we’re now both very much up?”
“And who’s fault is that?” he smirks, diving down to scrape his teeth over my t-shirt clad breast.
“The Beaumonts’,” I gasp with a jolt as he catches my nipple with his teeth.
He scoffs dryly, moving lower. “The only thing those two’ll get pointing up in their direction is my middle finger.”
My giggle scuttles into a moan as he skims his lips and tongue over the sensitive skin just below the hem of my t-shirt. “So, does that mean you’ll stay?”
He pauses above the lace of my panties, the basic instincts of his physical desire clearly at war with the cold, hard logic of his self-imposed sense of responsibility.
“No…” he sighs begrudgingly, dropping his head. “As much as I want to, you know I can’t. I need to make myself scarce before the staff start their rounds.”
“Eugh… Fine…” I grump, my hands falling off him with a dejected thud. “But, you better make this up to me later, bud.”
“Don’t worry,” he drawls, his breath fluttering over my heated skin. “I will. And by the time I’ll get done with you, girl, you won’t be able to see, let alone walk straight…” He rakes his tongue over my damp underwear to underscore his intent. “And that’s a promise.”
I reach for him with a mew, desperate for more…
…but all I grasp is air.
“Damn you, Walker…”
“Think of it as foreplay, Gale.”
Opening eyes, I see that he’s already on the other side of the room, rummaging around his duffle for some clean clothes.
I snort caustically. “Of course you’d call it that…”
He meets my less-than-amused glare with a brief, nonchalant smirk. “Hey. You’re the one who started it.”
“Me?” I gasp, snapping upright in disbelief. “You’re the one who woke up horny!”
“And why d'you think that is…?”
My breath catches in my throat at the intensity of his gaze. “I—”
Bzzt… bzzt…
“You best find out what the Beaumonts want with you before they call in search and rescue,” he advises, unfurling a fresh pair of jeans.
“Fine…” I grumble, shunting myself onto the other side of the bed like a land-locked seal to grab my own phone out of bag.
Stupid Beaumonts… Stupid scandal… Stupid rules… Why couldn’t I just have sex with my boyfriend like a normal person…?
Lolling back onto the pillow, I unlock the screen, and nearly die of shock when I see how many missed calls and texts I’d gotten.
“Jesus Christ…!”
“Everythin’ okay?” queries Drake.
“I have twenty missed calls!” I exclaim. “Twenty!In the space of fifteen minutes!”
“They’re nothing if not persistent…” he observes dryly, pulling on blue plaid shirt.
“That’s one word for it,” I mutter, hitting dial on Maxwell’s number.
The line barely has a chance to connect before my sponsor’s overtly excited voice assaults my eardrums. “Harper! Thank God you’re okay! Wait… Are you okay? Why were you not picking up? Where are you? Bertrand and I have been going mental—”
“I’m fine…” I reply with deliberate slowness, hoping that he’ll take the hint and tone the volume down…
…but, I was going to have to keep on dreaming.
“Awesome!” enthuses Maxwell. “Bertrand will be thrilled that he can stop tearing his hair out!”
I massage my eyes, realising that I was going to have to take control of this conversation. “Great. So, where’s the fire?”
There’s an audible intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Fire?What fire? Oh, my giddy aunt! Bertrand! Harper’s trapped in an inferno and sh—”
I suppress a sigh. This was way too much nervous energy for so early in the morning… “Imean,” I emphasise painstakingly, “what’s the massive emergency?”
There is a long pause, followed by a sheepish chuckle. “Oh. Right. Whoops! Silly me! This is why Bertrand doesn’t trust me with House Beaumont stuff. He says I’m always—”
“Give me that!”
I groan wearily. Great. Now Bertrand had the phone…
“Where in the blazes are you?” the elder Beaumont snaps down the line without preamble.
“In my room,” I reply, pushing myself up.
This was not a conversation I was going to have lying down… Literally, or metaphorically.
“I can assure you, that you are not,” he hits back. “Maxwell and I have searched every inch of your room, and unless you managed to squeeze yourself between the floorboards – which would be a mean feat, indeed! – you are to cease this childish game of hide-and-go-seek and—!”
“No.”
I swear I hear the sound of Bertrand bursting a blood vessel. “I beg your pardon?”
I set my jaw determinedly. “First of all, I am not hiding. I switched rooms because someone — whether intentionally or not — assigned me to the same room as last time, and there was no way in hell that I was going to sleep in the bed that I nearly got raped in.”
I give him a moment to let that sink in.
“Oh. I-I see…” The consternation in his voice is palpable. “Erm… Yes. Of course… How crass of me… I—”
“Second,” I continue, leaning into Drake as he bends down to drop a good-bye kiss into my hair, “you’d better have a damned good reason for waking me up before the crack of dawn—”
“It was hardly—”
“—especially since you told me in the car yesterday that today’s event doesn’t start until mid-morning, and we’d agreed in Ramsford that the way-too-early-o'clock wake up calls would stop.”
“Unless there are extenuating circumstances,” he reminds me.
“What kind of extenuating circumstances could there possibly be at four-thirty in the morning!” I cry exasperatedly.
“The kind that requires you to be dressed and presentable at six o'clock sharp.”
I frown. “Why? What’s happening at six?”
“Your meeting with the Royal Press Secretary. He has request—”
Not bothering to wait for Bertrand to mansplain how early morning appointments worked, I pull the phone away from my ear and put myself on mute. Glancing up at Drake, I ask, “Did you know about this?”
He turns back from the door he was just about to open. “Know about what?”
“That I’m supposed to be meeting with the Royal Press Secretary this morning.”
His grip on the door handle tightens. “No.”
“Didn’t think so,” I mutter under my breath as I resume the call.
“—especially since His Majesty will be in attendance, and you will—”
My eyes widen. “Christian’s going to be there too? Does that mean they have a lead on Tariq?”
I flick my gaze up to Drake’s questioningly.
He shakes his head. No clue.
“I was not informed of the purpose of the meeting,” replies Bertrand tartly. “I was simply tasked with ensuring your attendance. Now, since time is of the essence, we need to—”
“I am perfectly capable of getting myself ready,” I inform him flatly. “So, just tell me where to go, and I’ll meet you there.”
Bertrand sucks in a scandalised breath. “That is highly improper! A young lady of your station should be escorted to the venue by her—”
“This isn’t 1785, Bertrand…” I remind him exasperatedly. “My reputation isn’t going to be ruined because I was found wandering around unsupervised. At least, not any more than it already has been by Tariq and his co-conspirators.”
“Granted,” he concedes. “But this isn’t just about your reputation. It is about your safety as well. I gave my word to His Majesty that House Beaumont will look after you, and since you have a rather irksome habit of slinking off by yourself—”
“I don’t slinkoff…!”
“Yes. You do.”
I throw my head up in surprise.
Drake is leaning against the door with his arms crossed in stoic agreement. “You’re a nightmare to run security for. Almost as bad as Leo.”
“No, I’m not!” I protest. “I don’t deliberately try and ditch my detail!”
“No,” he concedes. “You just try to knock ‘em out.”
I feel the heat rise up my cheeks.
“Not to mention, you ain’t exactly great at gettin’ where you’re supposed to be without incident, or staying put once there.”
“Well, no one told me that court was going to be such a literal minefield…” I gripe.
He cocks a brow. “Does the phrase ’be careful’ mean somethin’ different in Montana?”
“You could’ve been more specific!” I cry.
“Who are you talking to?”
Oh, shit… I’d forgotten about Bertrand.
“Erm… Doesn’t matter,” I say dismissively. Bertrand didn’t need to know that Drake and I had spent the night together, even though we didn’t do anything besides sleeping. Returning to the topic at hand, I say, “And anyway. I have Allard and Schweitzer looking out for me, so I don't—”
“Who are conspicuously missing from outside of your room,” Bertrand points out. “And any other room in the wing, for that matter. Therefore, I repeat: you are to cease this childish game of hide-and-go-seek and reveal to us your whereabouts, so we can find you and make you ready for your appointment, post haste.”
“Wait…” I interject, suddenly realising something. “If the meeting is at six, what’s the crazy rush? And why were you trying to wake me up at 4:30am?”
“Because the meeting is in Valtoria.”
“Valtoria?” I ask, struggling a bit with the unfamiliar combination of vowels and consonants on my tongue. “Where is that?”
“Approximately thirty minutes away, so if you wish to partake in breakfast prior to our departure, I suggest you get a move on. I expect to see you in the entry hall by twenty-five past at the very latest.”
The call clicks off.
Lowering the phone in a bit of a daze, I glance over at Drake.
He’s typing away furiously on his phone with an expression that could’ve rent stone.
Pushing myself to my feet, I walk over to him. “Hey,” I say softly, laying a hand on his wrist. “There’s no need to crack your screen. I’ll be—”
“That’s not the point,” he grits, fingers flying over the keyboard with a vengeance.
“Then, what?”
He sends off the text with a forceful jab at the screen. “Gee, I don’t know… How 'bout the fact that I – the head of your protection detail – am only finding out about this meeting less than an hour before it’s supposed to happen? Through the Beaumonts, of all people? Or the fact that the venue for said meeting happens to be a chateau that hasn’t been lived in for over a decade, and which also hasn’t been vetted or swept by me or my guys? And let’s not even get into the fact that this meeting isn’t even in Chris’ official diary, let alone his private one.”
“Maybe because he doesn’t want Madeleine finding out about it…?” I offer.
He scoffs acerbically. “Or me.”
“I’m sure he just—”
Drake’s phone pings with an incoming message. He glances at it briefly. “Un-fuckin’-believable…”
“What’s wrong?” I ask as he starts throttling out a pissed-off response.
“Jurisdictional bullshit…”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Apparently,” he grits sarcastically, eyes not leaving the screen, “I didn’t need to be notified of the meet because Chris’ personal Guard are handling all the security arrangements. So, my involvement would’ve been redundant.”
I raise a brow. “Are the Guard normally this territorial?”
“No,” he scoffs bitterly, sending the text off. “You can’t run a tight ship in terms of security if the different teams aren’t in sync. They should’ve roped me in from the get-go.”
“Maybe they just forgot…?” I suggest hopefully. “You used to be part of Christian’s detail, so maybe whoever organised this just assumed you’d be passed the message?”
He shoves his phone back into his pocket with a non-committal grunt. “You better get ready. We don’t want to keep His Royal Majesty waiting…” His voice drips with acrimony.
“Hey…” I say, reaching up to stroke his face. “Is there something else that's—?”
He pulls abruptly away. “I’ll see you there.”
Before I can say another word, he’s out the door without so much as a backwards glance, duffle forgotten on the floor.
I heave a sigh.
This morning just kept getting better and better…
***
“Wow…” I breathe, stepping out of the limo. “This place almost puts Riverrun to shame!”
The venue of today’s impromptu meeting could’ve been pulled straight from a fairytale. The soft light of the rising sun coloured the cream walls of the neo-gothic chateau’s sandstone a pale pink, making them glow with a seeming inner warmth. A long row of pear trees – heavy with fruit – lined the gravel drive leading up to the romantic, fortress-like structure, behind which stretched pine-covered hills as far as the eye could see.
So idyllic was this place that I half expected a unicorn to come strolling out of the woods to the accompaniment of ethereal elven lute music.
“Riverrun?” queries Bertrand from the other side of the limo, snapping me out of my awed gawking. “That is not a domain that I am familiar with…”
I whirl around to face my sponsor disbelievingly. “Wait… You’re a Harry Potter fan, but you haven’t seen or read Game of Thrones?”
Bertrand tugs at his collar. “Wh-who is this Potter fellow that you speak of? I am afraid I do not—”
Bertrand’s eyes widen in shock before he snaps his customary sneer back into place. “I thought we agreed to keep that information private!” he hisses, rounding in his brother.
Maxwell shrugs, totally non-pulsed by the unspoken threat of imminent punishment and/or death for his treacherous transgression. “It is private. Harper’s basically family, isn’t she?”
Bertrand opens, then and closes his mouth. “I… I suppose she is,” he admits begrudgingly. “But I feel I should reiterate that—”
“My mouth is sealed,” I assure him with a wink, miming the closure of a zip over my lips.
“Good,” he grumbles. “See to it that it stays that way. We are having a bad enough time as it is as a result of this Ana de Luca piece about our finances without the nobility—”
“Ah, here you all are!” exclaims Christian with a grin, jogging down the manor’s steps.
Today – in contrast to yesterday’s garden party where he’d been in a suit – he was dressed quite casually in beige slacks and a pale blue button-down that he’d rolled up at the sleeves. And, for once, he looked happy and at ease – like the guy I’d met in New York, instead of the more serious royal that I’d become accustomed to seeing since arriving in Cordonia.
“So glad you could make it!” he continues, giving each of the Beaumonts a quick shake and a familiar slap on the arm. “I know it was rather short notice, but given that the apple picking doesn’t start until later in the day, I wanted to take advantage of this rare break in the itinerary to bring you out here.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” nods Bertrand dutifully. “The Beaumonts are always at your disposal.”
“Andwhy are we here exactly?” I ask, as Christian leans in to drop a kiss on my cheek by way of greeting. “Not that I’m complaining… This place is breathtaking and all, but wouldn’t it have been easier to meet at Applewood, given that—”
“Ohmygiddyaunttheyhavepeacocks!”
Maxwell barrels past us in a blur, nearly knocking Christian over in his haste to get to the pair of indigo-coloured fowl that had wandered casually out onto the other side of the drive.
“He really does have a thing for peacocks, doesn’t he?” I observe, watching Maxwell throw himself onto the ground, so he could start snapping eye-level selfies with the majestic birds.
“Quite,” agrees Christian with a wry look, smoothing his hair back down. “So did the previous duchess, I believe.”
Something about his tone gives me pause. But before I can formulate a response, Bertrand’s already kow-towed himself in front of Christian.
“Your Highness, I am— What just happened was—” He hops stessily from foot-to-foot, evidently caught between the twin desires of wanting to apologise for Maxwell’s clearly unacceptable behaviour, and marching after his brother to pummel him senseless.
“It is quite alright,” Christian assures him with a gallant smile. “One cannot begrudge a man for pursuing his passion with such uncompromising enthusiasm.”
“Even so, I— He should not hav—” Bertrand forces himself to draw a breath. “Please excuse me.”
Turning on his heel, he rushes after his brother, hollering blue murder. “Maxwell!”
I glance up questioningly at Christian. “Should we…?”
“They’ll be fine,” he assures me, taking my hand to loop my arm through his. “Shall we?”
“Don’t you want to wait for them?” I ask as he begins leading me towards the manor’s heavy-looking wood and wrought-iron doors.
“It looks like they’ll be otherwise occupied for some time,” he observes dryly, as Bertrand tries to shoo the offending birds away, much to Maxwell’s dismay. “And, I must admit, I was looking for a convenient excuse to divest ourselves of their company, anyway.”
“Oh?” I query. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”
“Show you, rather,” he corrects. “I was hoping to use the time to give you the grand tour. There is one room in particular that I think you’ll be interested in seeing.”
“Grand tour?” I query, confused. “I thought we were here to meet with the Royal Press Secretary.”
“We are,” he assures me. “But he is arriving a bit later.”
I squint suspiciously up at him. “So, why the crazy morning rush, then?”
“Yes. We’re all dying to find out the answer to that question, aren’t we?”
“Jesus Christ!”
The sound of the unexpected voice nearly sends me up into the rafters.
Recollecting myself, I spin towards the source of the interruption.. and spot Drake in the shadow of the doorway, leaning against the wall with an accusatory scowl on his face.
“How many times do I have to tell you notto do that!” I snipe, heart still hammering from the sudden spike of adrenaline.
“Should pay more attention to your surroundings, girl,” he advises nonchalantly, keeping his eyes fixed on Christian. “Especially since we have no idea what you’re walking into.”
“My personal Guard have already done a full sweep of the property,” Christian assures us. If he is surprised by Drake’s presence — or his thinly veiled insinuation — he doesn’t show it. “I can assure you that it is perfectly safe.”
“For you, maybe,” responds Drake, peeling himself away from the wall to stand in front of Christian with crossed arms. “But not for her.”
Christian meets Drake’s steely glare unflinchingly. “Why would Harper not be—?”
“Because if shit goes south, your team’s priority will be to get you out. Not Gale. She’d be left high and dry.”
I feel myself pale. “What?”
Christian’s shaking his head. “If you’re suggestion that I’d allow—”
Drake scoffs derisively. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how this works, Chris. Your safety trumps everything else, including — and especially — whatever noble intentions you may have. They’re not gonna let you jeopardise an evac by bringing extra bodies along, nor are they gonna let you play martyr. When the life of the King is on the line, everyone else becomes expendable.”
My eyes widen in sudden realisation. “That’s why you got so pissed earlier…”
Drake nods. “Had I not happened to’ve still been in the room when Gale got the call from the Beaumonts, she’d’ve been rolling up here with zerosecurity.”
Christian’s brows furrow. “But I gave her additional Guard for her detail.”
“Who I’ve assigned to perimeter work. And with Allard and Schweitzer off-duty last night, not to mention Gale’s habit of keeping important information to herself—”
“Hey!” I protest. “That happened onetime!”
“Three times,” corrects Drake. “And counting.”
My jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re counting?”
“Always,” declares Drake without skipping a beat. “But that’s not the point. Point is, this entire SNAFU could’ve been avoided if I’d been looped in from the start. Because the whole reason she got assigned her own detail in the first place was to avoid the same kinds of slip-ups that led to Tariq ending up alone with her at the Jamboree. But I can’t coordinate her security if I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
Christian’s Adam’s Apple bobs as he digests Drake’s words. “No. You are right. And I can only apologise for—”
“I don’t care who’s fault it was,” cuts in Drake brusquely. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Christian nods. “I will. Though, that will involve notifying all the Guard commanders of your new status. And since you were previously operating under the official radar—”
“Tell whoever you need to tell,” Drake responds. “Gale’s safety is more important than me staying covert. I’ll even put on the uniform if needed.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Christian assures him with a smile. “Especially given that you hate wearing formal jackets on the best of days…”
Drake pulls a face. “They’re always too tight around the shoulders.”
“Then there is no need to compromise your comfort,” Christian tells him with a clap on the shoulder. “We want you paying attention to Harper, instead of fiddling with an uncomfortable piece of apparel.”
“Shame,” I murmur, meeting Drake’s eye coquettishly. “I think you’d look hot in uniform.”
He quirks a brow at me. “Does someone have a secret role-play fantasy they want to act out?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” I quip back. “And anyway. I’m not sure it counts as role-play if you actually are a Guard…”
“Maybe not,” he admits, mocha eyes boring into mine. “But it’ll sure as hell make the experience that much more immersive…”
“Only one way to found out, cowboy…” I purr, feeling the heat that he’d ignited in me earlier this morning burst into flame again under the intensity of his gaze…
…which immediately gets doused by the sound of Christian’s polite cough.
“Erm, I hate to interrupt—”
I snap back from Drake in mortification, my cheeks flaming. Oh, my God, I can’t believe we just engaged in dirty talk in front of the King of Cordonia!
“—but time is getting on,” he continues, somehow managing to maintain a stoic façade despite what he’d just overheard, “and if we are to make it back in time for the apple picking, we should proceed with the reason for our visit.”
“Which you still haven’t shared…” Drake point out, completely unfazed by the fact that his friend had shared in our saucy moment. If anything, he looked annoyed at having been interrupted.
I peek up at Christian expectantly, also curious to hear his answer, even though I was still dying inside.
He meets my gaze with a knowing look. “To show Harper her duchy, of course.”
My jaw drops to the floor. “My…what!”
“Your duchy,” Christian reiterates calmly. “Since you – as the Royal Mistress – are now a de facto member of not only the court, but of the royal household as well, it is only proper that we bestow upon you the accordant lands and rank that normally complement such a high-ranking position.”
“But I’m only pretending to be the Royal Mistress,” I remind him dazedly, my mind still whirling from this unexpected revelation. “You don’t need t—”
“Actually, I do,” he insists. “Granting you a duchy helps legitimise your new status both domestically and abroad, and aids in improving your image in the eyes of the press. After the double blow to your reputation caused by the candid photos of you and Tariq, and the revelation about the Beaumonts’ financial situation, an uplift to your reputation is very much needed. Especially since you will be meeting with foreign dignitaries from next week onwards.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter with a roll of my eyes. “But I don’t really see how this helps… Doesn’t this just make it look like you’re playing favourites? And make people resent me more? I mean, I did something 'bad’—” I emphasise the interpretive nature of the word with air-quotes, “—and now you’re rewarding me for it.”
“Or,” counters an unfamiliar voice, “—and this is the way we plan to spin it – you did nothing wrong and these royal favours are simply a public demonstration of the King’s continued affection for you. As well as an official snub to your naysayers.”
“Jonathan!” exclaims Christian with a wide smile as he turns to face the newcomer. “You got here earlier than expected.”
“On the contrary, You Highness,” replies Jonathan, who — based on his smartly tailored pinstripe suit, slicked back hair and clipped accent — I was guessing was the Royal Press Secretary. “I am already running behind. So, if you’ll pardon me, I have a press conference to organise. M'lady… Sir…” With a curt nod of his head, he’s already disappeared inside the manor.
I stare at the spot he’d just occupied in stupefaction before finally finding my voice again. “What press conference?”
“The press conference where we will officially announce you as the new Duchess of Valtoria,” explains Christian, looping my hand through his arm again to lead me after Jonathan.
“But—” I look back at Drake beseechingly, seeking back-up…
…and nearly lose my footing when I see the look on his face.
Oh, no…
I thought I’d seen Drake angry before – when he’d realised what Tariq had done to me, when he’d faced off against Bastien as the Guard dragged me from the Coronation Ball, and when he’d ripped into Christian at Ramsford for sending me away in the first place.
But this… This was something else.
This was beyond simple rage, or mere indignation. This was an expression that could’ve frozen all nine circles of hell… And it gave me the shivers, even though I wasn’t the target of it.
Christian —for his part — is completely oblivious to Drake’s state of being, pulling me eagerly through the doors of the manor, as if he were a kid about to step through the gates of Disneyland for the first time.
I try to disentangle myself from him, wanting to rush back to Drake, wanting to stop for a minute so I could process what the hell was happening, but the next thing I know, we’re over the threshold…
…and I am literally rendered speechless by the sight in front of me.
To say that I had stepped into a dream was an understatement. Someone has spent a literal fortune renovating the inside of the manor. No trace of the original gothic-style fixtures or furnishings could be seen. Instead, gilt and marble stretched as far as the eye could see in a fresh, modern take on Louis XIV’s opulent style.
“Wow,” is all I can say, taking in the pièce de la résistance of the place, which was a bifurcated grand-staircase that any real or wannabe princess would kill to make an entrance on.
“Makes an impression, doesn’t it?” chuckles Christian softly from next to me.
“That’s… one word for it,” I reply dazedly, craning my neck around, trying to take it all in.
Had someone actually lived here? This place felt like a temple or a museum, rather than someone’s house… How did they keep everything so spotless?
“The former Duke and Duchess were keen patrons of art and architecture. During their life, they helped fund several important renovation projects in the kingdom. And I am told that their private art collection is one of the finest in the continent.”
“They definitely had a unique style,” I agree, tracing my eyes around the intricate loops and swirls of the marble inlay at the foot of the staircase.
“Yes. They certainly did.”
Turning my head, I see that Christian is surveying my reactions with an intent expression.
“Do you like it?” he asks, eyes searching mine as he waits for my answer.
“It’s out of this world…” I admit carefully, fully conscious of Drake’s blistering presence behind me. “But—”
“Let me show you the rest of it.”
Before I have a chance to blink, he’s swept me down the entrance hall.
We spend the next thirty minutes traipsing through more lavishly decorated rooms than I could count. There was a drawing room. A sitting room. A reading room. A study. A library. A games room. A spa. A home cinema complete with popcorn machine and reclining armchairs. Two ballrooms. An art gallery. A massive kitchen. A formal and an informal dining room. Twelve bedrooms, each with king size beds. A wine room — yes, a whole room devoted to housing all manner of one-of-kind, expensive wines that put even Olivia’s impressive collection to shame. Not to mention an entire wing of the upstairs seemed function as an oversized closet for all the clothes, shoes and other fancy accessories that a nobleman and his wife apparently required to make themselves presentable at any given time.
But just when I thought my head was about to burst from the never-ending display of wealth and extravagance, we arrive at a room that truly takes my breath away.
“Welcome… to the observatory,” declares Christian grandly, sweeping his arm out.
“Is that… a telescope?” I breathe, eyes glued to the centrepiece of the oak-panelled attic room we were stood in.
“It most certainly is,” affirms Christian with a wide smile, taking my hand to lead me up to it. “The former Duke was a keen—”
Bang!
The sound of the door slamming shut reverberates around the space, making me jump.
I glance behind me… and my stomach drops.
Drake was nowhere in sight.
I stare at the door in confusion, trying to figure out what could’ve caused him to storm out like this all of a sudden.
Yes, he’d spent the entire duration of the tour following behind Christian and me in tense, judgemental silence, but I’d thought that was because he was pissed about not having been given the heads-up about the upcoming press conference, and he was worried about a potential security breach…
…but then I remember.
The stars.
My chest constricts in anguish. “Christian, I’m sorry…”
Wrenching my hand from his, I whirl around and sprint towards the door. Yanking it open, I fly down the narrow spiral staircase of the turret that housed the observatory, trying to catch up with Drake.
But — as always — he’s much faster than me, and there’s so sight or sound of him.
I reach the bottom step, panting, and finally spot him at the end of the hallway.
“Drake!” I call, dashing after him.
But if he hears me, he doesn’t slow down. If anything, he only seems to speed up.
“Dra—!”
“Ah, there you are!” Bertrand appears in front of me, blocking my path. “I was asked t—”
“I can’t,” I gasp, dodging around him to get to the front door that Drake had just stormed through. “I need to—”
But I feel Bertrand grab me by the wrist.
“Now is not the time for personal sideshows,” he declares, dragging me back the way I’d come… and away from Drake. “The members of the press are already here, eager for the briefing to start. And it would be rude to keep them waiting. Especially since we need to rough your appearance into shape first.”
“But I—”
“And I’m sure Mr Walker has important matters to attend to as well. He appeared to be in quite the hurry.”
I clench my eyes shut. If only he knew the half of it…
Gritting my teeth, I snap my wrist from my sponsors hold like Allard had taught me, and peg it towards the door, determined to catch up with Drake.
But just as I reach the threshold, I hear the sound of tires spitting gravel, and I realise that I’m too late.
He was gone.
The story continues in Chapter 13 - Invidia (coming soon)!
A few notes for your attention, as per usual :
Apple picking: Yes, this chapter (and the next) reference ‘apple picking’ as the next event on the engagement tour calendar, instead of ‘barn raising’. This is deliberate: barn raising is very much a Midwestern US tradition (with some mentions of it taking place in England), and definately not something that would happen in a Mediterranean country, especially as part of a high-profile royal tour. Since apples feature a lot in canon, I decided to just keep things close to home, and - since this part of the story takes place in August - that ties in nicely with the traditional timing of European harvest festivals.
Valtoria: For anyone who is interested, I have used Chateau Amboise - located in France’s Loire Valley - as my stand-in for Valtoria.
SNAFU:For anyone not familiar with military slang, SNAFU means ‘situation normal: all fucked up’ and basically is a sarcastic way of saying that everything has gone to shit (though a SNAFU is generally more salvageable than a complete FUBAR i.e. a situation that is ‘fucked up beyond all recognition’.)
Security: Everything security-related that Drake mentions in this chapter is accurate. A security team is exclusively responsible for their own principle, and - in a crisis situation - each team would focus on evacuating their principal, and their principal only (at the expense of everyone else). It would not matter if the principal wanted to save someone else - s/he would not be allowed to, because such actions would be deemed to compromise the principal’s safety, and potentially undermine a successful evacuation. Therefore, on this basis, Drake storming off is probably not 100% realistic (especially if he is literally the only person present from Harper’s detail), but I HC that he’d radioed for Allard and Schweitzer to come up as well (and I will mention this in the next chapter probably), but this is a work of fiction, and I don’t always need to let facts get in the way of a juicy bit of dramatic tension
note:regarding my prior post, this is a little quarantine goodie from my WIPs that i’m posting for yall per your requests!! tbh as i read it over just now it occurred to me this thing is basically finished so i guess it can stand on its own merit even if it did come from the ‘in progress’ bin. anyway the thought behind this is that it’s just the maxwell/mc side of the later vignettes (so like, around ‘back in the water’ time-wise). i miss these two and writing them made me SAD because they used to be the fucking best in canon. sigh.
summary: the story according to riley and maxwell, circa one engagement tour trip to new york.
pairings: maxwell/mc, mention of drake/liam bc this goes along with the vignettes so like duh
word count: 5100+ (lmao WHAT)
• • •
“It’s weird though, isn’t it?” Riley says, calling over the curtain of the changing area in what she hopes is Maxwell’s direction. The seamstress at her side clucks in annoyance, sticking a pin in her waist a little too close for comfort. “Like, what in god’s name was he doing at a jewelry store of all places?”
“No, it’s definitely weird,” Maxwell’s voice floats back, only slightly muffled by the barrier between them. “Even for Drake. And he truly has his own bar for weirdness.”
“I’ll never understand him, I guess,” she sighs, wincing slightly as the woman pokes at her again. “Of all the people to contain multitudes, I wouldn’t have predicted Drake.”
“Done,” says a voice next to her, and then hands are on her hips, turning her so as to check the silhouette of the dress in the mirror. Riley looks at herself, draped in white like a beleaguered bride, and frowns.
Maxwell calls out, the ever-present joy in his voice at least somewhat encouraging. “Don’t keep the crowd waiting!”
I had to lay down and take breaks reading this cause…
MISS SARAH
this is the flavor I’ve been craving!!! You capture their relationship so perfectly. It’s truly the canon that we deserved that PB could never bring us . Maxwell is far too slept on, in game and in fic (or way too ooc), and you write him with so much love and care. It’s a perfect tribute to his character as a whole. I want to wrap myself up in your writing like it’s a blanket, it’s just like home.
Hey all!!! I’ve missed you guys so much!!! Ok, so I’ve been working on this for a little while and I’m hoping to have it finished soon!!! But I was just so excited to start writing again that I wanted to share a sneak peek with you! This is from Birthday Regrets which is a side chapter of Full Circle! The smallest backstory I can give is “read the middle to end of Chapter 7” (I mean I hope you read the whole thing but the middle to end of Chapter 7 is this story detailed!). I’m using my standard tag list for this bc it’s a DREMI story!
The single chime of the clock was overwhelming in her otherwise quiet apartment as she sat on the couch with her phone in her hand. For over an hour, she typed and deleted the number she’d had memorized for as long as she could remember, the repetition of it almost cathartic enough to soothe the urge to hit the green button. A few more minutes of back and forth passed before she found her resolve and she sat forward, blocking her own number before finally connecting the call and listening to it ring.
“This is Drake.”
The tears poured down her face as she heard his voice for the first time in 2 years. “Hello? … Who is this? … I can hear you breathing, asshole!”
“It’s my birthday.”
“What? What did you just say?”
“Today… It’s my 18th Birthday.”
*****
“Hey, Dickhead!”
“Leo? When did you get back?”
“This morning. And I’m supposed to be heading out again tomorrow, so don’t make any plans ‘cause we’re going out tonight. You go find Beaumont and I’ll find my brother. We’ll dodge security and head into the city. It’s been a while since I caused any trouble.” Leo said with a wink.
*****
“Alright, what should we toast to?” Maxwell asked as he passed the glasses around the table.
“Ditching security and getting wasted before they find us!”
“The 4 of us finally being back together, even if it’s only for a short time!”
“Duck…”
*****
That’s it for now!!! Hope you like it!!! It’s coming soon!!!
Here is my second submission for the Luck of the Draw event hosted by @moodmusicmonday.
I was not quite done playing with videos so, I made another video edit. Hope you all like it. Thank you so much for watching and leaving your comments for my First Video Edit
This is unlike the first one. Again I am new to this art so please ignore the flaws. The second song I recieved was 10,000 hours by Justin Bieber and here is what I made:
favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance] “you know me, i’ll breakdance my way to success. or maybe become a magician! or i could be a bestselling author!”
A/N: Do not read if you do not want spoilers. This is a mini fic (a little over 1000 words) set after the end of CKP. It follows Maxwell’s story. Because I don’t write chronologically I have all sorts of CKP content all over the place. It might be a while before the next chapter is posted due to personal and professional challenges I’m facing at the moment. Hopefully this tides people over.
Maxwell knocks on the open door but he is already inside as he speaks.
At first I was so pissed at Madeleine for even suggesting the second key party! But then she redeemed herself, as did Maxwell. Damnit @ritachacha you know I’m not a Maxwell stan but the way you write him makes me question that! Now I don’t know whether to thank you or be mad! I loved this!
A Father’s Day Writing Prompt for YOU! Yes, You! Even if I forgot to tag you (because I have the world’s WORST memory)! Even if we have never interacted! Even if you don’t normally write TRR! YOU!
Whoa… maybe not Penn Badgley or anyone else from the cast of You…
Have you seen the video of Prince Louis at Queen Elizabeth’s jubilee closing ceremonies? EVERY PARENT ON HERE will recognize this situation. Take a look:
I was chatting with @ao719, and we wondered: how would Liam react to this? So, now I want to ask each of y'all what you think! So, here it is:
Just imagine: Your TRR LI is at an important public event. The heir (4-5 years old) throws a tantrum. MC is COMPLETELY out of the picture. How would your LI (Liam/Drake/Maxwell/Leo) react?
Rules (?):
No word limit!
Try to post them on or before Father’s Day (Sunday, June 19th–here in the States)!
If you have another character you want to use, such as Rashad, Bertrand, Connie, go for it! Let’s try to stick with just the TRR men.
If you want to insert other children or children from your own series, go for it! As long as there is a child having a meltdown! lol
Let’s just be silly and have some fun talking about our favorite characters. Tag me, and I’ll create a Masterlist.
Also, if you have already written a fic like this, share it again and tag meeeeeee! I’ll put you on the Masterlist.
If you would like to be tagged in the Masterlist so you can read the fics, let me know. My plan is to only post/tag once (probably on the 20th)
Synopsis- Since childhood, Liam has held a terrible secret that even he doesn’t know about. As the years go by, he suspects more and more that there is something wrong with him. Can he put his life together and find happiness?
A/N- The first 4 chapters will have the feel of a one-shot, as each one is a glimpse into Liam’s past. But as the story goes on, they will all tie together.
A/N 2- This story is a bit different than what I usually write.. Ok a LOT different. Some terrible things have happened during Liam’s life.. But the story isn’t without humor or joy. I swear it’s not all bad! The characters are still canon in the sense of their whole overall personalities, but of course there are several changes to fit the story.
Series Warnings- oh so many: language, drinking, violence, sexual assault, abuse, murder, homophobia, bullying, mentions of suicide.. Also there will be some lemons in later chapters.
Once the police finished taking statements and extensively questioning everyone, Liam relaxed slightly.. But only slightly. The man had broken into Bertrand’s study through the window, attempting to steal a large amount of cash and obviously whatever else he could find. The man was armed and honestly could have killed all of them if he wanted to. Liam had apparently beaten the intruder so badly, several bones in his face were fractured. But the man was alive.. Thanks to Maxwell.
…but not everyone deserves that sweet heart of his. Liam, however, has definitely earned that affection despite his past. I love watching their relationship blossom, and I am totally shipping them!
Poor Liam though… it’s one thing to go through these different experiences: fending off a bull, a rapist, a burglar… but to do all of that and not remember? That’s a whole new level of horror. I would instantly think, “Okay, what else am I doing?” That much power? That has got to be overwhelming.
But, I’m glad he’s finally letting his friends shoulder some of the pain. It’s what he needs. And Maxwell is right: they LOVE him. Period. Now because of anything he has or hasn’t done. But, because he is Liam.
maybe i’m just a nobody but i genuinely enjoyed this chapter lmao. the dynamics between these men are amazing and even though i was hoping for a mc and her li scene, i still think this was a good chapter. maybe bertrand just reminds me of,,, me
![noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f9c36594126c9cb703aced9939c9fc7a/244c29628b1f8e43-1a/s400x600/0c5dcb319926991a65f4b4788ef5b56e135d04f0.png "noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre")
![noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre](https://64.media.tumblr.com/721227e02228673002d40791c4d0c635/244c29628b1f8e43-05/s400x600/ed620209f53666040a123fa062af737e8f4af850.png "noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre")
![noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1f4ad6091f982dbe910f6844b09c6bb7/244c29628b1f8e43-ea/s400x600/f3b9a79f4c16c26d0f5a30b78769b3c627c85509.png "noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre")
![noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre](https://64.media.tumblr.com/2b6a75ce27cf912af33f1601fc5d8b9c/244c29628b1f8e43-5b/s400x600/72ce0222d1ee1554a043634eaf11a2455e95ad41.png "noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre")
![noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre](https://64.media.tumblr.com/111f4640d7e089593d8567df154b4ed1/244c29628b1f8e43-c2/s400x600/b1fefd13af80c9475c58a8c01af6d192c0cab869.png "noahmrshall: favorite choices characters: maxwell beaumont [the royal romance]“you know me, i’ll bre")
