by Vivian Wood
My fingertips touched the brocade on the bedframe, and my eyes admired the view of the royal gardens outside the window. This was like something out of a fairytale, something I’d never expected to happen to me, a simple dancer from London.
I realized six p.m. wasn’t so far away anymore, and the thought of seeing all the other girls as I got ready made me worry. What would I be competing against? I had no doubt the women were beautiful, intelligent and with a pedigree to match their family fortune.
But who am I? I thought to myself, feeling bitter. Someone no one even cares about. A little nobody from Westminster. No money, no fancy name, and not a very pretty face to match. Why would Prince Olivier pick me?
But he already had… At that party Rose and Thorn had thrown in my honor, he’d had eyes only for me. And I couldn’t stop thinking about him since then, mind and soul consumed with the need to be back in his arms.
Sometimes I tried to pretend I was only doing this for the money, but the more I tried to convince myself, the more I realized how far from the truth it was.
I wanted Olivier. Not for his wallet, but for everything he was that made my stomach flutter with butterflies at the mere thought of him.
The introductions that night meant I wouldn’t just come face to face with my competitors, but with Olivier as well. The fact made me nervous, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging on the corners of my lips.
I pulled out dress after dress from my suitcases. The dress code for the event suggested château getaway fashion, which sounded vague and ridiculous to me, but which the other girls would surely understand. But Thorn had been nice enough to splurge on a whole new wardrobe for me, and now I had outfits that made me look truly beautiful.
Melanie explained the event would be semi-formal but made a note of dressing to please the prince. As I was going through my clothes, I tried to keep that in mind. What would Olivier like to see me in?
Remembering the night we met, I knew I was barely wearing anything… but I needed to be dressed up for this occasion. Yet I wanted to make an impression on him. After all, it had been six months since we’d last seen one another.
I pulled out dress after dress, and the heels that went with them. Unable to settle on one, I put a few of the outfits on my bed and stared at them, hoping a magic answer would appear.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. My eyebrows shot up, wondering who it could be. Perhaps just a maid? Maybe Melanie had forgotten to tell me something.
I walked over to the door, opening it wide and staring into the face of a gorgeous, tall blonde.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
I knew instantly who she was. I could recognize my own competition, and fuck, was it competition alright.
The girl was stunning, with classical features that reminded me of a renaissance sculpture. Her hair was long and pin-straight, the color so light it was almost white. Her eyes were a dazzling grey and she held herself in a regal way that made me assume she was royalty.
“Hello,” she replied. “You’re the American?”
“English,” I corrected her, glancing behind her at the hallway. “Do you all know each other?”
“Mostly,” the blonde shrugged. “You are Amber Jonathan?”
“Yes. And you are?”
“Freya,” she responded. “From the royal court of Bardland.”
She held her hand out at an awkward angle and when I realized she thought I would kiss it, I let out a snort. She didn’t like that, raising her eyebrows and glaring at me from the bridge of her perfect nose.
“You Americans have no respect,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Wear the pink one. It will look great with your hair.”
She turned to leave, leaving me standing there aghast. I shut the door behind her, too shocked to make a move just yet.
But there was something she’d made me realize.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to wear that pink dress.
“Princess Freya of Bardland!”
She made her way past the rest of us waiting behind the plush scarlet curtain, shoving me on purpose and making me stumble. I yelped, and she smirked at me as she left me behind.
I reached down while she made her exit, realizing she’d ripped my dress.
I’d chosen so carefully – a beautiful Valentino bordeaux red satin dress with diamanté chain straps that clung to my body tightly. It was sleeveless, with thin spaghetti straps and a slightly curved neckline that draped down to my behind in the back. I’d paired it with Prada crystal-embellished black pumps in the same satin material, which gave me an extra four inches of height. I’d straightened my hair, letting it fall down my back smoothly. My makeup was minimal, with a flick of black eyeliner on my eyes. Polished 18-karat gold hoop earrings completed the look, giving it a timeless feel.
It was a daring yet classic outfit, but I was glad I’d picked it, especially after seeing what the other women were wearing. It seemed like we’d all chosen our very best for the selection in Luxuria.
I knew there was only one girl ahead of me in the line, and after a moment’s thought, I looked down at my dress, the glaring rip revealing inches of my thigh. I didn’t hesitate. I grapped the fabric and flinched as I ripped the dress higher, eliciting a gasp from the girl standing next to me.
“Your dress!” she cried out.
“Don’t worry,” I smiled at her. “It’ll be fine.”
She gave me a worried look just as the announcer called out, “Zara Patel, of the Patel family of hoteliers.”
I watched her step through the curtain, smiling as she descended the stairway. It would be my turn next, and I chewed my bottom lip nervously while the announcer told the audience about Zara.
Her family was obviously well-to-do and needed no introduction, but Zara was also successful in her own might, having a degree from Oxford University.
Shame made me hang my head. What would the announcer say about me? I didn’t have a fancy background, and the thought of all my dirty secrets being aired out for everyone to see made me worry even more. I felt like a failure in that ripped dress. It was just like me – pretending to be something I was so obviously not. I’d always be the poor little church mouse pretending to understand the world of the elite.
I watched Zara descend the marble stairs just as my name was called.
“Amber Jonathan from London!” the announcer said, and I walked out, holding my breath and my head high as a maid pulled the velvet curtains open.
The announcer went silent and the light blinded me for a second. I shielded my eyes for a second until they got adjusted to the sharp lighting.
I took a step forward, feeling my dress open in a revealing spot up my thigh. The crowd gasped, and I knew my trick had worked. I’d added a slit to my dress that revealed my pale skin, the curve of my body making me sway my hips as I took the stairs.
My heels were staggeringly tall, , but I had all the confidence in the world as I walked down the stairs. Suddenly I wasn’t Amber Jonathan again. I was a girl worthy of Olivier, a girl that could match up to the others. No longer the thirteenth girl, the outcast. I deserved to be there, goddamnit.
I remembered the way the announcer had spoken about Zara and Freya before her. Now, when it was my turn, she was silent. There was nothing to say about me. I was the outcast in a sea of royals, rich bitches and spoiled heiresses.
But I held my head high through it all, and as I descended the stairs, I searched the sea of faces below me for a familiar sight. There were so many people, decked out in expensive clothes and stone-cold faces. But finally, my eyes settled on him.
Olivier sat on a throne opposite of the stairs, flanked by a woman who must have been his mother. My path led me to stand before them, and I curtsied in front of them as I’d been instructed to.
I’d forgotten just how handsome he was. His golden hair was cropped, but still allowed his curls to form, adorning his head in a way that made him irresistibly handsome. His golden eyes shone like the collar
that would soon be placed around my throat as part of Luxuria’s tradition. Olivier wore a navy suit, and a crown was perched on top of his head, smaller than the queen’s, but still important. He was a dream come to life. The prince I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl. I’d barely had time to glance at the Queen, too consumed by watching Olivier.
A woman approached me, and I knew what was coming next as my eyes connected with the Prince’s, burning passion igniting me from deep inside.
The woman placed a beautiful beaten gold collar around my throat. The collar had thirteen empty slots, little indentations in the metal, where I’d been told precious stones would be inserted – one for every time Olivier picked me. The end goal, of course, was to have all thirteen stones in the collar. I would wear it until the end of the selection, and I had every intention of being a married woman by the end of it.
I bowed to the Prince and Queen again after the servant had placed the collar around my throat. I felt Olivier’s gaze following me as I took my spot amidst the other girls. His gaze lingered on the slit in my dress, appreciatively admiring my legs. My heart was beating so fast I could hardly breathe.
Throughout the ceremony, I felt Olivier glancing at me, but I did my best not to acknowledge it. It would be best if I pretended not to notice. He shouldn’t be playing favorites this early on.
Once the introductions were gone, I looked at the other girls standing beside me.
There were so many different women, but all of them were beautiful beyond belief. I knew I stood out like a sore thumb in my ripped dress, but I was past the point of caring. Olivier had chosen me for a reason and I had every right to be there.
The Queen stood up from her throne, and we all bowed as she stepped to the front of the staircase, addressing her subjects.
“Today the court has been introduced to thirteen women vying for my Prince’s affection,” she said, her smile warm. “From princesses to heiresses, to educated scholars and beautiful daughters of my dear friends.”
She looked right at me as she delivered the barb of her speech.
“Of course, there are always some duds,” she smirked, eliciting a laugh from the audience and a blush spreading over my décolletage. “But we’ll sort out the weeds from the flowers. I trust my son to make the right decision.”
I stared at the floor as she went on, wishing the ground would open and swallow me whole. But inside me, a decision had been made.
I would fight for my place on the throne by Olivier, despite that Freya and the obvious barbed remark aimed at me from the queen. I had every right to be there, and in the end, I’d prove them all wrong.
I would be the last girl standing.
Chapter Four
Olivier
I couldn’t believe she was there.
The second I saw Amber descending those stairs, I knew I’d never be able to devote as much attention to the other girls as I would her. She’d managed to mesmerize me yet again, and I found myself scouring the crowds at the after-party in hopes of seeing her again. I was desperate to catch up, and most of all, to feel her silky skin beneath my fingertips again. But I needed to wait, or my mother would be pissed I’d ignored all the other women in Amber’s favor.
She was already angry with me, knowing that Amber had only become part of the selection because of our shared past. I’d met some of the other women before, too, but Amber was the one that stood out – the special one.
As the introductions wrapped up, our servants put the finishing touches on the ballroom for the after-party. I felt annoyed thinking about it, knowing my mother would try to force the other women on me when I only had eyes for Amber.
The ballroom sparkled in all its glory. The enormous crystal chandelier hung above us, with candlelight making the room feel special. The candles were scented, and the ballroom was filled with the scent of refreshing pine. With deep red decorations adorning the room, it almost felt like Christmas, even though it was still two months away.
I’d busied myself by chatting to the people of the town and some old friends, who all admired the divinely decorated ballroom. I took their compliments with a smile, knowing full-well it was my mother’s work. I didn’t have time for decorations and picking candle scents. I had a wife to find.
I excused myself from the group of subjects I’d been chatting to and made my way into the ballroom where I picked up a crystal champagne flute from a passing waiter in a black-and-white uniform. He bowed at me and I smiled in response. I felt every pair of eyes in that room on me. After all, my decision in the selection would change these people’s lives forever. My wife would soon enough become their queen.
I couldn’t see Amber anywhere, but the other girls started filling up the room, and before I could help it, I was caught in an utterly boring conversation with a stunning woman named Zara.
She was gloriously beautiful, wearing a deep purple sari with embroidery in gold thread. Her hair was dark and thick, and her eyes were lined in kohl, making their sea-green color stand out even more. While she was an exquisite beauty, she seemed nervous as hell, her eyes dancing over my features and her words catching with every sentence she said to me. While I was impressed with her beauty, she seemed a little starstruck by my presence.
“Look,” I said, cutting her off in the middle of her stuttered sentence. I reached for her arm, gently wrapping my fingers around her wrist and circling her skin gently. She let out a little gasp, her eyes going to mine and drinking me in hungrily. “Don’t stress so much. This is only the beginning. Try to relax around me. I can tell you’re good-looking. Attractive. I’d just like to get to know you better. What makes you you.”
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and giving me another nervous glance.
“The weather is beautiful,” she chirped. “So perfect for this time of the-”
“Darling,” I growled from deep in my throat. “I don’t give a shit about the weather. I want to know about you. That’s the only way I can make a decision.”
I let my fingers wander to the inside of her wrist, feeling the warmth there, her pulse hammering against my fingertips as I grinned at her. She really was a stunner. If only her mind would match those looks… I had enough time to find out more about her. She wouldn’t be going home that night. There was something special about her.
“Understood?” I asked in a low voice, and she was eager to nod again.
“Excuse me.”
A tall, icy-eyed and light blonde woman appeared in front of Zara and me.
Another heart-stopping beauty, so starkly different to the girl I’d been chatting to she made me grin to myself. She looked like a Nordic goddess, all silver hair and bright, clear blue eyes. Her skin was pale, sparkling from being dusted with a shimmering powder. She looked good enough to fucking eat, aided by the delicious vanilla scent surrounding her like a cloud of intrigue.
“I’d love a word with the Prince,” the lovely woman purred without so much as looking at Zara. “You wouldn’t mind that, would you, Prince?”
“No,” I replied with a polite smile. I wasn’t eager to get away from Zara, but I did want to know more about this stunning fairy-like creature. “Let’s chat.”
She smiled coquettishly, and I offered Zara a smile, following the Nordic beauty onto the balcony. She kept looking over her shoulder, her eyes playful once we stopped on the balcony overlooking the beautiful gardens below us.
The night was balmy, unusually warm for October. The gardens below us were glorious in the moonlight. It was getting dark outside so early on now.
“You’re one of the women competing, aren’t you?” I asked the girl, trying to recall her name while appreciating her exquisite beauty at the same time.
And fuck, she was a looker. That mass of pin-straight, nearly white blonde hair, those icy eyes, and those full lips… She had an unusual appearance, but she was sexy as hell, and I could feel my dick twitching at the sight of her.
“Yes,” she replied with a confident sm
ile. I could tell it wasn’t fake, either. This girl was very sure of her abilities, making me intrigued .“I’m Freya of Bardland.”
“Of course, of course.” I kissed the hand she’d outstretched for me, letting my lips linger for just a second on her pearly skin. “And what a beauty you are, Freya of Bardland.”
“Thank you, my Prince,” she replied, obviously pleased by my comment. “I was so contented to be invited to Luxuria this fall. It’s truly the event of the season and I want you to know how honored I am to be here tonight.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Freya,” I replied. It would’ve been my worst nightmare knowing some of these women had been forced to attend the selection. I wanted them to be willing participants and to enjoy the games we’d planned for them. Only then would they be fun for me… and oh, how fun this could be if I played my cards right.
“I have to say, you’re the most handsome prince I’ve seen so far,” she giggled, and I cocked my head at her.
“How so?”
“Well,” she leaned closer. “My parents tried to marry me off to a Bavarian Duke… let’s just say he was only seventy but looked about a hundred.”
“How horrifying,” I replied with a grin playing on my face. She had a sense of humor. A very important quality in a partner. “We wouldn’t want you to end up with some old man, would we?”
“No, not at all,” she replied, winking at me. “I would much prefer a younger, handsome prince… Someone like you, Prince Olivier.”
Her fingers brushed the buttons of my jacket embossed with the herald of the royal family, and I gave her a strained smile.
Doubts started to fill my head as I stared down into Freya’s cool blue eyes. Only a few months ago, I was sure I’d found what I’d been looking for. Amber, beautiful, sexy Amber who charmed me with her innocence, and with those eyes that spoke of something else troubling her, a mystery I was eager to uncover. To reveal every layer of my toy, peel back everything until I had her in the palm of my hand, trembling and vulnerable, yet eager to be exposed.