I paused, the words “this afternoon” hovering unspoken on my lips. A lifetime of conditioning pushed me toward immediate action, toward sacrificing my needs for royal obligation. The familiar burden of responsibility settled over me, the expectation that I would, as always, drop everything to address Remy's latest crisis.
No, I told myself with sudden, fierce resolve. It was time to stop dancing to Remy's tune.
“Tomorrow morning would be ideal,” I continued, surprised by the steadiness in my voice despite the internal rebellion these words represented. “And if you could let Sébastien know I'll be arriving, I would appreciate it.” Yes, that made sense. I needed time to process this information, to decide how to approach Remy, to prepare myself for whatever storm awaited me in Dallas.
“Of course. I'll make the arrangements immediately.” Vincent rose smoothly from his seat. “Is there anything else you require in the meantime?”
I shook my head. “Thank you, Vincent. Your assistance is invaluable.”
He moved toward the door, then paused. “Your Grace, if I may... I'm truly sorry about this situation. Family matters can be the most difficult to navigate, especially in the public eye.”
The sympathy in his voice seemed genuine, and I felt a surge of gratitude for his discretion and understanding.
With a final nod, Vincent departed, closing the door behind him. I remained seated on the sofa, staring at the space he had occupied, my mind a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts.
Remy, what have you done?
My brother had always been reckless, charming his way out of trouble with that infectious smile and easy manner that made people forgive him almost anything. But this... this was beyond even his usual indiscretions. If Helene had truly left him, had taken the children and returned to her homeland on the eve of the anniversary celebrations, the damage to the monarchy could be irreparable.
And what of the allegations themselves? Was there truth to this American model's claims? Had Remy fathered a child with her? The thought made my stomach churn.not because of any moral judgment, but because of the sheer irresponsibility of it. Remy was the Crown Prince, the future king. His actions reflected on all of us, on the institution we represented, on the nation that looked to us for stability and continuity.
I stood abruptly, unable to remain still with the energy coursing through me. I needed to move, to think, to somehow make sense of this situation and decide my next steps.
Leaving my coffee forgotten on the table, I slipped on a pair of shoes and left the villa, with no clear destination in mind. The resort grounds were immaculate as always, the manicured landscapes offering a serenity that felt almost insulting in the face of my inner turmoil.
I walked without direction, barely registering the polite nods of staff members I passed. What did Remy want from me? Why had he come all the way to America to find me? Was he seeking support, advice, a shoulder to lean on?
Or was he, as usual, expecting me to help clean up his mess?
I had fled to Dove Canyon seeking escape from the very responsibilities that now pursued me across an ocean. Was it selfish to resent this intrusion on my brief freedom? Or was it simply human to wishfor a respite from the weight of duty, even knowing that weight could never be set aside?
My feet carried me toward the main complex of the resort, perhaps instinctively seeking Julius. My friend would offer counsel, perspective, the wisdom of years spent navigating the treacherous waters of power and privilege. Julius would provide precisely what a duke needed in crisis—strategic advice, political context, diplomatic options.
But as I approached the central plaza, I hesitated, then turned in a different direction entirely.
Toward the companions' quarters.
I wasn't sure what I was doing. I knew the staff lived in a separate area of the resort, their accommodations off-limits to clients. I had no plan, no idea if I could even get a message to Theo, or what I would say if I did.
I just knew I needed to see him.
The realization was both startling and oddly inevitable. In this moment of genuine distress, I sought not the adviser who understood my public role but the companion who had glimpsed my private self. Not wisdom about what a duke should do, but comfort for the man beneath the title.
My rational mind recognized the absurdity, seeking emotional support from someone I had known for only a week, someone whose professional role was to provide pleasure rather than counsel. Yet beneath this logic hummed a deeper truth: in Theo's presence, I felt a freedom to be fully myself that I had never known before.
As I neared the residential building, I slowed my pace, suddenly aware of the impropriety of my presence there. I was about to turn back when a flash of movement caught my eye—two figures emerging from a side entrance. One of them was Theo, deep in conversation with another companion I recognized vaguely but couldn't name.
Before I could reconsider, I called out, “Theo!”
He looked up, surprise clear on his face even at a distance. He said something to his companion, then walked toward me, his expression shifting from surprise to concern as he drew closer.
“Your Grace,” he said, the formality a reminder of the boundaries between us, boundaries I seemed increasingly unable to respect. “Is everything alright?”
He could read me so easily, this young man who had somehow slipped past my carefully constructed defenses in the span of a week. I glanced around, acutely aware of our exposed position, of the potential for prying eyes and ears. “I was hoping we might talk,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Privately. If you have time.”
Theo's brow furrowed, his eyes scanning my face with an intensity that suggested he was trying to decipher what lay beneath my request. After a moment, he said, “Today's actually my day off, and I'm meeting some friends for lunch.” A pause, then, “But I have some free time later this afternoon. I could come by your villa in a few hours, if that works for you?”
Relief washed through me, unexpectedly powerful. “That would be perfect,” I said, not bothering to hide my gratitude. “Thank you.”
