“Wait—we're already legal residents?” Theo looked astonished. “That fast?”
I nodded. “Initially for one year, renewable indefinitely. After three years, you'll be eligible for citizenship if you wish.” I hesitated beforeadding, “Of course, there are... other options that could expedite that process further.”
His eyebrows rose. “Other options?”
“Let's just say marriage to an Avalinian citizen carries certain privileges,” I murmured, watching his cheeks flush at the implication. “But that's a conversation for another day.” As we reached the landing, I paused. “I should mention—meeting my parents tomorrow isn't just a formality. There are constitutional considerations regarding my role.”
Anxiety flashed across Theo's face. “Could they... force you to choose? Between your position and... us?”
“They could try,” I acknowledged, “but I've spent the past few days speaking with my legal advisors. My title is hereditary. They cannot strip me of being Duke d'Moncloud without an act of parliament, which has never happened in our history. And my personal fortune is separate from crown funds.”
“So even if—”
“Even in the worst case,” I said, “I have resources independent of the crown. Three estates, investment portfolios established by my grandfather, and holdings that have nothing to do with royal allowances.” I brushed my thumb across his cheek. “I've ensured our future is secure, whatever happens. Casey's medical care, your comfort, our life together—none of it depends on my parents' approval.”
Relief softened his features. “You've really thought of everything.”
“When you mean everything to me? Yes, I have.”
The corridors whispered with memories as we walked. My arm settled around Theo's shoulders, his warmth seeping through our proximity. Our footsteps echoed softly against the stone as we emerged onto the west terrace. Below us, the gardens unfurled, geometric parterres giving way to wilder plantings.
Theo leaned into me, breathing in the air filled with lemon verbena. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled the hour. As he turned his face into my neck, the brush of his lips against my skin sent a familiar warmth through me.
We stood anchored there, not prince and companion, not protector and protected, but two souls who had weathered separate storms to find calm. The first stars emerged as twilight deepened, and my arm tightened around him as our lips met before we turned toward the warm glow of the château windows, our shadows merging on the weathered stone as we walked inside.
Tomorrow would bring challenges, confrontations, moments of truth. But for now, with Theo beside me, I allowed myself to believe in the possibility of a future where duty and desire could coexist—where the weight of my title could be balanced by the lightness of love.
Epilogue
Vincent
The dim light in Ibrahim's office made me squint as I glanced down at the papers in my hand. Heavy wood paneling and plush leather chairs gave the space an air of masculine refinement, but the perpetual gloom irritated me. I much preferred the bright, open layout of my office. “Seriously, Ibrahim? Why does it always have to be so damn dark in here?” I asked, rubbing my eyes dramatically.
Ibrahim looked up from his desk with indifference, the shadows accentuating his strong features. The single lamp highlighted the silver at his temples, giving him an almost cinematic gravitas. “We met in your office last time, remember?” His voice carried a hint of annoyance, though it was hard to tell if it was because of my comment or something else. “With its excessive windows and uncomfortable modern furniture.”
“Fine.” I sank into one of the luxurious chairs, leaning back and stretching out my legs. “At least the chairs are comfortable.”
Ibrahim raised an arched brow at this, offended that someone would find anything in his office 'comfortable.' But before the tension could escalate, I laughed it off and steered the conversation back to business. “Alright, enough about the decor. What's left on our list? I'm starving, and the restaurant downstairs closes soon. Ollie made meatloaf tonight,” I added.
Ollie's meatloaf was legendary among the staff. Seasoned with herbs grown in our kitchen garden and topped with a glaze that balanced sweet and tangy in perfect harmony, it was the kind of comfort food that made even the most sophisticated palates surrender to simple pleasure. And here I was, trapped in bureaucratic purgatory while that culinary masterpiece was being served downstairs.
Ibrahim's gaze remained impassive. “Shall we proceed to the remaining items, or would you prefer to wax poetic all evening?”
He was right, of course. The end-of-season review was essential to Dove Canyon's continued success. As Executive Director, I had responsibilities that extended beyond my stomach's immediate desires. “Fine,” I conceded, reaching for the first report. “But if we find ourselves eating cafeteria scraps, I'm holding you responsible.”
Ibrahim's expression remained impassive, but I caught the slight softening around his eyes that indicated he was enjoying our banter more than he'd ever admit. After five years of working together, I'd become fluent in Ibrahim's micro-expressions, a necessary skill when dealing with someone who wore stoicism like designer armor.
“The landscaping crew has completed the new meditation garden and walking trails,” I continued, shifting to business. “We expect opening both to guests within the month.”
I paused, steepling my fingers in a gesture I knew Ibrahim found unnecessarily theatrical. “There have been some concerns about the west villas. The adobe walls are showing signs of weathering, and the roofs will require resealing before the rainy season.”
Ibrahim nodded. “Add it to the maintenance schedule.” He slid a folder toward me. “The east wing renovations came in under budget, but the pool area requires more extensive work than initially projected.”
I flipped through the detailed assessment, scanning the figures and contractor notes with a frown. “Structural issues with the grotto?”
“Yes. The water features have caused more erosion than expected. The engineers recommend a complete overhaul rather than cosmetic repairs.”
I nodded, making a note in the margin. “Agreed. Better to address it now than face a collapse mid-season.” Despite the outward yin and yang of our leadership styles, Ibrahim and I shared this pragmatic approach to infrastructure. No cutting corners on foundational elements. It was the reason our partnership worked so well despite our distinct personalities. “What's the timeline looking like?”
