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Chapter Fifteen
Florida
“So...” Staffan Aehrenthal smirked. “Season 2, huh?”
The entire table coughed, everyone doing their best to muffle their laughter. Around them, those who had heard the rockstar’s crack was coughing as well, making Rathe discreetly give his friend a middle finger.
It was the official launch of the second season of his reality show, and it seemed as if all of Hollywood and England’s showbiz industry had come to attend the event. Every seat in the Aehrenthal Hotel’s vast ballroom was occupied, and organizers were doing their best to provide more seats in the cocktail area.
“I still think it’s too soon,” Rathe muttered.
“Look at it this way, my friend. The sooner and the more you film of this, the better chances you have of eventually making Mary discover what you’ve been doing.”
Rathe drawled blandly, “Making an arse of myself around the world, you mean?”
More coughs around the table, but they still sounded distinctly like laughter.
The ribbing continued, only ending when the stage curtains parted, revealing a giant white screen slowly being lowered.
“Ladies and gentlemen...”
A hush fell over the crowd at the voiceover.
“A preview ofThe Wellesleys, Season 2.”
As thunderous applause filled the ballroom, Constantijin bent close to ask under his breath, “I didn’t know you’ve already started shooting.”
“We didn’t.” He was just as confused as everyone was, and Rathe could only shrug in answer when he saw his parents looking at him in question from the other table. They were with the other parents of his friends, and even the newly reconciled Duke of Wellington was with them.
The preview started, and Rathe froze in his seat when he saw Mary. Her hair was simply combed back, and she was wearing a foam-green dress that had a tapered waist and huge skirt pockets.
The only clue to her whereabouts was...
White walls.
White walls.
And nothing else.
Did the network want to drive him crazy guessing where she was? Why the bloody hell had they chosen to have white walls as a background? Millions of places had white walls. Didn’t they know it could take him forever to figure out where that place was?
His attention refocused on the screen when he heard Mary clear her throat.
“H-hello. My name is Mary Ashton. I’m 19 years old and I was, for a time, the Duke of Flanders’ mistress. T-those days were the best and worst days of my life. They were g-good when he was with me, bad when he wasn’t.”
“The first time I got to watchThe Wellesleys,I c-couldn’t believe Rathe was able to f-film such a thing. H-he has n-never watched a reality show when we were t-together. I a-also never imagined he could have b-been soopen.”
A smile touched her lips. “I used to think Rathe could only show three kinds of expressions in public.”
“Three?” Staffan smirked. “Isn’t it just one?” He pointed to Rathe’s expressionless face as an example.
They heard Mary say, “Cool. Cold. Icy.”
Saffi burst into laughter, the only one to do so in the entire ballroom.
