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Nicole turned, her posture straightening instinctively. “Your Highness,” she greeted with a respectful nod, her gaze taking in his tailored suit that fit him as if it were a second skin—every inch the modern prince. “Yes, we’re right on schedule. Just a few minor adjustments left.”
“Please, call me Theodore when we are alone,” he insisted, his smile genuine. “I feel rather out of place surrounded by such creativity. Titles seem...ridiculous here.”
Her lips quirked up at the corners, an involuntary reaction. “Well then, Theodore, let me show you the layout.” Nicole gestured toward the gallery blueprint spread across a table.
They leaned over the plans, their heads close enough that she caught a hint of his cologne—an understated blend of citrus and cedarwood. It was surprisingly personal, a stark contrast to the grandeur that usually shrouded him. She pointed to various spots on the diagram, her finger tracing the flow of the exhibition’s path. “The centerpiece will be displayed there, drawing the eye immediately.”
“Ah, strategic placement. I appreciate the thoughtfulness behind it,” he remarked. “You have an exceptional eye for detail, Nicole.”
“Thank you,” she replied, heartened by his praise. Their hands brushed accidentally over the blueprint, sending an unexpected jolt through her. A shared glance acknowledged the moment, fleeting yet charged.
“Shall we inspect the centerpiece?” Theodore suggested a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.
“Of course,” Nicole agreed, leading the way.
As they walked side by side, they discussed the nuances of the artwork, their conversation flowing effortlessly. With each passing moment, the initial formality between them melted away, leaving room for something more akin to companionship. Nicole found herself captivated by his insights, each observation revealing a depth she hadn’t anticipated from royalty.
“Your understanding of art is impressive,” she said, a genuine smile lighting her face. “One might mistake you for a fellow artist rather than royalty.”
“Ah, but artistry can be found in many aspects of life, not just on canvas,” Theodore replied, matching her smile with one of his own. “Leading a nation has its creative moments, albeit less colorful ones.”
Their laughter echoed through the gallery, a harmonious sound that seemed to weave around the sculptures and paintings. Nicole couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so at ease with someone, especially someone as inherently untouchable as Theodore.
“Who knew planning an art show could be so...invigorating,” she mused aloud. It certainly hadn’t been with other clients. There was just something special about Prince Theodore. How she wished he wasn’t the same man who livedin the public light.
“Indeed,” he concurred, his voice laced with a warmth that suggested the pleasure was mutual. “It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed such lively banter. You, Nicole, are quite refreshing.”
The compliment hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications. Nicole felt a blush creep up her neck, thankful for the dim lighting that might hide her reaction. Her heart fluttered in her chest, a sensation both unfamiliar and exhilarating. She had to wonder how much of his reputation had been earned, and how much had come simply because he was a prince.
“Thank you, Theodore,” she managed, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. “I find your company equally refreshing.”
They shared a knowing look. In the sanctity of the gallery, surrounded by expressions of passion and beauty, the seeds of something new and thrilling took root. The prince and the curator, worlds apart yet somehow, in that moment, perfectly aligned.
The grandeur of the gallery’s high ceiling loomed above them, a mosaic of golden flecks dancing across its expanse as the setting sun cast its final rays through the tall windows. Nicole watched Theodore, his silhouette framed by the fading light, as he gestured toward an ornate oil painting—its subject a young boy with a regal bearing.
“Is that...?” she began, her voice trailing off in reverence.
“Yes,” Theodore replied, a note of nostalgia threading through his words. “That’s me at seven, the age I was first taught the gravity of duty over oneself.”
Nicole stepped closer, examining the portrait. The boy wore a ceremonial uniform, his posture perfect, yet his eyes held a whisper of longing for something beyond the palace walls.
“Growing up in the palace,” Theodore continued, his gaze fixed on the portrait, “is a tapestry of tradition and obligation. Every footstep echoes with the weight of generations.” He turned to face her, his expression earnest. “It’s beautiful and stifling, all at once.”
“Must have been hard,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his.
“It was,” he admitted, his shoulders seeming to bear an invisible mantle. “But it teaches you to cherish those fleeting moments of freedom.”
“Freedom...” Nicole whispered, the word resonating within her. She thought of her own pursuit—a life painted in strokes of determination and shades of sacrifice. “I understand that. My upbringing was far from palatial, but art...it demanded everything of me.”
Theodore regarded her with a newfound respect. “You’ve built quite a world for yourself, Nicole. That requires strength—and courage.”
“Courage sometimes feels like foolishness in disguise,” she confessed, a rueful smile curving her lips. “There were nights when my passion seemed more like a curse than a calling.”
“Yet here you stand,” Theodore observed, stepping closer. “Your dedication brought you here, to this very moment.”
Her heart skipped a beat, aware of his proximity, the air charged with unspoken words. Their lives, disparate in circumstance, were united in the pursuit of something greater than themselves.
“Thank you, Theodore,” she said. “For seeing that in me.”
