The Contract Prince

EPISODE SIX

The Game Begins

Leo wasn’t stupid. He knew a trap when he saw one.

And right now, Duke Alistair Holloway was setting the stage for something big.

After the dance, the night continued with wine, conversation, and veiled threats disguised as politeness. Leo wasn’t a noble, but he was an actor. He knew how to play his part—smiling at the right moments, offering the perfect responses that danced on the edge of insolence without crossing the line.

But Adrian? Adrian was colder than ever.

The prince spoke when necessary, answered questions with a perfect mask of indifference, but his usual sharp remarks were absent.

Leo didn’t like it.

It wasn’t until the gathering shifted to a more private setting—a cigar lounge reserved for the most important guests—that he realized why.

“Join me for a drink, Mr. Carter,” Alistair said, motioning toward a smaller parlor off the main hall. “I’d love to… understand you better.”

Leo didn’t miss the way Adrian tensed.

But the prince didn’t stop him.

That meant one thing.

This was another test.

Leo smirked. “Lead the way.”

—

The Duke’s Play

The private parlor was a stark contrast to the grand ballroom—intimate, with dark wood paneling, expensive leather chairs, and a fireplace that cast flickering shadows across the room.

Alistair poured himself a drink, then offered one to Leo.

Leo accepted, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “You wanted to talk?”

Alistair studied him like a chess master considering his next move. “You’re interesting.”

Leo sipped his drink. “Flatter me more.”

The Duke chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. “Tell me, Mr. Carter. Do you truly believe you belong in this world?”

Leo tilted his head. “I think that’s the wrong question.”

Alistair raised a brow. “Oh?”

Leo leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the armrest. “The question isn’t whether I belong. It’s whether I’m staying.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, Alistair smiled.

A dangerous, knowing smile.

“You’re sharper than I expected,” the Duke murmured. “But let me give you some advice, Mr. Carter.” He set his glass down. “This world is not kind to outsiders. And the Velandrian throne is not so secure that it can afford weakness.”

Leo’s stomach twisted.

This wasn’t about him.

It was about Adrian.

Alistair leaned back. “You think you’re playing a role, but you’re already a pawn in a game far older and deadlier than you realize.”

Leo exhaled slowly. “And you’re what? The grandmaster?”

Alistair smirked. “I’m a man who knows how to bet on the right players.” He studied Leo for a moment longer, then said, “Tell me, Mr. Carter… if given the choice, would you protect the prince?”

Leo blinked. “Excuse me?”

Alistair’s gaze darkened. “Adrian is walking a dangerous path. One that could lead to his downfall.” He swirled his drink. “If it came to it—if standing by his side meant losing everything—would you still play the part?”

Leo’s fingers tightened around his glass.

He wanted to laugh. To say this was all a joke.

But something about the Duke’s tone—about the warning in his voice—made him pause.

Because this wasn’t just a hypothetical question.

It was a test.

And Leo had the sinking feeling that his answer would change everything.

A Dangerous Answer

Leo knew how to lie. It was his job, after all.

He could have said something clever, something neutral, something that wouldn’t give Alistair any ammunition to use against him.

But for some damn reason, the question got under his skin.

Would you still play the part if it meant losing everything?

Leo exhaled slowly, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “That’s a loaded question, Your Grace.”

Alistair watched him, silent, waiting.

Leo met his gaze. “But if you’re asking whether I’d abandon Adrian the moment things get rough, you’ve got the wrong impression of me.” He leaned back in his chair, letting a slow smirk tug at his lips. “I don’t walk away from deals I’ve already signed.”

Alistair hummed, thoughtful. “A loyal man, then?”

Leo chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

The Duke tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “You interest me, Mr. Carter.”

“That makes one of us,” Leo shot back, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just stepped onto a much more dangerous board.

—

The Storm Beneath the Surface

When Leo returned to the main hall, Adrian was waiting.

The prince stood near the balcony doors, posture rigid, fingers curled around the stem of a half-empty wine glass. He wasn’t looking at Leo, but Leo knew—knew—that he had been keeping track of every second he was gone.

Leo exhaled, making his way over. “Miss me?”

Adrian didn’t react. “What did he say to you?”

Leo studied him. “You worried?”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Leo.”

There was something in the way he said his name. Something sharp, something tense.

Leo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He just wanted to test me. See if I was a liability.”

Adrian finally looked at him. “And?”

Leo smirked. “I passed.”

Adrian held his gaze for a long moment. Then, so softly Leo almost didn’t hear it—

“You shouldn’t have.”

Leo frowned. “What?”

Adrian set his glass down, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t have given him an answer. Alistair doesn’t ask questions without reason.”

Leo shrugged. “Well, too late now.”

Adrian’s fingers twitched at his side. “Leo—”

Before he could finish, a soft chime echoed through the hall, signaling the next event of the evening: the official toasts.

Adrian straightened. Whatever tension had been in his voice vanished behind that perfect royal mask. “We’ll talk later.”

Leo watched him walk away, a strange unease settling in his gut.

Because for the first time since this whole ridiculous arrangement began, Adrian wasn’t treating him like a nuisance.

He was treating him like someone worth protecting.

And Leo wasn’t sure he liked what that meant.

A Toast to Lies

The ballroom glittered under the golden light of the chandeliers, but to Leo, the air felt heavier than before.

He stood beside Adrian as the royal toast began, his wine glass cool against his fingers. Around them, nobles lifted their crystal flutes, murmuring their praises to the Velandrian monarchy, the words so polished and practiced that they might as well have been scripted.

And then, Duke Alistair Holloway stepped forward.

Leo stiffened. He had expected the man to fade into the background after their conversation, but the Duke had other plans.

He raised his glass, his voice smooth as silk. “To His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Adrian Velandria.” A polite pause. “And to his charming companion, Mr. Leo Carter.”

The murmurs in the room shifted.

Leo felt Adrian go still beside him.

The Duke’s smile was razor-sharp. “It’s rare to see His Highness make such a bold choice. To embrace a romance that defies expectations.”

Leo barely kept his expression neutral. Oh, this bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

Alistair’s gaze flicked to Leo. “I do hope you’ll continue to stand by the prince’s side, Mr. Carter. After all, every kingdom needs a good performer.”

The words were an insult wrapped in a compliment, a subtle jab meant to remind everyone exactly what Leo was—an actor, a fake.

A pawn.

Silence stretched through the hall. Eyes were watching. Waiting.

Leo could feel Adrian’s tension beside him, the prince’s grip tightening around his glass.

But Leo had spent his entire life on stage. He knew how to handle an audience.

He smiled. Slowly.

Then, he raised his glass.

“And every performer needs a stage, Your Grace,” Leo said smoothly, meeting Alistair’s gaze without flinching. “Fortunately, I seem to have found a rather grand one.”

A few surprised chuckles rippled through the crowd.

Alistair’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something dark and assessing.

Leo took a sip of his wine, lowering his glass. “To His Highness.” His voice was calm, but the challenge in his tone was unmistakable. “May he always have the last word.”

The message was clear.

You don’t get to control this narrative, Your Grace. Not tonight.

The tension in the room shifted.

And for the first time, Leo felt Adrian’s gaze on him—not with irritation, not with calculated detachment, but with something else.

Something dangerously close to admiration.

—

The Prince’s Confession

The night stretched on, but the moment stayed with Leo.

By the time the event ended and they returned to the palace, Adrian hadn’t spoken a word. Not in the car. Not in the hallways. Not until they were alone.

The prince closed the door behind them, exhaling sharply. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Leo scoffed, throwing his jacket over a chair. “What, defended myself? Sorry, Your Highness, but I’m not going to sit there and let some arrogant duke turn me into a joke.”

Adrian turned to him, his expression unreadable. “You don’t understand what you’ve started.”

Leo frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Adrian stepped closer. “Alistair isn’t just any noble. He’s dangerous. He doesn’t take humiliation lightly.”

Leo crossed his arms. “So what? He’s going to have me exiled because I hurt his feelings?”

Adrian’s jaw clenched. “You think this is a game.”

Leo hesitated.

Because no—he didn’t. Not anymore.

He could see it in Adrian’s eyes, the weight of something heavier than just politics.

Something personal.

Leo exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. Fine. What aren’t you telling me?”

Adrian was silent for a long moment.

Then—

“There’s more at stake than you realize,” the prince said quietly. “And if you’re not careful… you won’t just be playing a role in my life, Leo.” His voice dipped lower, almost hesitant. “You’ll be a part of it.”

Leo’s breath hitched.

Adrian held his gaze. Serious. Unshaken.

And for the first time since they met, Leo felt something shift between them.

Because this wasn’t just about a contract anymore.

This was real.