EPISODE FOUR
1642 Words
THE FIRST CRACK
The night had been a whirlwind of politics, whispered conversations, and suffocating expectations. By the time Leo and Adrian retreated from the ballroom, the weight of the performance was still pressing on his shoulders.
Leo loosened his tie as they entered the private royal lounge—a lavish yet tastefully understated space away from prying eyes. The moment the heavy doors closed behind them, he exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples.
“Well,” he said, flopping onto one of the leather armchairs. “That was exhausting.”
Adrian, on the other hand, remained perfectly composed. His tuxedo was still immaculate, not a strand of silver-blond hair out of place. He moved to the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey with the kind of ease that suggested he’d done this a thousand times before.
“Get used to it,” Adrian said, taking a slow sip of his drink. “This was just the beginning.”
Leo scoffed. “That sounds ominous.”
Adrian didn’t respond, his gaze focused somewhere beyond the room—beyond Leo. There it was again, that strange distance, as if he was physically present but mentally locked away.
Leo leaned forward, watching him carefully. “You know, most people pretend to be charming at these kinds of events. You just radiate emotional unavailability like it’s a royal duty.”
Adrian’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he swirled his whiskey, his expression unreadable.
Leo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. You don’t want me here. You don’t want to do this. But if we’re going to make this convincing, maybe try acting like you don’t completely despise me.”
Adrian finally turned to face him, his blue eyes sharp. “I don’t despise you, Carter.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Could’ve fooled me.”
Adrian exhaled, setting his glass down. “I don’t know you. That’s the problem. This arrangement requires trust, and I don’t trust strangers.”
Leo blinked at that. For all of Adrian’s coldness, there was something almost… vulnerable in the way he said it.
“Alright,” Leo said, leaning back. “Then let’s change that. We’re stuck with each other for the next six months, so let’s at least make this bearable.”
Adrian gave him a measured look. “And how do you propose we do that?”
Leo grinned. “Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite food?”
Adrian looked at him like he’d just spoken a foreign language. “…My favorite food?”
“Yeah. You do eat, don’t you?”
Adrian’s lips twitched, but he caught himself before it could turn into an actual smile. “I suppose I do.”
“So?”
Adrian hesitated. “Raspberry tarts.”
Leo’s eyes widened. “Raspberry tarts? The almighty Crown Prince is a dessert guy?”
Adrian gave him a flat look. “I didn’t say I eat them often.”
Leo chuckled. “Right. Because that would be scandalous.” He leaned forward. “Alright, next question—what do you actually do for fun?”
Adrian looked away, his fingers tightening around his glass. “Fun isn’t something I have the luxury of considering.”
Leo’s amusement dimmed slightly. He wasn’t sure what answer he had expected, but there was something heavy about the way Adrian said it.
“No offense, Your Highness, but that’s depressing as hell.”
Adrian didn’t reply, his expression unreadable once more.
Leo studied him for a moment before sighing. “Well, if I’m going to be stuck in this world, I’m at least going to have a good time. I plan to enjoy every luxurious perk this arrangement has to offer.” He smirked. “Starting with the royal chef. I bet they can make some killer raspberry tarts.”
Adrian shot him a glance, but this time, there was something different—something softer.
Leo wasn’t sure if it was amusement or surprise, but for the first time, Adrian didn’t look at him like he was an unwanted complication.
It was small. Barely noticeable.
But it was a crack in the wall.
And Leo intended to widen it.
THE ROYAL RULES
Leo woke up to the sound of knocking. Loud, insistent, and way too early.
With a groan, he rolled over, burying his face in the plush pillows of his new ridiculously comfortable bed. His body still ached from last night’s event—pretending to be madly in love with the Crown Prince while dancing in stiff dress shoes was work.
Another knock.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, dragging himself up. “Keep your royal pants on.”
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stretched, blinking blearily at the massive room. It was still surreal—this was his space now, at least for the next six months. The soft morning light filtered through sheer curtains, illuminating the finely crafted furniture, the gold accents, the massive wardrobe that likely contained designer suits worth more than his old apartment.
A third knock. Sharper.
Leo sighed and stumbled toward the door, cracking it open.
Adrian stood there, already dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, looking like he’d been up for hours. Not a hair out of place. Of course.
Leo squinted at him. “Do you ever sleep?”
Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You were supposed to be awake thirty minutes ago.”
Leo yawned. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t. What’s the big deal?”
Adrian stepped inside without waiting for permission, his sharp gaze sweeping over Leo’s disheveled state. “You’re expected at breakfast with my family. And you will be punctual.”
Leo’s sleep-addled brain took a moment to process that. Then, alarm bells rang.
“Hold on. Your family? As in the King and Queen?”
Adrian crossed his arms. “And my siblings. Try to keep up.”
Leo blinked. “So you’re just now telling me?”
“You should have checked your schedule.”
Leo groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “Great. So I get to have breakfast with royalty while looking like I just crawled out of bed.”
Adrian’s gaze flickered, as if actually considering that statement. Then, with a sigh, he reached up—so quick Leo barely had time to react—and smoothed down a particularly wild strand of hair.
Leo froze.
It was brief, barely a touch, but the unexpected closeness sent a jolt down his spine. Adrian’s fingers were cool, precise.
“There,” Adrian said, stepping back, his expression unreadable. “Now get dressed. You have fifteen minutes.”
Leo let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as Adrian strode out of the room.
Yeah. This was definitely going to be an interesting morning.
—
The Breakfast Of Judgment
Leo was very aware of the stares.
Seated at an impossibly long dining table, he felt like a zoo exhibit as the royal family observed him like a foreign creature.
King Edmund Velandria sat at the head, regal and imposing, with sharp features that Adrian had clearly inherited. His wife, Queen Genevieve, had the same icy presence, though hers was wrapped in elegance rather than authority.
To Adrian’s left sat Princess Elara—graceful, poised, but with an amused glint in her eyes that suggested she was very entertained by this situation. On his right was Prince Theo, younger, sharper, and watching Leo with open suspicion.
And then there was Adrian, sitting beside him, looking as if this whole ordeal was just another business transaction.
Leo cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. The silverware was too polished, the food too artfully arranged. He picked up his fork, only to freeze when Theo spoke.
“So,” the younger prince said, resting his chin on his hand. “You’re the actor.”
Leo flashed a smile. “And you’re the prince.”
Theo didn’t smile back.
The tension in the room was thick.
“Leo,” the Queen finally spoke, her voice smooth but firm, “how did you and Adrian meet?”
Leo felt Adrian go still beside him. This was a test.
He could lie. Stick to the story Marcus had prepared for him.
Or…
Leo grinned. “Oh, you know. He swept me off my feet. Classic royal romance.”
Elara snorted into her teacup.
Adrian’s fingers curled around his fork.
Queen Genevieve merely raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” Leo continued, leaning back in his chair. “It was very dramatic. Think candlelight, whispered confessions, maybe even a storm for effect—”
Adrian cut in, his voice flat. “What he means to say is that we met through mutual acquaintances.”
Leo smirked. “Right. That’s exactly what I meant.”
King Edmund, who had remained silent, finally set his cup down. “Mr. Carter,” he said, his gaze piercing. “This arrangement is… unconventional.”
Leo met his eyes. “I’m aware.”
The King’s stare didn’t waver. “You will be scrutinized. Every action, every word. Do you understand what that means?”
Leo’s usual humor faded slightly. He might have signed up for this as a job, but sitting at this table, facing the weight of centuries-old royalty, the reality hit a little harder.
“I do,” he said seriously.
The King studied him for a moment before nodding. “Then I expect you to act accordingly.”
Leo exhaled, glancing at Adrian, who remained as impassive as ever.
Act accordingly.
Sure. He could do that.
But if they thought he was just going to be another silent, obedient player in this royal game…
Well.
They were in for a surprise.
- Writer
