BECOMING THE PRINCESS'S LACKEY

FIVE

Isabeau’s POV

I looked at the cup of warm milk and sachet of pills on my desk and looked back at Matthias, staring blankly at me, waiting for me to gulp down the pill as if it were some kind of poison. I wouldn’t be surprised, honestly.

“Matthew,” I began to say, and he didn’t correct me this time around, “I didn’t stutter when I asked for a coffee.”

“You didn’t, Your Highness. It’s just that you are very ill. I’d still prefer for us to visit the hospital,” he said, straight to the point as if he had already calculated the rest of his life after being fired today, “also, coffee won’t do you any good for now.”

On a normal day, I would have gone off the wall and rained a good amount of curses at him, but I was too weak for that; my body ached all over, and a vein in my head was about to pop– I wondered if it was just the sickness or my strange personal assistant.

I folded my arms and reclined in the chair. “I keep wondering what good it does you when you act up like this.”

“I’m only doing my job.” he stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze straight ahead. I could tell that he must have done some sort of military training before.

I leaned my two interlaced arms on the desk and pondered how bitchy I could be today. Clearly, Matthias is not fit for this role or any other role in this organization. I couldn’t just let him go and ruin other departments.

First, I need to teach him a lesson.

“Have you read the manual that came with this office?”

“Yes, I have.”

“How about the Viel records I mentioned to you?”

“Done.”

“How about my year’s schedule from beginning to end?”

“I did, and I’m aware of the Children’s Day charity event the royal family had delegated you to host today.”

“Have you put the activities on a calendar?”

“I have for the next three months. Was going to hand it over this morning.”

This guy’s good. But not better than me.

“Now what you will do is to conclude my schedule on the calendar till the year's end before handing it over, then summarize the manual for this office along with the royal constitution.” I checked my wristwatch. “We still have about two hours before the charity program, so you better move fast.”

“You need all of that today.”

I plastered a satisfied smile on my face and nodded, “Yes.”

I could see him fighting an innate reaction – something along the lines of ‘this witch’.

“Okay,” he said after a long pause, “the medicine- make sure to take it,” he said before he turned to leave.

How could he still care about me right now? I scoffed at his absence. This must really be an extremely high dose of pain relief that’ll send me to heaven soon after. I fiddled with the drug for a while, unsure of what to do with it. None of my personal assistants had ever been like this to me.

All twenty-one of them.

He either wants to kill me or he really does care about me.

I stared through the glass wall at him, already at his desk fighting for his life to get the job done.

Matthias Cole.

Who exactly are you?

***

~Matthias POV~

“Ugh! The witch,” I cursed under my breath. How could someone be so stubborn and wicked when they’re not the devil?

I sat at my desk and made a mental note to never help out. Even if she were bleeding and dying on the floor, I’d go over and submit this damned work.

A knock came on the door. I looked up, and it was Dom with two cups of coffee as usual. I glanced at him, then back at my computer.

“Not now, Dominic; I’m trying to live,” I said flatly.

“Dominic? Ouch,” he said, placing the coffee on the desk. I never call him by his full name. “Things must be very serious, huh.”

He was looking through the glass wall at her, fully engrossed in whatever file she was reading.

“She has me on death row for getting her meds.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you went all empathetic on her.”

I rolled my eyes. Unfortunately, I did. I regret it.

“You just never learn, pal,” Dom tsked at me, “that’s why poor Celine had lots of scores to settle with you.”

I paused and stared him dead in the eye. Celine was not only the woman I’ve had a crush on for almost a decade now, but she was also a wound that keeps tearing at my side and refuses to heal. I told Dom to never bring her up.

“What?” he shrugged. “She was consistently hurt by the empathy you showed other women; that’s why she rejected you.”

Sometimes, I hated Dom.

“You can leave now.”

“I didn’t bring her up for nothing. She’s having a small birthday dinner. She asked me to invite you.”

I hated the way I still had a thing for her. No matter how much I tried, even after being rejected, I couldn’t just stay out of her life. Was it her aesthetic? She was very different from my boss. A lot more, softer.

I caught myself slipping up again.

“You’re coming, right?”

“I’ll think about it,” I said as I got back to work.

“I need a yes or a no, come on.”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Yes,” Dom whispered a victorious sigh under his breath, “it's tonight. I'll text you the time and the location. Please, I’m begging you, don’t act any kinder, or you’ll spend the night here,” he said as he left.

My phone buzzed, and the screen came to light.

It was mail from the federal bureau of marriage. I didn’t have anything to do with them, must be spam or an advert for youths to get married soon. And I found myself stopping to wonder, who in their sane mind would want to marry Isabeau Arendall?