The Royal Contract:

“Harper, have you seen my black heels?” Brooke Sullivan stood in front of the open wardrobe, looking through the clothes hanging inside. Her bedroom was a mess. Dresses covered the bed, shoes were scattered across the floor, and her suitcase remained open near the door. “Under the chair,” Harper called from the living room. Brooke checked and found the shoes exactly where Harper had said they would be. “Thanks.” “You're welcome. Are you almost ready? The car will be here in twenty minutes.” “I know. I just need to finish packing.” Harper appeared at the bedroom door, holding two dresses against her body. She had already changed into a simple black dress and was putting on her earrings. “You said that half an hour ago,” she said. Brooke glanced at the suitcase. “I don't know why I brought so many clothes out. I'm only going away for three weeks.” “Because you want to be prepared for everything.” “Maybe.” Harper placed the dresses on the bed and sat beside them. Their trip to Bellacourt was still a week away, but there was already plenty to do. Their photography and videography studio had been hired to cover the royal family's celebrations, including King Henri Laurent's seventy-eighth birthday and the fourteen-day coronation event for the next king. It was the biggest contract their studio had ever received. And Harper was the reason they had it. She had handled the proposal, attended the online meetings, negotiated the payment, and signed the final agreement on behalf of their studio. Brooke had helped prepare the creative samples, but Harper had managed most of the business side. When the acceptance email arrived, they had read it together three times before believing it was real. “I still can't believe they chose us,” Brooke said as she folded another dress. “Neither can I, honestly. But our work was good, and our proposal was strong.” Harper smiled. “We earned it.” Brooke nodded. She knew how much work they had put into building their studio. There had been small birthday parties, graduation ceremonies, and wedding jobs that barely covered their expenses. They had spent long nights editing videos and weekends working without rest. Now, a royal family had trusted them with one of the most important events in the kingdom. It felt like a dream. “Just imagine what this could do for our business,” Brooke said. “If we do well, we could get more international clients.” “That's what I'm hoping for. We need to make sure everything goes smoothly.” “It will.” “I hope so.” Harper looked at her. “We've worked too hard for anything to go wrong.” Brooke zipped the suitcase and finally stepped away from it. “Everything is under control. Tonight, we're celebrating. Tomorrow, we can worry about work again.” Harper smiled. “I agree.” * * * An hour later, they were inside one of Manhattan's most exclusive nightclubs. The place was crowded, the music was loud, and colorful lights moved across the room. People danced near the center of the club while others sat at private tables, talking over their drinks. Harper had chosen the place because she knew the manager. Their table was in a quieter corner, giving them a good view of the dance floor without having to sit in the middle of the noise. Brooke settled into her seat while Harper ordered their drinks. For a while, they talked about the trip to Bellacourt, the equipment they needed to take, and the staff they would bring with them. Even when they went out to relax, work somehow found its way into their conversations. Eventually, Harper put her glass down. “Can we talk about something other than work for the rest of the night?” Brooke smiled. “Please. I was beginning to think you'd brought the contract folder.” “I left it at home.” “I'm proud of you.” Harper laughed and shook her head. “Seriously, Brooke. We deserve a break. Once we get to Bellacourt, we'll barely have time to breathe.” “You're right.” “I'm going to dance for a while. Are you coming?” “In a minute.” “All right. I'll be over there.” Brooke watched her walk away before turning her attention to the crowd. She enjoyed going out with Harper, but she wasn't always in the mood to dance. Sometimes she preferred to sit back, listen to the music, and watch people have fun. She took another sip of her drink and glanced around the room. That was when she noticed the man standing near the bar. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair. His black shirt fitted him perfectly, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He held a glass in one hand while listening to something another man was saying. There was nothing particularly unusual about him. Except that he was probably the most attractive man Brooke had ever seen. She couldn't explain what drew her attention to him. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself, or the quiet confidence in his posture. He wasn't making an effort to attract attention, yet he stood out from the crowd. As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned his head. Their gazes met. Brooke quickly looked away and picked up her glass, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring. She told herself it didn't matter. She was allowed to admire a handsome man without making anything of it. A few moments later, someone stopped beside her table. "Is this seat taken?" Brooke turned slowly. Up close, the man was even more attractive, which was frankly unfair. He held his glass in one hand and looked at her with a faint smile. "That depends," she replied. "On what?" "Whether you're planning to ask me a foolish question." His eyebrows lifted. "Such as?" "Whether I come here often. Whether I believe in love at first sight. Or whether I think you're handsome." He laughed. It was a real laugh, warm and unexpected, and it changed his entire face. "Should I ask whether you think I'm handsome?" "Only if you enjoy disappointment." "That's unfortunate. I was hoping for a compliment." "Then you came to the wrong woman." He pulled out the chair opposite her. "Can I sit?" Brooke studied him for a moment. At least he had manners. "Go ahead." "Thank you." He sat, placing his glass on the table. For a few seconds, neither spoke. Then he extended his hand. "Nick." "Brooke." They shook hands across the table. His palm was warm, and his fingers closed gently around hers before he let go. “Nice to meet you, Brooke.” “You too, Nick.” Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach tighten.