COPYRIGHT © 2019 Miu
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
As everyone was having their issues in Burberry, in Everland, Daniel was in front of the mirror, sighing nonstop as he repeatedly fixed his already perfect suit.
As soon he was back, his mother had been pestering him to meet his fiancée, who he evaded every day, pretending to be busy. But he could not escape it forever as this fiancée had now taken the initiative to come to the palace to meet him instead –– courtesy to his mother, of course.
Now, he was trapped with nowhere to retreat. His mother killed all excuses he could think with the help of his father. He had no choice but grimaced the irritation and annoyance, feeling his freedom was taken away from him.
He sighed more massive than the last. He closed his eyes when he heard that knock yet again followed by the opening of the door after his words of ‘come in.’
“My Prince, Duke and Duchess Waltz and their daughter are in the guestroom, waiting for you, your Highness,” the butler said, all polite and respectful as he bowed, not daring to look nor lift his chin in the presence of the Prince.
“Yes, I heard you the first time.” Daniel’s tone was a bit harsh. He realized this and said in a low apologetic voice, “I’ll be there shortly.”
Only then the butler straightened his back and walked out of the room.
Daniel glanced one more time at his reflection. His mother especially asked their designer to deliver the new clothes in his room. The moment he saw it, his eyes dimmed. His mother came prepared. Prepared for him to take the whole day off to entertain this fiancée based on his clothes, which screamed, ‘I want to go out!’
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. Steeling himself, he walked out of the room. He was escorted by, not one, but four bodyguards, and this caused his tightly pressed lips to twist in repressed annoyance.
I’m not going anywhere!
He shoved the lump of cold air back his throat when it threatened to form an irritated sigh. Feeling stuffy and vexed, he calmed himself by looking at those oil painted ancestral portraits lining the wall as he walked in the quiet hallway accompanied by the royal guards. He could paint them himself from the repetitive glance throughout the years. Eyes on the paintings, his mind wandered into the forest of blankness as his body moved in a practiced manner, elegant and confident, radiating authority and control.
His blank state was disturbed when he stopped in front of a familiar solid wooden door decorated with elaborate carvings, painted in gold. The lump of cold air was released through his mouth in a wry breath as the guards opened the door. His eyes zoomed towards the person who was so unfamiliar to him.
She had the type of face which harbored a kind smile –– always. The one that repelled time. Her cheeks were rounder, no visible cheekbones like the women he used to date. Her eyes were big, shining like dull gold, glazy, and full of emotions like she was looking at someone she loves. Her plump lips were shaping a gentle heart. Her warm, chestnut color hair was twisted in a light bun. Her skin was not the white, porcelain type, but it was not black either. It was light brown, supple, and squishy like those of newborns, making her appear more gentle and innocent.
She noticed he was looking at her, studying her, which was true. He sensed his father and mother’s silent reprimanding gazes at the side.
But he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he was rude. For once, he didn’t want to act like a Prince. Didn’t want to be one at this very moment.
Maybe she felt the rising tension in the air as she tried to break it with her raising a hand, uttering a low, ‘hello’ in a full smile. This caused Mrs. Waltz to reprimand her for her discourteous overfriendly and casual greeting towards him.
He didn’t mind. He was still busy assessing her conservative clothing. Long-sleeved turtle neck and an overly long skirt that only old, unwed women past their prime would wear. Though it appeared simple and old fashion, he couldn’t deny the expensive materials used down to the details, which fitted her body to compliment her features.
And when she spoke, there was a softness in her voice and shyness in her movements. And when she smiled, her canines stood out, a little crook from the rest, causing her to appear more naïve.
When her mother and father rose from their seats to greet him, she abruptly stood as well. Her movement caused the teacup on her hand to wobble from its plate and fell. It shattered against the old marble tiles, producing a jerking sound across the room.
She bowed profusely with two hands clasped together on her lap.
“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean it!” she frantically bowed forward, backward, to the left, to the right.
If he didn’t know her to be the daughter of a Duke, he would be tempted to think that she was a servant apologizing exaggeratedly to her master.
Her eyes brimmed with tears, pooling around her lashes. Her cheeks reddened, and her lips quivered. “I-I’ll, I-I’ll . . . I’ll clean it right away!”
She bent forward, attempting to clean her mess. Before everyone could react to what she said and stop her, her hand extended, tumbling against another cup.
Before anyone could react whatsoever, another barraged of apologizing words echoed in the silent room.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It was an accident!” She shifted left and right, didn’t know which direction to put her embarrassed face. And not before long, her overly long skirt spin with her movement, hitting another teacup.
“. . .”
“. . .”
Naïve and clumsy! My mother really hates me. How did she even find this girl? He mused. Ignoring another round of apologizing words from her, he took in her details.
She was not beautiful, not really.
No flowing golden curls. No ivory skin. No mesmerizing eyes of green. She was shorter than average and certainly larger than a catwalk model. She was not skinny nor fat. She was rather. . . fleshy. Especially those oversize breasts and hips, making her appear chubbier and bubbly but not in an obese way.
She was not the type of woman who men would trip over on a sidewalk, and definitely not the kind who gets recognized in the crowd.
She blinked, droplets of water dripped from her eyes to her reddened cheeks. Her quivering lips opened and closed, unsure of what to say nor do.
An angry contained hissing sound made her sit with head low, and hands resting on top of her lap.
Mrs. Waltz threw an ‘I will deal with you later’ kind of look to her before she spoke to his father and mother with a gentle tone.
“Forgive us, your grace. My daughter is beholden at the sight of Prince Daniel that she was consumed with nervousness.”
He strongly doubted that. The woman was a natural walking disaster!
Is this alright? What will happen to the Kingdom if I marry her?
Any complaints he had were pushed back when his mother shot him a side-eye before smiling to their guests.
“It’s alright, Mrs. Waltz. I also apologize for my son’s inappropriate behavior.”
And that’s my cue.
Daniel strode forward, not minding the maids who efficiently cleaned the mess in mere seconds. And by the time he was standing near an empty couch, opposite the woman he was supposed to marry, that was only when he forced out a smile though his face remained tight.
“Duke and Duchess Waltz,” he said in greeting, and the elderly couple reciprocated in warmth and respect.
His eyes then traveled to her, who was eyeing him with mouth gaping, glittering liquid slipped slowly down her lip. He raised an eyebrow, unamused as he asked the obvious, “And this is?”
She only showed a sign of response after her mother shot her a dangerous side glanced. Her knees flex and buckle, unsure whether to get up or not with an awkward smile on her lips.
His patience was running thin and his unfavorable impression of her intensified by the second. And when he opened his mouth to reprimand her, she casually pushed away the newly brought teacup to the far end of the table where it was a safe distance from her before she stood and curtsied.
“My name is Lilybella Waltz. It’s nice to meet you, my Prince.”
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