Since Ava is temporarily living in the castle and Marco visits often due to the marriage, I've been exhausted. Both of them are hard to deal with, and even if Ava is my friend, she's been acting strange lately—in a way that makes me not trust her.
Maybe I'm being dramatic, though.
I walk beside Alex as he leads me to the throne room, where my father is currently waiting. Today, I'm supposed to go on a royal tour with Marco as preparation to take over the throne, but it's more for the prince and less for me.
When I arrive in the throne room, I notice Marco with his hands behind his back. He's standing next to my parents in a navy blue suit that makes him stand out—in a bad way. His dark hair is messy, and the slight curls have a wild look to them, as if nobody has ever tried—or bothered—to tame them.
My hand instinctively grabs ahold of Alex's to calm myself down, but the bodyguard shakes it off immediately with the silent reminder that we're being watched.
I sigh and decide to just try to keep my distance from Marco, but he moves to stand in front of me, a fake smile on his face. "I hope you're not dreading spending time with me, mi amore," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
My heart races with anger, and I wish I could punch his smug face. "I would rather spend time with the rats in the castle than you," I snap back, giving him a death glare.
"Is that so?" Marco asks with a wry smile. "I suppose I should be flattered."
"Enough!" my father interrupts before I can respond, his voice loud enough to echo through the rafters. "We're here to prepare for the tour, not bicker like children."
I take a deep breath to calm myself down, but my mind is still racing with emotions. "Fine," I mutter through gritted teeth. "Let's get this over with."
As we leave the throne room, Alex falls into step beside me, his expression equally grim. "You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to, Princess," he whispers, his voice low enough that only I can hear him.
What does he mean by that?
"It's not like I have a choice," I utter back in a quiet undertone. "I don't have any freedom anymore. I'm just a puppet to be used for my father's political reign."
I continue walking next to the bodyguard, who looks as if he wants to say something more, but he keeps his mouth shut with a slight frown. It's almost like he's afraid to tell me—or afraid of what my reaction might be.
One of many royal carriages awaits all of us outside the palace, and as we get seated in, we begin to set off on the royal tour. However, I'm already familiar with not only the city but my entire country. This whole trip around Rome is purely for the future king.
On the bright side, I'm relieved to have a break from the tension between me and Marco, who's sitting on the other side of the carriage. But I'm worried less about him as my mind keeps wandering back to Alex's words.
I wonder why he didn't elaborate.
The carriage ride through the bustling streets of Rome is silent, and I stare out the window instead of socializing. The city is packed with tourists from all over the world, and I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy as I watch them roam freely. They seem so happy—so carefree, with no worries about who's watching them or what they have to do next.
I let out a deep sigh and lean my head against the window, trying to calm my racing thoughts. But the sound of Marco's laughter from across the carriage grates on my nerves, reminding me of how much I don't want to be here.
Just as I'm about to close my eyes and try to nap, the carriage pulls up to a large, ornate building with a huge golden sign out front that reads: Musei Vaticani. I realize exactly where we are—a museum famous for its historical teachings, specifically about the royal family.
Taking a deep breath, I step out of the carriage, my hand gripping Alex's arm subtly. The two of us follow my parents and Marco inside the museum, the grand marble floors echoing with our movements.
As we wander through the exhibits, Prince Marco's steps are loud and authoritative, and it's almost as if he's purposefully trying to draw attention to himself. I try to ignore him, though, and focus on the artifacts in front of me.
The displays are filled with ancient artifacts from the Italian Renaissance, some dating back to the 15th century. There are paintings, sculptures, and even a section dedicated to the royal family's history. I've seen this museum many times, but I've never gotten tired of it.
Alex seems to share my fascination, and we spend some time examining the details of each painting and sculpture. Marco, on the other hand, seems bored. He's constantly fidgeting and looking around, as if he's itching to leave.
Idiot.
I'm so focused on the artwork surrounding me that I don't realize that my parents and Marco have moved on to the next exhibit. Alex, however, seems to notice, and he leans in closer to me.
"Come," the bodyguard whispers quietly, his hand pressing against the small of my back before he moves away and leads me to a secluded area.
We're now hidden in the back of the exhibit, and Alex pushes me gently against the wall before placing his hands gently on my waist. I can feel the heat of him in every part of my body, and it makes my heart pound with desire.
"Alex?" I murmur nervously, unsure of what to expect from him.
I bite my lip, wondering if he's going to kiss me or do something else that'll surprise me. His presence right now is soft and soothing, and I recognize the look in his eyes all too well. He's asking for my consent without saying it out loud.
After I give a silent nod of approval, his lips begin to travel down my neck slowly. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I lean my head back against the wall. His hand travels lower, slowly going up my thigh as he presses his body against me.
I look up at him with half-lidded eyes, and my entire body is trembling. I'm not sure how to control myself with him, but at the same time, I don't want to stop him. His soft lips are moving against my skin like a gentle caress, and I can't believe this is happening here of all places.
His fingers trace my entire thigh before coming to a stop at my hip. I can feel my pulse beating wildly in my veins and my breathing becoming heavier with each passing moment. "I need you," he groans against my skin, his lingering on every inch of my body.
My breath catches in my throat as I arch my back slightly, feeling his hands all over me. He leans in close, our faces so close that his nose touches mine, but he doesn't go in for a kiss yet. Instead, he keeps gently rubbing his hand along my hips and upper thighs, teasing me.
Reluctantly, I take his hands off of me and lightly push him away with my body. "Not now. My parents are probably wondering where we both are."
Alex lets out a deep, frustrated sigh, his head sinking down to my chest. He peppers a few more kisses along my collarbone and exposed cleavage before pulling back once and for all. "You're right. Let's go."
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊ ˚✧ ﾟ.
A few hours later, all of us arrive at La Stella d'Italia—a five-star, exclusive restaurant known for its exquisite food and excellent service. The restaurant is reserved only for those with power and money, and my family is included in those categories.
The restaurant's opulence doesn't go unnoticed as we enter, with gold chandeliers hanging overhead and tables decorated with fine china. The waiters are all trained to a T with elegant manners and impeccable service—something that I've been aware of. This isn't the first time I've been here.
After each of the staff bows before us, we take our seats, and the servers come up to each of us to offer us drinks and take our orders. The prince, of course, orders a bottle of expensive wine, while my parents both order a glass of red wine.
I hesitate before answering, but I decide to order a glass of water. My nerves are getting the better of me, and I can't stand the idea of drinking wine with Marco.
While waiting for our food, Marco leans close to me, and I instinctively recoil back, not wanting to be near him. However, he continues to edge closer, and I can feel his body heat near mine, sending shivers down my spine. I clench my fists, anger and resentment building inside me.
"What's the matter, mi amore? Are you afraid of me?" he whispers in my ear, his breath hot on my cheek.
What a dick.
I don't want to give him the satisfaction of responding, but I can't help myself. "I'm not afraid of you. I just can't stand the sight of you," I retort out loud.
"Ah, so you do feel something for me," Marco taunts, the amusement clear in his voice. "I always knew you were hiding your true feelings."
I glare at him, my anger threatening to boil over. "Don't pretend like you know me," I snarl, my voice low and dangerous.
My father claps his hands loudly, breaking the tension between us. "Elena! As the future queen, you will be expected to carry out your duties with dignity and grace, not acting like an unhinged child."
Biting my tongue, I refrain from lashing out at my father and creating a bigger scene. I know that I have to be more mature now, but with the people around me, sometimes it's hard. My father does have a point, though. As the future queen, I can't let my emotions control me.
My gaze shifts to Alex, knowing that out of anyone, he can keep me calm. He's standing in the corner, his blue eyes narrowing in a calculating way. But his eyes soften as he makes eye contact with me, and I immediately feel better.
Finally, a server arrives with a feast for each of us. A delicious-smelling spread of antipasto is placed in the center of the table. Frittata and the classic Italian spaghetti accompany the dish, and the spaghetti looks the most appealing by far, drizzled perfectly with fresh marinara sauce.
Marco digs into the food without waiting for anyone else, immediately taking a bite out of the frittata. "What's this?" he asks while chewing. "This is—"
Suddenly, he starts to choke and wheeze the food out of his mouth. His hands slam down on the table, startling everyone sitting—including my parents. The prince's face is a deep shade of red now, and he looks furious.
"You ignoramus!" he chokes out, clutching his throat with his calloused hands. "Are there eggs in this?"
"What?! Of course, there are eggs in the frittata," the waiter replies, his voice anxious and shaky. "It is a traditional Italian dish; it is common knowledge that eggs are a key ingredient."
Marco coughs and tries to speak, but no words come out. His face continues to turn a brighter shade of crimson, and his breathing becomes more shallow. Everyone at the table is watching him in concern, except for me. I can't help but feel a sense of relief.
A staff member rushes towards the choking prince, who is still struggling to dislodge the food from his throat, and performs the Heimlich maneuver, causing him to cough up the egg that had gotten stuck.
Prince Marco regains his composure, and he's even angrier now. He scowls menacingly at the waiter before looking at the manager, who has come out to help. "I want him fired. NOW!" he demands.
I drown out the rest of the scene that unfolds before me. There's something else on my mind now—something most people would consider sinister for a princess to even think about. Frankly, I don't give a damn.
All I have to do to kill Marco is sneak eggs into his food.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・
authors note: once again so sorry for not updating frequently like i usually do. rly trying to get my motivation back for you guys. ty for reading, seeing comments and votes makes me feel accomplished 🤍