by Emma Lea
“Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Andino?” I asked with no small amount of exasperation.
“We need to talk, Francesca,” she answered briskly.
“My name is Frankie,” I replied, “and what exactly do we need to talk about?”
“Your image.”
“My image? What is it exactly about my image that we need to discuss?”
Maya narrowed her eyes at me. “All of…this,” she said, circling her hand in front of me to encompass my entire self.
I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked a hip. “Would you like to be a little more specific? No, wait, the better question is, what has my ‘image’ got to do with you?”
“Must we have this conversation out here in the foyer like savages?” Maya asked.
I huffed and led the way to the formal sitting room we hardly ever used. Maya sat gingerly on one of the wingback armchairs and I curled a leg under my backside as I sat on the couch. Maya grimaced at my blatant un-ladylike posture but said nothing. I may have been doing it just to annoy her, but she didn’t need to know that.
“I understand you’re a modern, independent woman, Francesca—”
“Frankie,” I corrected, but she went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“But you are about to become a markissia and that title comes with some responsibility.”
“I don’t see how—”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. You Americans, you don’t understand the subtle challenges of being royal. You are loud and brash and are more concerned with your individuality than being concerned with how that individuality affects others. Lucas is about to become part of the king’s trusted circle, part of his oikos. Lucas will be a representative of the king and as his wife, so will you. You have a responsibility to represent not only the king, but Lucas in the best possible light and not to embarrass either of them. You are no longer an independent individual, you are part of something bigger, something grander, something far more important than just yourself.”
I opened my mouth to defend her attack on not just me but my entire country, but she went on without letting me speak.
“I don’t say this to offend you but merely to point out that you now have a higher calling and as such, you need to do better. You can’t yell at the press. You can’t leave your house wearing ripped jeans and ratty t-shirts. And for the love of all that is holy, please, I beg of you, do something with that rats’ nest you call hair.”
My hand lifted to my hair, and I had to admit it resembled a bit of a rats’ nest. I had done nothing with it since I got out of bed and no doubt the short curls were rioting all over my head.
“While I understand your concern—”
“Do you, though?” Maya asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked at me. “Because if you did, if you really loved my son, then you wouldn’t be about to tell me to mind my own business. I do understand, Francesca. Believe me, I do. I was not born to royalty. I married Lucas’ father when I was a poor commoner on Kalopsia. I was wide eyed and naïve about marrying a markissios, just as you are. I had ideas and plans of how my life would look and then I fell in love with Demetrius and I had to make a choice. His mother was far from as accepting of me as I am of you. So please understand that I come to you with the very best of intentions. I love my son and I want the best for him and that means helping you to do better. For his sake.”
“Are you saying you would interfere with our engagement if I don’t do as you say?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Maya looked down at her perfect manicure and I shot a quick glance to my far-from-perfect one.
“All I’m saying is, if the king were to see you behaving the way you did the other day with the press, then perhaps he would withdraw his invitation.”
“Well then maybe we should let the king decide if I’m an appropriate partner for Lucas? You haven’t been back to Kalopsia in twelve years, in fact, you pretty much turned your back on the country so forgive me if I can’t take your experiences as relevant in this situation.”
Maya stared at me for a long moment and I bit the inside of my cheek, cursing myself for letting my anger and indignation get the better of me.
“You would risk Lucas’ future in the Kabiero royal court because of your pride? You would put your own concerns ahead of those of the man you have agreed to marry?”
I hated that Maya made a valid point. The last thing I wanted was to change who I was, but none of this was real. By not playing nicely with Maya, I could in fact ruin Lucas’ chances to go to Kalopsia and for what? I was already pretending to be engaged to Lucas, what was a little more pretending? I could play ladies with Lucas’ mom if it meant getting him the title he deserved and getting him the hell away from his parents. If my stubbornness somehow jeopardized Lucas’ opportunity, I couldn’t live with myself. I loved my independence, but I loved Lucas more.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, keeping as much dignity as I could.
Maya Andino lit up like a Christmas tree. “I have made an appointment for you at my salon.” She checked her watch. “And we had better leave right now if we’re to make it on time.”
I looked down at myself. “I need to change—”
“No time for that, dear,” Maya said, standing to her feet. “I’ll have a change of clothes waiting for you at the salon and we’ll burn those.”
I didn’t know if she was joking or not…I thought maybe not.
I sighed and got to my feet. It was only for a couple of weeks and then Lucas would be free. I could do that. I could pretend to be a posh lady for a couple of weeks. Once we were on Kalopsia, I could once more be Frankie.
“Come along, Francesca. We do not want to keep Antonio waiting.”
Chapter 8
Lucas
“Lucas.”
With a sigh, I looked up from my computer screen at the sound of my mother’s voice. Could the woman never knock? Or allow Annabel to announce her presence?
The thoughts died as I took in the woman with my mother. Gone was the blonde ombré—yes, I now knew what to call that style thanks to Google—but thankfully, her hair was still short and choppy. It was a rich brown with toffee-colored highlights and the short hair under the longer top layers was a darker brown.
“Frankie,” I said, standing to my feet.
She was wearing makeup and a dress. I was sure Frankie had worn makeup and a dress before, but never like…that. My mother had given her a makeover, and I…hated it. I hated what my mother had done to her. Sure, she might look like a socialite now, and many people might think it was an improvement on her natural style, but not me. Mother had dressed Frankie in a floral sleeveless dress—floral—that skimmed her figure and finished with a flounce just below her knees. And she was wearing heels. It was something one of the English royals—or Clarissa—would wear. No scuffed boots or ripped jeans in sight, and I was sadder for it.
“Lucas,” Frankie replied through a smile which was more of a grimace.
She hated it too, and it was a relief. Not that I should have an opinion one way or the other, but things were already different between us and I didn’t know how I would cope if a sycophant to my mother replaced the Frankie I knew and loved.
“Doesn’t she look wonderful?” Mother preened as she looked at Frankie. “I had my doubts, but Antonio and his team are miracle workers.”
“I’m…speechless,” I answered, my eyes on Frankie. I didn’t know what was going on and my gut curdled. Why would Frankie agree to this? Why would she let my mother do this to her? It was so out of character for Frankie that it tempted me to check that she really was my Frankie and not a doppelgänger.
“I knew you would love it. Didn’t I tell you he would love it?”
Mother looked at Frankie expectantly and Frankie gave her a fake smile. Mother didn’t notice the smile didn’t reach Frankie’s eyes, but I did.
“And the press are going mad for her,” Mother went on.
“The press?”
I asked, finally tearing my eyes away from Frankie to look at my mother. “What press?”
Mother shrugged and gave me a coy smile. “Someone tipped them off that we were at the salon. Fortunately, I had Anastasia waiting for us there with a new wardrobe for Francesca.”
“Frankie,” both Frankie and I said at the same time.
“Anastasia?” I asked, my eyes finding their way back to Frankie. I was trying to gauge her mood and just how much this would cost me. Not money. Frankie didn’t need my money. But I knew that I would have to pay for my mother’s meddling in some way. Frankie returned my gaze with nothing but a fake smile and I knew I was in deep.
“Anastasia, my stylist?” Mother replied, completely missing the tension in the room. “Don’t you remember, darling? She organized your suits last time.”
“Right,” I said. “Mother, would you mind terribly if Frankie and I have a moment alone together?”
Mother clapped her hands delightedly. “I knew you would love Francesca’s new look. I’ll leave you lovebirds alone and see if Effie is available. Don’t be too long, dear. We have drinks with the girls in half an hour.”
Neither Frankie nor I spoke until Mother left the office. As soon as the door closed, Frankie’s shoulders dropped, and she slumped into a chair.
“What is going on?” I asked, coming around my desk to lean against it in front of her. “Why did you let her do this to you?”
“Let her? Do you think I would willingly let her coerce me into this? I have flowers on my dress, Lucas. Flowers!”
“I can’t see any other way for it to have happened,” I answered truthfully. “You never do anything you don’t want to do. I thought for sure you could stand up to my mother and if you didn’t want a dress with flowers then why are you wearing it?”
Frankie sighed and tilted her head back, exposing the long, smooth length of her throat. I wondered if the skin was as soft as it looked. I wondered what it would feel like under my fingers…under my lips.
Frankie groaned and my attention snapped back to the conversation. I stood up and paced, moving behind her so she couldn’t see the effect she had on me.
“Your mother made it sound so reasonable. She made a valid argument about presenting an image fitting your new title and position.”
I paused in my pacing. “Frankie,” I said as I walked around to crouch in front of her. I took her hands in mine. “You didn’t need to do this. I don’t care what the media thinks and I don’t want you to be anyone other than yourself.”
Frankie patted my hand and smiled sadly. “Thanks, but we both know this is the best way. Besides, none of it is real, right? And I can pretend for a few weeks. Once you have the title and we are in Kalopsia, things can go back to normal.”
“Ha,” I laughed despite the pain in my chest. I didn’t like thinking about how temporary this situation was, or that before too long, Frankie would come back here and I would be living in another country permanently. “I hardly think living in a palace and dining with the king and queen can ever be construed as normal.”
“Oh…I didn’t think about it like that,” Frankie said. “I will have to dress like this the whole time, won’t I?” Frankie whined and I couldn’t help but be relieved to see the real Frankie beneath the fake one my mother had created.
“Not the whole time,” I replied with a smile. “When you’re alone in your room, you can dress however you like.”
“Oh god,” she groaned, leaning forward to rest her head on her knees.
I felt bad for her. It was a big ask, and I was only just realizing how big of an ask it was.
“Hey,” I said, tapping her on the back. “It’s just a couple of months, right? We can both pretend for a couple of months.”
With a sigh, she straightened and smiled sadly at me. “Yeah. I can pretend for a couple of months. It’ll be fun. Like playing dress-up or something.”
Or something, I thought to myself.
Francesca
I was bored out of my brain. When Maya said we were going for drinks with the girls, I thought we might go to some fancy new hotspot at the very least, not the country club. And when she said girls, I thought they might at least be my age, not my mother’s age.
Maya, however, was in her element. She was the queen bee of her little entourage and I could tell how much she relished the position. The other women around the table hung off her every word, and they all tried to imitate her mannerisms. I felt like I was back in high school, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Despite the new designer dress, the makeup, and the obscenely expensive hairdo, I was still the weird girl who didn’t fit in…not that I wanted to fit in, but I needed to, for Lucas.
“You’re going to be our very own royal princess,” one of the women said to me with a nudge.
“Not a princess,” I replied.
“Still, it’s close enough. Just like Grace Kelly,” the woman sighed.
I smiled tightly. “Exactly like Grace Kelly,” I replied trying to keep the sarcasm in check.
“You’re so lucky to have Maya advising you,” the woman on my other side said. “With all her connections in the press and her social media platform, she will make you famous.”
Not something I wanted and definitely not something I’d taken into consideration when I agreed to this plan.
I lifted my hand to a passing waiter and indicated my empty wine glass. “Can I have another, please? And keep them coming.”
I didn’t drink wine normally, I was more of a spirits kind of girl, but Maya had ordered for me earlier and I knew better than to mix my drinks, and I needed all the alcohol—I mean help—I could get to get through ‘drinks with the girls.’
“Have you considered how you will use your new status?” the first woman asked me.
“Um, what?”
“Well, with Maya’s endorsement, it won’t be long before you have a whole host of companies beating a path to your door to showcase their products on your social media.”
Maya thought of herself as a social influencer. I knew this. Lucas and I often made fun of her delusions when we were alone. I’d never taken it seriously before, but now…maybe I should have taken more notice.
“Hush, Missy,” Maya said, and I found myself feeling grateful to her…for about half a second. “I haven’t even had a chance to show Francesca the new profiles I set up for her.”
“What?”
Maya waved away my obvious objections.
“You can’t expect to keep your old profiles, surely? I mean, the last thing you need is for the press to go trolling through all your previous posts and releasing embarrassing photos of you.”
She had a point, but still…
“You deleted my profiles?” I asked, not even sure how she got access.
“Of course not,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I just did some creative editing.”
“What? How?”
She shrugged and smiled, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “It was no trouble. While Antonio and his team had you occupied, I borrowed your phone.”
“You went through my phone?” I asked, incredulous.
“There’s no need to thank me. It was the least I could do. If I’d known what a mess your social media was, I would never have tagged you in that video…or at least not until we had it cleaned up. That’s not a problem now, though. Your platforms are all fixed and your numbers are already climbing.”
“My numbers?”
“Your followers. Hopefully, by tonight I’ll have you trending on Twitter. Which hashtag do you prefer: hashtag royal romance or hashtag royal fairy tale?”
“Um, neither,” I mumbled as I grabbed the glass the waiter set down in front of me and took a healthy slug.
“Ooh, what’s your celebrity couple name going to be?” one of the women asked. “Lucesca or Francas?”
I looked at the woman in horror, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to get Maya’s approval for her suggestions.
“I don’t mind Lucesca,” Maya said thoughtfully, her red tipped fingernail tapping her chin, like it was actually something serious to consider…surely they were joking…right?
“Um, my name is Frankie, so it probably should be Lunkie,” I said, gulping the rest of my wine and holding my glass up to the waiter to let him know I needed a refill. “Lunkie,” I said again and snorted.
“Francesca, please,” Maya said, shooting me a disapproving look.
“Fr-an-kie,” I enunciated slowly. “My name is Frankie.”
“Not anymore,” Maya said decisively. “The future markissia can’t have such a common name. A common boys’ name. Francesca is perfect for your new position in society. It even sounds like a traditional name from Kalopsia.”
It was yet another change to my identity.
I gave up on waiting for my glass to be refilled and grabbed the untouched glass from the woman sitting on my right. I swallowed the entire thing without taking a breath. I would need something stronger to get through the next few weeks until we got out of Boston and away from Maya and her expectations. No wonder Lucas always gave in to his parents. I’d never really understood before, but now it was glaringly obvious. Unless he wanted to be constantly in conflict with them—like Effie—then it was just easier to give in…and have his soul sucked out.
Not unlike what was happening to me. But I only needed to suck it up for a couple of months, Lucas had lived with a lifetime of it. If I could just hold on for a little longer, then maybe Lucas could get away from them and breathe for once in his life.
“Francesca it is,” I said as the waiter finally returned with a full glass of wine.
Maya smiled victoriously and my gut clenched. I hated letting her win, but I would have the last laugh. I just had to survive my fake mother-in-law and her attempts to ‘bond’ with me.
Lucas
“Lukey Schmooky! Come here and give your fiancée a kiss.”
I felt my cheeks burn as I crossed the floor of the club restaurant to where Frankie sat with my mother and her friends. People were looking at me, at them, and I cleared my throat and smoothed my hand down my tie.
