“All week? You didn’t even go out for New Year’s?”
She shook her head with a slight pout in her lips; the long waves of her hair cascading down her shoulders. The last time he’d seen her, they’d been a dark brown. They were now a honey blonde.
Almost the same color as Stella’s hair, thought Anton, and then shook his head. Why was he thinking of her now? He’d put her almost completely out of his mind, throwing himself into work after the coronation. He’d only been out of his studio for Christmas dinner and Duncan’s party.
“Just a ballet thing with my parents,” Marcella was saying, and he brought his focus back to her. “I saw Alix and Stella there.”
“Oh?” Anton lifted an eyebrow. Duncan hadn’t mentioned that, though including Stella in Alix’s definition of ‘family’ was hardly a stretch. It seemed the universe wanted to remind him of her one way or another today.
Marcella nodded and leaned against the counter, the low cut of her top putting everything on display. Anton kept his eyes on her face as best he could.
“They were with this gorgeous guy,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t think I’ve seen him around before.”
“Hmm,” was all Anton could think to say. He could have been anyone, and Anton didn’t feel particularly upset by the news. Marcella didn’t know as many people as she liked to think she did.
“How about you? Get up to anything fun?” She licked her lips and smiled, her hand coming up to brush her hair over her shoulder.
“Yeah, just a few friends—”
Helena suddenly cleared her throat behind him, and he turned to look at her. She’d been wandering around two large steel installations close to the door but had come back to the desk, mouth twisted into a frown. She tilted her head and placed a hand on her hip.
“We’re here to see the new prints you just got in,” she said, voice crisper than the air outside.
Anton’s temper flared in annoyance at his sister. She could be so rude sometimes. The Ventaglio family had galleries all over Prynesse and Europe, and he had finally gotten some of his work into a few of them. She couldn’t be her usual, bitchy self with someone like Marcella.
Anton would have to be extra nice to counterbalance Helena’s coolness. He flashed Marcella a grin and took her by the arm.
“Would you be able to show us? I know it’s not really your job, but you are just so good at explaining prints.”
She flushed and gave him a small smile, looking up at him through lowered lashes. Anton heard Helena take a deep breath and let it out slowly. As Marcella led them to a table in the back and started talking eagerly about the artist, Anton looked at her carefully. Her dress clung to every curve, and she positioned herself and leaned her body so that he’d always have a view of her cleavage. A few years ago, she would have been exactly the kind of girl that he’d take home without a second's hesitation.
He briefly considered what she was silently offering, what she had always been offering since his agent had introduced them a year and a half ago. The desire in her eyes was unmistakable. When Stella had shown up that night at Gilt, he’d seen the venomous glances Marcella had thrown at her.
There’d been a small mention of him at the club in the papers the following day. It hadn’t been anything too detailed. Simply that he’d been seen there “with other prominent figures in Prynesse’s flourishing art scene.” Knowing that it might show up in the papers the next day was probably the only thing holding him back from whispering in her ear to meet him later.
But was it really the only thing holding him back? Marcella continued to go through the pieces, and Helena started to nod, her frown lessening. Anton relaxed a little and finally gave into the thoughts of Stella that had been floating on the edge of his mind since they’d arrived.
Besides the hair, she couldn’t be any more different than Marcella. Where Marcella was ample and round, Stella was thinner, with fewer curves to be sure, but they were there all the same. He knew every single one by heart and had immortalized more than a few in many of his works. Works that Stella had never actually seen. She’d asked once or twice to come to his shows and to see his studio, but he knew that wasn’t her world. She was so logical, so focused on numbers and making sense of things. He’d never seen her talk about anything with the passion Marcella had talking about these prints.
And yet... despite the litheness of her dancer’s frame and cool reason of her mind, Stella was soft in her own way. The curves she had were in perfect harmony with the rest of her. And she was certainly creative enough in the bedroom to make up for the lack of it in her daily life. She had been such a calm and discreet presence over the past few years, something safe and private to come back to after the intensity of his work.
She hadn't always been that way. He remembered how she’d been when they were all teenagers, eager to spread (and sometimes invent) the newest gossip. No one in Prynesse was safe from her critical gaze. It was nice to know that people could change.
Even if I can’t, he thought as his eyes traveled down Marcella’s legs.
Helena wasn’t changing either anytime soon, that was for sure. Anton’s nostrils flared at her demanding tone as she selected three pieces to be delivered to her client’s office. With a hasty goodbye, she was out the door before Marcella had even finished putting away the prints.
“I do apologize for my sister,” he said, bending to kiss her cheeks in parting. “She’s very concerned about the quality of work for this client.”
“Of course,” breathed Marcella, her eyes locked on his. She didn’t look the least bit upset to have Helena gone. “Speaking of quality of work, how’s your February show shaping up?”
He smiled tightly.
“Oh, it’s coming along.”
“Would you like me to come and take away the pieces that are already finished?” she asked as they made their way to the door. “Clear out some space for the rest?”
He nodded. He didn’t usually like to do that, but he was eager to keep her happy and distracted from Helena’s behavior.
She smiled brightly and Anton felt a rush of relief.
“I’ll send someone over tomorrow afternoon to take a look.”
His headache still lingered, but he left the gallery feeling worlds better than when he’d entered.
Chapter 8
Stella checked her makeup in the mirror one more time before making her way out of the restroom and back to her table. She saw her date Xavier sitting there, staring into his wineglass. He looked as nervous as she was bored.
“So, what were you telling me about the newest breakthroughs in orthodontia?” she asked with a smile perfected from her years of dance. Smile even when it’s painful. And nothing could be more painful than this date.
Xavier was perfectly nice. Stella’s parents had been friends with his parents for ages. He wasn’t nobility, but he was from old Prynessian money. He was a little older than she was, and Stella didn’t remember seeing him around at the clubs and parties over the years. Not that he really seemed like the partying type.
As Stella listened to Xavier’s detailed description of his newest drill, she thought longingly of Alix’s cousin, Yannick, which surprised her. The New Year’s Eve reception at the ballet had been nothing short of a disaster. He was shockingly rude, even for an American, talking during the performance and staring at her chest the entire time. Alix had heard an earful the next day.
“Why on earth would you think I’d like him?” Stella inquired of her best friend as they sat sipping their espressos in Stella’s parents’ house in the capital. She knew she should probably get her own apartment. She certainly had the means, but there was something comforting about being in a familiar space every morning. And as an only child, she worried sometimes that her parents might get lonely without her.
Alix let out a small laugh, crossing her arms.
“What exactly was so bad about him?”
Stella raised an eyebrow.
“He wo
uld not shut up! The people in the next box were sending us the death glare.” She took a bite of pastry. Not as good as what Anton had served on that last morning together. She regretted not asking for the name of the bakery now. Perhaps there would be a way to bring it up in one of the engagement party conversations without drawing too much attention to the fact that she’d last eaten it in bed with him.
“He wanted to talk to you and you’re complaining?” Alix seemed completely unfazed.
“Well… he wouldn’t stop staring at my chest,” she crossed her arms over her less than ample offering with a huff. “Not like there’s anything to look at.”
Alix sighed, rolling her eyes.
“You were stunning last night, Stella,” she said simply, picking up her cup. “He was just nervous, and wanted to impress you. I’m not sure what the problem is other than he’s not Anton.”
“Hrmph!” she grumbled. She took another sip and set her cup down so quickly that it spilled over onto the table. She stood to get a cloth to wipe it up, giving her time to think of a response.
“He just wasn’t my type, okay? It has nothing to do with Anton. I wouldn’t have agreed to go out with him if I was still hung up on Anton, would I?”
Alix said nothing, but Stella could tell she was holding back. Alix always chewed her lips when she had deep thoughts she didn’t want to share yet.
When she finally spoke, it was about her next charity event and Stella didn’t mind the change of topic. Having her friend all to herself for a morning was such a rare treat. She didn’t want to spoil it by thinking or talking about Anton.
Now, on what was technically her second date of the New Year, Stella wished she hadn’t been quite so quick to dismiss Yannick’s attention. At least what he’d said loudly in the theater had been interesting.
She propped her head up in her hand, doing her best to look interested, nodding when appropriate and keeping the dancer’s smile on her face until she could feel her cheeks starting to ache. She did try to listen to what Xavier was saying, but she couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder at the same time. Her eyes were still looking in his general direction, and hopefully he wouldn’t notice her roaming stare. Who was here that would see her? Anyone important?
The smell of something delicious and buttery and totally off limits swept over her as a waiter passed by with a tray. Her stomach grumbled. The dainty salad she’d ordered hadn’t included nearly enough protein. She lifted her glass as another waiter passed by and it was refilled within seconds. Maybe a little tipsy was the best way to learn about gum disease.
Suddenly, she sat up a little straighter. Helena has just walked in with some friends. The princess swept her gaze around the restaurant and spotted Stella, sending a smile and little wave in her direction. Xavier turned to see who she was looking at and his eyes widened when Helena left her friends to come over to say hello.
“Hello, Your Highness,” Stella said with a tilt of the head that Xavier imitated. Helena’s smile quirked up at the edges. She never bothered with such formalities in private; none of the royal siblings did. Though Stella supposed she’d have to with Leo now that he was king. Not that I’ll be seeing him anytime soon, she reminded herself.
“Stella, it’s been ages,” Helena said, leaning in for a three-kiss bise. Xavier’s eyebrows shot up at such a personal greeting. Stella appreciated the attention, relishing in the glances she noticed from other tables.
“It has,” she said, looking up at her with a smile that Helena returned. Her eyes flicked to Xavier and Stella introduced him, an odd little half smirk on Helena’s face as she did so. Stella hoped the attention she was getting from the princess meant they were still friends. She’d been hesitant to send a text message or even call, punching in the numbers but canceling at the last second.
“I don’t want to keep you from your friends, but could I ask you for a favor?”
“Of course,” Helena said, her eyes suddenly serious. Stella’s heart swelled with hope. Maybe she hadn’t lost her friend after all. “I know I’ve been so busy with work. I hate to have left you all the work for the engagement party. Anton can’t be very much help.”
She saw Xavier shift in his seat at the mention of the prince’s name.
“He’s not,” said Stella honestly. “We have a meeting with the printer tomorrow for the invitations. I don’t think he even looked at the samples they emailed. Do you have time to come with us?” She tried to keep her voice even, not wanting to appear too desperate.
Helena broke into a grin.
“Do you know Anton has already asked me to help?” she said. Stella’s eyebrows shot up. Does he not want to be alone with me? “I think he realizes how useless he’s been lately. Of course, I’ll be there.”
Stella wanted to reach up and hug her but knew that wasn’t entirely appropriate for the setting. She settled for a heartfelt “thank you” and squeezed her hand before Helena turned to head back to her table. Stella turned to face Xavier, who had the nerve to look more than a little bored. Stella was tempted to launch into a description of the different invitations and printmaking process, but she smiled instead.
“What were you saying about drills?” She finished her second glass of wine and didn’t even have to look up for the third to arrive seconds later. She kept her smile wide, wanting to be sure Helena saw what a fabulous date she was having, knowing word would get back to Anton eventually.
Alix had told Stella about Duncan’s wild New Year’s Eve. Or at least, as much as he’d admitted to her. He said they’d stayed in and just played cards but had conveniently avoided Alix’s questions about female guests. Alix trusted Duncan, but Anton was free to do as he pleased.
As am I, Stella thought, laughing brightly at Xavier’s next terrible joke. She glanced over at Helena to be sure she was watching.
Chapter 9
If Anton had known how many gleefully smug looks Helena would be sending him during the meeting, he never would have asked for her help. The three of them were sitting around the table, Stella on the other side of Helena, listening to the differences in paper choices and inserts. Anton tried to suppress the urge to step on his sister’s toes under the table. He hadn’t done that since they were teenagers, but he’d been feeling more and more like a younger version of himself lately. He was unfocused, drifting, not to mention rock hard in the mornings. He needed physical release, and soon, to be able to finish the final few pieces for the show.
With that need in mind, he kept his eyes averted from Stella. She’d worn a snug, red cashmere sweater that invited him to touch her soft curves. He had hoped to avoid the bise greeting when they’d met in the lobby of the store, but Helena had done it; it would have been incredibly rude of him to not. He could still feel the imprint of her lips on his cheek.
“The cream underlay would give it a more classic feel…” The salesman droned on, Stella and Helena both listening intently. He knew these kinds of decisions were important. He’d heard Marcella and others at the gallery fretting over the color and style of the opening night invitations to shows, but, frankly, he couldn’t care less. It was a piece of paper people threw in the trash once the event had passed.
He looked around the store trying to find something to capture his interest that wasn’t Stella’s body. He settled on looking out the window and the people passing by, wrapped up tightly against the cold winter air. He hated going out in the cold. It was why he always planned for shows in the spring whenever he could so that he could hide away all winter working. It was more fun to go out in the spring and summer, and the past two years of warm weather entertainment with Stella had more than made up for the long, cold winters.
He frowned slightly, wondering how serious she’d really been about ending things. The seller took his sudden change in expression to mean he disliked the current sample in front of them, and quickly moved on to something else. Anton held back a tired sigh.
Was there anything even to end? He wondered. His thoughts lingere
d on what Stella had said that last morning, so many weeks ago he had almost lost count. He knew what they had wasn’t conventional, but that’s what had been so great about her. She was unconventional in so many ways, yet conventional in the ones that mattered to his family and the public. She was kind of perfect really: a daughter of a count, works for one of the biggest banks in the country, and likes kinky sex. He hoped her outfit today was a sign that she still wanted him. Seeing all the preparations for the wedding, how tedious it all was, would make her see that their arrangement was so much better.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, his sister was satisfied. Stella nodded her agreement. They looked to him, and he smiled and nodded, confident that whatever they had picked would be fine.
After the rush of reassurances by the printer that they would be ready to send within the week, the three of them made their way back outside and onto the busy city center street. The driver-bodyguard that had accompanied the royal siblings held open the car door then waited by the car parked just down the street.
“Thank you so much for coming, Helena,” Stella said, wrapping her scarf around her neck. The dark grey sky above threatened snow, but her head was bare, leaving her blonde hair free to blow in the wind. Anton suddenly saw the perfect way to paint the sky in one of his paintings: the grey mixed with gold. His fingers ached to get back to the studio and get it down on paper. She was inspirational even with her clothes on.
“Of course, it was my pleasure,” Helena said, leaning in for a kiss goodbye. “We’ll have to go to yoga again soon. You can tell me all about your date with Xavier.” She giggled. Stella blushed and looked down at her feet.
Anton’s ears perked up.
“A date?” So Marcella had been onto something about the tall and handsome man at the ballet.
Stella said nothing but looked up into his eyes, and nodded once, her cheeks still tinged with red.
“And with Yannick,” Helena waggled her eyebrows, and Stella’s blush deepened. Anton snapped his head towards his sister, brows furrowed.
A Royal Decision Page 4
