How to Love a Prince

TWELVE

Roselia

I am doomed.

Alistair said nothing after the call I had with Liam, and that very silence is far worse than all the imaginations I had with him reprimanding me. “Should I come in or…?”

Sighing for the fourth time today, I am currently outside his study, holding a tray packed with random fruits I found on the fridge, neatly sized into presentable plating, and contemplating whether to knock and wait for his permission, or just leave him alone and try to approach him when he’s out his personal space.

“You shouldn’t sound like a loser who hasn’t gotten any album sale this month.”

Surprised, I nearly tipped the tray over if not for the large, smooth hand that held it firmly in my place. Looking up, I blinked twice.

“I thought you’re inside?”

“I was, but I wanted a bath.” He shrugged, making me automatically look all over him, realizing he’s basically naked underneath his white robe that’s loosely tied around his waist. “I don’t remember hiring you as a waitress, Perignon.”

Snapped out of my thoughts, I erased all fantasies in my head and focused on his sapphire eyes instead. “I thought you’re still mad at me for calling my friend without your consent, so uhm,” I looked down at her hands that’s holding the tray.

“I wanted to give you fruits as apology. I promise I didn’t say anything bad, I just wanted a friend.” Sincerely, I spoke of my reasons, hoping to relay my harmless intent.

He stared at me with the type of gaze cameras usually zoom in, letting viewers see the clarity of emotions in his eyes—and right now, I can feel he’s holding back on saying much more than I am supposed to know, or state obvious things I should already know.

Taking the tray from my hand, he then opened the door, jerking his head to invite me in.

The room is unlike all the other penthouse rooms—the minimalist ambiance is mixed with the scent of vintage, the stack of books neatly arranged in large shelves that encompasses most of the space is giving a different form of comfort—probably the exact reason why Alistair arranged it this way.

“Liam Everest poses no harm, it seems.”

When he sat on the couch and pierced a strawberry with the fork, my brows furrowed, following him to sit across him. “How did you know his name?”

Looking up, he raised his brow at me like I asked the dumbest question ever.

“Connections and stuff, right.” I answered my own inquiry, awkwardly chuckling before clearing my throat to steer the topic somewhere else.

“Anyways, you’re right. Liam is a good person. He is a journalist who writes only about the truth, and when he’s reporting, he will even argue on cam if there is something wrong about the facts.” I bragged, hoping to ease any further conflicts, just in case.

“Will argue?” he repeated, making my heart skip a beat for my pride as Liam’s best friend.

“Yes! He won’t tolerate injustice and will definitely make sure that the only thing he speaks of is nothing but the truth!” I excitedly said, earning me a series of slow nods form him as he took a piece of the apple bunny slices.

“Great. I am planning to make use of the paparazzi photos to stir up trouble for our marriage, and it’s convenient for us to have a journalist like Liam to counter them.” when he said that, my smile dropped, realizing he’s planning to involve him to our mess.

“You told him we love each other, right? I’m sure he will take your words for granted.” he continued, ignoring my shock and confusion. “Right now, we are trending on various platforms because many doubts our relationship, and most of them thinks it’s because you’re probably a gold d*gger.”

Wincing at the term, I just sighed.

“My team will add more fuel to the fire and boost our trending names by putting up more rumors. Your job, Perignon, is to time your calls to your friend and make him believe we’re in love, and everything he hears of are lies.” Leaning back to the couch, he arrogantly tilting his head to the side.

“That way, you can have your freedom to call him whenever you want—the cost is for you to use his integrity to add more volume to our fame by letting him speak up for us.”

Noticing my silence, he hummed lowly, snapping me off my thoughts as I found him staring intently at me.

“We will just trick your friend a little bit, Perignon. That’s not technically a lie, so don’t worry your pretty little head too much for your childhood boyfriend.”

I gasped, heat rushing on my face at what he just said. “He’s not my boyfriend! He’s my best friend!

I corrected, but he just smirked and took a piece of orange, clearly not buying my version of truth.

“No! I swear!” I denied, but he just chuckled and continued eating the fruits I gave. Giving up, I just clumped back to my seat, feeling hopeless against his stubbornness.

***

With both Alistair and Liam mentioning just how big of a trouble we caused on the social media, I was intrigued to check out the latest updates. Borrowing the laptop from one of the guest rooms, I opened my account—and true enough, I don’t even need to scroll because the highlight is our wedding photos.

Who is the Mystery Girl:? Get to Know the Nation’s Heartbreak Here!

“Get to know me?” Feeling insecure about my background, I hesitantly opened the article, preparing myself to see them feasting on my pathetic upbringing with pathetic people I call my family.

But to my surprise, the words are loaded with beautiful lies: I was a scholar in a local university, granted an exchange program opportunity abroad, met Alistair there while he’s on a disguise, and we started our romance after I graduated and he proposed.

“Oh wow.” I know it is a lie to protect his image, but somewhere in my heart, I feel grateful with the slightest hint of concern about what people will think of me as a person. “His team can really handle it all.”

Somewhat satisfied with their cover-up, I looked for the next news.

Wife of the King of Hearts a True Lover or Just a Gold-d*gger?

“Ouch.” Okay, it is a little bit true because I am here for money anyways.

The more I browse with the current trending news and posts, the more my emotions switch from relieved, to offended, to hurt, and even to pride. Before I log out, I decided to look for one last article.

Is this Marriage for a Lifetime? Netizens Say it’s Sham.

“Another hate post, huh?” I thought it was all about that, but when I saw the photos, I nearly choked—Who the hell caught these photos of me and Damian?!

Scrolling, I immediately read the comments.

I was about to rush to Alistair and complain, but then I saw Lucien’s comment on the post: LMAO who believes this sh*T? LOLOLOLOL

There, I remembered Alistair saying his team will put up more rumors. “Goodness,” I sighed out of relief.

With how many articles and posts surrounding us, I can already see myself gaining more haters than fans. “I better call Liam to start up my job.”