TWO
1303 Words
Roselia
The morning sunlight streamed through the cracks of the thin curtains, casting golden lines across my tiny, cramped apartment. My body ached from exhaustion, and my mind was still struggling to process the whirlwind of last night’s events.
I had barely gotten any sleep, tossing and turning, replaying Lucien’s cryptic words, the threats from Lorenzo, and the impossible notion that I was now tangled in Alistair Deveraux’s world.
A sharp knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. I sat up abruptly, heart pounding. Who the hell would be here this early?
Another knock, followed by a voice that immediately made me groan.
"Rise and shine, little waitress! You’re gonna be late for your big day." Lucien’s amused drawl carried through the door.
I rubbed my temples before forcing myself out of bed. My hair was a tangled mess, and I was still in the wrinkled dress from last night. Great.
I yanked the door open and was immediately met with Lucien’s annoyingly smug face, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. “How did you know where I live?” I am in no mood to pretend I can respect his unwanted presence.
"We have ways.” He smugly said. “And dang, you look awful," he commented with a grin, his sharp blue eyes scanning me from head to toe. "I thought you’d at least try to impress the boss."
"Good morning to you too, Lucien," I deadpanned, stepping back to let him in. "What do you want? I’m supposed to be meeting Alistair at 11." I mentioned, letting him realize he’s disturbing me as early as in the morning.
"What do I want? Darling, you should be asking what you need. Which, lucky for you, we’ve already taken care of. You’ve got exactly thirty minutes before we head out, so go clean up. Don’t make me carry you out looking like a lost alley cat."
I scowled. "I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening."
Lucien sighed dramatically before stepping further into my apartment, looking around with mild interest. "Alright, since you’re so curious—our dear boss is expecting you. And before you even think of showing up looking like this, his glam team or whatever is dolling you up. Like, full-blown Cinderella transformation."
I frowned, crossing my arms. "Doll me up? Why?"
Lucien smirked. "Because, sweetheart, you’re a star’s lover. And in his world, appearances are everything. He’s got a whole damn image to maintain, and you, little waitress, need to look the part."
I swallowed, my stomach twisting at the reality of it all. This wasn’t just some meeting. This was something bigger, something I wasn’t prepared for.
"And what happens after this… makeover?" I asked slowly, bracing myself.
Lucien’s grin widened. "Well, you’ll see. But let’s just say… you’re in for one hell of a surprise. Now hurry up, or I will carry you out of here."
***
Forty minutes later, I found myself sitting in an absurdly luxurious dressing room, the kind that only existed in movies. The walls were lined with rows of pristine gowns, designer shoes, and a dazzling collection of jewelry.
A team of stylists surrounded me, fussing over my hair, my skin, my nails—everything. I felt like an oversized doll being prepared for display.
Alistair, as expected, was nowhere to be seen.
"Hold still, darling," one of the stylists chided gently as she curled a section of my hair. "Mr. Deveraux has very high standards. We need you to look flawless."
Mr. Deveraux. The name sent a shiver down my spine. Just last night, I had seen a completely different side of him—the cold, calculating man who looked down on me like I was nothing. And yet, here I was, being polished into something acceptable for his world.
"Why is he even doing this?" I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.
One of the assistants applying my makeup chuckled. "Because he’s Alistair Deveraux. It’s been years since we'd seen a man so bright that no one could picture a perfect reflection of a prince without remembering his name.” she spoke, making her fellow stylists giggle at the sole thought of it.
“We don’t know anything about his private life, dear, but we know that if he wants something—or someone—to fit into his life, he makes it happen."
My fingers curled into my lap. Someone to fit into his life. That was all I was to him—a carefully constructed piece to complete whatever narrative he was spinning.
After what felt like an eternity, the head stylist stepped back, clapping her hands together. "Done."
I turned to the mirror, and the breath hitched in my throat.
The girl staring back at me wasn’t me. She was someone else—someone poised, elegant, refined.
My once-messy hair was now styled in soft waves, cascading perfectly over my shoulders. My face was flawless, enhanced with subtle makeup that made my features sharper, more striking. The dress they had chosen was a sleek, midnight-blue gown that hugged my figure perfectly, exuding an air of sophistication I had never possessed.
I barely recognized myself.
"Damn," Lucien’s voice came from behind me. "I think I might just believe you’re royalty now."
I turned, scowling. "Shut up."
Lucien only chuckled. "Come on, Princess. Your chariot awaits."
***
The drive was tense, at least for me. I sat stiffly in the back of the sleek black car, my hands resting on my lap, feeling like an imposter in my own skin.
Lucien, as usual, looked completely at ease as he drove, occasionally humming along to the radio. Alistair sat beside me, scrolling through his phone as if none of this mattered.
"Where exactly are we going?" I finally asked, breaking the silence.
Alistair didn’t even glance up. "An event."
My brow furrowed. "What kind of event?"
Lucien snorted from the driver’s seat. "Oh, you’ll love this one."
Something in his tone made my stomach churn. I turned to Alistair. "What’s going on?"
This time, he did look at me. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Amusement? Pity? I couldn’t tell.
"Just smile," he said smoothly, tucking his phone away. "And act like 'you'."
Before I could ask more, the car came to a stop. A deafening roar filled my ears as the doors opened. Flashing lights. Shouts. Cameras. Reporters.
The location? A freaking cathedral.
I froze.
Lucien turned, smirking. "Welcome to the spotlight, little waitress." Getting out of the car, he went over to open the car door for me, offering his hand.
Taking his offer, I can feel all my bl*od running cold within me as I started walking, my heels clicking on the floor, not audible through the camera shots and mixed voices of every eager reporter.
Once we were inside the cathedral, he let my hand go. “Lucien-” I was supposed to chase after him, but before I could even move, I felt a hand hold my waist, pulling me close.
Alistair, dressed in his clothes fit for his status, has his usual practiced charm settling over him like a second skin. “Eyes on me, love.” He kissed his forehead, which made the cameras snap faster and lights blinking like a never-ending saga.
"Alistair! Who is she?"
"Is this your new girlfriend?"
"Alistair, why are you at a cathedral?!"
“Are you getting married?”
My breath caught in my throat.
Wait.
What?
I whipped my head toward Alistair, panic surging through me, but he only smiled at the cameras, tightening his grip on my hand.
And then, he said it.
"Yes," his voice rang out, smooth and confident. "Meet my fiancée, Roselia Maribella."
- Writer
