Chapter 62
THE DRESS
DUNCAN
London Daily Times
The Prince of Wales walked the red carpet with his cousin, Hollywood insider Leah Roughy.
He looked surprisingly happy to be out and about.
It’s our understanding this sort of thing is his least-favorite undertaking.
One wonders if it was because Miss Eloise Mills is back on the job.
She was spotted following the Lyons-Lennon family delegation as they walked the red carpet and talked to others in attendance.
She looked lovely in some sort of burgundy silk dress.
Leo Hayes said people noticed a change in the Prince’s demeanor anytime he spoke with her and she directed traffic.
Whatever the Mills Effect is, it seems an improvement on the previous regime. Perhaps, it’s just some Mills Magic?
Eloise in anything these days—especially some smart skirt—was painful.
Eloise in an evening gown with a lovely neckline that left little to the imagination was worse.
Ignoring her and pretending she was there to manage me felt a travesty.
I was denying me the ability to touch her.
It was also denying her some sort of legitimacy.
Beyond a denial of legitimacy, the denial of intimacy hit me surprisingly hard.
Foreplay wasn’t doing it for me. I’d been suffering without her for weeks—the longest we’d gone since beginning.
I had a grudge to pick with the system more than ever and it involved a dress with a plunging neckline.
Still, my desire to keep Eloise comfortable and safe always won out over any base urge I had.
I’d wait gladly knowing someday it would be even better than I could dream up.
The event was an unintended softball I normally would have avoided.
I hated red carpets, cameras, and schmoozing with entertainment types; but staying in the Americas longer meant I had the opportunity to spend more time in the bubble with Eloise.
It was selfish, but I never wanted to return to London.
Leah opened the award ceremony and roasted the guest of honor. I was set to give an award towards the end just prior to his speech. The mood was good. It was much better than the average gala.
As the night continued, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see Ella standing behind me, hunched over slightly as to not block the view of others. I struggled not to stare straight down her dress as she confirmed I needed to come with her to prepare for the award presentation.
“Sir, I cannot just stay like this,” she whispered.
“Sorry, sorry!”
Well, I’d clearly been frozen too long.
We left the ballroom to the hall that I assumed would take us backstage.
“What is your deal?” She whispered.
“I’m… it’s the dress, Ella.”
“Get your head in the game. Don’t disappoint me,” she said.
“Maybe I need a spanking?” I joked.
She glared. “Can you just behave yourself for five minutes?”
“Negative. I would like to take you down a dodgy looking corridor and do all sorts of awful things to you.”
She blushed, failing to maintain her composure. I longed to kiss her as we waited off stage for the cue. As we stepped forward, I involuntarily brushed my hand on her back, trying to move out of the way as someone passed.
Ella glared and whispered, “I’m going to take it out on you later.”
“Good. I hope you do,” I said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all inappropriate.”
“No one saw. It’s fine.” She handed me my speech.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“Your Royal Highness!” Someone called.
She whispered, “Knock ‘em dead. I love you.”
Stunned by her admission, I stepped forward and pulled myself together. I figured the smile on my face—a grin the size of the Atlantic—made me look idiotic but I couldn’t manage to worry.
She loved me back.
She gave it so freely! I adored her. It had taken six months for Vanessa to say those words after I did.
I expected it to take Ella time. I wouldn’t blame her.
This had been a wild whirlwind. However, she said it.
There was no going back now. This wasn’t the time or place to say more, but I was so happy.
I made my speech, not missing a beat but looking more jovial than usual. And I departed, taking Ella back with me. I spotted an opportunity to hide in an alcove behind a bakery catering cart, obstructed. I pulled her off to the side and kissed her like the rest of the world could just fuck off.
“You’re cheeky if you think you can get away with that.” She slapped me playfully, “Duncan, you cannot do this here—”
“I cannot avoid it. I want every bit of you. I need everything with you. Sorry. We can behave now.”
I tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear and kissed her again, slowly.
“No,” she laughed. “No. Down boy.”
“Later.” I pulled myself together.
“Later,” she confirmed with a sly smile. “But I need to sit down. I’m exhausted.”
“Oh,” I said. “Should we go back to the hotel right after this?”
“Duncan you have appearances to keep.”
“And you’re barely holding it together. It’s okay. I’m not the one with a still-closing wound walking around in stilettos, huh? Let’s go back to the hotel and make sure you get to bed.”
“Middle way, make an appearance at the afterparty and then go home? I have a bit more in me. But we cannot stay here, Duncan. It’s totally suspicious.”
She was right.
I nodded. “Okay. Stay for no more than half an hour and depart. I will have security sort it.”