Chapter 28
LOUIS
The ballroom is a sea of masks and candlelight, and I’m drowning in it.
I sit on the throne beside my father’s empty one, surveying the room from above, like the prince I’m supposed to be.
The chair is uncomfortable, designed for posture rather than ease, and Tatiana occupies the smaller seat to my right.
She reaches for my arm the way she’s done a hundred times over the past two weeks, and this time, I pull away.
“Don’t,” I say quietly.
She frowns behind her red mask. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”
“I’m finished playing games.”
“Louis—”
“Smile. The ambassador is looking.”
She grins, but I can feel her frustration.
For weeks, I’ve let her touch me, hang on my arm, play the role of future queen for cameras and crowds.
Tonight, I can’t stomach it. Now, every time she reaches for me, I think of Addison spread across the table this morning, making sweet sounds as I buried my face between her thighs.
Fuck, I can’t forget how she clenched around me when I came inside her.
She’s out there somewhere in this ballroom, mingling with guests and sipping champagne. No one knows what we did this morning. No one but us. Understanding that she’s waiting for me on the other side of this facade makes it impossible for me to allow Tatiana to touch me.
My father appears at the base of the platform. He looks pleased, surveying the ballroom with the satisfaction of a man who’s finally seeing his son choose a wife.
“Beautiful turnout,” he says, climbing the three steps to join us.
I rise to clasp his shoulder and help him settle into his throne. “How are you feeling?”
“Well, and excited.” He pats my hand.
An event photographer snaps a photo of the two of us together, which will more than likely end up in the royal archives. I wonder how history will remember this event.
“Your mother has outdone herself with the decorations.”
My mom materializes, as if summoned by the mention of her name. She’s wearing emerald green, and her mask is a delicate gold that matches the crown nestled in her hair.
“Louis, darling.” She kisses my cheek, then glances at Tatiana, who’s smiling and greeting guests. She lowers her voice. “You seem … distant. Is everything all right?”
“Life is perfect.”
“Good.” Her smile tightens. “I’d hate for there to be any complications. Especially after that little stunt you pulled this morning.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I act dumbfounded.
My father looks between us as she holds my gaze. I want to tell him how she’s made my life hell, but before I open my mouth, the two of them are pulled into a different conversation.
Directly in front of the orchestra, a large canvas sits on an ornate easel. A white cloth is draped over it, hiding the engagement portrait of Tatiana and me.
I haven’t seen the finished piece because of Addison’s rule. But I can’t imagine how difficult it was to complete in such a short amount of time. Pity she wasted her time and talent on something that will be destroyed.
Eventually, the chatter dies down, and the orchestra begins a slow waltz. I scan the crowd from my elevated position, searching for her.
I lock my eyes on her near the champagne tower with Delphine.
They’re holding glasses and laughing at something.
They’re tipsy. I can tell from the way Delphine keeps touching Addison’s arm and the way Addison’s cheeks are flushed pink below her silver mask.
They’re having fun, genuinely enjoying themselves.
The sight of her in that pretty powder-blue dress makes me ache.
The fabric catches the candlelight and shimmers like water every time she moves.
It clings to her waist before flowing out in waves of silk.
Her hair is pinned up, exposing the curve of her neck—the same neck I kissed this morning while she was bent over the breakfast table.
I want to be over there with them. I want to be the one making her laugh while standing close enough to smell her perfume.
Instead, I’m trapped on this throne with Tatiana beside me, watching from above, while the woman I’ve fallen stupidly in love with has to pretend like I don’t exist.
“You’re staring,” Tatiana says.
“I’m observing the guests.”
“You’re staring at her.” She leans closer, her voice dropping. “Half the room has noticed. You look like a man watching his mistress instead of his future wife.”
“I am watching my future wife,” I state.
She laughs, and it’s sarcastic. “It will be interesting to see what happens.”
The waltz ends, and another begins, something faster and more playful. I watch Delphine grab Addison’s hand and pull her toward the dance floor, both of them stumbling slightly as they find their positions. Addison protests, shaking her head, but Delphine insists. Peer pressure wins again.
The dance is a traditional one, with partners rotating through the line. I know exactly where Addison will end up if the rotation continues.
I stand.
“Louis”—Tatiana’s voice is sharp—“what are you doing?”
“Dancing.”
“You can’t just—”
I’m already descending the platform steps, crossing the ballroom floor toward the forming lines. I slide into the men’s row just as the music shifts, timing my entrance so the rotation will bring her to me.
The first partner is a countess whose name I immediately forget. We circle, bow, exchange. The second is a young woman who blushes furiously when our hands touch. Circle, bow, exchange. The third is someone’s wife, nervous and overeager, stepping on my feet twice before we separate.
Then the rotation brings me face-to-face with Addison.
She’s breathing hard from the dance, loose strands of hair curling against her flushed cheeks. The champagne has put color in her face, and she’s relaxed. When her hand slides into mine, a buzzing hums through me.
“Your Highness,” she says, and there’s a teasing lilt to her voice.
“Miss Cross.”
We circle each other, following the steps of the dance, but neither of us is paying attention to the choreography. Her eyes are locked on mine through her silver mask, and I can’t stop staring.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper as we move closer.
“You look like you’re about to do something reckless.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Don’t,” she says. “Not yet.”
The music fills the room, and we spin together. My arm is tight around her waist, and her hand rests on my shoulder.
My palms slide lower on her back, pressing her closer than the dance calls for. I can feel the warmth of her through the thin silk of her dress and the curve of her hip beneath my palm.
“People are watching,” she says breathlessly.
“Let them.”
The crowd around us blurs into streaks of color and candlelight, and there’s only her, and the heat between us, and the desperate need to close the distance and claim her mouth in front of everyone.
If her parted lips and breathlessness are any indication, she feels it too. Her chin tilts up as her fingers curl into my shoulder. The space between us shrinks to inches. To centimeters. Her breath is warm against my mouth.
Someone clears their throat.
“Excuse me!” Delphine appears out of nowhere, wedging herself between us and grabbing Addison’s arm. “So sorry, brother, but I need to steal my friend. Girl emergency. Very urgent.” She forces a grin but also gives me a what the fuck look.
She pulls Addison away before I can protest with a grip that looks friendly but is clearly iron. Addison glances back at me over her shoulder. Her flirty smile is a mixture of frustration and relief, and then she’s gone.
I stand alone on the dance floor for a moment, aware of the eyes on me. We almost kissed in front of two hundred guests.
Shit, I lost control.
From across the ballroom, my mother is watching me. She’s gripping her champagne glass so tightly that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.
I return to the platform, where Tatiana is waiting with a forced smile.
“That was quite a performance,” she says as I take my seat.
“It wasn’t a performance.”
“No.” Her voice is almost sad. “I don’t suppose it was.”
The orchestra finishes another song, and the room erupts in applause so polite that it sounds like a prerecorded audio clip. My mother hands her champagne to a passing server and strides toward the microphone at the front of the room.
I notice the anger in her steps, and I wonder what well-rehearsed line she’ll give the room full of people. This is my mother taking back control after I almost ruined her entire plan.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she begins, her voice carrying across the ballroom. “Thank you all for joining us this evening and for gracing these halls with your presence. It’s my great pleasure to welcome you to this celebration.”
I scan the crowd for Addison and find her talking closely with Delphine.
“Tonight is a very special occasion,” my mother continues, her voice carrying across the hall.
“The future of Montclaire has always rested on more than politics or policy. It rests on partnership. On the strength of the bond between those who sit upon the throne.” She pauses, letting the words sink in as her gaze settles over the room.
“My son has carried the weight of this nation’s expectations since he was old enough to understand what his birthright meant.
And now, at last, he will not carry it alone. ”
Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and everything around me happens in slow motion.
Addison shakes her head at Delphine as she backs toward the door.
“He’s searched for a woman who understands the weight of a crown before it ever touches her head,” my mother says.
“Someone with the grace to navigate a world that offers no privacy and the strength to stand firm when that world turns unkind. I’m proud to announce that my son, the crown prince of Montclaire, has made his choice. ”
Tatiana rises from her seat beside me, smoothing her silver gown. She’s not going to end things. Whatever deal we made, whatever words she rehearsed, she’s abandoning them. Instead, she’s openly and publicly accepting the engagement to trap me in a marriage I never wanted.
Addison pushes through the door and disappears into the corridor beyond. I want to follow her. I want to run after her while my mother orchestrates another humiliation.
But everything is happening too fast.
“The woman our prince has chosen”—my mother gestures to Tatiana with a graceful sweep of her arm—“will make a magnificent queen. And now, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I present the official engagement portrait.”
Someone steps forward and grips the edge of the white cloth.
“Ladies and gentlemen”—my mother’s voice rings with triumph—“I give you the future king and queen of Montclaire.”
The cloth falls away, and the entire ballroom freezes for three entire heartbeats.
No one moves or speaks.
I stare at the portrait, my mind struggling to process what I’m seeing.
The painting is of me in the conservatory, with the late afternoon light pouring through the windows. The brushwork is exquisite, every detail perfect, the shadows and highlights blending together the way only she can make them.
And beside me is Addison.
She’s wearing a simple dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, and she’s looking forward with an expression so kind that my breath catches.
The composition is intimate, the brushstrokes tender.
She didn’t just put her face in the portrait.
She painted herself as my queen. She declared her love in oil and canvas, in a medium that will hang in this palace long after we’re both gone.
My face cracks into a smile.
The gasps ripple around the room. Whispers rise into mumbles, then into full voices.
Tatiana drops a champagne glass, and it shatters against the marble, the sound cutting through the chaos.
My mother is staring at the portrait with her mouth wide open. For the first time in my life, she’s speechless. Her carefully constructed facade crumbles in real time, confusion giving way to horror, giving way to fury.
“This is—” She whirls toward me, her voice strangled.
I start laughing, but I honestly can’t fucking help myself.
The absurdity of the moment, the look on my mother’s face, combined with the fearless audacity of what Addison has done—it all crashes over me. The sound echoes through the ballroom, and I don’t care how it looks or what anyone thinks.
She did this. My brilliant, reckless, incredible queen walked into a royal palace and painted herself into my future without needing anyone’s permission. Addison’s braver than anyone I know.
I rise from the throne and cross to my mother, plucking the microphone from her limp fingers.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I say, and my voice is steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. “I’d like to sincerely apologize for the confusion. I’m sure many of you have seen the blind items and heard my dear mother tell everyone that I’ve had the choice to marry whomever I want.”
“Louis,” my mother says between clenched teeth, “don’t you dare—”
“Unfortunately, I know many of you have been led to believe that I will be marrying Princess Tatiana.” I look out at the sea of masked faces, at the cell phones raised and the glittering spectacle of royal life.
“I’m in love with Addison Cross, and as long as she says yes …
that’s the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. ”
The chaos explodes. Voices rise, cameras flash, people surge toward the platform with questions and accusations. Tatiana stands frozen.
“Hell yeah!” I hear Delphine yell from the back of the room, followed by a, “Woo-hoo.”
I glance over at my dad, who’s just as shocked, but he doesn’t look upset.
My mother grabs for the microphone, her composure shattered. “This is outrageous. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. The engagement to—”
I smile at a stunned server and step off the platform.
“Louis!” My mother’s voice follows me across the ballroom. “Someone, stop him. He’s clearly unwell—”
I don’t look back. I push through the crowd, ignoring the hands that reach for me and the questions shouted in my direction. The flashing cameras capture me leaving.
Right now, I have to find her.
The side door is still cracked, and I burst through it into the dim corridor, seeing her at the end of the hallway.
“Addison!” I say, jogging toward her.