Page 6 of Coronation (Royally Forbidden #1)
Three
Zelda
T he hotel where the cast and production staff are staying is conveniently located in the small city of Dalmore, only a fifteen-minute drive from Balloch Castle.
It’s one of those historic, high-end places with a doorman who looks about ninety, and takes its pillow mints and toilet paper folded into the shape of a rose very seriously.
By the time the transport van drops me off, it’s nearly five, and I feel about twice as old as I did when I left this morning. I’ve barely made it into the lobby, the shoulders of my sweatshirt damp with rain, when a voice calls after me, and I turn to find the concierge approaching.
There is a cream-colored envelope clutched in his hand.
Holy shit. Davina works fast.
“Miss Flowers, this was delivered for you a few moments ago,” the man announces, and I’m filled by a familiar, fluttery combination of anticipation and nerves as I pause to take it, thanking him in a rush .
Before the concierge can do more than bid me a pleasant evening in return, I turn away, hurrying off toward the elevators in the corner of the lobby.
When Davina left my trailer earlier, after assuring herself I wasn’t going to have a complete mental breakdown, I’d half expected my initial enthusiasm for her invitation to give way to regret.
It didn’t.
The elevator seems to take forever to come, and when it does, an elderly couple chooses that moment to enter the lobby.
I hold the door for them, smiling politely as they amble over.
The entire way up to the fourth floor, I stand back against the wall, listening to them bicker in German with the letter clutched at my side.
Never has a sixty-second journey felt quite so long, and impatience wins out over my manners when the doors open yet again.
Without so much as a “ gute nacht ,” I hurry past them, striding down the long, carpeted hallway to my suite where I fumble with the key card, too distracted and antsy to keep the thing in place long enough for it to register.
When the light finally turns green, I lurch forward, shouldering open the door and tearing into the letter before it’s even closed behind me.
Dear Miss Flowers,
We are pleased to invite you to participate in our event.
A secure vehicle will be waiting outside your place of residence at 8 p.m. tonight to take you directly to the location and return you at your leisure.
Please be aware that upon arrival, you will be asked to sign a binding nondisclosure agreement and surrender all electronics for the duration of the event.
As it is your first time attending, you will also be asked to sit through a brief explanation of the rules and practices prior to entering the property.
Regards ,
The Hosts
No other details are provided. There is no address, phone number, or even an email address to respond.
If Davina hadn’t told me to expect it, I would have called security after getting a letter like this.
The hand clutching the letter falls to my side, but I don’t move, standing numbly in the middle of the little entrance area of my suite.
I’m going to do it.
I’m going to go to this thing and start figuring out what I like.
Or I can stay home and cry into the only vegan dish on the hotel’s menu, which I’ve now eaten for dinner eight nights in a row—being too exhausted to go out in search of alternatives—and try to finish the paint by numbers kit I’ve been chipping away at for the better part of two months.
That pathetic alternative, coupled with my desperation to do something proactive about my disastrous scene today, is enough to get me moving again, heading for the bedroom. I’m not delusional enough to believe one kinky night will solve all my problems, but it certainly can’t hurt.
Unless, of course, I’m into that.
Fortunately, I was already waxed, exfoliated, and moisturized to perfection in anticipation of being mostly naked on screen.
There isn’t much for me to do to get ready except pick something to wear, and eager for some distraction, I snatch the remote from the bedside table, pointing it at the TV in the corner.
The local news comes on as I make my way into the closet, only half listening to the broadcast as I thumb through the lackluster wardrobe selection I brought with me.
The political correspondents are sitting at a round table discussing Stelland’s new king, who apparently slighted the French ambassador and caused all kinds of mess.
I’d heard of him—King Benedict—even before coming here to film, mainly because he only got the job after his older brother, the former king, died in a plane crash along with his wife and two sons.
It was a big, international story when it happened, with neighboring countries lending their coast guards to look for survivors.
They hadn’t found any, and by the sound of it, nobody is happy about the king they got as a replacement.
Too wrapped up in my own troubles to stand more of the negativity, I poke my head out of the closet long enough to change the channel to the home renovation network, before returning to my search.
Dressing for a sex party proves more difficult than I anticipated with the limited wardrobe I brought to Stelland, but I manage it.
The preparation, at least, is familiar, and I take comfort in the routine of it all.
It keeps me busy and distracted until it’s dark outside and the time of our departure is nearing.
When I finally finish up, I stand back from the same bathroom mirror to examine the effect I’ve created.
There is nothing overtly sexual about anything I’ve done.
My dress is made of a powder blue satin that brings out my eyes and skims over my body in a way that suggests its form rather than reveals it.
My hair tumbles around my shoulders, loose and more casual than I would ordinarily wear it for a social situation, but it seems to fit with the freeing spirit of tonight.
The knock on my door sends my heart into overdrive, and my low heels click on the wood floors as I hurry to open it. When I do, I find Davina waiting on the other side, looking as though she, too, spent the afternoon preparing.
“You look incredible, Z,” she tells me, stepping out of the way as I take my clutch from the table beside the door and move out into the hallway after her.
I smile in thanks, my breathing a little uneven as we start toward the lobby. “So do you. ”
Thankfully, I seem to have gotten the vibe correct, because like me, nobody looking at Davina would ever guess where she plans to spend the evening.
Her dress has a black corseted bodice and a skirt that falls to just above her knees.
The woman is wearing pearls, for heaven’s sake, and it’s kind of a thrill to nod at the familiar hotel desk attendant, knowing he must think we’re off to something far less sordid than the truth.
Even if tonight turns out to be a total bust, and I ask the car to take me back fifteen minutes after arriving, I’m determined to count tonight as a victory. I’m putting myself out there—literally—and especially these past few years, that’s been tough for me.
For so long, even as my career took off, I’ve felt stalled. Filming today might have been brutal, but it definitely forced me to accept that I’m missing something, and tonight will hopefully be a step toward finding it.
The night is as dark and rainy as I’ve learned is typical for Stelland when Davina and I step out onto the street.
Many of the neighboring pubs and restaurants are open, and music spills through the window of a passing delivery van.
A town car is idling at the curb, and the black-suited driver offers us a polite smile as he hurries to open the door.
“Good evening, ladies. My name is Collin; I’ll be taking you to the event tonight,” he tells us in a thick Stellic accent, reaching into his back pocket to remove a black wallet.
“Please feel free to take a photograph of my credentials, as well as the car. If there is anything else I can do to make you feel more comfortable, please let me know.”
“Thank you, Collin,” beams Davina, pulling out her phone to snap a quick picture of the offered driver’s license and a photo ID from a private driving company. I do the same, and a few of my worries drain away as I get into the back seat beside my friend, and Collin closes the door behind me .
Davina nudges me as we watch through the windshield as he rounds the hood of the car. “I told you it was legit.”
No kidding.
I stay silent as Collin gets in and fiddles with the heat, sending a pleasant stream of warm air into the backseat, speaking to us cheerfully over his shoulder as he does. “Please make yourselves comfortable, we should be there in just under an hour.”
“We’re going to have some girl talk, Collin. Is it possible for us to get a bit of privacy?” asks Davina.
Our driver doesn’t hesitate to comply. “Of course.” Seconds later, a dark partition goes up between the front seat and back, insulating us in the dark space.
“Are you sure you want to go to this?” presses Davina. “You look like you’re being marched to the gallows. Seriously, Z, I’m not trying to pressure you at all. If it’s not your thing, it’s not your thing.”
“I want to go,” I assure her, my hands twisting in my lap. “I just… I don’t know what to expect.”
My friend hums thoughtfully. “Well, I can help with that. It’s usually held at a house, a big, fancy, rich-person one, you know?
At first, it feels like a normal house party.
A few dozen people are standing around, drinking, talking, and making introductions.
There’s less pretense, though. Everyone knows what they’re there for and are more forward with their attraction than they might be otherwise. ”
I cross my legs, shifting restlessly and trying to ignore the way her words are making my body temperature rise. “Okay. And then what?”
Davina laughs lightly. “Then, it’s up to you.
Some of the more exhibitionist-minded typically get things going, but some people slip off to one of the bedrooms if they’d rather have some privacy.
It’s fun, and a good way to have a one-night stand without worrying about the guy you fucked telling a reporter all about it.
Some of the guests have a lot more to lose than we do, too. ”
I fall silent, thinking it all through as I watch darkened scenery flash by outside the window of the car. “I have no idea why I’m so nervous about this. I’m sorry.”
Nudging me with her elbow, Davina scoffs. “Do you think I wasn’t nervous? I totally was. Just do what’s exciting for you. For what it’s worth, though, I think you need to get out of your head a little.”
“Is it that obvious?” I ask with a tired laugh, playing absently with the hem of my dress.
My friend offers me a comforting smile. “No, but you haven’t dated anyone since the giant asswipe Xaden?—”
“I don’t want to talk about him right now.” The words spill out before I can stop them, harsher than I intended. Before I can apologize, though, Davina does.
“Oh, honey. Of course you don’t. I’m sorry.” She reaches out to squeeze my hand. “My point was just that you have some very well-earned trust issues, and this is a perfect way to kick off your mid-twenties kinky hot girl era.”
I smile weakly, trying to dismiss the swell of anxiety that rose inside me at the unexpected mention of my ex-boyfriend, and furious with myself for feeling it to begin with.
All that happened almost two years ago , and it wasn’t even the first resulting scar that’s made itself known today.
It’s time for me to get over it. Properly.
“You’re right,” I agree as, outside the car, I see we’re leaving the city of Dalmore, headed into the rugged countryside which lies beyond. “One mid-twenties kinky hot girl era coming right up.”
Davina’s warm laughter fills the back of the car.
Leaning forward, she knocks on the divider separating the front and back seats, and it is lowered obligingly a few seconds later.
“Hey, Collin, what’s the music situation in this thing?
My friend needs to be amped up and reminded she’s the damn prize. ”
I can see our driver’s grin from here as he pokes at the car’s control screen. “I have just the thing, Miss Lovette.”