Page 7 of Coronation (Royally Forbidden #1)
Four
Zelda
T he house is every bit as grand as I expected it to be.
After driving for over an hour, the car finally pulls off the road, inching slowly down a long, tree-lined drive before stopping outside a pair of iron gates.
Security is waiting to take our phones, putting them inside locked pouches.
This procedure is followed by the signing of several legal documents, promising to keep our mouths shut, and an etiquette contract which makes it clear we will be removed from the premises if we try anything that makes another guest uncomfortable.
I stay quiet, listening to Davina talk easily with the guards and our driver, apparently totally at ease. Meanwhile, my heart beats harder with each passing second, and I can’t seem to stop myself from fidgeting.
Despite all my mental pep talk, the girl power playlist Collin put on in the car, and Davina’s inspiring attitude, it still feels like the bottom has dropped out of my stomach when security waves us through, and the gate finally opens to reveal an impressive, classical-style manor in the distance.
It’s a warm night, and the doors to the house are open. A few cars are pulling around to leave again, their riders lingering inside the brightly lit entrance hall.
“Deep breaths, Z,” Davina reminds me, reaching out to squeeze my hand as the car stops in front of the steps. “Remember, you’re the prize. No mediocre sex for you tonight.”
My mouth is so dry as I swallow, bobbing my head in agreement, because speaking feels a little beyond me as the car comes to a stop. Collin doesn’t even have time to get out to open our doors, because someone else has already done the job for him.
“Good evening, Miss Flowers, Miss Lovette,” says a young woman in a black cocktail dress, offering us a bland smile as she steps out of the way, allowing us to climb out onto the drive.
She looks like she could be the hostess at a fancy restaurant, with her low bun and a necklace I recognize from Tiffany’s latest line adorning her neck. “Can I offer you a tour of the house?”
Behind us, our car pulls away, the gravel drive crunching beneath its tires, and another slowly approaches to take its place.
“That isn’t necessary,” replies Davina smoothly, who is busy adjusting her dress. “We can find our own way, thank you.”
Before I can do more than open and close my mouth like a fish, she loops her arm through mine, tugging me in the direction of the open front doors.
We’ve only just crossed the threshold when a man appears through one of the doorways.
He’s older than us, early forties maybe, and dressed all in black.
If his green eyes, artfully tousled blond hair, and high, sharp cheekbones weren’t enough to make the man devastating, the roguish grin that spreads across his face at the sight of my friend would certainly do the trick.
“Well, well. Couldn’t stay away, Dav?”
“Lucky you.” Davina smirks, detaching herself from me to accept a kiss on the cheek from the man.
“James, this is the friend I told you about, Zelda Flowers. Z, this is James, or more properly, His Grace, the Duke of Fairborne. This is his house, actually. He’s kind enough to lend it out from time to time to the organizers of these little get-togethers. ”
A duke?
Before I can think how one properly greets a duke at a sex party, James— His Grace —turns his attention onto me.
I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or not, but I think I see a flash of excitement in his gaze.
“You are very welcome, Zelda. Any friend of Davina’s is a friend of mine.
I’ll even forgive you for being from California. ” He winks.
“You have a beautiful home,” I tell him, for lack of another response, peering around at the ornate trim and crystal chandelier glittering over our heads. Over his shoulder, I spot an oil-painted portrait of the duke himself, the composition framed in gold.
The duke hums, looking around as well, his lips turned down into a thoughtful frown. “Thank you. It’s more of a family home. I don’t spend much time here, but it is quite nice for entertaining. Come, let me take you both through and make introductions.”
He places a hand on the small of Davina’s back, guiding her through the doorway he just came through. On edge and not interested in being left alone to greet whoever was in the next car, I follow.
The room we emerge in is arranged like a lounge, with little clusters of club chairs and tables scattered around, their occupants all absorbed in conversation. It’s tastefully lit, the entire space bathed in the glow of more crystal chandeliers, noticeably dimmer than the one in the foyer.
I’m a ball of anxiety as I trail after James and Davina, taking in every detail of the space as I do.
There’s a bar to our right, and the back wall is lined with French doors, standing open to the back terrace.
A four-piece jazz band has set up there, the melodic notes of their music carrying over the partygoers, and, with the posh, old-fashioned decor, it feels as though I’ve stepped back in time.
The only indication that this party might not be quite as proper as it seems is the waitresses in luxurious black lingerie, moving between guests, with drinks balanced on their trays.
Eyes were on us from the moment we entered the room, and the skin on the back of my neck prickles with the awareness of being watched as I follow Davina and the duke, who have made a beeline for a small group sitting at the very back beside the open French doors.
There are four men and one woman, all dressed in the kind of casual luxury I know to associate with old money. I recognize all of them.
Sure enough, as we take the three vacant club chairs and James makes introductions, I learn I’m seated with two CEO’s, a model, a very famous musician, and a Canadian politician who recently had to resign for being caught fucking his wife’s younger sister.
“I’ve seen all your movies,” the musician, Verity, tells me with a delighted laugh, leaning over in the chair beside mine so I can hear her voice over the music. “Your brother and I are working together on a project, and he’s so tired of me asking about you. I’m such a fan.”
“Thank you.” I take a flute of champagne offered to me by one of the lingerie-clad waitresses, smiling back at her, comforted by the familiarity of this exchange. “Congratulations on your Grammy. The album was fantastic.”
She beams. “Oh, wasn’t it? I was so happy with how it all turned out.
This is my last hurrah before we go on tour, actually.
I do hope I find someone to show me a good time.
” The last statement is posed a note louder than she was speaking before, and the politician is quick to jump in, stealing her attention away within seconds.
I’m thankful for it. Being “on” isn’t exactly a foreign concept to me; my entire job involves being exposed in some way or another, and networking at industry events is absolutely crucial.
This is so totally different from the parties I’m used to, though, and I’m happy for a few seconds to orient myself.
From what I’ve observed so far, to say the guest list tonight is impressive would be a massive understatement.
There are about thirty or forty people already here, and I recognize almost all of them.
Most are in their thirties or forties and in some sort of public position, business or politics, or entertainment.
Even the ones I don’t know seem to be holding themselves with the kind of confidence that comes from a lot of money, a lot of power, or a lot of both.
My eyes catch on a couple at a nearby table.
Though the room is shadowy, I can see him touching her inner thigh, the tips of his fingers resting just below the hem of her dress.
As I watch, his hand moves farther up, vanishing between her legs, and the woman’s eyelids flutter, her bottom lip catching between her teeth.
The temperature seems to rise by ten degrees in the time for me to look away, hastily taking a long sip of champagne.
“I’ll confess, I was very pleased when Davina requested an invitation for you,” a man’s voice speaks from my right, and I turn to find myself eye to eye with James.
My heart kicks into overdrive. “Were you?”
He leans closer, offering me a practiced smile. “You may be the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever encountered. Tell me, how on earth do you get anything done, looking like that? ”
The muscles in my belly harden, and I turn away on the pretense of watching the band.
James might think he’s flattering me, and maybe I should be, but the overt attention only makes me uneasy.
As if further evidence was needed to prove Davina is right, and I need to get out of my head for the night.
“It’s not as troublesome as you’d think,” I tell James at last, shoving away my discomfort as I look back at him. “Fortunately, I’ve chosen a career where nearly everyone is very beautiful, thereby making me quite ordinary.”
My host lets out an obliging laugh, one long finger tapping on the tumbler of scotch held casually in his hand.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.
Though…” His words trail away as his gaze catches on something over my shoulder, and when he looks back at me, it’s with an air of poorly suppressed smugness.
“I need to greet our latest arrival. Come with me, I believe you’ll know him, or of him , anyway.
Then I’ll give you a tour, if you’d like. ”
A personal tour from the host seems like code for let me take you somewhere to fuck.