Page 37 of Princessa
Chapter 22
Some say difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations.
For me, that rang true.
My difficult road—in all things love—led me to a beautiful destination known as Grayson.
In the week that followed mybig V-card reveal, much had changed, progressed, sprouted between us. We’d taken time to nurture our budding relationship, watering it every day, allowing it to slowly blossom into something rich and sumptuous.
Whoever said he was a playboy was wrong. Dead wrong.
Prince Grayson proved to be affectionate. Charming. Respectful. And I was pretty sure I’d fallen head over holy-hot-mess heels.
“Hello? Earth to Arabella? Princessa? Are you even listening to me?” Emma waved her hand in front of my face in an almost failed attempt to get my attention. “You’ve zoned out.” She folded her arms over her chest as she sat at the chair facing my desk, nose all scrunched up. “Again.”
“Oh, sorry”—I shook thoughts of Grayson out of my head—“what did you say?”
“We’re a week and a half away from Henri’s perfume launch party. Would you like to host it in the Grande Ballroom or did you want to reserve the Royale Crowne Ballroom for the event?”
Besides the whirlwind vortex of theGrayson and Arabella WorldI’d gotten sucked into, Emma and I’d been busy event planning. The biggest one to come was Henri’s launch party releasing his brand new fragrancePrincessa—inspired by yours truly—expected to draw in models, celebs, not to mention local and national reporters.
“The Grande will be fine. How many are we expecting?”
“About five-hundred guests and such—pretty standard for something of this caliber. And, oh yeah”—she did a seated happy dance—“Royal Buzz might show up.”
Emma’s obsessing didn’t stop at alpacas. She was a certified beyond-fangirl of Royal Buzz, a larger, royally-sophisticated version of TMZ.
“That sounds cool. And will you be able to handle the menu, drink, and décor selection with Henri in the few days I’ll be away?” I chewed on the tip of a ballpoint pen I was holding.
“Yes, I’m on it.” She let out a sigh, hand over heart, stars dancing in her eyes. “I still can’t believe you’re going to Andorra.”
She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe it. Yet, it was happening. Grayson broke the news to me, saying he wanted Queen Isadora and King Matteo to meet the lady in his life.
Of course, I melted, then freaked out because it was one thing to meet someone’s parents. But meeting a King and Queen somehow felt ostentatious, far-reaching in scale.
“I can’t believe it either. Things are moving a lot faster than I expected.”
Despite how crazy I was about Grayson, something—an unresolved enigma—still caused a churning in my stomach.
“Will he work out all the issues with his supposed betrothed?” Emma’s question was aligned with my thoughts.
“Hope so because if not, I’ll be forever heart-stricken.”
“Well, I’ve heard a ton of stuff about that Lady Iris chick.” Her voice was all singsongy, like a kid who was brandishing a bag of candy. “Apparently she’s got an ugly case of FBS.”
“FBS?”
“Fucking. Bitch. Syndrome.”
I laughed. So freaking hard, it hurt.
“Yep, unlike you, she definitely lacks the qualities of a true princess. So, go. Make one helluva good impression up there in Andorra. Come back here with a prince that’s yours and all yours alone.”
What does a gal pack for a three-day trip to the royal palace?
It quickly became my dilemma, and when I called Lauren to ask her fashion-expert opinion, she wasn’t much help. She was too busy squealing about Grayson referring to me asthe lady in his life. Our chat didn’t go beyond her gifting me best-friend-forever advice about whether or not I should curtsy when I first encounter the king and queen.
“They’re not Elizabeth and Phillip,” I said. “Besides, Grayson told me they don’t curtsy. They nod.”
