Arabella's and Hardin's story continues....
After almost three years of blissful marriage, and reigning as King and Queen, our star crossed lovers can't find a single fault in their perfection of a life.
Then, it gets even better with a special deli...
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Sighing abruptly, I placed both hands on the vanity table and stared at my mirror reflection. Frown lines had started to appear near my eyes, ageing me a couple of years at least, and my eyes were lined with heavy bags.
Stress was taking its toll on me. The stress of the job, of Arabella and the baby. Every single step she takes, every breath she gulps, every meal she eats and drink she chugs down, I watch meticulously. Checking that no-one and nothing could harm her.
This party though was an event that was sure to draw us away from each other. I probably wouldn't see her until it was time to bid goodnight and that was too long to spend without her.
I wanted her safe in our room, reading a book or taking a bath. I needed her to be safe and protected. Of course, I let that inhibition drive me. I let it fuel the unnecessary argument that had just spewed.
Now I was feeling more on edge. She was away from me, but I couldn't control everything...and definitely not my wife. She was a spitball, her own fire and flame. My wife wouldn't listen to anyone but her own mind. It was the one of the reasons I am totally and utterly in love with her.
A loud knock thudded on the door. I pushed off from the vanity and quickly slipped on my dress shoes, before swinging it open. The hotel manager stood on the otherwise, anxious panic written all over his face. I watched as he took his handkerchief and patted the sweat dribbling down his forehead.
"Your Majesty...we uh have a situation." God, couldn't I just have one moment of peace?
"What is it?" My voice snapped, turning sharp.
He flinched. "The Queen and advisor Elliot appear to be trapped in the elevator." I paused, letting the information sink in and then frowned.
"What do you mean? How could they..." I pushed past him and stormed straight to the elevator. Two guards stood by it, fiddling with the buttons but they stepped aside the moment I reached it.
I pressed the button, praying to God that it ones. "Fuck," I breathed out when it didn't. Punching the damn wall, I ignored the splintering that rocked through my bones and gritted my teeth.
"Get the mechanic right now."
"We did call them, but because of the party there's a lot of traffic and they're well...stuck."
"Stuck? My wife is fucking stuck in an elevator. The Queen of Dahlia is trapped in your fucking elevator and you're saying there's nothing you can do to fix it?"
The manager didn't flinch, nor did he speak. He simply stood there shaking, a petrified look on his face and I genuinely feared he was close to wetting himself.
