The Heir And The Spare

#10

TEN

'Don't confuse my personality with my attitude. My personality is who I am. My attitude depends on who you are.' - Frank Ocean

"Char, honestly, please be quiet. I can't even hear myself losing the will to live and that's saying something."

Charlotte, who up until now has been blaring out what she would describe as music from the portable speaker she has brought into my bedroom sits up from her cosy position on my bed and rolls her eyes. But she still turns the music off.

"What's it going to be?" she asks.

"Eh?" I look up from my phone after somehow finding myself stumbling down the deep it called Twitter, reading the hundred replies thread to a tweet about my brother's apparent new flame. The girl in question, however, is no other than a bad photo of my brother's assistant bare-faced and with a hoodie on. It makes me giggle.

"I said what's it going to be?" Charlotte repeats, shifting herself up onto the seating position on my bed.

"You're really going to have to be clearer," I finally put down my phone and meet her eyes. Charlotte meets mine with a smirk and she shoots me a pointed look.

"What's your music choice going to be for tonight?"

"Oh," I wrinkle my nose. "That."

"Yes, that," she huffs, "honestly, I'm surprised you've not conjured up the worst song in existence already to get it off your mind."

"I can tell you right now how little I think about James and this entire ordeal," I say, but recently that's becoming more of a lie. I've managed to go this long avoiding thinking about this BTEC version of The Batchelor but now the first introductions have been set, everything suddenly seems a lot more real. Even the interview I had earlier has left me reeling. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle. A lot of questions about my university degree and the charities I want to support more. Until I was asked about my relationship with James.

"You were in a very public relationship with the prince's brother just before his untimely death," the interviewer said to me, looking down at his notes. "How do you feel Prince Lucas would react to you being thrown into the running?"

I was going to throw up. I looked at him and then at my family's press secretary behind me. I was five seconds before getting up off that seat and bolting it to the door when the press secretary leaned down and whispered something to the interviewer. The man paled and adjusted himself in his seat.

"Let's redirect that question, Your Highness," he stumbles over his words and neatens the cards in his hands. "How would you describe your pre-existing relationship with Prince James?"

Now, I smile. "Nothing short of a best friend."

"Are you even listening to me?" Charlotte's voice makes me snap back into the room and I force a smile.

"Of course, you were talking about music. Have you got any ideas?"

The corners of Charlotte's lips turn up. "Oh, you know I do."

*

"I hope you do not mind me saying this, but you look beautiful tonight, Eva,"

Henry stands next to Adam just outside the ballroom doors as I descend the stairs. I blush at his words, my eyes trailing down to the dress I am wearing, the weight of his words heavy on my heart. It is emerald green, the kind of colour that makes my hair look like the earth and brings out the richness in my blindly boring brown eyes. It's a gorgeous dress, Henry is right, and I feel good in it tonight which is one thing. Adam, however, looks between the two of us with more interest in his eyes than I have ever seen. He has ditched his sunglasses for a more formal outfit – all the security has. His suit is armoured tonight with a waistcoat and tails. I'd be curious to know where he is stashing his gun if it wasn't for the way I could see it peek from the waistband of his trousers, the subtle clip hiding it from the blind eye.