In The Name Of Love

Chapter 9

WARNING: Possible trigger for PTSD and panic attacks in this chapter after "It's just a building, Wyn," Mircea said a little bluntly to the end of the chapter [only a few hundred words, you don't miss anything important to the plot]

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Four days after I had my contraception replaced my arm still hurt. Getting the old implant out had been a bugger and there hadn't been quite enough local anaesthetic. My arm was still a bit yellow from the disinfectant, but at least I'd been able to take the steri-strips off. I'd been able to take them off my head too but the bruise there was the same colour of my arm. At least it all matched.

I'd also had to go shopping at this really posh place in Cardiff to get some appropriate clothes to wear in Romania. I needed to be smartly dressed all the time, but still I still wanted to look pretty rather than business like. Mum had given me some money to spend as well as what Mircea spent. I still thought the whole wearing smart dresses and skirt suits thing was a bit of a chore, but I had to do it. So we'd gone shopping, made a day of it and went to the cinema and had dinner to make it a lot more enjoyable for both of us.  

I'd pretty much mastered the dancing, well, as well as I was going to 'master' it in eight days. It was now Wednesday evening of the night before we got on the plane to go to Romania. We had to fly out from Heathrow. I was more than happy to just go by train with the general public, but according to Vlad that was a terrible idea and he insisted on driving us down. It was a massive journey. I hated the idea of him driving all that way in the dark after being awake all day, but he'd insisted.

The only reason I'd got in the car was because Mircea threatened to carry me to it. Now we were sat on the plane, taxing down the runway just a couple of hours from Romania.

I was pretty terrified to say the least.

Vlad was already asleep at the back of the plane. Lucky bugger.

We took off a few moments later and the moment the seat belt sign turned off, Dorina walked over to us. Instead of a uniform she was in a blue blouse and black skirt, black court shoes and had her hair in an artful bun. She gave a little curtsy. Glad to see her I wasted no time in saying hello and asking how she was in Romanian. She smiled and replied and then switched to German.

"Her Majesty asked me to be your personal assistant," she said to both of us. "I hope you do not mind."

"Not at all," Mircea smiled.

She looked over at me which was when I realise that she might just be my personal assistant too. "Oh, I didn't think I'd need one, but... sure, great," I stammered. "But, what about your brother?"

"I've arranged it with school so that I can drop him off early when I need to."

"Take a seat, Dorina," Mircea said. "Don't hesitate it sit with us."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Mircea," he corrected. "Please."

She smiled. "I have finalised diaries for both of you for the entirety of your visit." She held out leather bound clipboards to both of us.

I took mine in hand and glanced at the initials that were embossed on it before opening it up.

"Its in Welsh," I said in a puzzled tone. I'd expected English.

"I'm sorry if it's not all correct. I used Google translate," Dorina explained.

"It should be ok. They've finally managed to iron out the problems they had with it," I said. "Thank you."