of what being royalty truly meant. Perhaps she wouldn’t like all the hype and responsibilities.
He moved to a built-in bookcase and gazed over the snapshots of Victoria with her family and friends through the years. There were even a couple shots of the two of them together. In one they were laughing, Victoria’s hand on his chest. The captured scene ran through his mind and he recalled that day so vividly. He’d come to visit her—it was actually one of the times he’d been about to tell her he wanted to explore a physical relationship. They’d been at a restaurant opening for a mega-movie star who had started a chain, and the media was swarming, waiting to get pictures of all the rich and famous.
He’d pulled her aside and asked her if they could skip the event. When she’d told him it was rude, he told her he’d rather be having a root canal without painkiller and she’d started laughing. Someone in the press had snapped the picture, and it had ended up in several media outlets with speculation that the two of them were more than friends.
But now fate had handed him this opportunity, and he didn’t intend to screw it up. While he may not have married Victoria for love, he did respect her, and she was a perfect match for him. After all, she’d grown up in the spotlight as well, and they knew going in that their privacy was limited.
Besides, Victoria had her own life goals and issues to keep her occupied. Which was why he’d keep this documentary idea to himself until he found out if anything more would come of it.
He hoped the opportunity would arise tomorrow night to discuss possibilities with Bronson so he could finally bury his parents in his heart with the respect they both deserved.
* * *
Frustrated didn’t even come close to describing the emotions swirling inside her.
Victoria let herself into her Hollywood Hills home and smiled at Stefan’s permanent bodyguard/assistant positioned by the door. That would take some getting used to, but she was technically on her way to being a queen, so just one more thing she’d have to deal with...eventually. Right now she’d put it on the back burner because she didn’t have the time or the energy to even think about her royal crown or any of the duties expected of her.
Her wedding gown designs were improving but still not to the point where she was ready to start whipping out her needle and thread.
Her team had bounced around ideas all day, and by the time four o’clock rolled around, Victoria was ready to strangle herself with a bolt of satin.
She bypassed the living area and headed straight up the wide, curved marble staircase that led to the second-story bedrooms. She assumed Stefan was around somewhere because his guard was at his post.
When she went into her walk-in closet, she slid off her Ferragamo pumps and sank her toes into the plush carpet. After unzipping her sheath dress, she folded it onto the shelf, where she had a pile that needed to go to the cleaners. Obviously something she’d forgotten to have done before her whirlwind proposal, marriage and step up the royal ladder.
Did royalty even worry about such mundane things as dry cleaning? Of course, people may think a member of the prestigious Dane family didn’t, either.
Bracing her hands on the shoe island in her closet, Victoria bowed her head and sighed. She’d never felt out of control, never felt so overwhelmed that she wanted to burst into tears, but she was definitely there now.
How had her life become so out of control? How had all of her decisions, goals and dreams slipped away and turned into something else she didn’t even recognize? She’d never had a problem designing before. But now that she was married and struggling with her rapidly growing emotions, she just couldn’t concentrate.
Between work and Stefan, she was a mess of jumbled-up nerves.
Tears pricked her eyes, her throat burned and she shook her head. No. Tears solved nothing and feeling sorry for
He moved to a built-in bookcase and gazed over the snapshots of Victoria with her family and friends through the years. There were even a couple shots of the two of them together. In one they were laughing, Victoria’s hand on his chest. The captured scene ran through his mind and he recalled that day so vividly. He’d come to visit her—it was actually one of the times he’d been about to tell her he wanted to explore a physical relationship. They’d been at a restaurant opening for a mega-movie star who had started a chain, and the media was swarming, waiting to get pictures of all the rich and famous.
He’d pulled her aside and asked her if they could skip the event. When she’d told him it was rude, he told her he’d rather be having a root canal without painkiller and she’d started laughing. Someone in the press had snapped the picture, and it had ended up in several media outlets with speculation that the two of them were more than friends.
But now fate had handed him this opportunity, and he didn’t intend to screw it up. While he may not have married Victoria for love, he did respect her, and she was a perfect match for him. After all, she’d grown up in the spotlight as well, and they knew going in that their privacy was limited.
Besides, Victoria had her own life goals and issues to keep her occupied. Which was why he’d keep this documentary idea to himself until he found out if anything more would come of it.
He hoped the opportunity would arise tomorrow night to discuss possibilities with Bronson so he could finally bury his parents in his heart with the respect they both deserved.
* * *
Frustrated didn’t even come close to describing the emotions swirling inside her.
Victoria let herself into her Hollywood Hills home and smiled at Stefan’s permanent bodyguard/assistant positioned by the door. That would take some getting used to, but she was technically on her way to being a queen, so just one more thing she’d have to deal with...eventually. Right now she’d put it on the back burner because she didn’t have the time or the energy to even think about her royal crown or any of the duties expected of her.
Her wedding gown designs were improving but still not to the point where she was ready to start whipping out her needle and thread.
Her team had bounced around ideas all day, and by the time four o’clock rolled around, Victoria was ready to strangle herself with a bolt of satin.
She bypassed the living area and headed straight up the wide, curved marble staircase that led to the second-story bedrooms. She assumed Stefan was around somewhere because his guard was at his post.
When she went into her walk-in closet, she slid off her Ferragamo pumps and sank her toes into the plush carpet. After unzipping her sheath dress, she folded it onto the shelf, where she had a pile that needed to go to the cleaners. Obviously something she’d forgotten to have done before her whirlwind proposal, marriage and step up the royal ladder.
Did royalty even worry about such mundane things as dry cleaning? Of course, people may think a member of the prestigious Dane family didn’t, either.
Bracing her hands on the shoe island in her closet, Victoria bowed her head and sighed. She’d never felt out of control, never felt so overwhelmed that she wanted to burst into tears, but she was definitely there now.
How had her life become so out of control? How had all of her decisions, goals and dreams slipped away and turned into something else she didn’t even recognize? She’d never had a problem designing before. But now that she was married and struggling with her rapidly growing emotions, she just couldn’t concentrate.
Between work and Stefan, she was a mess of jumbled-up nerves.
Tears pricked her eyes, her throat burned and she shook her head. No. Tears solved nothing and feeling sorry for
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