It was Alexa.
Her presence was a breathtaking contrast to the formal elegance of the evening. She wore a white sequined dress, a stunning column of shimmering light that move with a graceful, defiant purpose. On her feet were a pair of matching white heels with a sophisticated pointed toe, a unique block heel, a bold statement aganist the sea of black shoes.
Her brown hair , was swept into an intricate, artfully messy braid at the nape of her neck. A black velvet ribbon was woven through it, a large black bow was tied at the base, a touch of her fiery personality that perfectly suited her. Her makeup was clean, fresh , her skin radiant, her bold lips hinted at a confidence that was anything but subtle.
As she moved, small, elegant diamond earrings caught the light. Her only other jewelry was a delicate gold bracelet with a single pearl, a matching chain around her neck. The total effect was captivating —— modern, powerful, utterly out of place, yet she owned the moment completely.
Edmund stood still, watching as she approached the red carpet. He stared at her ,
a silent, challenging intensity in his gaze. She met it head-on, her expression one of cool amusements. As she reached the red carpet, the flashes of the cameras momentarily blinded them both, she finally spoke, her voice a low, melodic taunt.
" What are you staring at?," Alexa said,a playful arch in her brow. And James as her secretary behind her.
" You're late," he replied, his voice a low, clipped retort. " I believe Lionel told you to reach the auction at 6.45 pm. And yet, you're 15 mins late."
A quick, confident smile played on Alexa's lips as she adjusted the black bow on her hair. " Relax, royal boy. The auction has just started, I'm not late. The invitation card clearly mentioned that it would begin at 7.00 pm," she said, her voice laced with a subtle mockery. " So, if we look closer, technically I am right on time."
Edmund's jaw tightened. " Punctuality is a sign of respect, Miss President's daughter . It shows you value the time of those who have been waiting for you."
" And a rigid adherence to a schedule isn't your own is a sign of a lack of life, Prince. Perhaps you should spend less time watching the clock, more time enjoying the party."
The tension between them was electric, they were like 2 forces of nature,about to collide in a spectacular, very public way.
Before Edmund could formulate a sharp retort , James stepped forward, a look of polite urgency on his face. He was joined by Lionel who was Edmund's secretary, both of them creating a gentle buffer between the two.
" Miss Donovan, Your Highness," James said, his voice a quiet command. " We need to proceed. It is getting late, the auction has already begun."
Alexa let out a small,defiant '' HMPH'' under her breath, a clear sign that was over on her terms. Without another word or a single glance at him, she turned on her heel, continued toward the museum entrance. Her secretary, James, fell into step aside her, a silent, graceful support.
Edmund watched her walk away, her poise a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his hands clenched ar his sides. Under his breath, he muttered a sharp curse ," Che seccatura" he breathed out , the words lead with pure frustration.
( What a nuisance)
Beside him , Lionel caught the flesh of the fury in his eyes, the tense set on his shoulders. His voice was a quiet, firm interjection. " Your Highness, please calm yourself, " he said, his tone a mix of warming, gentle concern.
Edmund took a deep breath, forcing the frustration back into the cage he had built for a long ago. He followed Alexa into the grand entrance of the museum, his face once again a mask of composed dignity.
The moment they stepped through the grand doors, the frenetic energy of the red carpet was replaced by an atmosphere of hushed elegance. The air was thick with the scent of fine perfume, the quiet murmur of the city's most powerful elites, then movie stars, diplomats, aristocrats, industrialists. They were in the main gallery of the museum, a vast, high-ceilinged hall with polished marble floors that reflected the light from ornate chandeliers .
Museum masterpieces lined the walls, but the real focus was on the center of the room, where a raised stage, podium were set up for the auction. The room was filled with round tables draped in crisp white linen, each with a centerpiece of fresh daffodil flowers. Waiters in black jackets moved silently with through the crowd, offering champagne, canapés.
Edmund, once again a picture of composed grace, moved through the room, nodding politely to acquaintances, allies. He was a natural here, a part of this world of old money, quiet power.
Ahead of him, Alexa moved differently. Her eyes scanned the room , she was a breath of fresh air in the room full of people who were all wearing the same gilded mask.
" Everything okay?" James asked,his tone soft with concern as he offered her a sparkling glass of water.
Her eyes landed on Edmund across the room, who was now engaged in conversation with a distinguished older man. A small, disgusted frown touched her lips.
" Not when that jerk is here," she replied, her voice low enough that only James could hear." He's so fake, I can't even stand him. I feel like I am gonna throw up." She took a sip of water, her eyes still locked on Edmund's composed face. I knew it better. I know his so called the carefully constructed mask he wore. Unbelievable ...
James let out a soft chuckle. " Oh, please," he said, shaking his head. " The Prince is not that bad."
She shot him a withering look, a clear, silent, eye- roll that spoke volumes. " Uh-huh, you would say that," she replied, her voice filled with weary sarcasm. " Because for you, everything is perfect."
A gentle, knowing smile touched the corner of his lips. He was used to her dramatic outbursts, than a passing storm.
The crowd began to settle, drawn to the stage where the auctioneer was preparing to begin. The auctioneer 's voice, a powerful, commanding baritone, boomed through the hall, calling for the attendees to take their respective seats.
Edmund, with his secretary by his side, found his table number, began to make his way to it. He was focused, already scanning the catalog, when his attention was diverted by a quiet groan from beside him.
He looked over to Alexa standing by the same table. Her seating number was near him. Without a word, she pulled out the chair, her movements stiff,deliberate, sat down.
Edmund took the seat beside her. Everyone in the room settled into their own conversations yet there was a tense, suffocating silence between them. They were now in a public space, forced into a polite, shared proximity that was anything but comfortable.
The auctioneer cleared his throat , a spotlight hit on the stage, the first piece was brought out. The first item was already on display – a rare, dazzling diamond necklace set on a vast pedestal. There was murmurs between the crowd it was clear that the stakes were incredibly high.
The auctioneer's voice cut through the air, sharp, clear." Now, for our most anticipated lot of the evening," he announced, as a velvet cloth was pulled from a mahogany easel." Lot no. 12: the private, annotated diary of Renaissance- Era Duchess Marianne of Germany. A lost treasure believed to contain never-before - seenentries on royal court secrets, political intrigues. The starting bid is 50 million dollars."
A collective gasp went through the room. Edmund leaned forward, his expression instantly transforming from aloof composure to focused intellectual interest. This was the reason he had come. He raised his paddle with a single, graceful motion." 51 million dollars."
Beside him, Alexa didn't even lift her paddle. She simply looked at him, said, with a quiet, confident smirk," 55".
His eyes flicked to her. He raised his paddle again." 60 million".
She let out a soft, mocking laugh." 65", she whispered, her eyes dancing with a competitive, familiar fire.
The other bidders had all but disappeared, watching the Prince of Italy and The First Daughter and Ceo of Zenith games battle it out with silent fury. The bids flew back, forth, each one with a coded insult, a challenge. "75 million''," 80 million ".
Edmund's face was a mask of cold determination, his jaw tight. I won't lose it. Not to her. This diary is part of my world, a historical artifact that represented the very traditions she seemed to mock.
" 100 million dollars" , both spitted out in unison, their voices perfectly synchronized, a powerful, final declaration that echoed through the silence of the room.
The auctioneer froze, his gavel hovering mid-air. He looked from Edmund's stoic face to Alexa's defiant one, then back at his notes, look of utter confusion on his eyes. The room was silent. Then he speaks," And the private diary of Queen Marianne of Germany goes to the Young Prince of Italy and The First Daughter of the US for 100 million dollars is sold . A joint acquisition for the historical treasure. "
As the room buzzed with whispers, both the secretaries, James,Lionel , they stood shoulder to shoulder , both men with a perfect view of the escalating, silent war between the charges.
'' I have never , in all my years of service witnessed such a flagrant disregard for auction etiquette," Lionel muttered, his voice a low, scandalized hiss. " To challenge the royal family in such a way...'
James let out a small, dry chuckle. " Oh, you haven't seen anything yet, trust me. She's just getting started.'' He leaned in closer. ''You know , when she sets her mind on something, she will not stop until she gets it. That is just child's play for her."
" And the young prince," Lionel sighed, watching Edmund's rigid posture. " He is equally stubborn. They will be here all night."
They both watched the stalemate continue, two professional aides trapped in the crossfire of their bossess' ridiculous battle.
The auction ended with a final, blooming gavel strike between Alexa and Edmund, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd dispersed from the auction stage, moving toward a separate gallery converted into a lavish after-party. The music was softer, the conversations louder, the champagne flowed freely.
Alexa, however, was a picture of perfect serenity. Unbothered, she walked directly to a nearby laden with champagne flutes, delicate appetizers. She picked up a glass of wine, her gaze sweeping over the crowd as if nothing had happened. Her eyes landed on a platter of cheese pastries. With a small, satisfied hum, she picked one up, took a bite, savoring the salty, rich flavor.
" You really are a nuisance, aren't you?" A low voice said from beside her.