Klara spent the next week thinking about Viktor and Johann.
She couldn't focus at work, eventually falling behind on deadlines. The day before, her boss dropped by her cubicle to let her know.
"I thought with the work you did previously, you were ready to be moved to more important projects."
"I'm sorry, I'm behind currently, but I should be finished by next week."
She was distant when she went to the café with friends the next morning, cradling her latte while spacing out.
"Klara, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, work has just been hectic."
Even Klara's mother asked her that evening if something was wrong during her call home.
"Is this about Johann?" Klara's mother asked. Klara heard a high pitched shriek on the other end of the line. "Sorry, your father and I are watching the grandkids for Lil and Mark over the weekend, I would have asked if you wanted to talk to them, but the little ones are supposed to be down for a nap and McKenzie went to the creek with the neighborhood kids."
"No, this isn't about Johann." Klara lied. "Was that Braeden?"
"Yes, of course it was Braeden." Klara's mother was interrupted by the baby crying. "And now Paisley is crying. I've gotta go sweetheart, I'll tell the kids you said hi."
"Right, bye mom."
Klara took microscopic sips of her tea, staring out her apartment window at the city down below. It was twilight, the street lights were on but the sun hadn't finished setting. Klara pondered more over her situation with men in general.
She thought about how angry Johann would be if he knew she caught the eye of the crown prince. She thought of how jealous he might be. She smirked at the thought. Johann had his little yoga girl, Klara was getting attention from the crown prince, it'd surely be obvious who upgraded after the breakup.
Klara knew that a man such as Viktor was not treating her the way he was because he was so captivated by her beauty that he fell hopelessly in love. She was not an idiot, lust was Viktor's motivator, and it would fizzle out as fast as it was set alight.
The prospect was still attractive, no strings attached, Klara only had two partners and both of them were long term relationships. Klara was no longer in her one-church small town, she was living in Vienna, small town morals and gossip didn't apply in a city filled with more liberal minded people where you could disappear into the crowd.
Viktor was attractive and probably knew a thing or two given that he was older and more experienced. Johann was good, but somehow something was missing. Klara was more than happy to use Viktor as a rebound until his interest in her waned. How many small town girls could say a prince even looked at them twice?
Klara's thoughts were interrupted, jumping a little when she heard an abrupt knock at her door. She wasn't expecting anyone. She set down her tea, pulling her robe closed and tying it as she approached the door. She opened it nervously and saw a short, elderly man with a thick mustache holding a blown glass vase full of flowers and four boxes.
"Are you Miss Klara Abspoel?" The old man asked in a warm, somewhat high pitched German accent.
"I am." Klara confirmed, surprised at the sheer amount of boxes and the elaborate display of flowers.
"Good! I was sent to deliver these gifts from his royal highness, the crown prince."
"Here, let me help you." Klara took the boxes and set them down on her bed.
"Thank you, miss." The old man said, wiping his bottle lens glasses with a handkerchief he kept in his coat pocket, placing his glasses back on his bulbous nose before inviting himself in. "I must say, it's been a long time since the prince was so taken by a woman."
"What do you mean?" Klara asked, watching the man place the vase of flowers on her kitchen table.
"I've worked for the royal family for almost forty-five years, I handle certain deliveries that they might not wish to be done so publicly, for any number of reasons. I have known Prince Viktor since he was in breeches and have delivered... certain gifts to women over the years, but it's been many years since I've delivered flowers."
Klara's initial surprise and flattery at the statement faded into its more likely intent, this may have been something said to flatter women. Did a prince need to flatter women?
"There is an envelope in the flower arrangement that the prince requests you open before any of the boxes. Now, I must be going, good night, miss." The old man left the apartment. Klara looked out her apartment window to see where he may have came from once he exited the complex, but he seemed to be quite talented in staying discreet.
Klara moved the flowers to her nightstand, moving her photo of her ex more to the back before placing down the vase. The photo fell down behind the nightstand, Klara groaned, she'd deal with that later.
The flower arrangement was truly stunning, filled densely with lavender, white roses, calla lilies, ivy, and baby's breath. Klara hummed at the lovely scent, wondering if Viktor knew to choose lavender because of her perfume, she appreciated his attention to detail. Klara rotated the vase until she found a small envelope tucked in the flowers. She broke the pearlescent wax seal and read the handwritten note inside.
Tomorrow night, I wish for you to join me for dinner and The Vienna State Opera House's grand opening of Tosca. There will be a car outside your apartment at 6:00 pm.
I look forward to seeing you,
His Royal Crown Prince Viktor Choldwig zu Schellendorf von Konigsburg.
Klara took a deep breath before setting the note down and turned her attention to the boxes next to her. All of them were wrapped in white and decorated with a ribbon of the exact same color.
The first box contained a dark ruby and gold jewelry necklace and earring set. Klara didn't even recognize the brand, a whole different stratosphere of elite probably. Did he really just give her jewelry that was probably worth more than her whole salary?
Klara opened the next box, finding a pair of black stilettos, once again made by some fashion house her 'common,' as the old man said earlier, self never heard of. The shoes were simple, but well made, Klara didn't have an eye for such distinctions.
She was temped to open the largest box, in it was an exquisite gown that matched the heels, Klara saw that they both were made by the same fashion house. Klara let out a gasp, running her fingers gently over the silk fabric before untying her robe, removing her nightgown, and tried on the gown in front of her mirror.
The gown fit her perfectly, and the way it made her figure look made Klara's jaw drop. She feared she could get used to such a luxury. The long sleeves fit perfectly, her waist was cinched in, the floor length skirt ended in a small train, and the neckline put her cleavage on display. Klara didn't wear a lot of black anymore, not since her scene/emo phase during her teen years, the color looked severe on her pale skin.
"Holy shit, this is so sexy." Klara knew she was getting laid tomorrow night. She decided to wear nothing but a lace black thong underneath (and for no other reason than to keep the gown clean.)
Klara's girlish glee died off in an instant when she realized there were two very urgent questions she should have asked the moment she opened those gifts.
How did Viktor know her shoe size? How did Viktor not only know her dress size, but her measurements, seeing as the dress was clearly custom made?
Klara hurriedly removed the gown and hung it up in her closet before throwing her robe back on. She opened the remaining box in alarm. It was luxury chocolates. She took one and popped it in her mouth. One of her favorite flavors. She apprehensively popped another in her mouth, another flavor among her favorites.
As Klara's apprehension began to consume her, Viktor watched, smirking.
Viktor had her room bugged a week ago, but he hadn't taken a look until now. He couldn't hear her, but he could see her, enjoying the view of her in different states of undress. Her robe opened up to expose the ripe swell of her breast when she reached for a third chocolate before closing the box and tidying her room.
Viktor closed his laptop and sat back in his chair, picking up his cellphone to make a call. A man with a French accent answered.
"Your highness." The frenchman greeted him like an old friend. "How does your new flame like her dress?"
"Far less than I do. Excellent work, Archambault, as always, no other fashion house in Europe does so well with my short notice requests." Viktor praised the designer.
Richard Archambault was close friends with Viktor at Oxford, studying finance before dropping out and founding his luxury fashion house, his networking with Viktor being crucial to his success at the elite level, in the same strata as fashion houses hundreds of years old also frequented by the royals.
"Thank you, your highness."
"You can expect me to be back to my... more typical orders soon enough, I'll be generously gifting the slut some fine lingerie."
"I look forward to hearing from you when you do. I will make sure to keep my lace well-stocked, I would hate to not have enough to fit your new woman's tits." Viktor laughed at the comment.
"Oh, yes, that would be just awful, wouldn't it? Mmm, I suppose if you were to run out, you could use cow hair instead, she is an American girl from some backwater town in the Midwest, she'd probably feel at home in it."
"A small town American girl? Viktor, are the models not calling back anymore in your old age?"
"I have as much a pick of models as you do Parisian twinks. No, the slut is very pretty in a provincial sort of way." Viktor's voice softened when he spoke of her being pretty, almost feeling bad at the previous banter at Klara's expense. "Anyways, I must get going."
"Of course, I hope to hear from you soon, your highness."
Viktor hung up. The anticipation for tomorrow night had him energized. He would have a clear head for when he met with Adalind Schade in a week. Viktor was put in charge of making sure Eric's child would be born and kept in the castle. Viktor was actually rather excited at the prospect of having a baby around to lighten up the castle, he planned on being as involved as he possibly could. Whether the child was a boy or a girl mattered not, this was the closest he would ever get to being a father.