Josephine
The golden doors of our lift open and I watch Oliver push our aluminium suitcases from Rimowa into the hallway, into our home. The last week went by too quickly. We used the week to make up for the two week period of abstinence we had to keep because of the rape that happened. But God, did it feel good to be with my husband the way we should be. Being one with him gives me the greatest high. We even tried a few kinkier stuff, nothing major or world changing but it was the first time my husband dipped his toes into the deep waters of bondage and discipline, sadism and masochism.
And I think he liked it.
Because he saw how much I enjoyed it.
I follow him out of his hallway and stop across the oil painting that Ana gifted me to my 26th birthday. My eyes land on the platinum wedding ring with sapphire covered twists. My hand automatically goes to my left ring finger and I feel the three stoned engagement ring as well as the welsh golden wedding ring with diamond covered twists. Diamonds that belonged to my great grand mother. A sapphire so unique, that the sea foam colour is non-reproducible. Nature simply created this stone once, for my husband to use... and for me to wear until my last breath.
"Do you want me to hang it down?" My husband asks me.
I shake my head, "It was a perfect day."
"But it reminds you of the loss of your ring."
"It's just a ring. I've got you and our baby, that's all that matters. Besides, I like the new ones more anyway." I tell him before walking into the master bedroom. I haven't been able to sleep on the plane because I felt so sick. It's called morning sickness, but it lasts all day. It feels like being hung over or very, very car sick. Funny, I didn't feel sick on Sapphire. I sailed a yacht and felt fine but as soon as the plane took off, I got the worst morning sickness. It was the kind of nausea that you get when you know you're about to throw up, but you don't. You have you stay in this state of emotions for hours... I couldn't eat anything, I couldn't move... all I wanted was to get home. And when we had some turbulences, that's when I started to vomit like there's no tomorrow.
It wasn't a very pleasant flight home to say the least.
But it makes sense because my body is going a lot of work behind the scenes. I'm literally producing a baby.
I step into the tidy master bedroom and stare at that perfectly made bed. The white bedding, the fluffy different sized pillows and this blanket... what would I do to be able to just lay in there and sleep for hours. But I can't because we have a meeting with the King this morning.
"Do you want me to cancel the meeting?" My husband asks me as he starts rolling the suitcases into our walk-in wardrobe.
"No, we can't. It was the only appointment left this year. The King asked for this meeting to be held. You don't say no to the King. We have to attend." I breathe out before turning around and looking at him.
"Well then maybe I can run you a bath." Oliver suggests before rolling the last suitcase into our walk-in wardrobe.
"That's really nice of you, but-"
"I'm running you bath, Tesoro." He shuts me up. "And you will lay in there - even if it's just thirty minutes - close your eyes and relax while I'm going to unpack our suitcases."
I sigh, "Okay. But we need to leave in two hours." I remind him.
He nods, "I know." He kisses me softly before walking into the en-suite bathroom. I can hear how the water starts filling our bathtub. "Do you want any scent?"
I stare at the marbled mantelpiece above our open fireplace. I've taken so many photos in the last week. We should frame a few and place them here.
I follow him into the white marbled bathroom and watch him stand across the freestanding white bathtub that's in front of the glass front. There's a range of bubble baths, bath bombs, bath salts and candles on a tray next to the tub. It's an excessive collection but I love taking baths, especially with my husband.
My husband looks over my shoulder, "Or do you feel too nauseous to deal with any scent?"
"Perhaps just sea and epson salt." I tell him and he nods before opening two big jars and pouring the salts into the running water. "Thank you."
He swirls the water with his hand before walking over to me. "Do you want to eat something? Can your tummy handle food again?"
I nod as I've been feeling much better since we touched the ground again.
"Okay, what do you want?"
"Any chance you could do Ricciarelli?" I ask him as the craving for these dense, chewy almond cookies from Siena, Italy pop up in my mind. They are a much less fussy Italian cousin to the French macaron - perfect with tea or coffee! I haven't eaten them in forever. I think the last time I ate them was before Rory gave birth to her triplets.
My husband chuckles, "Yes of course I can make you some Ricciarelli. But perhaps you should eat something more substantial. You haven't eaten in over ten hours."
"We've had a good dinner before taking off." I remind him.
"Which you vomited out of you during the ten hours flight." My husband narrows his emerald green eyes at me. "Is there anything else you want to eat?"
I think for a moment. "Perhaps a butternut squash soup. Oh and pickled gherkins!"
"Okay. I'll order those from the restaurant downstairs." He says as I watch how the bathtub fills.
"You're the best husband in the world." I whisper to him before kissing him softly.
"I just want you to be as comfortable as possible. And I want you to eat."
I chuckle, "I'll eat those Ricciarelli." I promise him.
"And the soup. And the pickled gherkins." He insists.
I nod, "Those as well." I promise him.
He fondles my left cheek, "Do you need anything else?"
I shake my head, "No, I'm good."
"Okay. I'm going to start on the Ricciarelli." My husband turns on his heel but stops before turning around. "You... just try to relax, okay?"
I smile, "I promise."
"And if you do need anything I'm here for you."
I really do have the best husband in the world. Having this grateful thought makes my throat tight and my eyes well up with tears.
"Oh, Tesoro, don't cry!" He wraps his arms around me a moment after realising what's happening with me.
I return his embrace and bury my nose in the nape of his neck. "This was the worst flight of my life!" I mumble as tears roll down my cheeks. "I mean, I expected this pregnancy to be hard but not... not like this."
He rubs circles on my back like my Mum used to do when I was sad. "I know..." with his hand he turns off the water. "Just try to relax for a while, okay? Leave the rest to me."
I nod before letting go of him. "Okay."
He wipes the tears away with his thumbs. "I'll make you the best Ricciarelli you ever had. I know Luigi's recipe inside out. I know all his secrets."
His words make me smile as I watch him leave the bathroom. I slowly get out of my cashmere joggers, socks and panties. My boobs have gotten very sensitive over the last week. I've always enjoyed nipple play, I enjoy the sensation that rushes through my system when my husband twists, squeezes and pulls on them. But that however has changed in the last days. Drastically. My nipple are so incredibly sore - not from my husband's doing sadly. There have been days when anything was too much for my nipples. The silk of my bra, the water of the shower head, even the air touching my nipples was too much! Sometimes it feels like someone is sticking pins into my nipples. It's a shooting pain that's nowhere near erotic.
Even the cashmere of my sweater brought me pain during the flight home. So hopefully this hot bath will ease the pain a little.
I pull the sweater over my head and feel how my nipples harden as air touches them. They turn into diamonds immediately. I climb into the bathtub and lay down. The warm water feels so good! I can feel how my muscles and especially my nipples calm down.
Oliver
I get the second tray of freshly baked Ricciarelli out of the oven and place it on the island. I made a double batch because if I've noticed one thing in the last week than it's that when my wife has a craving of any kind she'll eat a lot of it.
But craving sweet biscuits is a new thing I have to add to my list. So far, there is maracuya, kiwis, Lindt chocolate with sea salt, mustard in combination with peanut butter - one spoon each mixed - and my Mama's pastel de queijos in every thinkable variation.
The doors of the lift open and I can hear how the waiter from the restaurant downstairs pushes the cart down the hallway. "Your food has arrived, Mr. Bolton."
I turn around and see the brunette woman across me. The cart is entirely made of silver and full of plates that are covered with lids. "Thank you so much."
The woman with warm brown eyes smiles at me. "A butternut squash soup, pickled gherkins, maracuya and strawberry jam and a veggie omelette." She explains while pointing at the different silver lids. "Enjoy."
I smile at her, "We will."
She nods before walking back to the lift. I can hear how the doors open and close. It's still unfamiliar for me to have someone else cook for me; let alone the fact that I'm living in the penthouse at Landmark Place. Landmark Place is basically a seven star hotel. Everything feels like a dream sometimes. Just like last week.
But then I wake up and look at my wife. My pregnant wife. My family.
This isn't a dream. It's real. It's my life.
I turn around and get the powdered sugar out of a cupboard before grabbing a sieve. Then I start coating the Italian biscuits with a layer of powdered sugar.
I decide to let them fully cool down and check on my wife. She's been in that bathtub for almost an hour now. The flight home was one of the hardest of my life. Seeing her so sick, watching her vomiting even though her stomach was already empty was scary. She couldn't eat, barely drank anything and couldn't even sleep. She was so restless, so miserable that my heart bled for her. Ten hours of pure torture for both of us. I felt so helpless.
Baking Ricciarelli makes me feel much less helpless.
When I reach the en-suite bathroom, my wife is already rubbing coconut oil into her dark tanned body in a circular motion. She's put her left leg on the round leathered ottoman. The jar of coconut oil is next to her foot. There's a white turban on her head with her wet curls in it. Her light blue bathrobe is draped over the ottoman as well. Her engagement ring and wedding ring are sparkling. Her whole body is glowing, not because her skin got kissed by the sun over the last week or she's massaging coconut oil into it, but because she's carrying my baby.
She looks so gorgeous.
My dick awakes in record time. For minutes, I just stare at her. I love watching her move, the way she scoops coconut oil out of the jar and massages it into her skin so throughly. It's mesmerising to watch.
Josephine looks over her shoulder and our eyes meet.
She takes my breath away so easily. "A-are you feeling better?"
She nods, "Much better."
"I'm glad. You definitely look better."
She picks up the bathrobe and wraps it around her body that's still soaking up the coconut oil. I watch her closing the jar, putting it back in it's place, right next to the bath oils and salts. Then she walks over to me and kisses me passionately.
She does feel better. Much better.
Her hands go to my ass and she pushes me closer to her until my erection digs into her stomach. "I would normally get down on my knees and take care of it but I'm starving." She whispers into my ear before kissing it and letting go of my ass.
"Good because there's a soup, pickled gherkins and Ricciarelli waiting for you."
The smile that washes over her face is priceless. "I love you so bloody much, Oliver."
She has no idea how deep my love for her goes. No bloody idea.
Josephine
I dip the Ricciarelli into the butternut squash soup before biting into it and into the pickled gherkin.
"How the hell can you eat that?" My husband asks me with a slightly disgusted look on his face.
"It's really not that bad. It's salty, sweet and rich in flavour."
"You're eating dessert, lunch and a snack all at the same time."
I shrug in response as my husband slices into his omelette. "Is your omelette good?"
He nods, "Not the tiniest bit sweet." He mocks me.
I chuckle, "You better get used to seeing me eat foods in a strange combination. I think that's part of the state you put me in."
"The state I put you in? You mean the pregnancy? As far as I'm concerned it takes two for that tango, Tesoro."
"It's a shame we're such good dancers then." I joke and smirk.
He returns my smile before grabbing my left hand and squeezing it softly. "I can't wait to hear footsteps running around."
"Well whosever footsteps it's going to be, those footsteps won't be echoing through these walls." I remind him. "We have to move out of here and into the Home Park of Hampton Court Palace."
"I'm excited to move."
"Me, too." I say with a smirk on my face. "These Ricciarelli are really good by the way."
"I'm glad you like them. What's going to happen today?"
I shrug, "I think we're going to take our official portraits, maybe have a wardrobe discussion with a stylist... that sort of thing."
"So we're going to decide on the look of our brand today?"
I lean back on my chair, "No. We're not a brand and we never will be. Harry and Meghan, they tried to be a brand and as such become more known as the King himself. And they got burned - big time. You never ever try to take the spotlight of the King. We have supporting roles, we're not the main attraction. We never will be. Our place is behind everyone else. We're at the end of the line of the throne. And we have to behave as such." I explain to him. "What we're going to do today is figure out how we can fulfil our new roles and create as little drama as possible. Our focus is the Commonwealth and the head of it. The King is whom we serve. It's the King that's in control."
"You're not of royal blood, but you have more sense of royalty than some royals."
I lick my lips, "Not every royal family is the same. The Swedish are very open, the British very strict. The Monegasque is very secretive and the Spanish very traditional. The Norwegian are very very humble and the Danish very hearty. But what they all have in common is that they love their people from the depth of their heart. Every royal family is a very tightly woven net, a very good oiled machine. A firm. But they're also family and that means drama is always going to happen. Basically, the royals are like a very posh reality tv if the drama gets out of hand, with the stars wearing crowns and tiaras."
My husband chuckles, "So, we're joining a reality tv show?"
"And we're going to be the most hated family members yet."
Oliver
Josephine and I walk into one of the big conference rooms at Clarence House after the doors get open by staff in a red uniform. To our surprise we're faced with Nate, Char, Rory and George.
The King didn't ask for this meeting just to see us. He's got bigger plans.
"Oh, no not again! What have you done now?!" My wife hisses at them.
"We're just as clueless as you. For once." Nate hisses back at her just before the doors open again and His Majesty walks in.
"Ah, you're all here. Take a seat. I have some announcements to make." He says before pointing at the red velvet chairs around the big mahogany desk. "First of all, I want to start by saying the next year is going to be full of changes. Number one is obviously Josephine and Oliver joining us as the Duke and Duchess of Clarence. Secondly and with great sadness, I have come to some decisions in regards of these new additions."
I frown. What's he saying?
The King's eyes looks from Rory and George to Charlotte and Nate. "I am very disappointed in all of you. This is not how family or the firm works! You don't throw one of yours into the ring!"
"Grandpa-" Charlotte shuts her mouth the moment he looks at her. It's clear she's not talking to her grandpa here, but His Majesty The King.
"I have taken my time to consider your punishments."
Punishments? He's punishing them? I thought Char had played him and now he's turning tables on all of them.
"I'll start with the heir family." He says before looking at George and Rory. "As the future of the monarchy, I expected more from you. More protection. More courage. More! This is not how a future King and his Queen behave! So until you've learned your lesson, you will live in South Africa."
He's freaking exiling them?!
"What?!" George asks him shocked. "We can't leave! We have a foundation, patronages, we made plans-"
"We have our daughters here!" Rory says in total shock.
"The girls will come with you. You will live on Mauritius for the next semester. Then you will teach at Oxford Med school as honourable professors. No Royal tour. No royal engagements. No foundation. I'm putting Oxford Royal on a year long break."
"You can't do that. You can't take everything we've built away from us!"
"I can and I have. Your plane leaves after the Christmas Morning Walk. You'll come home for big family occasions but other than that you'll stay there and think about what you did. You can't behave yourself like children with a crown on your head!" The King hisses at them.
"But half a year?" George asks him.
"That's not all. I've decided to bring all royal foundations together. From now on Oxford Royal will be under the umbrella of The Royal Foundations."
"We have to work under Mum and Dad?" George asks the King.
"No. Their foundation will remain but it will be renamed. The Royal Foundation of The Prince and Princess of Wales will be changed into The Wales' Trust."
"Why?" Rory asks him.
"Because I said so. You're dismissed." The King simply says. The conversation is closed.
Without another word, Rory and George get up from the chairs and leave the room.
The King waits until the door is closed before looked at Nate and Charlotte. They look like scared bunnies by now. "And that brings me to you two. Out of everything you could have done, you chose the wrongest of all. Finding your punishment was the hardest. Exiling you like the Oxfords was no option."
Charlotte gulps, "Grandpa,"
"I'm not taking away your titles because that would ruin my plan. Instead, the two of you will work closely with my sister Anne. I think she could teach you the backbone you don't seem to have as well as dignity, courage and how to use your bloody brains!" The King yells at them so loudly that we all wince. "You're going to work with Anne and you will move from Adelaide Cottage to the stables at Hampton Court Palace. If you want to renovate the stables and make it a home you will have to pay for it yourself. Your funding has been officially cut off. Your security is still covered by the Sovereign Grant but that's all you're going to get from me. Everything else will have to be paid privately from now on."
Nate and Charlotte don't even look shocked.
"What about our Royal tour?"
"I promised you a tour, Charlotte, but I never said when." Charles tells her. "You're stepping back from all official engagements for the foreseeable future except for family appearances. Your Royal tour will take place in two years the earliest and it will be through South Asia. One week. 40 engagements."
I remember Josephine told me that a royal tour after a wedding is usually Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific. It's been the go-to for the last hundred years. But that doesn't seem to imply to Charlotte and Nate.
I look at Josephine who keeps a straight face. I'm not sure she likes that for revenge now. She wanted revenge but this seems a little harsh. Even in Josephine's eyes.
But she keeps her mouth shut.
"You will work in the Wales' Trust from now on. Expect another meeting about it in a week. The Invictus Games are put on ice. Everything can be reversed when you proved to be worthy of the responsibility."
Charlotte and Nate nods.
"That's all. You are dismissed." He says to his granddaughter and my brother-in-law. They leave the room the same way as Rory and George before them. "And now, on to you."
I don't know why but I start feeling unease.
But then the King smiles and I relax. "You're having a meeting with my private secretary and my wife's personal shopper. It's time for you to choose a colour palette, designers and all sorts of clothes for the upcoming family events. After you've done that, you're booked in for a makeover. You need a new haircut and perfect skin for a photo shoot with my favourite photographer. It's time to take your first official portraits. They will be used on your website, Instagram and the royal family's website. We'll do different outfits and different backgrounds. Expect this to be a very long day."
"If you ordered us here to tell us that, why did you have us witness the things you're doing to them?" I ask him surprised.
Josephine squeezes my hand and shakes her head softly. I guess you don't ask the King something like that.
"Because I'm aware what they wanted to do with me and I had to show them their boundaries. Their punishment is very lightly by all means and by letting you witness it, you also now know that you better not get me angry. I gave you the titles, the privileges and the jobs at the Commonwealth Trust. I can take that all away from you. You're working to support me, not to damage me. My grandchildren and their spouses tried to play me and no one plays the King. Remember that." He says before rising from his chair. "Enjoy this day. I expect some very nice photos." With that he leaves us alone.
Josephine watches how the big white double doors shut before she exhales.
"What just happened?"
"The King started to show his teeth to scare them off and it worked."
"But sending Rory and George to Mauritius is wrong! They're the heir family! They should stay in London!" I complain before frowning at my own words. Did I just put the crown, the royal duties, above my own? Jesus, I'm really starting to think like a royal! Like the Duke I will be.
"There's nothing you can do about it."
"Hell yes there is. We can volunteer and go to Mauritius instead." I say with a shrug. "Our home on the grounds of Hampton Court Palace is not done yet anyway. We could lay low wherever. I've never been to Mauritius but I'm sure it's nice."
Josephine looks at me like I have three heads, "Wait, so first you're scared as hell that the King might exile you, your Mum and brothers if we don't take the titles, than when we do take the titles you want to live on a completely different country anyway?!" She asks me shocked.
"Not forever. Just until our home is ready to be moved into. Let's face it, when the news hit the world on January the first, the media is going to chase us relentlessly. We might as well live in some tropical place while our home gets built because I'd rather be surrounded by the beach and the warm sun than hide in our penthouse in the winter." I explain my decision.
"And what about your Mum and brothers? They can't come with us."
"They can stay with us until the Christmas break is over. I'm sure they've missed the sun as well. Winter in London is quiet brutal compared to Rio. And as Mauritius is a Commonwealth country, we can start with our work there."
My wife lets my words sink in and thinks for a moment, "I don't know..."
"Why not? 12 weeks in some tropical place sounds very nice to me. Better than this miserable weather here."
She sighs, "Okay. We'll talk to the King after our photo shoot today. He's going to want to see the results anyway so we might as well ask him then."
I smile, "Good. I'm excited."
"Don't get overly excited. The King doesn't like to change his mind. Especially if this was meant to be a punishment."
Josephine
A staff opens the big white wooden double doors and I walk into the white drawing room of Clarence House. There are ten racks full of clothes in the room, along with islands of colour coordinated shoes in all styles. Hats in all sizes, colours and shapes are laying on long mahogany tables that stand in front of the transom window wall. The white drawing room is so stuffed with clothes, that the beauty of the golden embellished walls, the paintings and the beautiful wooden floor can't even be admired anymore.
Wow, His Majesty wasn't kidding when he said we would need a makeover.
The small slim lady in a black Hermes skirt and blazer combination turns around. She's wearing ten inch heels, but that still doesn't boost her height a lot. She's barely reaching my shoulders - and I am not wearing stilettos. "Your Royal Highness," her lips stretch into a wonderful smile before she performs a deep curtsy. How she does that in those heels is a mystery to me.
I put on a brave face and shake her hand, "Very nice to meet you. I see you have already brought a small collection of outfits."
The woman with fire red hair smiles, "A very small collection. My name is Clementine. Today's about finding an outfit for your first official portraits as well as a collection for your royal duties."
"Well, then maybe we should wait for my husband to arrive so we can colour coordinate the outfits." I answer as I look around. These are all clothes for women. Where are the clothes for men?
"No need. His outfit will be a classic navy suit with a matching tie." Clementine says. "Black suit with a hat for Ascot of course. Harold will dress your husband next door."
I nod, "Okay, what are the choices you brought me?"
"We have a little bit of everything. From my online research I couldn't find you in a lot of... appropriate clothes for a royal."
I lick my lips. I don't tend to wear lots of dresses with a hemline below the knees. "I suggest we focus on the photo shoot today and then meet again for future occasions."
"But His Majesty-"
"Clementine, I can't choose what I'll be wearing in three or four months now." I explain to her without dropping the pregnancy bomb.
The green eyes of the red haired woman widen, "Oh, of course! Yes, no problem. But we can settle on designers and a colour plate. Given your wonderful blue eyes, I'd say we should go with an icy blue for the first few years. The Duchess of Oxford's colour is pink, where as the Duchess of Windsor prefers a sunny yellow and The Princess of Wales has obviously been given a royal blue. I'd say we should stay away from purple all together. The same goes for baby pink, a royal blue and a sunny yellow. We could try green as well. You know, the former Duchess of Sussex wanted emerald green to become her signature colour, but the late Queen Elizabeth II didn't let her." She giggles as she gives me the inside palace gossip, "But Queen Camilla said you're free to choose any colour of your liking."
"I don't wear a lot of green." I admit.
"Well it's all about the shade of green. A khaki tone would look awful with your skin complexion, but a deep emerald green or a light cool sage green would look breathtaking. I've got a perfect Chanel dress in that sage green." Before I can respond she twirls around and rushes over to one of the clothing ranks. "We could also go with a light grey as your colour. That would look great with your engagement and wedding rings. It creates a pretty contrast and would really drag the focus to your rings rather than your outfit."
A grey mouse. I'd be a grey mouse for the first years of being part of the Firm. That way I'd stay in the background as much as possible. "How about neutral colours? Nude tones or maybe a really bold red."
Clementine stops pushing the clothing hangers and looks at me. "No red. It would immediately draw the association to red-light districts. You have to stay away from red for five years at least." She warns me.
That's something I will definitely avoid. I nod, "Good."
She sighs, "It's a beautiful colour. Especially scarlet red but given your special position it could create discomfort and judgment very easily. Maybe at a state banquet when you visit a Commonwealth country, if it's part of the nation's flag. Then, and only then, it would be appropriate. But not on special events like Trooping the colour or Ascot."
"I understand. We'll go with green then."
"We could also try beige or camel but I think that would look too neutral for the official portraits. It would be obvious that you're trying to stay in the background. And we obviously can't go with ivory as you're no bride to be."
"Could we try a sea blue?" I ask as I look at my engagement ring.
She nods with a genuine smile on her lips, "We certainly can, Your Royal Highness. Do you like Chanel?"
I nod, "I prefer French designers over Italian actually. But I also like British designers."
"Perfect. Like your sister! I brought a selection of designers. We have Givenchy, Hermes, Chanel, Dior as French designers. Then of course a range of British like Catherine Walker, Mulberry, Jenny Packham, Philipa Lepley, Alexander McQueen, Burberry, Temperley London, L.K. Bennett, Emilia Wickstead and Reiss. In addition we have designers from the commonwealth countries like Erdem from Canada, Zimmerman from Australia and Beulah from India."
Ethical fashion label Beulah use a portion of their profits to help victims of India's sex trafficking trade. "I don't want to wear fast fashion brands. I don't want to be associated with child labour and exploitation of labour. So no Zara, HM, Asos, Topshop..." I explain. I might be dubbed as the Duchess of Excess, but I don't care. It's better than being dubbed as the Duchess of Child Labour or worse. I don't want to give the press too much to bite on. They're going to tear me apart, from what I wear to how I smile. It's going to be a tough few years, so I have to consider every single step at least three times before taking it.
Clementine nods, "Club Monaco and are okay?"
Club Monaco is part of the Ralph Lauren Corporation. RLC agreed to not use any child labour in the 20 brands they own, so I think Club Monaco is a safe option. is known as a favourite store of former US First Lady Michelle Obama. Founded in 1983, the American brand offers preppy and colourful staples for women, men and children. donates its unsold items to Good360, a nonprofit organisation that distributes items to community service groups that are improving the lives of people in need. However the brand has few environmental practices set in place in its production line. It doesn't use eco-friendly materials, provides no evidence that it has a greenhouse gas emissions reduction target, or that it is taking adequate steps to minimise or eliminate hazardous chemicals. It has no policies or initiatives on water usage and wastewater management in supply chain and doesn't specifically states how it minimises non-textile waste. What's more it doesn't have adequate policies and initiatives for resources management and disposal. A pretty dirty result from a brand with such a clean image! On the labour front, sources its final stage of production from countries with extreme risk of labour abuse. Although it has agreed to the Uzbek Cotton Pledge and is a member of Business for Social Responsibility and Fair Factories Clearinghouse, it doesn't share a complete lists of suppliers and there is no evidence it provides a living wage. Although it doesn't use exotic animal hair, skin or karakul, the brand does use wool, leather, angora and down feathers without stating their origins. It just needs a few journalists to do some research to find that out, associate it with what I'm wearing and plaster the streets with the matching headlines. Duchess of Child Labour, Duchess of Animal murder - the headlines would be brutal. Absolutely brutal.
But at the same time I cannot go out naked. Lots of brands do horrible things behind the scenes and I know the journalists will dig any information out to ruin my outfit, my appearance, my image... my role within the Firm.
I nod, "No to but yes to Club Monaco."
"Do you have a designer in mind for your first official portraits?"
I think for a moment, "I love Chanel but I don't think that would send the right message. It would lead to a comparison with my sister. I think we should have a look at the designers from the commonwealth countries and choose a selection. Mix and match different designers from different nations..."
"To create a look from the commonwealth? I think that's a very wise choice, perhaps it would be good to always stick to commonwealth designers rather than the obvious choices. Because knowing your sister's history, you will create a massive boost to the economy. It's important to think about what you're wearing because your choice of clothes and accessories have an instant effect on the designers and the economy."
Just my thoughts. "I think we should go with a dress by Beulah. I really like their work ethic. We can mix and match it with... I don't know, maybe this Amanda Walker coat, a nude pair of Club Monaco shoes and some jewels from Africa or something?" I ask with a shrug.
Clementine nods before picking up the tight cut cream coloured Amanda Walker coat from one of the hangers. She lays it on a free spot on one of the long mahogany tables. "How about this dress from Beulah?" She holds up a sage green dress that has long sleeves with silk covered buttons and a beautiful v cut neckline. It's flowy enough to hide a bump if I had one.
I nod, "Looks good."
"And with that goes a headpiece from Piera Ntayomba from Rwanda..." she mumbles before picking up a sage green headpiece with a net and big flowers. "And to finish it off cream coloured heels from Zimmerman."
I nod as I look at the outfit she just easily out together, "That looks very lovely."
"Good, then we have your outfit for the Commonwealth Service."
What?! "But I'm-"
"The chiffon dress will hide your bump if you wish. If you want to emphasise it by then, than you can wear the tailored Amanda Walker coat closed. But I can't have you wear that on your first official portraits. It has to be more fitted and elegant." Clementine explains to me. "While you still can wear fitted clothes."
I decide to give up with my protest and instead give into her style advice, "What do you suggest?"
"We should go with a dress by Jenny Packham like your sister wore on her engagement announcement. It's not custom made but I can ask the designer to contribute maybe 10% of the sales to a charitable organisation."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, "20% and I'm wearing it."
Clementine nods, "20 %. I suggest we go with something that has no pattern. A tight fitted dress with a classic v-cut neckline. Or perhaps a boat cut neckline if you prefer. Icy blue." The French woman picks up a dress with a boat cut neckline in an icy blue colour. The hemline is just above the knees."That's perfect!"
I must admit the dress looks very pretty. It has short sleeves and it's made from a white crepe fabric that has an icy blue silk fabric overlaying it. It's interesting. Unique.
I like it. "It's a very good choice. I like the dress."
"It's also a perfect contrast with the gold of your wedding and engagement ring. The icy blue looks lovely against the sea foam colour of the sapphire stone in your engagement ring."
I hold up my hand. I didn't even notice that but now that I look at the contrast of the icy blue and the warm yellow gold, I must admit it does look good. Maybe that should be my strategy from now on. Contrast. "You're absolutely right."
"I've been doing this job for over 30 years now, I definitely know what I'm doing." Clementine ensures me. "Clothes can send all sorts of message. People can hide a pregnancy with them but also start rumours of a pregnancy with them. They can stand for child labour as much as they can stand for fighting child labour. They can symbolise unity, but also separation. It's all about combining, about understanding the deeper message and acting accordingly."
I smile at the red haired lady, "Can I hire you as my personal shopper as well?"
Clementine smirks, "From my understanding, you will only be attending a handful of engagements. I think I can spare some time to pick out some outfits for you."
I like her! I really, really do! I smile at her with a deeper understanding, "Thank you."
"Alright and now we have to find proper shoes and jewels!" Clementine says before looking at the zillion shoes in front of us. "And then it's time for your hair and makeup team to arrive."
"Any chance we could squeeze in a haircut?"
"A haircut?" Clementine asks me with raised eyebrows. "How short are you planning to go?"
"Shoulder length."
She nods, "Good to know. We have to keep that in mind when we start choosing the jewellery."
"Actually, I'd like to keep my necklace on. It was a wedding gift from my father." I inform her as I pull out the yellow golden half moon shaped pendant that's covered in diamonds on one side. I love this necklace so much, that I haven't gotten myself to take it off yet. Honestly, it might become my signature necklace.
Clementine nods, "We can pair that with Annoushka's pearl drop earrings. The hoops are also in yellow gold. A British designer would be really good."
Annoushka's pearl drop earrings are a go-to for Catherine, The Princess of Wales. Rory and Char wear the same earrings as well, so I guess I'll be joining the team. They're lovely earrings and fit to any occasion and style.
The redhead looks at my fingernails. "We won't do more rings or a bracelet, but you definitely need a pedi- and manicure." She decides before looking up again. "And a hairdresser. He can cut your hair after you've had for facial."
It's time to turn me into a royal.
Oliver
I get into the custom made navy jacket of the suit before looking at myself in the mirror. Armani has rarely looked better on me. The navy is a great contrast to my emerald coloured eyes. With my new haircut, a freshly shaved chin and some magical moisturiser I look just as good on my wedding day.
"You look very handsome Sir." Harold, one of the King's private stylist, says to me.
I have to agree with him. "Where are we going to take the official portraits?" I ask. This whole room is filled with shoes, clothes and accessories for men - for me. It looks like a boutique but it's really just a fraction of clothes that have been specially selected, some even custom made, for me. It's crazy how much goes into choosing an outfit. It was already hard for me but I can't even imagine how hard it's for my wife.
"The white drawing room and then some in the sunroom. You'll have to change into something more casual for the photos in the sunroom."
"Two outfits?"
"Yes. It's very common for official portraits to be both formal and causal. We like to have a variety for different occasions. It's going to be a long day."
I nod although I have no idea what he's talking about.
"I think you're ready to go, Your Royal Highness." Harold smooths a wrinkle on my left shoulder. "You look impeccable. Those will be very nice photos."
"Thank you." I say before turning around and walking to the floor to ceiling double doors. "Which way?" I ask just before the doors suddenly open on their own. Another man, three or four decades older than me, stands across me. With a straight back, broad shoulders and a neatly groomed beard, the white haired man looks impeccable as well. There are big round glasses sitting on the wide bridge of his nose. He has beautiful clear blue eyes. "Your Royal Highness, my name is Arnold. I'll escort you to the white drawing room." He introduces himself before shaking my hand.
"My wife-"
"Her Royal Highness will join us very shortly. His Majesty asked me to start with your portraits first."
I nod before following him down the long narrow hallway. Clarence House is still a maze to me. There are so many rooms that are connected to other rooms, some a secret others an office. I have no idea where His Majesty's private rooms are and frankly I'm not keen to find out. Knowing so many people, millions, have walked through these walls, took photos of every spot is unsettling.
Eventually, we stop at big golden double doors. Two staff members in red uniforms open the doors for us. Arnold steps inside and I follow him. It's a beautiful room with hard wood floors, cream coloured walls that have a silk floral pattern on them and gold panels. There's an antique marble fireplace and a few oil paintings of former King and Queens. A row of white transom windows let in lots of natural light. It's a huge space.
My eyes stop at the setup for our photo shoot. There are huge bright lights, a camera stand and a few assistants.
"This is Miss Annie Leibovitz. She'll be taking your official portraits." Arnold explains and I strike out to shake her hand but she performs a curtsy before taking my hand.
Right. That curtsy-thing is something I have to get used to.
"Very nice to meet you." I smile as I shake her slim hand.
"I feel very honoured to be chosen as your photographer."
I smile, "I hope I'm going to be a decent model. I've never stood in front of the camera so you're going to have to give me directions."
Annie giggles, "Don't worry. I'm known for taking very natural photos."
"I'll get your wife, Your Royal Highness." Arnold informs me before leaving Annie, me and her team alone.
"Allow me to introduce you to my team today." Annie says and I follow her to the setup. "This is Chloe, she's responsible for the light. And that's Sandra."
I smile at the two women and shake their hands. After they curtsied of course.
"Your place would be here. We'll take a few with His Majesty and a few without." Annie points at the space in front of the camera. It's set up in front of an oil painting of His Majesty. He's wearing a big crown on his head. The place was not chosen by accident.
I stand in front of the painting and look at the camera across me. The square and round shaped lights are bright. Sandra is holding a big silver plate.
Suddenly, flashlights appear as Annie takes a photo.
"Maybe a smile?"
I smile into the camera but wince as the flashlights appear again. It feels so strange to be standing in front of the camera. I'm used to seeing my wife behind the lens but not... not this. It's so sterile, so... so foreign.
Another flash appears before I know what's happening.
"How about some music?" Annie suggests.
I nod, "I'm sorry, I just.. this is very new."
Sandra puts on pop music that echoes through the room. It's trendy music, I assume but that doesn't appeal to me at all. I can't identify with this kind of music. It makes me even stiffer.
"Move a little. Wiggle your hand and feet. Make yourself comfortable." Annie tells me.
I do as I'm told because I have no idea what else to do. Maybe this isn't for me. Perhaps Josephine and I got ahead of ourselves. Maybe this isn't meant to be. It's not too late to call it quits, right?
Suddenly the doors swing open again and I watch my wife strutting in. As soon as I lay eyes on her, everything around me vanishes. She looks so gorgeous in that icy blue dress. It has short sleeves and stops right above her knees. The colour looks stunning against her dark tanned skin. She's wearing the yellow golden necklace that her father gifted her on French Cay. It looks lovely against the icy blue colour of the dress. And her hair!
"You cut your hair!" I breathe out in shock.
"Yes! What do you think?" My wife stops next to Annie and twirls around. Her chestnut curls have been shortened to shoulder length. They're styled in big glossy waves. It looks lovely with that bright smile on her light pink coloured lips. She's also wearing pearl drop earrings. They suit her very well.
"It's gorgeous! I love the length!"
Her sky blue eyes dance down my body, "You've cleaned up very nicely as well." She gives the compliment back in her own way.
"Yeah but that doesn't really come across on camera."
Suddenly the music starts filling my ears again and I am aware of where I am and my surroundings again. "This is-"
"Annie Leibovitz, what a pleasure to be working with you." Josephine looks at Annie and shakes her hand after Annie performed a curtsy. "I've been admiring your for years! I love the photo series you did with Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at Windsor Castle 2007."
Annie smiles at her, "That was a long time ago. I've been working with the Royal Family ever since that job."
"I hope our photos will turn out just as fabulous." Josephine smiles before giving her hand to Sandra and Chloe.
"I'm not sure about that. I think I'm doing a terrible job." I admit.
My wife smiles at me, "Let's change the music to something Latin American. Salsa, Samba... something with more fire."
Annie nods, "Of course."
Sandra changes the music and I start feeling at ease right away.
"You're feeling better already." She notices with a soft smile. "And now just ignore everything else and focus on me. Just like when we're alone and I take photos of you."
"You're a photographer, Your Royal Highness?" Annie asks.
My wife blushes, "No-"
"She's a brilliant photographer! She has such an eye for detail. Her photos are amazing!" I wince as suddenly another flashlight appears. "I organised her a vernissage a few weeks ago."
"Keep talking. That's how you relax." Annie says before continuing to take photos of me. "What's your favourite?"
I think for a moment and can feel how my lips stretch into a smile. "One of the Northern Lights."
"You saw Northern Lights? I hear they're beautiful."
"Oh yes they are! We saw them last year in Finland. It was so cold but also very, very magical." I keep talking as Annie takes the photos. I have no clue how these are going to turn out.
"Okay, I think we've got some very nice photos." Annie says before my wife has a look of them.
A proud smile appears on her lips. "Oh, yes! Those are very nice!"
"Good. Then it's your turn." Annie smiles at my wife.
I watch how my wife walks over to me and I can't move or breathe for a moment. She's so stunning. Before I know what I'm doing, my arms wrap around her waist and I pull her closer to me. When our lips brush against each other and I inhale her scent, nothing else matters. I touch her right cheek and feel how she places her hand on mine.
I wince as a flashlight appears again.
"That's for your private photo album." Annie promises us.
After another moment, I let go of my wife and walk over to Annie.
"Ready?"
My wife nods and turns into a supermodel in the blink of an eye. I watch her pose, smile with her whole body or just her eyes. It looks so natural. She is so bloody good!
I could watch her the whole day.
Josephine
"You'd do that for us?" My sister asks me with wide eyes. We're in one of the waiting rooms at Clarence House. His Majesty is currently in a meeting but he has agreed to see us again although it's already past seven in the evening.
I nod. "You're my sister. Of course I'd do it. And as Oliver explained it would be more logical for us to go to Mauritius instead of you guys." I am dog tired after this day, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for my sister. She doesn't deserve this treatment.
"Grandpa won't allow that. Convincing him is very tough." George mumbles.
"We'll give it our best." Oliver promises them.
"I like the new haircut." My sister says with a smile. "It suits you."
I smile and brush through the short waves that now only reach my collar bone, "I do, too. I've donated the rest of my hair to make a wig for cancer patients."
Suddenly the big brown double doors swing open, "His Majesty is now ready to see you." One of the staff members in a red uniform says to us.
Oliver and I nod before we walk in. We've requested the meeting to be without Rory and George. Otherwise this won't work.
His Majesty is sitting at his huge mahogany desk, that's covered in paperwork. "I haven't had a chance to look at the photos yet but I imagine they turned out good." Charles greets us in his own way.
"We came in to make a suggestion, You Majesty." Oliver starts.
"We want to stay on Mauritius instead of the heir family." I tell him. "Chestnut House won't be ready until early March and we could do work in the name of the Commonwealth there." I explain our decision.
"You want me to take their punishment away from them?" The King asks with wide eyes.
"I'm just suggesting it would be more logical for us to stay abroad. The heir family needs to be seen. They need to connect with the people and have engagements. We agreed that we wanted to stay in the background and Mauritius would be a great start. We could help the nation and maybe another country close by." I explain to him.
"You want to hit the ground running." The King thinks out loud.
"No, we very much want to learn and flourish in our positions that you've gifted us. But as our positions require us to do. Mauritius would be the perfect fit. We could come back right before Commonwealth Day. It's the better choice. Rather than visiting all Commonwealth Embassies here in London, we would start working right away."
His Majesty stays silent.
Oliver looks at me and I shrug in response.
"I guess I have to think of a different punishment then." The King caves in. "I believe the Neumayer-Station III would be an option."
My eyes widen at his thoughts. He wants to send them to the other end of the world? To the Antarctic?!
We wanted to make it better, not worse!
Charles looks at his staff that are positioned at the doors. "Send the Oxfords in."
Shit!
I look at my husband, who seems just as shocked as me. How the hell did that go from worse to worst?!
Rory and George walk into the room and the double doors shut again.
"Josephine and Oliver expressed their wish to take your place and I decided to grant them their wish." The King informs my sister and brother-in-law.
"Really?" George asks with wide eyes.
"Yes, but that means you're going to fly to the Neumayer-Station III."
My sister's eyes widen, "What?"
"We'll disguise it with a tour. You'll be raising awareness for animal protection. And you will start with penguins in the Antarctic."
"Okay, good." George says with a nod. Somehow, this seems to be a punishment they accept better than the other.
But honestly, to me it seems far worse than staying on Mauritius. But they don't really have a choice. We took a gamble when we stepped in here to safe their asses and now they're stuck with this tour. A tour that's completely going to be dictated by The King. He will choose the destinations and the duration - and I'm pretty sure it won't be an easy tour.
I slide through the photos that were taken today on the iPad and stop at a very lovely photo of Oliver and me. It was taken in the sunroom of Clarence House. Oliver's wearing a silver grey cashmere sweater with an white Oxford shirt underneath, while I am dressed in sea coloured Victoria Beckham dress. It has another boat cut neckline and cowl sleeves. The sapphire of my engagement ring is sparkling in almost the same colour as the dress. We're both grinning into the camera. The lightning around us is soft. Oliver's green eyes have an emerald sheen. My makeup is so light that my birthmarks can be seen. Like the little heart underneath my left eyelashes and the star on my right temple. It has the shape of a heart.
"I really like this one." I tell my husband before showing it to him.
He nods in agreement. "We're definitely going to use this on our website."
We're sitting on the floor of our living room with our back against the sofa and the fire roaring in the fireplace. It has started to snow just an hour ago. Huge flakes of snow are falling from the heaven.
We've spent the last hours going through the three hundred photos that Annie took of us today. We had six outfit changes in total, all with new hair and makeup for me. I'm tired but seeing these photos makes me feel incredibly proud. Oliver looks so hot! He did so well in this new situation. We had lots of fun together and Annie did an incredible job. We look so good together! Oliver and I decided to keep the photos full of loving gazes, kisses and giggles to ourselves and only release the proper royal photos.
Otherwise it might get tricky when we attend a royal event, after having a disagreement or a fight, and there won't be holding hands - and then the tabloids will spin it into early divorce rumours. Catherine and William are doing it right. They're not holding hands in public, they keep thing to a professional level but every once in a while you catch those loving gazes, smirks and blushes.
It makes more sense to do it that way. It makes us less vulnerable.
It's the right decision.
"Are we going to talk about the King's decision now?" My husband asks me after a moment.
I take a sip of the hot chocolate that Oliver made for me. It has lots of cinnamon in it and a tiny bit of honey. "I can't believe he said yes."
"So we're doing it?"
I look at the love of my life and grab his hand. "Yes. We're moving to Mauritius."
The smile on my husband's lips is indescribable. "I can't wait to see the world with you, Tesoro."
"It's just Mauritius."
"Knowing you, you're going to find something to do in the name of the Commonwealth Trust."
His words ring a bell. A clear bell. I get up from the floor and walk past him.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be right back. You reminded me of something." I rush into my study and open the cupboards that are sorted by commonwealth country. As soon as I knew we'd be taking these jobs, I dove head first and started doing as much research as possible about each member of the Commonwealth Trust. So, I created 54 folders. All very thick.
I get the folder with Mauritius out and stare at the other folders. Tanzania and Mozambique are not too far away. I grab the two folders as well before walking back to my husband.
"Woah, what are these?" Oliver asks me with wide eyes as he rises from the floor and rushing over to me. He grabs two folders out of my hands.
"My saving-the-world-plan." I announce. "Or at least for the countries Mauritius, Tanzania and Mozambique."
"When did you made these?"
When I woke up drenched in sweat after dreaming of my rape, when my worries about Edward's threat got the best of me, when I was worried my father hating my husband... there were a lot of nights when I had the time. I shrug, "I did a little bit here and there. These plans are not complete. The analysis is not finished by all means. All this is, is a collection of problems. A pool that brings all nations together." I explain. "I wanted to see which problems were common and to what extent. I don't think we can tackle nation but nation, but rather we should tackle problem by problem throughout the whole commonwealth." I explain.
"Why did you choose Mozambique and Tanzania?" He asks me as he reads the white labels that I wrote.
"They're the closest to Mauritius. If we're going to do this, than we have to do it right. I won't go there and lay low. That's not my style. I want to get my hands dirty and I know you do as well."
"Wanna start with Mozambique?" Oliver asks me.
I nod, "Mozambique's social issues have sadly become a feeder for crime and poverty as locals struggle to make ends meet."
My husband opens the folder of Mozambique. "Robberies, assault, street crime with knives and firearms and carjackings are common in Mozambique. So, Mozambique seems to be fairly safe." He flips through the folder. "Petty theft and robbery are the main risks. In Maputo and southern Mozambique carjackings and more violent robberies do occur, although most incidents can be avoided by taking the usual precautions. Most crime is concentrated in Maputo and the country's secondary cities. Criminals are forceful and ruthless, often work in groups, and carry firearms." Oliver reads out loud. "Wow, these numbers are shocking!"
"They're not worse than Rio and you grew up there. Your hometown doesn't make your future." I say back. "I think we could visit it for a few days."
"Maputo's coastal road, Avenida Marginal, has seen a spike in crime, and should be avoided, especially between the Southern Sun Hotel and the Waterfront Restaurant. People have been mugged there in daylight. Women should try to avoid walking alone on beaches or taking busses unaccompanied. Unfortunately, attacks on female travellers have been increasing. Law enforcement is weak, so don't expect the police to be very helpful, and be aware they do ask for bribes." Oliver reads out loud. "No, we're definitely not going to spend a few days there. We're targets now. Mozambique is not an option."
"But-"
"Not. An. Option." Oliver puts his foot down. His eyes tell me there's no argument that would convince him otherwise.
I lick my lips. "Okay. Tanzania then?"
With a sigh, he closes the floor and opens the folder about Tanzania. "Tanzania has its share of corruption and bribery. Don't be surprised if you're asked for money to make a problem go away. Some travellers are averse to paying bribes, especially in a country with so many needy but honest citizens. Others are willing to part with some money in return for quickly getting on with other things." He reads out loud. "That sounds even more like Rio."
I grin, "Is that a yes for a project in Tanzania then?"
"Not so fast. I want to read the rest first." My husband insists before looking back at the folder. "Petty crime: Pickpockets and con artists operate in crowded markets and transport hubs. Don't be fooled by the playfulness of small children; they have often been forced into a life of crime and may be there to distract you. When you visit the beach, only take what you need with you. Leave your valuables locked up back at your accommodation. Most robberies are 'snatch and run'. Thieves wait for the opportunity to grab something and then disappear into the crowd. Never carry anything of value in your pockets and don't dangle expensive camera equipment from your neck. Never leave bags unattended." he reads out loud before looking at me. "That sounds like common sense."
"See?"
He flips the page. "On to the serious crimes. Violent crime against foreigners is not uncommon, particularly those walking alone at night. Only use registered taxis or those from established taxi zones or booked in advance. Take care when in Dar es Salaam, particularly on Toure Drive, as car jackings and muggings have occurred. People have also been mugged while taking an early morning jog in Mwanza city centre. Never accept food, drinks or cigarettes from strangers; there have been reports of tourists being drugged with laced candy while on long-haul bus trips, only to wake up later to find their luggage gone. Tourists have also been kidnapped, robbed and forced, with the threat of violence, to withdraw cash from ATMs in Dar Es Salaam."
"That's not so bad."
Oliver looks up. "I will read the rest of it in silence and then decide." He looks down again and continues to read.
I look over his shoulder as he reads the part of touts. Most touts will corner you the minute you jump out of your bus or safari vehicle. Remember, you are going to stand out in African marketplaces, so you will be spotted and followed with offers, deals and a large display of products. Most touts will yell Mzungu (white traveler) at you until you respond. "Just skip the part about touts."
"I will not skip this. Or any other page of this folder."
I sigh and lean back, "Then we might be sitting here all night."
"Drink your hot chocolate and relax." My husband answers casually. He is as calm as a buddha.
I pick up my mug and take another sip of my hot chocolate. It's really good. I stare at the dancing flames in the fireplace before my eyes move further left until I see the snow falling down. Big frosty kisses are falling from the sky. It's so beautiful. It reminds me of Finland, of our time underneath the stunning Northern Lights. These breathtaking, neon pink, purple, green, yellow and blue fast-moving ribbons that broke through the night sky. The memories will forever be in my heart. I took gorgeous photos but they will never do nature and my memories justice. We had such a good time in Lapland. The snow was crazy high, whereas here the snow will only create a thin blanket on London's streets.
Maybe we should spent New Year's Eve in Iceland or on the Faroe Islands. We could watch Northern Lights there as we ring into the new decade. Be in the cold before we move to Mauritius for a few months. I think that could be a good option. Or if Oliver wants to go back to his hometown, we could always spent New Year's Eve in Rio.
Or we could spent New Year's Eve anywhere else in the world.
"Okay." Oliver interrupts my thoughts.
"Okay?" I ask him and tear my eyes off of the falling snow outside of our penthouse.
"Yes. Tanzania seems like a good option to realise the first projects from The Commonwealth Trust. We can build a few schools for the locals, kindergartens... maybe a hospital... We obviously won't be able to fight the crimes but you could teach women how they protect and defend themselves."
My lips stretch into a smile, "That sounds like a great idea!"
My husband smiles back at me. "Good. Then we should start making a plan with a financial overview and-"
"I'm going to start-" I get up from the floor but my husband's hand on my forearm pulls me back into his lap.
"I think you've done enough for today." My husband says while staring deeply into my eyes and fondling my right cheek. His yellow golden wedding band feels cool against my skin. My heart skips a beat at the touch. "Mauritius and Tanzania..."
"We're going to have the time of our lives." I promise him and wrap my arms around his neck. "What do you think about Iceland or the Faroe Islands over New Year's Eve? If we're lucky, we get to see Northern Lights again." I suggest.
"I want to spend New Year's Eve with my Mama and brothers."
"We'll take them with us."
"I'm not sure snow and icy temperatures are really their cup of tea."
"We could fly to somewhere warm. Or back to Rio, if you guys want that." I suggest. "My point is, we don't have to stay in London for New Year's Eve. We can spend it anywhere in the world."
Oliver thinks for a moment. "Even Rome?"
My heart skips a beat as he remembers the city on my bucket list. "Italy's not much warmer than London during this time of year."
"No to Rome then. Maldives?"
"That's a place you should spend at least ten days at. Anything under that doesn't make sense due to the jet leg."
"Okay..." My husband thinks again. "How about Bora Bora?"
"Bora Bora?" I ask him surprised.
"Yeah, Wlad showed me wedding photos when he married Della there. My Mama always wanted to see the world with my Papa but... life happened." He gulps. Talking about his father is hard for him.
I know exactly how it felt like because I was in the same situation - or at least I thought so for two years - until my father was back in my life. But Oliver's situation is not permanent. It's final. "Bora Bora it is. We can fly there the day after Christmas Eve, spend New Year's Eve there and then fly to Mauritius."
"Without coming home first?"
I shrug. "It would ease the jet leg. We can pack everything we need and have it flown to Mauritius while we're on Bora Bor. It's just easier that way. Less CO2 emissions as well."
Oliver thinks for a while. "Maybe... Okay. Yeah, okay."
I kiss him softly, "I can't wait to get started on the projects-"
"Tomorrow." He reminds me.
"Yes, of course. Tomorrow." I say with a nod and a grin on my lips.
"After our appointment with your gynaecologist."
I totally forgot about my appointment! I'll be 12 weeks and three days along tomorrow. Time has run by so quickly!
"You forgot, didn't you?"
I shrug, "Pregnancy brain, I guess."
Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it.
What do you think of Jo and Oliver's plan to live on Mauritius in the beginning of the year? Was that a smart choice or are they just trying to run from the British press?
I found the passages about Tanzania and Mozambique online. They're both beautiful countries with breathtaking landscapes and beaches, especially Sansibar is a tourist magnet. Google them to get a feeling for the countries.
The passages from and Club Monaco are also a product of research. I don't mean to shame them, they produce wonderful looking clothing, it's just something a public figure has to be aware of. The part about the royal signature colours are from an article that I found online. Do you think Jo should go with icy blue, emerald green or grey?
What will Rory and George's tour be like? I saw a documentsry about the Neumayer-Station III and thought it was very fitting to their causes.
Also what's going to happen on the gynaecologist appointment? Will they find out the sex of the baby? Is it going to be a boy or girl?
The next chapter will be uploaded soon and it will reveal another move by Rothschild, as well as some other shocking surprises.
Stay healthy and safe.
In gratitude,
Nicole