Oliver
The weekend went by too quickly. It was a busy one and I got to meet diplomats from every commonwealth nation. I was quite nervous before we started with the Commonwealth Trust Forum as it has never been done before and I have never talked in front of a big crowd, let alone 54 diplomats. Turns out even diplomats are normal people behind closed doors. They enjoy food and drinks as much as you and I. Some even spoke Portuguese, so I was able to speak in my mother tongue which was quite nice. The melting pot that was Balmoral Castle this weekend, was absolutely incredible and very inspiring. We discussed issues, found solutions and made plans together. Josephine's idea to bring the commonwealth together was a genius! The way we're tackling the problems have never been done before, so naturally there was a lot of skepticism. But once we came together and started talking, we quickly found a common core.
It was by far the most productive weekend ever. I can't wait to bring all these projects to life and help where help is needed the most.
And we're going to start with Tanzania and Mauritius in a few weeks.
I wrap my arms around my wife as she leans back against my chest. Smelling her hair, feeling her this close to me and knowing she's carrying our twins... I love this feeling more than anything else in the world. "Do you think Wlad's plan worked?"
It was so hard to keep a professional distance during the weekend when we were in public. But my wife's right - as or usual I have to admit - it's better to take on the job with the needed respect and professionalism, rather than act like two love drunk teenagers. Besides, she's mine anyway. She's got two rings on her finger and two babies in her uterus. There's no more proof and signals needed.
But here in the safe walls of our home, of our penthouse with breathtaking views over London, we can be the very much live drunk teenagers that we are.
Josephine shrugs as she stares at the flames dancing in the open fireplace, cuddling with me on the sofa. I missed cuddling in front of our fireplace so much. I missed home. I didn't realise how much it became my home until she broke us up and now that we've spent the weekend up in the Scottish Highlands it showed me once again how homely this place has became. It was stone cold at Balmoral Castle so we had to use all the fireplaces to keep warm but here at Landmark Place we use it for the ambience and because it's cosy warm. "I hope so. If not, Edward's going to play the role of his life and convince everyone on this earth that I am a heartless narcissist."
"I'm quite shocked the King hasn't changed his offer. I thought he would cut our heads off but his belief in us must be... must be unshakable."
"This weekend was a test drive and we passed. I'm sure all diplomats reported to The King over the weekend or now that the weekend's over. We did well, otherwise we wouldn't be lounging on this sofa right now. We'd be having a heated discussion with His Majesty." She tilts her head to the side until I stare directly into her sky blue eyes. I love the heart shaped birthmark underneath her left eyelashes and the star shaped birthmark on her right temple. I barely saw them during the last days because she wore makeup to look presentable, to look royal. She dressed completely different than usually, there were no jeans and blouses with stilettos, rather she wore fitted dresses with knee length skirts or carefully selected trouser suits by British designers and heels. She looked polished and so did I. We were representing the King as head of the commonwealth. We were working, it wasn't a big party weekend. It was work. So we had to look appropriate.
But I am quite glad we're back in sweats now. "The King has bigger plans. No Rothschild will destroy them."
I frown, "Do you know something?"
"I know more than you think." She admits. "First of all, Rothschild is doing this interview with Channel 4. While it's the most popular channel in Britain, it's also not part of the Royal Rota. And the Royal Rota is what's going to be our backbone here. That's where the King chimes in. One word and they will shut up in his favour. In return they will get some exclusive interview or photos... anything to stop them from writing about Rothschild. And if they do write about him, which eventually is going to happen, they will paint him in a very bad light. For us."
The King is protecting us in his very own way. It's very heartwarming to know how much he cares about us. "It's remarkable how much power the royals have."
"It's a protection shield we are going to need when we start moving forward. This weekend was our first dip into the scene and I think it went well. We'll find out in January when they're allowed to publish this work but I'm hopeful."
I am, too. As far as I am concerned there weren't any missteps. We weren't political, we were polite and kind. And we worked really hard. "I hope the interview won't air. I don't want to see it but at the same time if it airs, I know we have to watch it. Because we will have to defend ourselves. Somehow. Before dropping the royal bomb."
My wife sighs before picking up the remote and switching on the telly.
When her ex-fiancé appears on the screen, I know Wladimir's plan has failed.
Josephine
I tense up at Edward's face staring back at me. He is looking as handsome as ever. His blonde hair is perfectly cut and styled and his turquoise eyes look sad. The interview is being filmed at his parents' living room. I recognise the furniture that's antique and the view of Bath from one of the transom windows. Rothschild is sitting on a wine red sofa and is wearing a grey cashmere sweater over a crisp white Oxford shirt. I can see his platinum omega watch on his wrist - and the ring of perfectly royal blue sapphires surrounding the clock-face.
"Mr. Rothschild, thank you for agreeing to do this interview with us." The interviewer says. The banner that appears tells me the name of the redhead is Susan Meyers.
Edward nods, "Of course."
"We're here to talk about your charitable work that you've done in Australia after your wedding was so dramatically called off in March this year. But also how you want to warn other victims of narcissists by explaining the signs."
Edward gulps and licks his lips. The camera shows how he twists his watch. No doubt that's a sign for us. "Yes. After that incident, I had to flee from the British press so I decided to work for Save the Corals in Australia."
"And after your experience there you've become their official patron?"
Edward nods, "Yes. It was a very cleansing and eye opening experience. Fleeing to Australia was the right decision, no doubt."
"Can you tell us a little about the worst day of your life?"
"There's not much to tell. We were madly and deeply in love and then suddenly Josie's mask dropped and she showed me her true colours. You know, with narcissists they can only ever play a role to a certain extent. And Josie reached that date on our wedding day. My mother informed me about the tantrums she threw during the wedding planning process and especially on our wedding day. She threw glasses, vases and hairbrushes after the staff that wanted to glam her up. She refused any help from the stylists we hired and decided to drink the champagne straight from the bottle."
"She got drunk before the wedding ceremony?"
"I guess some would call her tipsy. Josie has a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol. She can drink two bottles of wine in the evening without getting tipsy. I guess champagne is the same for her."
Bloody hell! He is branding me as a alcoholic and a narcissist!
"But that wasn't the turning point. When the limousine stopped in front of the cathedral, she refused to get out before the florist had decorated the entrance with the wrong flowers. That's when I had enough and walked up to the car. You all saw our heated discussion which ended up me requesting the engagement ring back and ending our relationship."
My mouth falls open, "What?! Is he serious?!"
Oliver squeezes me from behind. "We know the truth and that's all that matters."
"Have you spoken to her after that day?"
"Yes. We met once in early October. I was invited to her vernissage. I was hoping it was her way to apologise to me but when she walked in with a wedding ring around her finger, I knew I was wrong."
"Do you know her husband?"
"Knowing him would be a little too much. I've never seen him before but when Josie and I met last year in Paris during Couture Week..." Rothschild licks his lips.
"Oh, no! No, you cannot say that! You have signed a NDA!" I hiss at the screen. But then I remember he never signed that NDA. His words ring in my ears so clearly as if he just said them to me. Don't forget I never signed this NDA. I only read it. I didn't agree on the rules or anything else stated in this contract.
"When we met, she was still seeing him." He drops the nuclear bomb.
"Fucking asshole!" I yell at the screen.
"What? Josie was keeping her options open?" Susan asks.
Edward nods. "But she was very honest about it. We had fun that weekend and then went our ways. Me helpless in love with her. And she went straight back into the other man's arms."
"And that man is now her husband?"
"As far as I'm informed, yes. Josie and I didn't see each other again until the wedding of Their Royal Highnesses The Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Needless to say she and I connected again. We chatted, shared a few laughs, flirted and danced together. She said we were like magnets. Every time we saw one another, the pulling was too strong to be ignored."
"Wow, that's fascinating."
"LIAR! I never said that!" I yell at the telly.
"Two weeks later she called me and invited me to Mexico. She told me she broke up with that other man and wanted to give us a real chance. I had no idea she was just using me to get more famous. Her plan was marrying her now husband all along. She just played with my heart. My Mum always had told me that saying. Be careful who you trust, the devil was once an angel." Edward runs his right hand through his hair so the camera catches the Omega watch. The sapphires are sparkling.
Fucking jerk!
"Do you know where she went to after she called off the wedding?"
"While I went to Fiji, which was our honeymoon destination, she apparently went to Brazil. She worked for her family's foundation there but I don't know the specifics." Edward licks his thin lips. "We needed time to heal. Me more than her, obviously."
"It must've been painful to get humiliated in front of the world's eyes."
"What broke me was not that she left. It was that she couldn't bare to stay. Never fall in love with a heart that doesn't beat as loudly as you do for it. That's a saying from my grandma Lily. Josie was the hardest lesson I ever had to learn."
He's a bloody good actor, I have to admit that.
"She wrote me a letter when she was in Brazil. As if this was ever going to make up for it." He sighs and looks like he's about to cry any moment. "No words can ever make up for the damage she has done."
"So, working in Australia helped with the coping."
"Definitely. I don't know where I'd be mentally if I hadn't done that. I went from the luckiest day of my life to the worst day of my life within a split second - and my mental health suffered extremely as a result. It was more than just heartache. I battled with depression, anxiety, panic attacks... it was tough. The work for Save the Corals was very therapeutic and helped me view the world with different eyes."
"Bullshit!" I pick up the remote and switch off the telly. I can't hear his lies and see his face any longer.
"Is it too late to kill him?" Oliver asks me.
I look at him, "If you kill him, I'll hide the weapons and bury the body."
"Good. I think we need Wlad, Sasha and your Dad to make us a bulletproof plan, though."
I giggle, "Yeah, we definitely do."
My husband smirks. "Edward had his fifteen minutes of fame. The news will die down."
"I hope so." I turn around in his embrace and look at my husband. "I want you to know that I never shed a tear over him. I cried because of the pain I caused you by breaking us up and the domino effect it created for you. You know, they say tears are the words the heart can't say and my heart... my heart talked like a waterfall after I broke us up. There was not a night I didn't dream of you and no morning in which I didn't wake up with puffy eyes. I cried a lot in England but also in Brazil because I couldn't find you. The world was under the impression I cried because of Edward, but I cried for you." I lick my lips. "I don't care what he says or does next but... It's you I love. It's you I chose. It's you I'm staring a family with. It's you. It always has been."
He runs his fingers through my shoulder length hair. "You don't have to tell me you love me. I've always known how you felt about me, Tesoro. I see right into your vast heart. I always did. Edward is not going to change a thing about us." He places his hands on my belly. "And about them. We're a family. Our bond is indestructible."
I rest my head against his and inhale his scent deeply. He always smelled of safety, of the safe haven I need. My hands on his look small in comparison. "It's not us I'm worried about. It's Rory, Char, George, Nate, Ana, Sasha... it's their reputation that will suffer from this. Rothschild is making sure he brings us all down. This could mean the downfall of the monarchy. Especially when the news hits that we're joining the British Royal Family."
"Don't worry too much. The Royals can handle the press like no other. We'll be fine. All four of us."
Josie Bolton DANCED ON TWO WEDDINGS AT THE SAME TIME!
Edward Rothschild's highly anticipated interview with Channel 4 did not disappoint! Televised at prime time on Sunday, the interview dropped bomb after bomb, painting the famous ex in the worst light.
Bomb number one: Josie was drunk before the wedding ceremony was about to start. She drank champagne out of the bottle. Bomb number two: She threw tantrums during the wedding planning process but even more so on her wedding day. She threw brushes, a hair dryer, vases and glasses after the staff. But why did she call off the wedding? Enter bomb number three: Because the florist decorated the cathedral wrongly!
Can't believe that? Well, get this: Josie had her feet on two grounds at a time! Major bomb! Edward revealed that when they met at a jewellery party of Cartier during Paris Fashion Week, she was seeing someone else! However Ed fell head over heels in love with her after spending an entire weekend on the Côte Azur. But Josie wasn't so sure, since she ran back into the stranger's arms.
But after she broke up with Mr. Mysterious, she didn't hesitate to call Ed and invite him to Mexico. And the love drunk men couldn't help but follow where she lead - until he got enough on his wedding day. It was him who called off the wedding, not Josie.
After the disaster, they both went their own ways: Edward to Fiji, their honeymoon destination, and Australia to work for Save the Corals. Josie on the other hand decided to spend her time in Brazil, working for her family's foundation. The Bolton Foundation even opened a school named beija-flor which means hummingbird in English. Clearly a nod to twin sister HRH The Duchess of Oxford.
Both have met once since they broke up. It seems like Josie purposely invited Edward to her vernissage, where she decided to introduce her new husband. The name of her new victim remains unknown. While Ed thought she would apologise to him in person - because apparently that letter she wrote him was meant as an apology - she chose to humiliate him in front of London's high society and the Royals.
We deeply hope her new victim, aka husband, will divorce her as quickly as possible and run as far away as possible. Because clearly Josie Bolton is toxic.
THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY: Inside Rothschild's heartache!
Last night the interview of the year aired as Edward Rothschild decided to open up to the world about his heartache and the real reason behind his epic breakup on what should have been the best day of his life.
Filmed in a living room at his parents's house in Bath - because his house in London is still getting beleaguered up until this day - the hottest bachelor alive opened his heart.
And what we saw was absolutely shocking.
It turns out Josephine Bolton, the woman that was never seen with a man before Edward, is actually a narcissist! The twin sister of The Duchess of Oxford threw tantrums after tantrums during the wedding planning process but on the wedding day itself, it was Ed who called it off. What looked like Josie ended things, was really Edward!
After half a year of healing, the couple met again on Josie's vernissage, where she introduced her new husband! The new man on Josie's side couldn't be more different. He is a tall olive skinned man with beach blond hair and emerald green eyes, whereas Rothschild is... Rothschild. Those turquoise coloured eyes, this megawatt smile and this bright blond hair melt every woman's heart. One a loyal and elegant English man and the other the Male version of Gisele Bündchen.
Let's hope Josie doesn't destroy her now-husband the way she destroyed her ex-fiancé.
I wake up on the most beautiful snowy morning in a warm cosy bed that I'm sharing with my husband. Last evening was an earthquake but today the world is calm again. Christmas is fast approaching and in today we're hosting our very first Christmas Party for Team Clarence. There's still so much to organise but right now... right now, I just like to watch how the snow flakes fall down from the sky. It's so mesmerising to watch.
"You're so beautiful, do you know that?"
I tear my eyes off of the falling snow in front of me and tilt my head to meet my husband's eyes. They have the same colour as my sapphire. They look so mesmerising. His beach blonde hair is slightly messy. And his smile... his smile makes my heart skip a beat.
It always skips a beat when I look at the love of my life.
"You're just as beautiful." He's so much more beautiful than me. His heart is the purest I've ever seen. His beauty comes from the inside, mine is just very good genetics.
He helped me become the woman I want to be. No tabloid or headline is ever going to ruin that. I kiss him passionately as the emotions get the best of me.
I need this man more than he needs me.
At best, I was hopelessly in love with him. At worst, I was completely unaware of it. I fell in love with him so easily and slowly, that I didn't even notice it until I ended us. And then I projected my feelings on Edward, not realising the mistakes I was making. But they're now catching up with me - and the whole world has tickets for the front seats.
Edward wants to ruin me the way I ruined him. He tried to break me in half that night, but it didn't work. Or maybe it wasn't enough. I won't be able to stop him.
Not without risking everything.
And I don't have the time for that. I have a royal position to fill, I have twins to grow and I have a husband I love to the moon and back.
I'm going to ignore the headlines and ask my family and the Royals to do the same. Never complain, never explain - that's been the royal family's motto for centuries and I will have to adapt it as well.
It will die down. Sooner or later.
My husband climbs on top of me and spreads my knees with his legs. The heat between us is boiling. I run my hands down his muscular back and feel how his muscles vibrate from my touch.
"Oliver, we have to get ready for our Christmas party today." I remind him between our kisses. "And I still want to work before we leave. We have an appointment with Marco about our home and we also have to pack the gift bags."
"I'm quickly in the shower."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, but only if you're not in it with me. Because you're the biggest distraction." He mumbles before kissing his way down to my breasts. My nipples are still tender, but when I'm aroused like now it's not so bad.
"Oliver," I moan as he sucks on my right nipple.
"Do you want me to stop?"
I look down and meet his sea foam coloured eyes. "Never."
A very royal-ish narcissist: How Josie Bolton managed to manipulate us all!
She wore that scandalous ivory coloured silk maid of honour dress with a back neckline so deep that kept wondering us if she wore undergarments at all, just to steal the limelight from the Royal bride, Princess Charlotte of Wales. Rothschild revealed in his famous interview that Josie in fact wore that dress to not only make the wedding coverage all about her, but also for seducing Rothschild as she knew they were seated quite closely together in St. George's Chapel at Windsor Castle. "She's a shallow narcissist, a social climber." Rothschild claimed in the interview. "Josie was calculated, very calculated in the way she handled people and relationships. She is very strategic in the way she cultivates circles of friends. Once she decides you're not part of her life, she can be very cold. It's this shutdown mechanism she has."
Edward's observation, if accurate, paints a picture of significant narcissistic behaviour by demonstrating calculated behaviour to achieve an aim; friendship is developed for ulterior gain, not for the friendship in itself; the switching behaviour – white to black and the swift execution of such behaviour evidencing a lack of empathy.
Further comment has arisen that her relationship with Edward Rothschild arose whilst she was still with Mr. Mysterious (her current husband) and she then ended the relationship with him because Edward Rothschild was in the picture. If accurate, such a shift from one person to another, especially one which would be regarded as a 'trade-up' in terms of wealth, status and position would appeal to a narcissist. Of course, people do move from one relationship to another with some overlap and this is not in itself determinative of that person as begin a narcissist, but such behaviour, which is ultimately self-serving and selfish whichever way it is looked at, is not flattering and when added to other indicative factors, then the evidence begins to mount up.
Josie and Edward's relationship has naturally been well-documented and they became engaged after just seven months of meeting! Some may see that as rather quick, but it is not unduly hasty and certainly many narcissists would outstrip that time period with room to spare. What was Josie's motive? Yes, that huge yellow diamond cluster engagement ring from Harry Winston. An enormous emerald-cut vivid yellow diamond centre stone that was surrounded with 42 (!) marquise, pear-shaped and round brilliant diamonds. The price is estimated to be at a shocking 16 million pounds!
But things quickly went down the hill, when the wedding planning began!
The marriage ceremony was about to take place at the impressive Abbey Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul in Bath. Miss Bolton requested that atomisers be used throughout the chapel for the purpose of removing the apparent musty (but not unpleasant) smell. It is an old building and therefore has such a smell. Her request was deemed inappropriate. Even when this was pointed out to her, she maintained that she wanted the atomisers placed there. One might overlook not realising it was inappropriate, but then the following insistence is an indicator of narcissistic behaviour.
Josie was upset that she could not wear a tiara as beautiful as her sister's, HRH The Duchess of Oxford, on her wedding day. While the Duchess got loaned the stunning Fife tiara by the Royal Family, Josie felt like she had earned a similar status in society by marrying into the Rothschild family. According to reports, Josie wanted to wear a tiara studded with emeralds, rubies, sapphires and yellow diamonds, but the Rothschilds refused to have a jeweller create such a tiara and pay for it. Instead, she should settle with the Rothschild tiara, which has been given to the family by Queen Victoria and has been worn by Rothschild brides on their wedding day ever since.
Josie apparently totally lost it, when the hair stylist and makeup artist couldn't show her in her best light on her wedding day. The sister of Princess Anastasia of Romanov threw one tantrum after another, making a scene bolder than a child that doesn't get its way. When the bride arrived at the beautifully decorated Abbey in Bath, the flowers didn't seem to fit to her taste, so she refused to get out of the limousine. The stubbornness caused her groom to walk out of the church and talk to her in front of the world's cameras.
That's when the breakup was imminent, because Edward finally saw her true self.
There's another proof that Josie is a real narcissist, but this time it has something to do with Oxford Royal, the foundation of her sister and her husband, the Future King and Queen of United Kingdom. Ever since the foundation was launched, Josie was not only a person of significant control but also the head of the trustees that work within the foundation. In a way, you could say Josie held all the reins when Lorelai or George were not present. But that however, quickly turned to staff leaving the foundation like rats a sinking ship. Problems have arisen with regard to the relationships with staff and the turnover of staff. Now there are always going to be changes in personnel and doubtless certain pressures associated with a demanding and high profile situation will also result in such changes, however, what is noteworthy are the number of resignations, the short period of time held by these people in their positions and the comment which has surround them. This evidences a pattern. Consider this, how often will a narcissist have a haphazard employment history and/or a string of failed relationships yet when this is pointed out, the narcissist will always declare that it was the fault of the others and not the narcissist. Such numbers however speak for themselves and even more so, with the comments allied to them. Josie has been nicknamed as Cruella De Vil by the staff since she joined the team at Oxford Royal. It is well-known how her staff kept leaving due to her difficult behaviour (which is very unlikely for the members of the royal family). Four resignations in less than one year were no small thing.
Up until this day, Josie is listed as a person of significant control over Oxford Royal.
Speaking of Oxford Royal, Josie seems to have the royal IG account, as well as the IG account of her brother, under control. An anonymous source confirmed that Josie has in fact signed contracts with Oxford Royal and Windsor Royal, the IG accounts of her sister and brother, to ensure she would be credited as the photographer whenever a photo is posted that's been taken by her. This contract also ensures that she gets paid every time a newspaper, a blog or a tabloid uses her images! And those photos have been popping up like crazy! Just in the last year, every second posted photo was taken by Josie, who has her own IG account which is set private. She is clearly the go-to photographer for the royal snaps of the kids, but also for official portraits. The problem? Royal photographers, who have been used for decades by the Royal Family, are losing their jobs and in return get furious!
There is plenty more evidence available which contains similar instances of grandiosity, poor boundary recognition, haughtiness and a lack of emotional empathy. The gift keeps on giving.
"So, these are the plans I came up with." Marco says before talking us through the drawings that we're seeing on the screen. It's a stunning red bricked facade with a black roof that my husband and I are looking at. "Just as we discussed we've got a vertical square shaped house as a base with three floors, a breezeway on each side that lead to the wings, which have two floors and are red bricked as well. We've got white transom windows with an arch. Six at the base home and eight on the outer facade of the wings. Inside the wings are full of transom windows. The ones in the living room can be folded so you can open up the space and extend the feeling of the patio."
Marco changes the view so we look at the house from a bird's eye perspective. "The Georgian style residence draws inspiration from the works of early twentieth-century architect Mott Schmidt. Formal in its aesthetic and detailing, the home modernises a traditionally formal plan to work with contemporary living. Private and public spaces split into separate wings and floors, with the lower level housing a cinema, playroom, and gym."
"I love it!" Oliver says with a grin on his lips.
"I've got a few surprises in my pocket so there will be some changes but I promise you, you'll indeed love it." The Italian mastermind tells us. "The patio will have a water fountain tiled with the Portuguese royal blue tiles that I showed you the last time. There will be a herb garden in front of the kitchen, a barbecue area, a pizza oven as well as a reading nook."
"It looks wonderful!" I breathe out.
"But that's all I want to show you right now." Marco says.
"Okay. I trust you. Whatever you do, it's going to be beautiful." I say with a nod.
"Can we talk about the kitchen again?" Oliver asks him.
"Sure. What do you want to change?" Marco asks him.
My husband looks at me. "I think we should go back to sage green cupboards and cabinets."
"Okay..."
"With brass handles and fixtures." Oliver tells me.
"White marbles countertops?" I ask him and my husband nods. "But the kitchen island will get a different countertop." I insist.
"What about the floors? The same Tuscan tiles?" Marco asks us.
"No. Let's go with hardwood floors. Or maybe tiles in the look of hardwood floors." I think out loud. "It's easier to clean tiles."
"Herringbone parquet tiles?" The Italian architect asks us. "Maybe in a dark walnut?"
I nod, "I like that. It sounds really good."
"Good, then leave the rest to me. I promise you the home of your dreams!"
"Speaking of which, we're actually going to let you build it alone all together. Oliver and I will spend the first nine weeks in the new year between Mauritius and Tanzania."
"You're really letting me do my own thing!" Marco claps into his hands. "Brilliant!"
"There's one more thing we need to address before we leave." Oliver starts before looking at me.
I roll my eyes. He wants to drop the pregnancy bomb. Personally, I don't think it's necessary to tell our architect before we told our parents but Oliver's got a different opinion about it. "Just make sure there will be enough space for future babies, okay?"
Marco nods, "Yeah, sure. That's what the kids' wing is for."
"Kids' Wing?" Oliver asks him.
Marco's full lips stretch into a smile. "Just wait and see."
Suddenly, my iPhone vibrates. I get it out of my backpack and look at the display The King wants to see us in an hour.
Shit, this is not good.
I follow the red uniformed staff down the hallway of Clarence House with my husband besides me. I've walked down the hallway countless times in my life but I've never felt more nervous. I knew Edward's moves would be bad but not even I could have known how it would turn out. We pass the panelled walls that have oil paintings of former king and queens, landscapes and palaces. We walk down a red carpet. There's a row of endless transom windows on the other side of the hallway. They overlook the backyard. Charlotte and I used to do picnics on the neatly trimmed grass with her siblings and mine playing soccer next to us. They always used to kick the ball against our drinks, so our dolls would end up soaked in homemade iced tea.
The memory makes me smile.
One of the housekeepers stops at the white double doors. It's guarded with two other men that are dressed in the same red uniform. They knock on the double doors before opening them. They nod at us before we walk through.
"Josephine, Oliver, Thank you for meeting me on such notice." His Majesty says as the doors behind us shut. He gets up from his chair and walks around his mahogany desk.
"Your Majesty, I had no idea Edward Rothschild had filmed this interview." I start apologising for something I had absolutely no control of.
"This has nothing to do with Edward Rothschild." His Majesty explains to me.
"No?" Oliver asks him confused.
"No, this is about your security team that's going to accompany you to Africa." He answers. "I assume you want to keep your long time security Ralph Milano."
"Yes." I confirm. The King doesn't seem to be bothered about that interview Rothschild gave. "But we're aware he has no idea how to protect royals, so we thought we could have a team of former royal protection people. Men and women."
His Majesty picks up a folder from his desk, "You're travelling with six security men and two women." He hands Oliver the folder. "I ordered them in so you can meet ahead of your first tour together."
He arranged a security team for us? Well, his private secretary did, but nonetheless its rather thoughtful!
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"They're in the red drawing room. I have another appointment to get to." He informs us in a strict voice before smiling at us. "I expect a tour of no drama. And about the Rothschild interview, I prefer to adopt my mother's way of handling things. Never complain and never explain. The interest will die down. Eventually."
With that the doors open and we get escorted out.
That wasn't so bad.
Oliver
I hold the door of the car open and watch how my wife climbs in. The meeting with our new security team went fine. They are all highly qualified for the position. Former secret agents, police men or long time royal protectors. I think we're in good hands with them.
I get into the car and close the door.
"I want to talk to Rothschild." My wife says as Ralph starts the Tesla.
"What?" I ask her shocked. Only over my dead body!
"Ralph, could you drive me to his place?" She asks our security man.
"No!" I disagree with her.
"Yes. I have to at least try to smooth the edges. He's hurting."
"He's a bloody psychopath! He paid Arabs to rape you! You will not talk to him!"
"Yes I will. I'll have to at official royal events. The Rothschilds are always invited. We will bump into each other one way or another. At least this way I can perhaps remove the igniter of his next bomb." She explains. "Ralph, it's Rothschild's place." She tells Ralph as he hasn't moved yet. Clearly he thinks this is a terrible idea as well.
Ralph nods before starting to navigate the Tesla out of the gates of Clarence House. The hungry journalists and paparazzi get a nice shot of Josephine - or Josie as they call her - and me as we drive on public territory. The media will spin this into some punishment headlines, perhaps even divorce rumours for Rory and Nate. They want to sell headlines.
They have no idea what headlines we've got in store for them.
"This isn't a good idea." I tell her again.
"Don't worry, we've got security around the flat 24/7." Ralph ensures me.
"Wlad has this place under observation?" I ask Ralph.
"Yes. He's waiting for the right moment to scan the flat but so far Rothschild hasn't left the place long enough."
"He knows he's being watched." My wife mumbles.
"Then he at least won't try to hurt you again." I say back.
"I have to do this."
"No, you don't. But just your thought makes you a million times better than this psychopath." I grab her hand and squeeze it softly as we drive past Buckingham Palace.
"I know you don't understand me, but Rothschild was once a good man. It's why I fell for him in the first place. He's a philanthropist. A true humanitarian. That's what I found so appealing in him."
I roll my eyes. Of course she's a sucker for a humanitarian. It's in her bloody DNA to give back and if she sees someone, especially someone of her status, doing the same she's instantly captivated by it.
Josephine pulls on our hands. "Don't hate me for trying to help him. He's doing this to hurt us because he doesn't know where to go with his pain. He tries to hurt us just so we get a glimpse of his pain. What people do is a direct reflection of their mental state."
"He's trying to destroy our reputation. He's literally dragging us through the dirt and you want to help him?! Gosh, Josephine, can't you see through his mask? He's only doing this because he knows how you're going to react. He's playing with you."
My wife's eyes turn as dark as the night sky. "No one plays me, Oliver. Not even you."
I have a different memory of how we first go together but I decide to not put oil into the fire. The flames are nearly burning me as they are. "Just be careful. That's all I want."
"I'm always careful."
"But... extra careful."
My wife rolls her eyes as Ralph stops the car. "We're here."
Josephine kisses me a little too passionately, maybe because she knows how worried I am. They haven't spoken to each other in weeks. The last time they saw each other was on the vernissage that I planned for her. He showed up unannounced.
Josephine opens her seatbelt and gets out of the car. I watch how she shuts the door before she turns on her heel. It is only then that I realise we're in Belgravia, one of the poshest neighbourhoods in London. Belgravia is a late Georgian estate of terraces, crescents and squares situated between Knightsbridge and Victoria. It welcomes embassies, leading hotels, antique shopes and deluxe boutiques. It's full of white houses with Victorian columns and wrought-iron gates, that have either been split into luxury flats or sold as a whole house. The average price for a flat here is not lower than 10 million pounds. It's the exclusivity and the location that makes the neighbourhood so expensive and luxurious. Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey are right around the corner.
In the middle of the street is one of the famous private parks that's reserved for the residents that live here. It's framed by a posh black fence and locked with the keys to the gate doors only owned by the residents of this neighbourhood. They're labelled as private gardens but really they're like private parks, which look impeccable at all times. I assume nannies use them during the day. I can see raised beds and five mulberry trees. The rest is covered in a blanket of snow. I can see a brass sign. It says Belgravia's Eaton Square. That's one of London's most exclusive addresses, Neville Chamberlain lived at number 37, Vivien Leigh at number 54.
"Where are Wlad's men?" I ask Ralph as I slide forward.
Ralph points at six different cars. They each have a view over Edward's entrance from a different angle. "They've been watching this place 24/7 in rotation."
It looks like Edward Rothschild lives at number 45. I watch how Josephine stops at one of the black doors. She doesn't ring the bell but instead she uses the golden door knocker. She knocks four times.
And then she waits.
"Please don't go inside." I whisper my wish.
But I know my wife. She lives for the thrill, the danger... the adrenaline.
Josephine
After a moment of waiting, the heavy black wooden door opens and I stand across a man I never wanted to see again. My ex-fiancé.
"Jo," His turquoise coloured eyes are wide in surprise but the rest of his body looks reserved.
"Can I come in?" I ask him without greeting him.
Rothschild holds the door open for me and I walk inside. His flat hasn't changed one bit, I notice as I have a quick scan through the foyer. It feels like going back in time. "I'm here to see if you're doing okay."
"I figure you saw the interview then."
"Yes but I don't know how much of it was an act."
"None of it was. My mother urged me to do this interview."
Of course Hannah would use her son for PR! I sigh and run my fingers through my chestnut waves.
"You cut your hair. It looks good." Edward says with a smile on his face. "You look as dashing as ever."
This is not the man I saw at my vernissage. The man I saw there was full of rage and a desire for revenge. But this... this is a man I said yes to when he proposed to me. This is not the man that sent Arabs to rape me in a soup kitchen in the middle of the night. "Depression? Anxiety? Panic attacks? Are those real? Did that happen?"
He licks his lips, "I'm not proud of what you've put me through. Hannah thought it would help me with the coping."
Edward is the only man I ever met that referred to his mother by her first name. It's so cold and distant. Just like his childhood. "Edward, you need to move on."
His turquoise coloured eyes darken at my words. "I will never move on from you. You are my one great love! You are my sun, my stars, my bloody universe! There is no moving on from that!"
"Edward,"
"You will be mine again." He promises me as he suddenly takes a step forward. "And I don't care what it takes."
I instantly start walking backwards until my back hits the wall next to the door. "Edward, I am married. Happily married. And I'm pregnant-"
"They didn't take care of it then."
My body reacts before my brain has caught up with his words. With the most insulting sentence I have ever heard! I slap him so hard that he starts shaking. My hand burns but my anger burns even hotter. He did sent the Arabs! He did sent them to rape me. To make me miscarry! "They bloody raped me!"
"And you had fun with their bits afterwards as I've heard. You enjoyed the chase, the part where you got to hurt them until they begged for a quick death, didn't you? You and me, we're just the same. We've always been two sides of the same coin, Jo."
I slap him again and bite on my lower lip to stop the tears from forming in my eyes. I nearly lost my babies because of him! "I want my wedding ring back."
"You know I don't have it anymore."
"Then I want that bloody omega watch."
He holds up his left arm and wiggles his wrist. The sapphires around the clock face of his platinum omega watch are sparkling like crazy. Those are mine sapphires and we both know it. "That thing?"
"These are my sapphires. They're from my wedding ring!"
He looks at my left hand, "I see you already got a replacement and a matching engagement ring so why bother?"
"Fuck you!"
"Oh, you will fuck me again. I promise you, the day will come when you will realise what you gave up. You will see that Oliver can't give you what you want and you will run right back into my arms."
I shake my head in disbelief. Edward's nuts! "Please give up and just say goodbye. We were barely breathing, Edward. Holding on to that would've killed us both in the end. You need help. Get medical help. Visit a psychiatrist but don't try to provoke me again. Don't try to-"
"Don't do what? I got what I wanted. I got you here in my flat. My plan worked." He tells me before placing his hands on either side of my head.
The pulse in my ears start humming. I didn't expect him to be so calculating and manipulative. He planned this to get me here! "Edward, this isn't you."
"No, Darling, this is the man you created on our wedding day. You should have gotten out of that car, walked down the aisle and promised me happily ever after. But instead you chose to humiliate me in front of the world. What did you expect me to do? Forgive and forget? No Rothschild will forget what you did to our family."
I gulp. Oliver's right. He is a fucking psychopath. "Edward, let me go."
"Is that begging I am hearing? Is the powerful Josie Bolton going on her knees for something?"
"I don't beg. I am being polite."
"Polite? Polite's not in your blood, Sweetheart. You love being in danger and dancing on that fine line between wrong and right. It's why you cheated on him with me. Twice."
"Ed-" He kisses me before I can say another word.
I kick him in his nuts to get space.
"You bloody bitch!" Edward cries out in pain.
I untwist the doorknob and tear the front door open. "Don't you ever try to come near me again! Not publicly and not privately. Keep your mouth shut-"
"Or what? You're going to try to scare me with your security that's been lingering here for the last weeks? Sweetie, I've got connections you can only dream about. I have more power than you will ever have. You have to bow to me."
"No. You will have to bow to me." I hiss before walking out of the flat.
I don't know what I was thinking. He's insane. Literally insane! I knew he was in pain but what I saw not pain, this is insanity!
I walk back to my silver Tesla. Oliver opens the door for me from the inside and I get in. "He knows he's being watched."
"Did he touch you?" Oliver asks me.
I look out of the window. Edward and me used to go into that private park all the time. There's even a bench named after the Rothschilds. "Let's go home."
Ralph drives off without another word.
I stare at my hometown that moves under my watch. It's my favourite city in the world but it also is the home to my most hated person ever. London's not big enough for the both of us.
But I'm not going anywhere.
"Josephine," Oliver grabs my hand to get my attention. "Are you alright?"
I have to find a way to stop him. I have to. "Yeah, I'm okay."
Oliver
I watch my wife stand underneath the water jet in the shower. She's been standing there for the last ten minutes. She has barely said a word since she left Edward's house. She didn't tell me what happened and that makes me worry even more. She's protecting this bastard. I don't know what she sees in him. He has conducted Arabs to rape her! He has humiliated her in front of the world's eyes on the telly!
But she still protects him.
Maybe her feelings for him were stronger than I thought. Stronger than she thought.
"Tesoro,"
She doesn't even react to her nickname.
I open the glass door of the shower and step in. I'm halfway dressed but I don't care. Her state is worrying me. She winces when I touch her left shoulder.
"Have you said something?" She asks before turning around. Her sky blue eyes widen as she sees me. "Why are in here halfway dressed?!"
My soaking wet cotton shirt and boxer briefs are sticking to my body but I couldn't care less. "Tesoro, what happened in Edward's house?"
She sighs, "He kissed me."
"He did what?" That bastard kissed my wife?!
"Don't worry, I kicked him in the nuts. I hope he's impotent now." She tries to calm me down.
"He threatened you again?"
She licks her lips, "I made it clear that I love you and not him. I told him to stay the fuck away from us."
"I don't think that's going to stop him."
"I don't either but we only got a few days left before we're under the protective wings of the Crown. And then... Then Edward's going to leave us alone."
"What did he say?"
She sighs, "Oliver,"
"What did he say, Tesoro?!" I push her.
"He said something about me never being yours and always being his. Some psychopath wittering." She shrugs.
There's something she's hiding from me. "What else?"
"He said he had more power than us." She licks her lips. "He confirmed that he sent the Arabs."
"That's not news."
"But I was stupid enough to not record him. We could have gotten him that way! If only I had started the recording on my mobile! I would-"
"You couldn't have seen that coming, Tesoro."
"No I could! I thought I knew Edward! He's a good man in his heart. He's just hurt. At least that's what I thought. Gosh, he's such a bloody narcissist! He is such a good actor!"
"Tesoro, listen to me." I grab her head and fondle her cheeks with my thumbs, "You did nothing wrong. You tried to approach his human side but clearly that's long gone. In just a few days everything will be over."
"I know. I just wish we could stop him before that. Knowing Rothschild, he's going to drop another bomb right before Christmas or maybe New Year's Eve. Anything to hurt us."
I don't know what Edward's next step will be but I know there will be one.
I just hope my wife is strong enough to handle it.
"We'll be alright." I promise her before kissing her passionately.
She wraps her arms around me as she returns my kiss. Our tongues start dancing a quick and hungry salsa before eventually turning to a slow and passionate rumba. For minutes we stand under the water jet, exploring each other's mouths like they're all we need. She's my breath. And I am hers.
No one will take that away from us.
I hold the door open of Goddards in Greenwich and wait for my wife to walk in. It's been snowing like crazy, so we both are full of snowflakes, but my wife has rarely been happier. She loves the cold, unlike me. Goddards is a family run business that has been serving pie and mash since 1890. My wife picked this place for our Christmas party and told me that they are serving handmade pies which are baked throughout the day daily here. It's one of her favourite little gems in London, so inviting our team here is very special. It's a cosy place that's perfect for our first Christmas party. The air conditioned licensed restaurant can seat 125 people so they have plenty of space to enjoy a pie and mash. On the first floor you can take in the views of Greenwich, the same part of London where the kindergarten in the name of the Bolton Foundation was built last year. On our way here, we drove past the kindergarten and I couldn't believe how much the kindergarten has changed since I last saw it. It was full of happy little toddlers running around and sticking their hands on to the glass of the windows.
It fuelled my desire to have kids with my wife even more and the look she gave me after we drove past the kindergarten, told me she wants to have those twins as well. More than ever.
The interior of Goddards is pretty simple, but inviting. They have traditional wooden benches along with long tables and chairs. They also have highchairs for younger customers - something we will need next year when we come back. The restaurant looks lovely with all the Christmas decorations. There are red and white baubles, garlands of greenery, lots of wreaths with red and green ribbons and twinkling lights all over the restaurant. The smell of Christmas fills my nose. Classic Christmas tunes are filling my ears.
It's definitely a place I want to bring our twins to. I can see us having dinner or lunch together - with a group of security men around us.
"Wow, this looks lovely!" Josephine's bright smile lights up the whole restaurant. Today's our first Christmas Party and she couldn't have chosen a more perfect place. It's not a ball room of some castle, it's down to earth. It's like us.
David, one of the owners of the restaurant walks over to us and shakes our hands. "We bought some extra bottles of champagne. I hope everything's to your liking. We'll be serving our pies in different variations and traditional English Trifles as well as sticky toffee pudding for dessert."
I never heard of any of these. But I'll definitely find out what they are. It just hits me that this will be my first ever Christmas party.
"Brilliant!" My wife smiles, "The guests should arrive any minute."
We would have been here an hour earlier as originally planned but once we kissed in that shower, my wife needed more comfort and reassurance that everything will be fine.
And there's only one way to give her that reassurance and comfort. So, I promised her over and over again that we will be fine by making her come more times than we both could count... until we looked at the clock and sprinted out of home in record time.
I think this is going to be one epic Christmas Party.
Josephine
Connecting to our team members over champagne - or cranberry juice for me - and Christmas tunes, was by far one of my best ideas. The chatter is loud, the laughter is even louder. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves on this cold December evening. The inner circle of Team Clarence consists of 14 people. There's a private secretary, a communication secretary, an advisor, an official spokesperson, the master of the household, a project manager, digital communications lead - and a deputy for each position to split the work. Oliver and I even invited Ralph and the rest of the new security team. Our head of security has been flirting with our private secretary Sarah for the last two hours. The two of them seem to hit off very well. Maybe Ralph has met the woman of his dreams. I want him to be happy. He deserves it.
Oliver's chatting with our project manager Andrew. After I have been eating Andrew's ear off basically the whole evening, he deserves a break from me. I loved getting to know Andrew more and hearing about the work he did for UNICEF. But I understand that he needs more time with a man. And Oliver seems to be the right type of man for that job. They're drinking beer and not champagne like most of the other team members.
I think they would make great friends if Andrew wasn't working for us.
"Your Royal Highness,"
I wince and turn around at the sound of my prefix. Zahar, our advisor, is standing across me. The beautiful tall African woman is wearing a stunning golden dress that's full of embellishments. "Yes?"
"I know, this may be the wrong place and time but I need to address the Rothschild situation."
I suppress a sigh, "I'm planning to take the royal route. Never complain. Never explain. It will die down."
"I'm afraid this interview and the published letter was just the start. He's aiming for a witch hunt through every tabloid." Zahar says before suddenly looking very uncomfortable. She starts shifting her weight from left to right while biting on her lower lip.
"What is it?"
She leans slightly forward, "Is there any chance you had men that you've previously met sign a NDA?"
My mouth falls open, "What?!" Who the fuck told her that?!
"A nondisclosure agreement."
"I know what a NDA is!" I hiss at her. "Who told you that?"
She nods towards the Italian woman that's chatting with Asher, our official spokesman. The dark haired Italian is named Lydia and she is our digital communications lead. Before joining our team, she worked for Spanish royals as well as high British politicians. Needless to say, this woman has connections worth more than what's on my bank account. "Lydia has her fingers in tabloids all over the world. A few secretaries and some journalists slipped her a few crumbles."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. This Edward Debacle is getting better and better. I look back at Zahar. She's waiting for an answer. "This is supposed to be a party. Without work."
"We both know that work never stops."
True. "How about we go upstairs and discuss it there? Show me the crumbles."
Zahar looks at Lydia and nods towards her. Clearly, Lydia was too scared to ask me herself.
"And next time you want to ask me something, just ask. No need to be afraid." I tell Zahar as Asher and Lydia walk over to us. They're both holding champagne glasses, but they don't even look tipsy. "Get your mobiles and follow me upstairs, we're going to need to make a plan about the Rothschild situation."
I walk up the wooden staircase until I reach the first floor. Just a week ago, I was sitting at that table near the window and worked. Now I have a whole new situation to work on. Bloody Edward Rothschild!
I sit down at a round wooden table and rest my back against the padded bench. It's quite up here. The music from downstairs is almost not audible. "Okay, tell me what you know Lydia."
The Italian woman looks a little uncomfortable. "I started asking around as soon as the trailer for the interview appeared online." She starts. "Basically, Edward had contacted Daily Mail, Daily Mirror and The Sun to publish the letter that you wrote to him. He wanted a few millions for it and send a few snippets via email but they didn't buy it because they are in the known about your position as they're on the Royal Rota. The King has put his foot down and asked for no bad news coverage until the announcement."
Wow! His Majesty actually used his power to protect me? "I didn't know that."
Lydia nods, "But then some American tabloid decided to pay for the letter. It went viral nonetheless. However the Royal Rota has not said a word about that letter. Even BBC and CNN stayed quiet. Edward is going bananas over that. He wanted the bomb to blow up with a nuclear effect but because the major British newspapers refuse to write about it, the bomb got minimised to... um, what's the right equivalent?"
"A smoke-bomb?" Andrew suggests.
Lydia nods. "Yes! A smoke-bomb is a good way to describe it."
"But he chose Channel 4 for the interview." I think out loud. It's the most popular channel in Britain!
"He wanted BBC but they refused to work with him. Channel 4 only worked with him because Ed promised them an exclusive look into his family's foundation. Everyone wanted to see how the foundation works since decades. The Rothschild Foundation is like Fort Knox. It was too juicy to deny."
"And what's his next step now?" I ask Lydia, without telling her I met Edward this noon.
"The journalists I talked to think it could be some kind of unravelling Josie Bolton's secrets kind of story." Lydia says. I have to say this woman is worth a mint! She has connections to Rupert Murdoch's News UK, which is the biggest wiener of U.K. press. The company owns The Sun, Sun on Sunday, The Times and the Sunday Times. There are five billionaires that own about 80% of UK's newspapers. Rupert Murdoch is the owner of News International, Richard Desmond is the owner of the Express, Viscount Rothermere owns the Mail and the two Barclay Brothers are owners of the Telegraph. Lydia has connections to every single one of these billionaires. Connections that run deep and can help me in such desperate times. These billionaires are indeed, key players, and there is no doubt that the ownership of the mainstream media in the UK is concentrated in these very few hands. Certainly, a very small number of corporations own the bulk of media companies. News UK (part of News International owned by Rupert Murdoch), the Daily Mail and General Trust (run by Viscount Rothermere) and Reach PLC (formerly Trinity Mirror, whose CEO is Simon Fox and who have now bought the Express) own over 80% of the newspaper market in the UK. Even regional newspapers are now owned by a small number of newspaper groups, rather than run locally and independently. Other key players, outside newspapers, are Sky (controlling interest, 20th Century Fox, part of News International owned by Rupert Murdoch, ITV (CEO Carolyn McCall) and Channel 5 (owned by US media giant, Viacom). It's an absolute maze. Trying to have an overview is hard, knowing whom to trust and whom to turn to is even trickier. That's why I am so glad I've got Lydia in our team. She's connected to everyone and everything. She has the overview that I lack.
"It won't be all of the secrets at once, Edward is planning to feed the journalists crumbles to make sure he stays in the news for as long as possible." Lydia runs her fingers through her dark brown waves, "He gives them... say a document or a receipt of something you did or bought - some sort of evidence of really anything - and let them do the digging. He is showing them the direction where to go."
"And the first one will be about the NDAs that I had men signed."
"It seems so, yes."
I start thinking of how much Rothschild might have collected about me. How many bread crumbles does he have? How much did I tell him? How much did I show him? How much has he been able to figure out by himself?! Bloody hell, I was such a fool! I was a coward when Oliver told me he loved me. If I hadn't ended things with Oliver, I had never turned to Edward and this whole disaster would have never happened! It's my fault! My own bloody fault. And now it's biting me in the ass.
Big time.
I bury my nails in my scalp and sigh, "How do we stop him?"
"It will only stop when your position gets published." Asher tells me. "He won't touch a royal."
"But he also won't apologise to me." I argue back. "The headlines, the articles, this bloody interview will remain online."
"The King will ask for its removal after the announcement is made public."
"That doesn't mean it's erased. People save screenshots of those kind of headlines. People saved the interview. There are all kinds of crazy humans out there!"
"There's always going to be some negative headlines."
Except Edward's not lying. He is saying the truth. And he's got bloody proof! "So we can do exactly nothing until January the first?" I ask them. The year's almost over but that doesn't mean Edward can't create more damage in the meantime.
"I can prepare statements that can be released after the announcement of you joining the Royal Family, Your Royal Highness." Asher says to me.
"No. No statement. We'll ignore it. I will not fuel this fire."
My team nods. "Very well. We'll do as you say." Lydia speaks for them.
"I didn't know Edward was going to go rouge like that. I knew I hurt him by what I did... but I had no idea what monsters that awoke within him." I think out loud. "I was hoping our work wouldn't include nasty tabloids until the announcement of His Majesty."
"Your Royal Highness, if I may speak freely." Lydia starts and I nod. "Edward Rothschild is a psychopath. His aim is to destroy you and to destroy your relationship with your husband. If he can't have you, no one should. Whatever made you do what you did on your wedding day, it was the absolute right decision."
"It's called instinct." Zahar says to Lydia with a nod. "Your gut was telling you to run, so you ran. Personally, I don't believe a word he said in that interview. I don't know you very long, but I do know you're nothing like Edward's description of you. You are a hardworking woman that has a good heart. You found someone you love and married him. That's what's bothering Edward."
"Then Oliver's going to be next on Edward's list. He is going to be his next step." I think out loud. God, Edward probably hired some agency to investigate on Oliver! I need to talk to Wlad.
I need to know if Edward can find anything on Oliver's past.
"Can you get me Ralph? I need to talk to him in private." I tell my team.
They all nod before leaving me alone.
Bloody hell! Maybe we should just kill him. Make it look like an accident and erase our traces. We did it with the bastards that raped me. We let out our anger, erased the traces and dropped them off at Scotland Yard. I didn't think Edward was capable of doing something but this was his order. There's nothing he wouldn't do to hurt me.
And hurting Oliver would be the most hurtful thing he could do to me. I can't allow him to drag Oliver into this. It's going to ruin him, his Mama and brothers. They won't know what's going to hit them. It's going to be horrible. They'll get chased around London by paparazzi and journalists. The headlines will be disgusting.
"You asked for me."
I snap out of my thoughts and look at Ralph. "Yes. Sorry for dragging you away from Sarah. Take a seat."
My brown haired security man smirks, "I think Sarah's going to be fine without me for a moment."
"You're getting along well?"
"She's a very fascinating woman." Ralph answers with a shrug. "What do you need from me?"
"Right, I need you to get together with Wlad and do some digging. Some very deep digging. Into Edward's computer and Oliver's past. I need to know everything Ed could possibly find on Oliver. Because everything he will dig out and he will sell to the tabloids. We have to do everything to stop him from finding anything. I have to protect Oliver."
"Mrs. Bolton, I mean Your Royal Highness, um... Duchess?" Ralph asks me confused.
I giggle. Ralph really knows how to cheer me up. "Josephine. I think you can finally start calling me by my first name."
"Josephine," Ralph says with a nod. "You don't have to worry. We've already done the digging and erasing for you."
"Really?"
"Really. Everything he will find are those vernissage articles without photos. Oliver's pretty much a ghost. Edward's never going to find out where Oliver's from, let alone that he was an illegal immigrant when the two of you met. The only valid information about Oliver is what you will release on your website. His school records aren't online because his school simply doesn't have internet. It's a blessing in times like these. His birth certificate can be found but that only if you knew in which neighbourhood he was born. And even if you had that birth certificate, there's not much you could find apart from that. Perhaps Ed could build a family tree with it but that won't go far as well."
"But a birth certificate tells you an address. It gives you a neighbourhood. It gives you a sense of how he grew up. Of the circumstances he was in."
"Except he grew up in the Fatima neighbourhood. Far, far away from Rocinha. No one will make the connection. And by today, no one knows of him in the Fatima neighbourhood. We asked around, remember? It took us six months to just find a bread crumble. Edward's not that driven and crazy. He'll give up."
"Our secret is safe?"
Ralph nods, "As safe as it can get. If you don't want to talk about it, no one will ever know."
"Okay. Thank you... for calming me down."
"No problem." Ralph gives me a soft smile. "So, can I go down to Sarah again?"
I giggle, "Yes of course. I'm glad you guys are getting along so well."
"Well," Ralph licks his lips. "As I told you in Rio, I don't tend to settle down with a woman because of my job."
"Yeah but that job has changed now."
"That's why I've decided to start looking. Sarah's a wonderful woman. If it's more than attractiveness, I don't know. But she's a great listener and talker. I like her and I think she likes me too."
"Have you done your background check on her?"
"You know I did. I've sent you the files."
"No, I meant a personal background check. Ex-boyfriends and stuff."
"I don't think... I don't think that would be very clever. I want to get to know her through her, not through printed words. And if I did that background check and she'd somehow find out... it's not something I want to risk."
Oh, he really likes her! "You guys make a cute couple."
"We're not a couple."
"What isn't yet doesn't mean it won't be." I argue with a smirk on my lips.
"I don't know what's going to happen."
"I didn't know what was going to happen when I met Oliver and now look at me." I tell him.
"Congratulations on the twins by the way." Ralph smirks at me.
I don't even bother to ask how he found out. "Thank you. I'm still getting used to the news."
"Wladimir doesn't know. It's just the three of us."
Suddenly I laugh, "Never in the world would I have thought the pregnancy news would stay between the three of us."
"Honestly, I don't know why you won't tell your parents but it's not my business. I am your security, not your advisor."
I narrow my eyes at him, "Ralph, we both know you're more than just my security."
Oliver
Josephine buries her head in the nape of my neck as I hold her in my arms. It's a little after midnight. The Christmas party was a huge success but on our way home my wife got sick again. She hasn't thrown up yet but even standing on her feet was intensifying her nausea. I ended up carrying her to the lift while she held on to me - and her stilettos in her other hand. They're dangling from her forefinger. How she can walk in these will forever be a mystery to me.
"You're okay?" I ask her as the lift moves up.
When all I get is a nod from her, I have my answer.
Her morning sickness seems to come in waves. At times it's so mild that she can ignore it but then it hits her so hard that she literally struggles to stand.
I wish I could do more than just hold her and pray for it to be over soon.
The doors of the lift open and I step into the hallway of our home. "Bedroom? Living room or Bathroom?" I ask. I know that the bed can sometimes be too soft when she's feeling so sick. That's when she prefers to lay on the harder sofa in the living room.
When she just growls in response, I have my answer. It's a bathroom kind of morning sickness.
I turn left and hear how she lets go of her stilettos. They clash against the hardwood floor with a loud thud. After a short walk, we reach the en-suite bathroom. I place her on the floor next to the loo because I know she's on the edge of throwing up. She has been since we got into the car.
Josephine quickly opens the lid of the loo before vomiting out breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I hold her hair back as I helplessly watch my wife vomiting. I wish I could do more.
After a few minutes of non-stop vomiting, she finally stops.
"Better?" I ask her as I let go of her hair and push the flush of the loo.
"I hate this. I bloody hate this." She sighs before rising from the floor. "I can't even eat a bloody pie without vomiting it out." She walks to the sink and picks up a hair tie from a bowl that's on the vanity next to the sink. She ties her hair up before she starts washing her face and rinsing her mouth.
"Anything I can do?"
She picks up the towel and dries her face. "I just want to get into my cosy pyjamas, have some tea and listen to your heartbeat until I fall asleep."
"I'll make you some ginger tea, okay?"
She smiles at me, "Thank you."
If only ginger tea could cure her morning sickness.
I walk down the hallway with a steaming cup of ginger and lemon tea in my hand. I stop in the open door as I see my wife laying in our bed. She's in a pair of icy blue cashmere and wool pyjamas. Her chestnut curls are cascaded around the pillow. Her sky blue eyes look exhausted, not because she's feeling tired but because she's fed up with this nausea. Her eyes fill with love when she spots me standing in the doorway.
I wish I could do more.
"Your tea." I announce before walking over to her side of the bed.
My wife lifts herself in the bed and rests her back against the headboard of our bed. She's not wearing any makeup, so I can see her birthmarks so clearly. A heart shaped birthmark underneath her left eyelashes and the star shaped birthmark on her right temple. "Thank you."
"If I had known you need to be pregnant to voice your appreciation, I had knocked you up quicker." I joke.
That causes her full lips to curl into a smile. "I love you to the moon and back."
I place the hot cup of tea on her white wooden nightstand and sit down next to her on the bed. "I love you, too. All three of you."
"They're half you as well." She reminds me before fondling my cheek with her left hand. She runs her thumb over the stubbles that have formed since I shaved this morning. "I like your stubbles."
"But not the beard I wore when you found me in Rio."
She giggles, "No, that was a bit much... it was a full grown beard that made you look old and very badly groomed." She admits while running her thumb over my lips. "I like seeing your lips. I didn't see them when you were wearing that beard."
"Is there anything else you want? Do you want crackers and pickles?"
She shakes her head, "No, not right now. I'm still feeling too nauseous to hold anything in my belly."
"That sucks."
She shrugs, "What did you say to me the other day? It's twice the love. It's also twice the morning sickness, I guess."
"But Charlotte didn't have such bad morning sickness and she was carrying twins as well. And so did Rory! She was carrying triplets!"
"Every pregnancy is different. Just like every woman is different. What applies to my sisters, my Mum and my sister-in-law doesn't apply to me."
"I wish it would."
"Yeah, me too. Although I wouldn't mind to be able to skip the Bolton curse."
"The Bolton curse?" I ask her with a raised eyebrow.
"Bolton women give birth to girls as their firstborn."
I laugh, "No, that can't be true!"
"It is. Just think about it. My Mum gave birth to Della. Della gave birth to twin girls. Rory gave birth to triplet girls. Charlotte gave birth to twin girls."
"But Ana gave birth to a boy." I argue back.
"I hate to say this, but we're not blood related. The curse doesn't apply to her."
"But your grandma gave birth to twin boys, your Dad and uncle."
"But my other grandma only had one baby and that was my Mum. So perhaps it's not a Bolton curse but a Montez curse."
"Yeah but that means Char wouldn't have given birth to girls because she is neither a Bolton nor a Montez." I tell her with a nod. "See? No curse."
"But Nate's the Daddy of those girls." She points out. "That brings me back to the Bolton curse."
"Well, I wouldn't mind two beautiful girls."
"Can't you wish for two boys instead?"
"Wish or not - the sex is already developed."
"Yeah but isn't that how the law of attraction works? Wish for something long enough and eventually you're going to get it?"
I chuckle, "You're talking to me about the law of attraction now?"
She sighs, "It's my last straw! I don't want two girls!"
I lick my lips, "Because of the pressure they're going to be under?"
"Yeah. Boys would have it easier."
"Boys would be compared to their uncle-in-law, the future King of Great Britain." I point out. They'd be compared no matter what.
She bites on her lower lip, "So either way, they're screwed?"
"I wouldn't use those exact words..."
"But it's the truth. Whether we're getting boys or girls, they will grow up under immense pressure and the magnifying glass of the media. Oh and in the royal goldfish bowl as we've joined The Royal Family."
I shrug, "They'll be fine. Your brothers, sisters and you turned out great as well."
"I was a bitch when we first met. I was arrogant and selfish... I was ruthless-"
"You were cautious." I interrupt her rant before it gets too dark. "You were brought up to question those who step into your life and rightfully so. Your family tree is full of amazing women and men. You are being watched your every step because of the power your last name has. That won't change now that we're joining the Royal Family. It's going to increase the interest in them even more."
My wife nods, "I know. I just... I want them to have calm lives."
"We'll do everything in our power to protect them."
Luckily our power is quite strong.
Josephine
A sharp pain in my lower abdomen wakes me up in the middle of the night. It's so strong that I can't breathe for a moment. With a growl, I open my eyes. Oliver's still fast asleep next to me. The moonlight is shining on him so beautifully. I turn around and look at the clock that's standing on my nightstand. It's three in the morning. I start feeling hot. Very hot. This isn't good. It's not good at all. I shouldn't be having these cramps. Let alone start this fever.
I fold over the blanket and get up from the bed. Another shooting pain runs through my lower abdomen and I look down. In the light of the moon and stars I can see the massive dark red spot on my grey trousers. I'm bleeding!
Then I see the blood in the bed, where I just laid in. It's a huge puddle that's fully red. Fear grabs my heart and squeeze it so hard until it stops beating for a moment. I'm bleeding! I'm loosing my babies!
"Oliver!" I cry out.
My husband winces before turning over. His green eyes look so sleep deprived.
"Oliver, I'm bleeding!" I cry out as tears start running down my eyes. I can't loose them! I just found out about them! I can't be miscarrying again!
Oliver looks at me with wide eyes, suddenly completely awake. "Tesoro,"
"We need to get to the hospital. I need... there's got to be something they can do to stop this. I can't loose our babies! I can't-" I start crying in my husband's arms as he embraces me.
"I'll call us a cab. Everything will be fine." He gives me a promise no one can keep.
Edward finally got what he wanted.
He caused this miscarriage.
He fucking broke me.
Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!
Will Jo loose the twins? Has Edward finally gotten what he wanted? What do you think is Edward's next move going to be?
What do you think of the article about Jo being a narcissist? Are Jo's moves to protect Charlotte and her siblings catching up with her?
I hope you're taking care of yourself and your loved ones, and that you're staying safe and healthy wherever you are in the world.
In gratitude,
Nicole