“Of course.” Stepping to where I had left my purse, I reached inside, pulled out my credit card, and handed it to Sophie. “First round is on me. Take the team and enjoy the night until I get there.”
Plucking the black card from my hand, she smirked. “Hmm. I could do some damage with this. I’ll call you from the Maldives.”
“Drop a pin when you get there so I can join you.” Winking, I left the backstage area, leaving the warehouse building where Addy June’s show had been, before hopping into the backseat of a sleek black sedan that would drive me to the location of the Arabella Reign show.
Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to the museum, where the show was set to begin at any moment. Running up the stairs, Ithrust my ticket into the hands of the door attendant and took a seat in the only remaining chair. The place was packed; a line extended out the door of people begging entry, even though they hadn’t secured a ticket.
The lights changed so they were focused on the extended runway splitting the room. Anticipation was evident as everyone in attendance craned their necks to look where the first model was expected to appear. Music began pumping through the speakers, and a gorgeous curvy woman with caramel skin, clad in only a lavender lace bra and panties set walked out.
Remember when I mentioned a second label where I kept my identity secret?
Arabella Reign was my secret baby—a lingerie label. Next to no one knew I was pulling the strings on what had become the world’s hottest intimate apparel brand. Not only was this an opportunity to prove that I could make it in the fashion world without my family name paving the way, but I shuddered to think what would happen if my grandfather found out. He’d either have a heart attack from the scandal or lock me away in the palace dungeons. Either way, that would be the end of my fashion career.
So, I sat in the audience, enjoying the show like I wasn’t completely invested. Even my design team didn’t know I was in charge. All communication with them was sent through a secure server, keeping my identity anonymous.
My vision for embracing real women extended across both my labels. Every woman deserved to feel sexy and confident, both beneath their clothes and in the bedroom. I’d carefully chosen a selection of models to represent a variety of women. There were women of every shape and size—some with C-section scars, tattoos and piercings, stretch marks, and cellulite, among other “imperfections”—but they all glowed up there on that stage.
They were all beautiful. Their confidence was sexy, and it was intoxicating.
Everyone watching was transfixed, and I hoped every woman could picture themselves in my designs. But more than that, I wanted the men to see that my pieces were meant to accentuate the woman beneath, highlighting their natural beauty. I curated a collection of classic bra and panty sets, baby dolls, silk pajama sets, teddies, and corsets. There was something for everybody, and the size range was unmatched.
When the models paraded together one last time, the audience erupted in applause, and I let out a deep breath. Two shows by a single designer was almost unheard of, especially on the same day. For nearly twenty years, I dreamed of being more than just a princess, and through hard work and dedication, I had an opportunity to make my mark on the world beyond my family name.
The week following my debut shows could launch my career to the next level. Boutique reps in attendance would go back to their home offices and make decisions on which brands and pieces to carry. Celebrities would commission custom pieces based on what styles intrigued them. One day, I might even be able to open my own storefront. To this point, my evening styles were mostly unique pieces sold off the rack or commissions earned through word of mouth, but my lingerie line was selling well online.
Expansion was always the long-term plan, but it rested in the hands of others. Fashion design differed from many other professions—a set standard didn’t easily measure success. You weren’t working with numbers that needed to add up correctly, teaching children to read, or healing the sick and injured. My success was determined solely by the opinions and whims of others. One day, I could be the hottest label. The next, I could be old news. Constant evolution was required to stay relevant.
Walking into the crowded bar that Sophie and the Addy June team chose for their post-show celebration, my adrenaline rush began to subside, and I was suddenly exhausted. The stifling body heat from the crush inside the bar after walking in the late-September New York evening air probably didn’t help either. Pushing my way through the sea of bodies, Sophie’s flaming-red hair acted like a beacon, allowing me to find the men and women who had become like a second family.
Truth be told, I spent more time with my team than with my family. Even though I split my time evenly between working in my studio in Milan and my family’s home base of Stonecrest Palace in Belleston, I was too busy “working” as a royal for much downtime—especially when combined with still running my design team remotely. Days “at home” were often spent in the community, interfacing with the citizens my grandfather currently ruled over.
The Remingtons had ruled over Belleston for centuries. Grandfather was nearing ninety and had pulled back significantly on his public appearances, leaving the rest of us to pick up the slack. My father, Prince Adrian, was my grandfather’s only child, so he and my mother, Princess Adelaide, were even busier with official engagements than I was. These days, spending time with them often required calling their personal secretaries and booking an appointment.
My oldest brother, Leo, was my father’s heir. He made it a point to become the face of the family over the years—destined to one day become King—loving the limelight and taking a larger share of the pool of obligated appearances.
Liam was the second-born son and middle child of our family. Until recently, he spent several years in America with our sister-in-law, Natalie—Leo’s ex-wife—and her children, working remotely with several charities in Belleston. That changed somewhat this past year, when he married Amy and they began to take on a more prominent role as part of the family, splitting their time between their home in Connecticut and Belleston.
Liam and Amy’s more active royal life would have been good news for me, allowing me to pull back even further, if Leo hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth a few months ago. No one seemed to know where he’d gone or why he left, even though the “offical” statement from the palace was that he was tending to a personal matter. That development set me back to square one—sharing our generation’s portion of events with one brother instead of two.
So no matter how exhausted I was, tonight, I would enjoy my limited freedom before I hopped a plane back home tomorrow. If only this was my life full-time. A girl could dream, but that was all it would ever be—a dream. An accident of birth ensured a set of invisible shackles for the rest of my life.
Sophie saw my approach and waved a little too enthusiastically, her body leaning just a touch too far to the right, almost causing her to lose her perch on the barstool she occupied. Gripping the bar with both hands, she giggled uncontrollably. There was no doubt I was late to the party. I made a mental note to make sure she made it back to her hotel room in one piece.
Shaking my finger, I pretended to lecture her. “I saidoneround, Soph.”
She swatted at my hand. “It started as one, but then a few early reviews came in.”
I froze. I couldn’t tell if she ordered extra drinks because they were good and they were celebrating, or if they were terrible andthey were trying to forget. My chest felt tight, and I tried to take a calming breath to no avail. My heart was racing, and sweat gathered over my entire body.
Almost too afraid, I closed my eyes before asking, “And?”
Tensing my body and bracing for impact, I jumped when she screamed, “They loved it!”
My eyes popped open, and I stared at Sophie, whose smile was so wide that I feared it would split her face in two.
Needing double confirmation, I breathed out, “Say that again.”
Jumping off her stool, unsteady on her feet, she gripped my shoulders, shaking me lightly. “Theylovedit!”
