Chapter 4
The Desperate Girl’s Guide to Being Trapped in a Glass Box…
Arabella
Breaking Newsfrom the ABN News Center with Giles Bigly
“Good evening, I'm Giles Bigly with the ABN news desk. We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you a breaking story from the Valcourt International Airport where it appears as though Princess Arabella has somehow become trapped in a set of revolving doors. Our reporter, Zachary Jones, is live on the scene. Zachary, can you fill us in on what's happening at this moment?"
Zachary, a red-headed man in his late twenties, gives the camera a grave look. "Well, Giles, I'm standing outside of Valcourt International Airport at gate C3, where Princess Arabella is currently trapped in the revolving door you see behind me. It is my understanding that she was intending to make a brief appearance here to pick up her fiancé, Will Banks, who is returning from several weeks of filming his hit seriesThe Wild World. As you can see, Princess Arabella is kneeling on the floor, where she is praying."
"Really? I had no idea she was so religious."
"Yes, this does appear to be a surprising development. The royal family attends St. Stephen’s Church, but they generally are not known to be people of faith, or if they are, they are certainly private about it. But tonight, the princess has decided to use this time that she's got to give thanks for her many blessings and to pray for the less fortunate.”
The camera zooms in on Arabella, then on the crowd of people. “Many of the people inside the airport have now joined her in prayer, in fact. The crowd has separated themselves into two groups — the one on the left is comprised of curious onlookers, while, on the right, we have a rather large group of people who are kneeling and praying alongside the princess. I managed to talk to one of them and she told me that she is praying for the princess’s safe exit from the doors."
"Fascinating,” Giles says. “And rather inspiring to see the princess use this time to think about others rather than, say, scrolling through her Instagram feed or panicking."
“Indeed,” Zachary answers with a firm nod. “But, over the last year or so, the princess has certainly been a champion of those in need. She truly is a fine example of leadership and compassion, and, in fact, is quickly becoming Avonia’s most popular royal.”
"Quite so. Zachary, any word on how she got trapped? Some conspiracy theories are floating around on the Internet already that she has somehow been entrapped by a terrorist group or perhaps a jealous rival for Mr. Banks’ affections."
Zachary chuckles and shakes his head. "While it is natural for people to speculate in unusual situations such as this, it seems as though it's simply a maintenance issue. Apparently, the door has been sticking all day and should have had an ‘out of order’ sign put up, but somehow that didn't happen."
“Any word on how long it may take for her to be rescued?"
"No word as of yet, Giles," Zachary says. "But rest assured, we’ll be here all night if we have to until this story has a resolution."
“Thank you, Zachary. And of course, I’ll be here at the anchor desk as the story unfolds.”
The feed from the airport cuts and Giles's face fills the screen. "Stay tuned here on ABN for up-to-the-minute updates on the Emergency at the Airport. For now, we’ll return you to your regularly scheduled program,The Great Avonian Bake-Off, already in progress."
That is the very last time I’m going to try to be sexy. Seriously. I know people make these sorts of declarations after suffering some type of humiliation, but in my case, I absolutely mean it. I’m striking sexy off the list of ways to be the perfect wife, and just doubling down on all the other stuff.
I am now in the bathtub at Will’s apartment, where I've been for a solid forty-five minutes. First, I took a long shower and used the better part of a bar of soap scrubbing the disgusting sticky knickers off of my body, only to discover that the strawberry bra and thong strings have dyed my skin bright pink, leaving me looking like I have some sort of reverse sunburn, as though I wore a very weird cut-out full bodysuit with only my naughty bits showing.
Now I’m soaking in the small white tub, hoping against all hope that some of this awful red dye will come off my skin. A few minutes ago, Will came in to check on me and lit a few candles in the room and turned off the lights. “Thought you might need to relax a little," he said before slipping out of the room.
Isn’t he dreamy? It almost makes me want to get out of the bath and…
But, when I think about him actually seeing me right now, I just can’t. Not when I look so utterly insane. To be honest, all this heat hasn't been the best for my poor face, which is now piping hot after an evening trapped in a glass oven and now in a steamy bath. I’m sure I resemble a tomato at this point, which proves my point about not ever trying to be a total sex cat again because both my attempt at youthful skin and my attempt at edible naughtiness have ended in utter defeat.
Oh, and if you're wondering how I got out of there, here’s how it unfolded: Will, Bellford, and Reynard (Will’s bodyguard) devised a genius plan to have the airport staff put up tarps surrounding the entire revolving door under the guise of not wanting anyone to get injured in the case of broken glass. When Roger the maintenance guy finally showed up (half-cut, by the way) and got the door working, Will managed to sneak in a plastic bag and a container of baby wipes. He then helped me quickly clean my legs/heels so as to hide the true cause of my kneeling.
Now, as long as nobody says anything, I should be spared the public humiliation of the entire world knowing what a dirty idiot I am. Unfortunately, that still leaves the security staff, including Bellford, who is very much like a favourite uncle to me. He and I now have an unspoken agreement that we shall not make eye contact for quite some time. And then there's Will, who, although he’s been absolutely marvelous about the entire thing, I'm not sure I can ever face again either. Not after he had to help wipe gooey chocolate off my ankles.
There's a knock on the door, then I hear it open.
"Hey, you," Will says in a gentle tone. "I'm not going to ask you to come out until you're ready, but I brought you a drink and I was hoping maybe I could just sit on this side of the curtain and we could talk. I just really miss you."
“Of course.” I tuck my knees into my chest and wrap my arms around them, laying my cheek on my knees. "Sorry this evening has turned out to be such a disaster.”
“I'm going to reach in and hand you your drink, but I promise not to peek." He slides his arm in and in his hand is my favourite drink — a gin and tonic with extra lemon.
I take it from him and press the cool glass to my forehead and cheeks before having a long sip. On the other side of the curtain, I hear him settling himself onto the floor next to the tub.
"Are you okay?" he asks for the twentieth time since my escape.
