Bea straightened. “Elena. Hi. Hello.”
“I know this is unusual,” Elena said. “I’m calling from a plane bound for Geneva. I had to fly out early this morning for an emergency board meeting that may stretch through the weekend.”
Bea was already walking to the kitchen without quite knowing why, her heart beginning to climb up her throat. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, thank you,” Elena replied. “But I was meant to attend something this evening. And I can’t. I’d normally never ask. The guest list is female-only, and I wondered if you might be willing to go. In my place.”
“Me?”
“It’s the Lysandra Women’s Circle. You wouldn’t be expected to speak. Just attend.”
Bea reached for the counter. Gripped the edge. “I can’t imagine I’m the right choice for that.”
“You are,” Elena said. “You’re with Gage. You’ve already been seen. And your presence tonight would be noted.”
Bea swallowed. “Noted how?”
“As a gesture,” Elena replied. “That the King family is present. That we honor our commitments.”
There was no pressure in her voice, but Bea understood. She was being asked tostand in, and not simply as Gage’s girlfriend.
As a future King.
“If you’re willing, I can arrange for my stylist to come to your residence at four o’clock today. She has the dress, the details. You’ll be taken care of.”
“Alright,” Bea said before she could think herself out of it. “Yes.”
“Thank you,” Elena breathed. “I greatly appreciate it.”
When the call ended, Bea just held the phone for a moment, her heart beating faster.
Elena King had just entrusted her to represent the family.
For a moment, it felt…really good.
Then she glanced down at the folded shirt in her hand, still warm from the dryer. Simple. Familiar. Hers.
And suddenly, a little further away than it had been five minutes ago.
The car pulled up in front of a private estate wrapped in hedges and soft-lit stone. The Kings’ chauffeur didn’t say much, just opened the door for her, and told her he’d be waiting when she was done.
A woman named Margo had indeed appeared promptly at four with a suitcase on wheels. Everything needed for her transformation.
Bea hadn’t protested, though she hadn’t quite recognized herself in the mirror, either.
Now, walking through the foyer, she was very aware of how perfectly the small navy bag in her hand matched her gown, and her shoes. How every inch of her had been calibrated.
And then, “Bea?”
She turned. Naomi stood halfway down the sweeping staircase, glass in hand, dressed in maroon lace.
Naomi smiled. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Neither did I,” Bea said, smiling back.
Naomi descended the last few steps and gave her a quick, one-armed hug. “I thought I was going to be stuck talking to Charles’ great-aunt for two hours straight,” she said under her breath. “You might have just saved my life.”
“I’m so relieved you’re here,” Bea said.
