“And I designed half the suit line,” I reminded him.
“Which explains why it’s so…practical.”His smile was wicked, teasing.
“Practical sells.”
“Formalwear stuns.”
I folded my arms and glared at him, though I could feel laughter bubbling underneath.This was us—sparring, needling, winding each other up until one of us caved.Usually me.
Before either of us could declare victory, the intercom buzzed.
Laurence’s voice: “Sir, Mr.Tennant—Ms.Carlisle and her assistant, Ms.Hammond, have just arrived.”
Chris leaned forward, pressing the button with practiced ease.“Lovely.Please let them know I’ll be right out.”
He released the button and turned to me, his eyes glittering with mischief.“Showtime.”
Our gazes locked for a moment, and then, as if choreographed, we both broke into laughter.
“Go on,” he said, waving toward the adjoining room.“Hide.I’ll dazzle them first, and then you can sweep in when I give the signal.”
“Honestly, Chris, we’re ridiculous,” I said, though I was already scooping up my phone.
“Ridiculous but effective.”He leaned back against the sofa cushions like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse.“Don’t forget to look impossibly regal.They must believe you dine on royal swans every night.”
I snorted.“Shall I dig out Grandfather’s signet ring?Would that help?”
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound filling the office.“Divine.Utterly divine.Yes, wear the ring.Americans adore a prince.”
Shaking my head but smiling all the same, I slipped into the adjoining room.It was hardly a glamorous hiding place—a small sitting room that doubled as a refuge on days when the office felt too exposed—but it had become part of our ritual.Chris went first, dazzling with his designer’s patter, and then I appeared at just the right moment to remind the world that Clarence Atelier came with its own touch of aristocratic sparkle.
I leaned back against the cool wall, phone in hand, waiting for the buzz.My heart thudded with anticipation, but also with the comfort that Chris was on the other side, holding the line.We were a team, always had been.Best friends before business partners, and somehow still managing both without losing our sanity.
And when that phone buzzed, I’d stride out in all my regal glory—signet ring or not—and together we’d charm the Americans into falling hopelessly in love with Clarence Atelier.
I listened through the door, straining for every sound.Chris’s voice carried first—smooth, melodic, the practiced patter of a designer who believed in every stitch he’d sketched.There was laughter, then a feminine voice I didn’t recognise, followed by a warm chorus of “oohs” and “aahs.”
I grinned.That would be Chris unfurling the evening collection like banners at a coronation.He always knew how to work a room.
Turning toward the mirror on the wall, I inspected my reflection.My hair—dark chestnut, slightly tousled as always—looked fine, though I ran my fingers through it to settle the wave that never quite behaved.My suit was holding up: a slim-cut navy number from our own line, the lapels sharp enough to signal intention without screaming for attention.I straightened the knot of my tie—a deep forest green in raw silk—and adjusted my cuffs.
Perfect: polished, understated, confident.
From the other room came another ripple of appreciative exclamations.I bit back a laugh.Chris was clearly slaying.If I actually swept in wearing a coronet, the poor Americans might faint dead away on the rug.Not that I’d ever inflict one on myself—those wretched things sat on the head like a medieval torture device.No man in his right mind enjoyed them.
My phone buzzed.
The signal.
I drew in a deep breath, lifting my chin.My heartbeat quickened, but my expression was serene.This was the role I’d been born to play—not designer, not entrepreneur, but the ineffable aura of royalty that still clung to me whether I liked it or not.
A calm smile fixed itself to my lips.I placed one hand lightly on the doorknob, straightened my posture, and with a final glance in the mirror, stepped out into the corridor.
And with that, His Royal Highness entered the stage.
* * *
The crystal clink of champagne glasses echoed through my office like music.I leaned back against the edge of my desk, savouring the effervescent fizz on my tongue and the rare satisfaction of a deal gone precisely our way.
