“Got one. Anniversary, remember? What’s another person? 8:00 p.m.” I hang up, proverbial smoke coming out of my ears. One last check in the mirror, mussing up my hair just so, and I’m on my way.
Conveniently, Sexy Fish isn’t far from my flat. No need to call for a car service or to drive. Instead, I collect my bodyguard, Miles, and I walk down Piccadilly Street like I own it, turning north onto Berkeley Street, with the shadows of my security nearby. It’s dark and crisp and drizzly out. My wool overcoat provides some buffer versus the chill, thin leather gloves protecting against the occasional gust of wind as I walk down the street.
Showing uncharacteristic self-restraint, I keep from doing an internet search on myself on the way over, partly because I have to deal with the umbrella situation and wind as I walk, partly because it’s cold to stand around googling oneself shamelessly in the street, and partly because I’ll have time when I reach the restaurant while I wait for James and Frankie to turn up.
When I walk into the restaurant, warmth hits me like a wall, and a shudder of some suppressed emotion I don’t want to examine too closely rips through me again. But I give my famous grin to cover up as I’m smoothly whisked to my table. Miles stays out of the private dining room, led to his nearby table.
“We’re so pleased you’re here. Your table is ready. This way, Prince Theodor.” The impeccably coiffed hostess in her black dress takes me to the private dining room I’ve booked for my anniversary dinner date.
“May I have one more chair, please?” I nod at the table set for two in a moody, intimate room painted deep maroon. “And I suppose another place setting, if it’s not too much of a bother?”
Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “Did we make an error?—”
“Not at all. My, er, plans changed this evening. I’m now expecting Prince James and his guest, Frankie Lee-Smith, instead of Aidan Fitzwilliam. Thank you.” My lips twitch only the slightest amount at the effort of mentioning his name. Like I’m used to kissing poison.
With a tumble of apologies, the staff add a place setting and a chair to the table while I order a Corpse Reviver cocktail to tide me over as I wait for my friends. Because drinking on an empty stomach is a solid plan, especially when I’m being smeared in the press. Now, seated alone in the room, I call up a search for myself on my phone’s browser, and I’m soon rewarded with the exclusive story to match the headline James sent me. After all, I’m invested in finding out more about “the truth” about me.
It’s terrible.
There’s Aidan, looking bashful and wide-eyed as he, with a liquid tongue, spills a silken pack of lies. Transfixed and horrified, I scroll.
* * *
“The Truth” About Danish Prince Theodor: Ex-Boyfriend Tells All in Exclusive!
Aidan Fitzwilliam, entrepreneur, met with Daily News in an exclusive interview, and revealed his difficult relationship with the glamorous—but “troubled”—Prince Theodor of Denmark. Theodor lives in London, operating his creative consultancy business and lifestyle influencing social media channels.
Following the tragic death of Danish King Christian last year after a brief illness, Fitzwilliam, 28, was soon spotted at the grieving prince’s side. Fitzwilliam selflessly dedicated himself to consoling Prince Theodor, 27, through his terrible loss. The prince soon lost himself in alcohol, men, and endless events as he failed to cope, Fitzwilliams reports.
“I had no choice but to leave him, after the many affairs. And all the drinking. It was dreadful,” confesses Fitzwilliam, the only beau who has bravely put up with the Danish prince’s antics for more than a handful of dates. “Theodor would go to endless parties. He has a wandering eye, and he’s a philanderer. Theodor’s totally unreliable. I don’t know how he’ll amount to anything at this rate.”
The last straw for Fitzwilliams was Theodor’s “appalling” behavior at the society event of the season in London, the lavish engagement party for Zoe Bourne, 24, and Patrick Delaney, 30. Prince Theodor hung off singer Zoe Bourne’s fiancé’s every word, the sought-after actor Patrick Delaney. Theodor and Delaney polished off “bottles of champagne” and “shut the party down,” according to Fitzwilliam, who comforted the tearful Bourne.
“I should have known he would break my heart,” Fitzwilliams lamented to our correspondent Kirstie Le Sauvage-Smith, “since Theo’s the notorious black sheep of his family. I should have listened to the warnings. But I was entirely caught off guard by his relentless charm offensive. And now, I’ve been blindsided by Theo’s selfishness, after everything I did for him. The least he could have done is show up sober to my birthday party. Yet he was passed out drunk by 8pm. He even had the nerve to tell me he wished he was in Copenhagen when I complained. Rude.”
Fitzwilliams launches his own skincare line, True Glow Radiance, next month, which will be available soon at exclusive boutiques across London. A flagship shop is scheduled to open later this year.
Well, shit. All Aidan’s missing is that I’m a lousy lover and I ran over his beloved pet. I abruptly put my phone face down on the table with a loud thump and suck back an inelegant breath.
The fucker. I’m hardly that bad. And I only had one drink before we went out for Aidan’s birthday—I was very far from passed out. Aidan cleverly omitted the last thing I wanted to do was go to an ostentatious party two months after my father died. True, I did tell him I wished I were in Copenhagen—because my mother had been in tears on the phone earlier that night, and it felt too soon to celebrate anything after my father’s passing.
And there were no affairs, despite his regular suspicions. True, I’m a flirt, but I’m outgoing, and I like people. People often get caught in my vibe. Is that really a crime? I’m hardly selfish. Plus, Patrick Delaney seems a lot queerer than he’s publicly let on—or confessed to his girlfriend when he spilled everything to me, a captive audience over champagne in a private corner.
The product placement is the cherry on top.
When James and Frankie arrive, I get up to exchange hugs with them both, my mind racing.
“Put your phone away,” James says sternly after a solid hug. He shakes his head, light brown hair falling into his eyes as he pushes it away. “It won’t do anything but drive you mad.”
I hesitate, starting to protest. Then he snatches my phone and tucks it away inside his blazer.
“There. Think of this as a time-out. You’ll thank me later,” James tells me with a voice of authority and gives me a stern look, then reaches for a menu.
Beside him, Frankie’s deep brown eyes crinkle against his dark skin. He gives me a wry grin. “Sorry, Theo. It’s a bunch of bollocks.”
James squeezes his hand, nodding emphatically. “Total bollocks.”
“I can’t believe it.” I shake my head in disbelief. Betrayal feels like being filleted like one of the fishes at the raw bar tonight the restaurant is famed for. “Like what the actual fuck? He’s lost it.”
