“Not the whole time,” I replied with a smile. “When you’re alone in your room, you can dress however you like.”
“Oh god,” she groaned, leaning forward to rest her head on her knees.
I felt bad for her. It was a big ask, and I was only just realizing how big of an ask it was.
“Hey,” I said, tapping her on the back. “It’s just a couple of months, right? We can both pretend for a couple of months.”
With a sigh, she straightened and smiled sadly at me. “Yeah. I can pretend for a couple of months. It’ll be fun. Like playing dress-up or something.”
Or something, I thought to myself.
Francesca
I was bored out of my brain. When Maya said we were going for drinks with the girls, I thought we might go to some fancy new hotspot at the very least, not the country club. And when she said girls, I thought they might at least be my age, not my mother’s age.
Maya, however, was in her element. She was the queen bee of her little entourage and I could tell how much she relished the position. The other women around the table hung off her every word, and they all tried to imitate her mannerisms. I felt like I was back in high school, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Despite the new designer dress, the makeup, and the obscenely expensive hairdo, I was still the weird girl who didn’t fit in…not that I wanted to fit in, but I needed to, for Lucas.
“You’re going to be our very own royal princess,” one of the women said to me with a nudge.
“Not a princess,” I replied.
“Still, it’s close enough. Just like Grace Kelly,” the woman sighed.
I smiled tightly. “Exactly like Grace Kelly,” I replied trying to keep the sarcasm in check.
“You’re so lucky to have Maya advising you,” the woman on my other side said. “With all her connections in the press and her social media platform, she will make you famous.”
Not something I wanted and definitely not something I’d taken into consideration when I agreed to this plan.
I lifted my hand to a passing waiter and indicated my empty wine glass. “Can I have another, please? And keep them coming.”
I didn’t drink wine normally, I was more of a spirits kind of girl, but Maya had ordered for me earlier and I knew better than to mix my drinks, and I needed all the alcohol—I mean help—I could get to get through ‘drinks with the girls.’
“Have you considered how you will use your new status?” the first woman asked me.
“Um, what?”
“Well, with Maya’s endorsement, it won’t be long before you have a whole host of companies beating a path to your door to showcase their products on your social media.”
Maya thought of herself as a social influencer. I knew this. Lucas and I often made fun of her delusions when we were alone. I’d never taken it seriously before, but now…maybe I should have taken more notice.
“Hush, Missy,” Maya said, and I found myself feeling grateful to her…for about half a second. “I haven’t even had a chance to show Francesca the new profiles I set up for her.”
“What?”
Maya waved away my obvious objections.
“You can’t expect to keep your old profiles, surely? I mean, the last thing you need is for the press to go trolling through all your previous posts and releasing embarrassing photos of you.”
She had a point, but still…
“You deleted my profiles?” I asked, not even sure how she got access.
“Of course not,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I just did some creative editing.”
“What? How?”
She shrugged and smiled, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “It was no trouble. While Antonio and his team had you occupied, I borrowed your phone.”
“You went through my phone?” I asked, incredulous.
“There’s no need to thank me. It was the least I could do. If I’d known what a mess your social media was, I would never have tagged you in that video…or at least not until we had it cleaned up. That’s not a problem now, though. Your platforms are all fixed and your numbers are already climbing.”
“My numbers?”
“Your followers. Hopefully, by tonight I’ll have you trending on Twitter. Which hashtag do you prefer: hashtag royal romance or hashtag royal fairy tale?”
“Um, neither,” I mumbled as I grabbed the glass the waiter set down in front of me and took a healthy slug.
“Ooh, what’s your celebrity couple name going to be?” one of the women asked. “Lucesca or Francas?”
I looked at the woman in horror, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to get Maya’s approval for her suggestions.
“I don’t mind Lucesca,” Maya said thoughtfully, her red tipped fingernail tapping her chin, like it was actually something serious to consider…surely they were joking…right?
“Um, my name is Frankie, so it probably should be Lunkie,” I said, gulping the rest of my wine and holding my glass up to the waiter to let him know I needed a refill. “Lunkie,” I said again and snorted.
“Francesca, please,” Maya said, shooting me a disapproving look.
“Fr-an-kie,” I enunciated slowly. “My name is Frankie.”
“Not anymore,” Maya said decisively. “The future markissia can’t have such a common name. A common boys’ name. Francesca is perfect for your new position in society. It even sounds like a traditional name from Kalopsia.”
It was yet another change to my identity.
I gave up on waiting for my glass to be refilled and grabbed the untouched glass from the woman sitting on my right. I swallowed the entire thing without taking a breath. I would need something stronger to get through the next few weeks until we got out of Boston and away from Maya and her expectations. No wonder Lucas always gave in to his parents. I’d never really understood before, but now it was glaringly obvious. Unless he wanted to be constantly in conflict with them—like Effie—then it was just easier to give in…and have his soul sucked out.
Not unlike what was happening to me. But I only needed to suck it up for a couple of months, Lucas had lived with a lifetime of it. If I could just hold on for a little longer, then maybe Lucas could get away from them and breathe for once in his life.
“Francesca it is,” I said as the waiter finally returned with a full glass of wine.
Maya smiled victoriously and my gut clenched. I hated letting her win, but I would have the last laugh. I just had to survive my fake mother-in-law and her attempts to ‘bond’ with me.
Lucas
“Lukey Schmooky! Come here and give your fiancée a kiss.”
I felt my cheeks burn as I crossed the floor of the club restaurant to where Frankie sat with my mother and her friends. People were looking at me, at them, and I cleared my throat and smoothed my hand down my tie.
“Mother,” I said with a nod to the woman in question. “Frankie.”
“Pucker up, sweetie,” Frankie slurred, and I frowned.
“Are you drunk?” I hissed at her as I leaned down to brush a kiss on her cheek.