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I don’t even know what to think now. It looks like Ella might not show after all. I didn’t want to admit it, but I can only hold out hope for so long. Maybe I need to ask the cops to get in on this and start searching the kingdom for her or something. I’m that desperate.
I have to find her. That’s all I know. I need her.
Dropping my chin to my chest with a sigh, I slump against the column and cross my arms over my chest, my heart heavy.
Suddenly, I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up, an awareness that I’m not alone sweeping over me. A hand rests on my shoulder as someone leans in, soft breath tickling me as a sweet voice whispers in my ear.
“You’re just standing there with your arms crossed, looking awfully glum, Your Highness. Maybe we should break your arms. You’d make a very handsome Venus de Milo.”
20
Ella
Okay, I’m not a millionaire VIP stripper because I curl up in a ball and give up on my dreams! Even if shit doesn’t work out for me, I have to keep going strong … and I have to do it dolled up, of course.
After I hit my funk, I knew some salon therapy and beautification were the best courses of action.
So I spent all day in the salon making sure my hair was perfect. I had the stylist create a cascade updo. I had my nails sculpted just the way they were the night my life changed forever, sprinkled with silver dust to add that special shimmer to them.
My dress is a midnight blue chiffon mermaid cut ball gown that I brought with me from New York made by my favorite designer Valentino. I get warm and fuzzy inside remembering the Valentino slacks that Derek wore the night he came … I came … and he stole my heart.
The back of my perfect dress plunges low, so I made sure to have my body dusted with a soft gold shimmer body powder.
My necklace is a dainty little number from Cartier, a diamond on a thin platinum chain. It's so thin it gives the illusion that the diamond is suspended in thin air. My shoes are a special edition Givenchy pair of ankle strap peep toe heels.
I ordered a rental car, rather than hiring out a driver. I wanted the distraction of focusing on driving, and since I’m a Manhattan girl, that was a lot of focus required. My ankles and insteps are more equipped to ha
ndle transportation because I walk everywhere in my city. But you can’t exactly just walk up to a palace.
The castle estate of the crowned Prince of St. Albans sprawls across 10 acres of lush green lawns as far as the eye can see.
The marble-paved driveway leads to where the valets stand in their tuxedos sharply pressed, black dress shoes perfectly shined.
Here we go! My stomach is doing cartwheels. I don’t know if I’m scared, excited … both. I’m both right now!
As I draw closer to the valet, my heart starts to skip beats, and the butterflies in my stomach threaten to steal my voice. I’m driving myself, so the valet approaches me in the driver’s seat.
The door to the rental car opens, and a courteous gentleman sticks his hand out for mine. “Ma’am,” the valet greets me.
He escorts me to the bottom of the staircase, where I hand my keys to him, and he bids me farewell.
“Thank you,” I say with a polite smile. I have to gather my nerves just like I summoned my voice there.
My nerves are taking over. I should leave! I think to myself in fear. But, no, I shake it out of my head.
I have come so far to find my perfect guy, and he could be right on the other side of these massive cherry wood doors.
As I climb the massive stairs the doors slowly open, and a well-dressed butler introduces himself as Travers, personal secretary to the prince. He welcomes us all to the royal estate before ushering all of us into a foyer, an enormous chandelier hangs over the top of a spiral staircase that is lined with waiters and waitresses holding gold platters that hold sparkling glasses containing red and white wine as well as flutes of bubbly champagne.
We follow the spiral staircase up until it stops in front of a pair of etched glass doors, and from inside the doors are pulled open to present us with a massive ballroom with gorgeous hanging chandeliers. I counted six strategically placed through the ballroom. Soft music fills the room as we make our way through the entryway onto the exquisitely polished floor.
At the top of the room, I can see a high-backed throne. As I continue to scan the ballroom with my eyes, I spot a balcony that wraps around one side of the room. I wonder if this is where Derek will watch, scanning the crowd before he makes himself known. I imagine he’ll look over the room and make a strategic decision about where to go, and that’s a good possible vantage point.
I take in the beauty of this room and the many women who fill it. I can feel them staring at me — the girl that no one knows. I slowly move through the sea of women making my way to the bar that I spotted in a back corner. I empty my champagne flute in a moment, and then trade it for another. Just as I'm starting to feel my anxiety start to wane, huge brass bugle horns sound off. It sets me on edge, jarring as the sound was before I remember this is a good thing. Those horns are for my man.
All the women stop in their tracks and follow the spotlight that now focuses on that balcony.
With all eyes trained on the spotlight, I hear a faint creak coming from the other side of the ballroom. I search to find the source of the noise, and I see the butler disappear behind a door. As I make my way through the crowd, my nerves start to fade, and all anxiety turns to excitement.
