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'I Do' For Revenge-Chapter 217: Axel And The Prince
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Chapter 217: Axel And The Prince
~LAYLA~
"Tell me you’re close."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of typing.
"I’m sorry, baby," Axel sounded frustrated. "I’m still stuck with Tye on lookout."
I closed my eyes, letting my forehead rest against the cold glass of the window. Below me, the driveway was filling up with luxury cars: Bentleys, Aston Martins, vintage Rolls-Royces. The sharks were gathering.
"You’re not coming," I said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
"I’m sorry," Axel said.
I swallowed the lump of disappointment in my throat. I wanted him here, not just as my husband, but also as my personal bodyguard and anchor. This house was designed to make me feel small, and Axel was the only thing that made me feel big.
"It’s okay," I lied, straightening my spine. "I can handle a cocktail party."
"I know you can," Axel said, his voice dropping an octave. "You’re a killer, Layla. Just... watch your back. And don’t drink anything Julian hands you."
"Noted," I said. "I love you, Axel."
"Love you. Go knock ’em dead."
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone and turned to the full-length mirror.
Helena’s team had outdone themselves.
The dress was a weapon of mass destruction made of emerald green velvet. It was long-sleeved, high-necked, and fitted like a second skin, pooling on the floor in a dramatic train. But when I turned, the back dropped very low, a sharp, modern surprise compared to the modest front.
It was the colour of money, envy... the colour of the Huntington crest.
I reached up and touched my throat.
There, resting against my skin, was the compromise.
I hadn’t worn the white lace tent Isabelle had given me. Instead, I had the seamstress cut a strip of the antique lace from the bodice. We had cleaned it, stiffened it, and mounted it on a velvet band to create a high, Victorian-style choker.
I was wearing the history; I just wasn’t drowning in it.
"Ready, Mrs. O’Brien?" Russo asked from the hallway.
I took a deep breath, channelling my CEO persona. "Ready."
—
The Grand Ballroom was a sea of black tuxedos and pastel gowns. The air smelled of expensive perfume and old money. A string quartet was playing something classical and sleepy in the corner.
As I reached the top of the grand staircase, the music didn’t stop, but the conversation did.
It started as a ripple near the stairs and spread outward until the entire room fell silent. Hundreds of eyes turned upward.
I saw Isabelle first. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs next to the Duke’s wheelchair, wearing a grey gown. She looked up with a smug smile plastered on her face, expecting to see me humiliated in the moth-eaten wedding cake she had provided.
But her smile vanished, and her mouth actually fell open as her gaze landed on me.
I placed my hand on the bannister and began to descend.
I didn’t rush; I walked with the same cadence I used when entering a boardroom to acquire a competitor; chin up, eyes forward.
"Good evening, Aunt Isabelle," I said smoothly as I reached the landing. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺
Isabelle found her voice. It was a strangled hiss. "What... what have you done? That lace... you cut it?"
"I repurposed it," I corrected, touching the choker at my throat. "The bodice was far too fragile to support a night of dancing. So I kept the heart of the tradition and discarded the... excess weight."
The Duke, sitting in his wheelchair in a velvet tuxedo, let out a bark of laughter.
"Excess weight," he chuckled, glaring at Isabelle. "She’s got you there, Izzy. You look magnificent, my dear. Green suits you."
"Thank you, Grandfather," I said, bending to kiss his cheek. Etiquette.
"They’re all staring," the Duke whispered loudly. "Give them a show." He shooed me away. "Go. Mingle. Terrify them."
I stepped into the crowd.
For the first twenty minutes, it was exactly what I expected: passive-aggressive politeness.
"So, you’re from... the States?" a Lady-something asked, looking at me like I was from Mars. "How... busy."
"It is," I smiled. "We like to get things done."
"And your husband?" another man asked, looking around. "Not joining us?"
"He’s detained on business," I said. "He sends his regards."
"Pity," Julian’s voice came from behind me. He appeared with two glasses of champagne. "I was hoping to meet the man brave enough to take this on."
He gestured to me, barely hiding a sneer behind his smile.
"I’m fine, Julian," I said, ignoring the drink.
"Oh, come on, Cousin," he stepped closer, crowding my space. "You look tense. One drink. Or are you afraid I poisoned it?"
I was about to tell him exactly where he could shove the champagne when a hand appeared on Julian’s shoulder.
"I believe the lady said no, Julian."
The voice was smooth, cultured, and had an easy authority that made Julian freeze.
We both turned.
Standing there was a man who looked like he had stepped out of a fairytale, if fairytales were sponsored by GQ. He was tall, with sandy-blond hair swept back from a handsome, open face. His blue eyes were crinkled in amusement.
"Your Highness," Julian stammered, actually bowing his head. "I didn’t know you were... I mean, we weren’t expecting..."
"I crashed," the man said with a conspiratorial wink at me. "I heard the hunting was good this season."
He turned his back on Julian, effectively dismissing him, and focused entirely on me.
"Milady," he said, extending a hand. "Prince Leopold. Leo, please. I’ve been dying to meet the woman who turned Eclipse Beauty into a global powerhouse in just months."
I took his hand. He didn’t kiss it; he shook it firmly, like a business partner.
"You know my company?" I asked, surprised.
"I own stock," he grinned. "Your Q3 earnings call was brilliant. And your marketing strategy? Genius."
I felt a genuine smile break through my mask. "You listened to my earnings call?"
"I like smart investments," Leo said. "And I admire smart people even more."
The string quartet transitioned into a waltz.
"And," Leo added, offering his arm, "I like to annoy Julian. He looks like he’s about to pop a vein. Dance with me?"
I looked at Julian, who was fuming silently in the background. Then I looked at the Prince. He felt safe... and fun.
"I’d love to," I said.
We moved to the dance floor. As Leo swept me into the waltz, the crowd parted.
"You realise everyone is staring," I murmured as we spun.
"Let them stare," Leo said, placing his hand respectfully on my waist. "They’re just jealous that I have the dance of the most gorgeous woman in the room."
"You flatter me, Your Highness."
"Please, call me Leo. And I only speak the truth."
I laughed. It was a real laugh. For the first time since arriving at Blackwood Manor, since Axel left, I didn’t feel like an imposter.
"Your husband," Leo said casually as we turned. "No offence, but he must be a fool to be absent tonight."
"He had to work," I defended, though a pang of longing hit me.
"If I were him," Leo said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that went beyond business, "I would let the world burn before I missed seeing you in that dress."
The compliment was smooth, perhaps a little too smooth, but it made my cheeks heat up.
We spun toward the double doors at the back of the room.
"You’re charming, Leo," I said.
"I try," he smiled. "It’s a family curse, really. We can’t help being devastatingly..."
"Layla?"
I heard the voice over the music playing in the room, and my heart stopped.
Standing in the doorway, shaking rain off a black trench coat to reveal a tuxedo underneath, was Axel. His eyes were dark, dangerous, and locked directly on the Prince’s hand at my waist.
"Axel," I breathed.
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