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With such a magnificent home, they poured in a great number of resources to keep it in shape. And his fiancée – even calling that made his saliva taste like alum – was hosting a pool party.

The party was organized on the east terrace and has a private garden that Clara oversaw its care. Rumors had it that her father when alive loved nature and not far from the garden was the pool party being held, the pool, the latest addition to the palace.

Surprisingly, for a boring royal, she organizes a good party. All around him, there were ladies in bikinis, none of them topless – guessed she was still bound to decorum.

The women were beautiful, Marcel had no doubt they were all socialites and noble like her – Clara would never invite a commoner here – and he was not ready for their irritating grandiose, no matter how attractive they are.

However, surprisingly, Marcel was the focus of attention. Even in a crowd, he exuded a strong sexual appeal and he didn’t care. Now, where was his lovely fiancée?

“You decided to come, you never fail to surprise me,”

.....

She found him before he did.

Marcel turned around and his gaze rove over her body. She wore a

ruched frill bandeau bikini top that showed off her B cup breast in the middle yet maintained a bit of modesty in the bottoms – not a lot of skin was shown – or she was simply not confident enough to show off that dork. He smirked inwardly, he chose the latter.

Clara was well-groomed like every socialite should, but Marcel had seen better-looking ladies and he was good with manipulation. Even as his gaze lazed around her body, he felt no spark of desire and he did not bother to hide the dissatisfaction in his gaze and she saw it – because it made her angry.

“Of course, I’m your fiancé. It’s my responsibility to answer your royal calls,” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

“Very well of you, then,” Clara was smart-mouthed as well, “I pray you keep on answering that,” like the royal dog you are.

She didn’t need to say it, he could see it by the curl of her mouth, her sneer wasn’t quite hidden.

“Why am I here?” Marcel finally dropped the act. He had other things to do – guns to find. Not that she would understand, her disgust of him would grow if she knew what he had in mind. Quite a hypocrite she was, despising his way of life yet benefiting from his protection.

“Why do you ask?” she smirked, “Are you in a hurry to return to your bed warmer?”

Marcel snorted, “Oh, I’m sure you’re more eager to return to yours over there,” He tipped his head in the direction of the man leaning over the canopy by the poolside and looking away as his position was discovered.

Clara hid her embarrassment with a smile, “He’s just a good company,”

A good company indeed. Both of them knew they were playing each other and they would make a miserable pair.

“You’re here because you’re my fiancé,” she finally spoke, “And it’s high time people knew that already, don’t you think so?”

So, he was here for the show.

“Fine then, announce your mafia Fiancé to the whole world,” Marcel smirked. He knew how to get under her skin and he planned on doing just that. He would not be the only one uncomfortable by the end of tonight.

The way Clara gritted her teeth told Marcel she was fighting against the urge to slap him. Well, good to know she knew not to cross that line. Fiancée or not, he would snap her neck in two and take on the fury of the Alberta house and his father as well – and she knew that.

His cunning fiancée adopted another method as expected, she looped her arm around his and it was Marcel’s turn to clench his teeth – she knew he disliked her touch.

Thinking of which, if the both of them could endure each other, if there was even a spark between them, they would have made a formidable couple. With her cunning prowess and his strength, they would make a power couple.

But that was clearly impossible between them. Clara wanted a kingdom at her feet, Marcel was a king who would bow to no one.

“Perhaps, we should start our introduction with him over there,” Marcel gestured in the direction of her lover still lingering by the canopy and her nails, no, claws dug into his arms.

He didn’t mind the pain, it was little, compared to the many in his heart. He dragged her along as she put on a meaningless resistance.

“Hello,” Marcel said to the man who had his back turned to him.

The man turned, pointing to his chest with a look that said, “Are you speaking to me?”

Marcel scoffed inwardly, this one had mediocre acting. As a gentleman, he turned to his lovely Fiancée, “Care to do the honor?”

Clara spoke through gritted teeth, “This is my friend, Luther, Luther, this is my fiancé Marcel,”

“Nice to meet, I’m Luther,” the groomed gentleman extended a hand that has seen no hard labor. He was probably one of those that ran in her social circle.

Marcel enveloped it with his hard, calloused ones, “Marcel,”

He shook Luther’s hand with strength, not enough to break his hand. He doesn’t want his lovely fiancée to think he break her lover’s hand out of jealousy. If anything, he was glad she didn’t have her eyes on him. It made it easier to breathe.

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