Rache ist Fluff

​He fiddled with the strap of his messenger bag, inside which sat a printed copy of the itinerary for Liam's wedding week. The anxiety was a bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat. The waiting was agony.

​At 4:58pm, the glass bell above the door chimed, and Emilia walked in.

​Drake stopped breathing.

​She was even more striking in person than she had been in the photos, or even in his nervous memory. Not with the polished stiffness of the Cordonian socialites he was used to, but with an effortless, genuine beauty. She wore dark skinny jeans and a soft, knitted cream oversized jumper. Her long, wavy golden hair framed her face, emphasizing her bright blue eyes and that genuine, warm smile he had seen in the photos. She looked utterly down-to-earth, beautiful, and completely out of place in the best possible way. Drake found himself staring, thinking simply: Holy shit... she's perfect.

​She scanned the room, spotting him immediately. She hadn't known what he looked like, but he was the only man sitting alone, a nervousness about him that made it look like he was waiting for news of a major disaster. She smiled and walked directly toward his table, carrying a simple leather folder under her arm—presumably the contract.

​"Drake?" she asked, her voice exactly as warm as it had sounded over the phone.

​"Emilia," he managed, standing up, the movement feeling stiff and uncoordinated. "Hi. Please, sit."

​Emilia sat, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked at him. Her professional composure faltered, just for a moment. "Wow," she breathed out, a soft laugh escaping her lips, tinged with genuine surprise.

​Drake blinked, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "What?"

​Emilia recovered quickly, but the shock was visible in the slight widening of her eyes. "Forgive me, Drake, but..." she said, leaning forward slightly, her smile widening. "You're incredibly handsome. I was expecting someone... different. Why on earth do you need my services? How have you not been snapped up already?"

​Drake actually blushed, a genuine, embarrassed smile spreading across his face. He felt a sudden, massive rush of pure, undeserved masculine pride. He didn't think of himself as anything special—just Drake, the practical vet—but the unvarnished sincerity in her voice made him feel amazing. "Thanks," he mumbled, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. "It's… complicated."

​"I'm sure," Emilia replied, a flicker of something knowing in her eyes.

​"Can I get you a coffee?" Drake asked, grateful for a physical task. "What would you like?"

​"Oh, that's kind, thank you," Emilia said. "An americano would be perfect."

​"Coming right up," he replied and headed to the counter. He walked away, processing the stunning blow of her sincerity. The fact that she was genuinely taken aback by his appearance felt more validating than any compliment he'd ever received. He took another deep breath before returning to the table. He handed her the cup, their fingers brushing briefly.

​"So," Emilia began, taking a sip, "tell me more about this royal wedding. And the events leading up to it."

​Drake pulled out the itinerary from his bag, handing it to her. Her eyebrows rose in genuine surprise as she read it. "Staying in the palace? This is quite the gig."

​"Yeah," Drake said, noting her reaction. "It's a full week of events. There’s a beach party on a private stretch of sand, lawn games with a tennis tournament in the palace gardens—"

​"Oh, a tennis tournament?" Emilia interrupted, her face lighting up. "I love tennis!"

​"Perfect," Drake chuckled, feeling even more relaxed. "Then there are a few posh dinners, culminating in a big ball to celebrate the new couple before their wedding day. So, you'll need a gown. If you don't have one suitable, there's a palace boutique that can sort you out. Oh, and you'll also be expected to attend the hen do. It has a gold theme, so you'll need a dress for that as well."

​"All of this sounds perfectly fine," she said, looking through the document. "Exciting, actually. So, your best friend, the prince... how long have you known Liam?"

​"We grew up together," Drake explained. "My dad works in security at the palace, and he moved us into the palace grounds when I was young. Liam and I became friends, inseparable really, until I left to move to London. He's a good guy. Funny, friendly, really down-to-earth despite the title."

​"He sounds great," Emilia mused. "And who else should I be prepared to charm?"

​Drake chuckled. "Liam's fiancée, Liv. She and I have a bit of a love-hate relationship, like brother and sister. We care for each other deeply, but we bicker and take the piss out of each other a lot."

​Emilia laughed, a genuinely delightful sound. "I like her already."

​"Then there's Max," Drake continued, "a Lord of a noble house in Cordonia. Known him for years. He's a little like an excitable puppy." Drake paused, remembering Max's boundless energy. "He has a girlfriend, Hana, who's incredibly friendly and super talented at basically everything."

​"They all sound great," Emilia concluded, closing the itinerary for a moment. Her expression softened, becoming more direct. "Now, for the complicated part. Your ex-girlfriend."

​Drake groaned, running the back of his neck. "Kiara. Yeah, she's really something." He took a breath. "We were together for about a year. She'd asked me out numerous times before we finally got together, I liked her enough, but I never really thought of her in a romantic way. But after Liam got engaged to Liv, and Max started seeing Hana, I felt like maybe I should give Kiara a chance, so we ended up getting together." He sighed. "She's pretentious, vain, and spent the entire year saying I was exactly what she wanted, all while constantly trying to change me. She thought me being a vet wasn't good enough; she tried to pressure me into becoming a diplomat or a translator. She even tried to change my clothes, telling me I should wear tailored suits all the time, which I don't mind for events, but I'm more of a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy. Or sweatpants at home."

​Emilia smiled. "I'm the same. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that." She looked at him intently. "Be honest with me, Drake. Do you still have feelings for Kiara?"

​"No," he said without hesitation. "We split up after Kiara cheated on me with a wealthy nobleman from France. She said it was only once and it meant nothing, but honestly, I saw it as a good thing because it gave me the push to leave Cordonia and move to London. I'd rather be single than be with someone I don't love and who I can't trust."

​Emilia's eyes widened slightly. "Are you serious? You never loved Kiara?"

​Drake hesitated, then admitted, "If I'm really honest with myself... I thought I did at the time, at least I wanted to... but it always felt a bit forced."

​"So you don't want to make her even a tiny bit jealous to see you with someone else?" Emilia probed, a playful glint in her eyes.

​Drake laughed, a genuine, unforced sound. "If Kiara was jealous," he admitted, "I would quite enjoy that."

​Emilia laughed with him, a bright, clear sound. "Understood. Now, what exactly would you like me to be? Are you planning on taking me to the wedding as a friend, or would you want us to pretend to be in a romantic relationship?"

​Drake felt his face flush again. "I... I think a relationship."

​"So you want some public displays of affection? Hand-holding, kissing, that sort of thing?" she asked, her gaze steady.

​He felt the heat in his cheeks intensify. "Yeah... Sorry."

​"Don't be sorry," she said, her voice gentle. "It's not a problem. If you change your mind at any point, just let me know. Now, what about your family? Your mum and dad?"

​"My mum, Bianca, died a few years ago from cancer," Drake said, the smile fading slightly.

​"Oh, Drake, I'm so sorry," Emilia said immediately, her professionalism momentarily giving way to genuine sympathy. She reached across the table and gently held his hand. Drake glanced down at her hand over his, noticing the electricity he could feel from her touch. He liked it.

​"Thanks," he murmured. "My dad, Jackson, still works at the palace, and my little sister, Savannah, lives there too. She's eighteen, so ten years younger than me, but we're quite close."

​"It sounds like a lovely family," Emilia said, squeezing his hand once more before pulling hers back. "My turn, then. My mum and dad live in Wales. I have a twin brother, Dan. We grew up in Staffordshire before moving to London to go to university. I studied Business Management, and now I co-own a business with Dan. He's a personal trainer, and together, we've opened a handful of gyms across London; I'm just a shareholder these days, Dan oversees the general running of the business."

​"That sounds great," Drake said, genuinely impressed.

​"But I also have my own business, which is my main job," she continued, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "I've built it from the ground up. It's quite successful, actually. I need to know how you feel about it because some of my clients are comfortable with me telling people about it, and others would rather I didn't mention it, and I'm happy either way."

​Drake was intrigued. "What is it?"

​She leaned in slightly. "Do you know Pandora's Box?"

​Drake blinked. "You mean… the erotic shop?"

​"Yeah," she confirmed, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

​"Yeah…" Drake said, sipping his coffee.

​"I'm the owner and CEO," Emilia finished, watching his face.

​Drake almost spit out his coffee in shock, genuinely taken aback. He was a little lost for words.

​She smiled. "It's not a problem if you don't want me to mention it."

​"No, not at all!" he stammered, shaking his head. "It's just… I'm struggling to understand why you would need to do 'Rent-a-Date' if you run such a successful business. I mean, there's a Pandora's Box shop in pretty much every major city in the UK, and numerous in Europe as well."

​Emilia chuckled softly. "Honestly, I started with 'Rent-a-Date' when I was at uni to earn some money to pay my fees. And I just love it. I meet interesting people, I go to great events, and it's fun. So I never really stopped doing it."

​Drake laughed, the absurdity of the situation melting away into a genuine grin. "Fair enough. I'm happy for you to be yourself if you take the job. I think you should be proud of your success, and you shouldn't have to hide that."

"Great. And thank you." ​She smiled, a warmth spreading across her features. ​"So, the backstory," she continued, tapping a pen thoughtfully against her contract folder.​"We need something believable, but simple to remember. It's better to keep it as close to the truth as possible to avoid any confusion or giving anything away. We could say we met here, at this coffee shop. It was busy, and you were sat alone at a table for two, so I asked if you would mind sharing. We got chatting, found we had a lot in common, and so you asked me if you could take me out for a proper date. I happily agreed." She paused. "Have you told anyone in Cordonia anything about your love life? Does anyone know you aren't seeing someone?"

​Drake shook his head. "No, I haven't really said anything."

​"Perfect," Emilia said, a strategic gleam in her eyes. "That will allow us to tell people we've been dating for about two months. Short enough that you haven't mentioned me in a serious sense, but long enough that it's more than just casual."

​She then slid a sleek leather folder across the table. "Next steps, then. The contract." She opened it to a page detailing their agreement. "This is a basic agreement that means I will be paid in full even if you decide you don't want to go through with the whole week. The price is £4000."

​Drake blinked but nodded. "That sounds fair."

​"You will also have to pay for my flights to and from Cordonia," she added.

​"That won't be a problem," Drake said, a grin spreading across his face. "Liam is arranging a private jet for me, so you can fly over with me on that."

​Emilia's eyes widened, genuinely shocked and excited. "A private jet? Wow! That's... fancy!" She laughed at her own enthusiasm, and Drake found himself laughing with her.

​He quickly signed the contract. "So, we're officially on?"

​"Officially on," she confirmed, her smile radiant. "I can't wait to get to know you better, Drake."

​"Me too," he smiled. "I can walk you to the tube station."

​"Thanks, I appreciate that," Emilia said, gathering her things.

​They stepped out onto the London street, the early evening air cool and fresh. The easy current between them was immediate and palpable, a conversational dance that felt nothing like work. They started talking about films, the topic flowing naturally from their chat in the coffee shop.

​"Okay, so as you're now my "girlfriend," Drake teased, matching her pace easily. "I need to know: if you could only watch one film for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

"Oh, god. That’s a nightmare choice," Emilia groaned dramatically, a hand over her heart. "I'd maybe go with something classic. Something with beautiful dialogue and perfect pacing. A slow burn."

​"What, not into high-paced action and explosions?" Drake countered, a teasing smirk in his voice.

​"I didn't say that," she laughed. "But if I were to pick something with a bit more action, it would be something real and gritty. None of that Star Wars rubbish."

​"What?!" Drake countered, eyes wide. "You can't dismiss the majesty of a film that shaped a generation!"

​"I absolutely can, Mr. Walker. It's me that has to watch the same film over and over for the rest of my life. I can't subject myself to that much 'vmmmzzzzzz' noise," she said as she swung her arms through the air as if she was actually holding a lightsaber.

​Drake laughed, shaking his head. "You're going to pick something like Dirty Dancing, aren't you? A full life of 'Nobody puts Baby in a corner.'"

​"Hey! Dirty Dancing is a great film! It's sexy and romantic. There's nothing wrong with wanting a little heart!" she defended, nudging his shoulder lightly.

​"Hmm... I'll take your word for it," he said, the scoffing evident in his tone.

​"Uh huh... well... for your information, I wasn't going to pick Dirty Dancing. I'd pick something beautiful, something that inspires, something that shows true emotion but also has corruption and darker elements."

​"Like?"

​She turned to him, her eyes sparkling. "The Shawshank Redemption. Best. Film. Ever."

​Drake's smile widened into a genuine grin, all teasing forgotten. "Now you're talking! Brilliant film. A rainy Sunday with Andy Dufresne and Red as company? Sounds perfect."

The conversation, which was light, teasing, and completely genuine, continued as they discussed their favourite musicians and authors. There was a flirtatious undertone in the way they spoke to each other that Drake loved. It felt less like a client meeting and more like the best first date he'd had in years. It was effortless, fun, and completely intoxicating.

They reached the tube entrance, indicating it was time to go their separate ways. Emilia turned to him, the genuine smile replaced by a thoughtful, focused expression. ​"There is one final thing I need from you before we part ways," she said, her voice dropping slightly, her blue eyes locked on his.

​"What is it?" Drake asked, suddenly intensely nervous, his heart hammering against his ribs.

​Emilia's lips curved into a soft, playful smile. "I need you to kiss me."

​Drake's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes wide, but he didn't need to fake the desire that instantly flared up—he genuinely, urgently wanted to kiss her.

​Emilia laughed softly. "If we want it to look like we're actually together, our kisses can't look awkward. We need to make sure we're in sync with each other."

​Drake blushed furiously, but Emilia just smiled and moved a step closer. He could smell her perfume: jasmine, pink pepper, and musk. It smelled incredible. As she got closer, he leaned in, his nervousness forgotten, replaced by a deep-seated urge to show her how much he already enjoyed her company.

​He kissed her softly at first, a tentative exploration, his lips brushing hers, a gentle question. Emilia's hands rose resting gently on his chest, a soft anchor. Drake's hands found her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, closing the last physical distance between them, before slowly, deliberately, moving upwards to tangle in the soft, golden waves at the nape of her neck. He deepened the kiss, and she responded instantly, her lips soft and yielding against his, parting slightly.

​It was a perfect, passionate kiss, far more real than any "practice" should have been. Every nerve ending in Drake's body hummed, and he felt a dizzying, head-spinning rush. His internal panic dissolved; this was all that mattered.

​Emilia felt it too; a scorching, surprising heat spreading through her, the strength of his hands a delightful pressure, the delicious certainty of his mouth on hers. For a moment, the bustling sounds of London faded away, and there was only the raw, exhilarating sensation of their connection. She was used to the mandatory, chaste 'client kisses,' but this was different—this was chemistry.

​When he eventually pulled away, a soft, involuntary sound escaping him, Emilia still had her eyes closed. Her chest was rising and falling a little quicker. When she finally opened them, her blue eyes were unfocused for a split second, then met his, wide and a little breathy.

​"That," she whispered, her voice husky, "was perfect. We'll have no problems at all."

​Drake was speechless. He could only stare at her, the London street noise returning as a dull roar around the ringing silence in his ears. His legs felt weak, and every practical thought he'd had about this 'job' had evaporated. He hadn't just kissed a hired date; he had kissed her, and he already couldn't wait to do it again.

​They said goodbye and headed their separate ways. Drake watched her walk into the tube station, his heart still pounding out the wild rhythm of their kiss. Just as she was about to disappear into the crowds, she turned, looking into his eyes as she smiled. He smiled back, a wide goofy grin, as butterflies erupted in his stomach, a feeling so potent it made him stagger slightly. He realised, with a jolt: I actually like her.

​Emilia, as she descended into the underground, touched her lips lightly. She shook her head, a slow, surprised smile spreading across her face. His kiss had taken her breath away. This is going to be a problem, she thought. But they both knew this was a professional relationship, nothing more.

Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations

The first stop on the crawl was a cozy Irish bar tucked in a quiet little street in Back Bay, the kind of place with Guinness signs in the windows and dark wood that gleamed under dim, barely there lights. Tobias gallantly held the door open for his wife, his face lighting up as his eyes traced her curves, barely hidden under her burgundy boucle dress. That hadn't gone unnoticed.

“What are you doing, Dr. Carrick?” she asked, lashes fluttering with mock innocence.

“I’m checking out the hottest woman in the bar,” he drawled. “Kind of hoping I’ll get lucky and take her home tonight.”  

“Oh, really?” She teased, running her finger over the stubble on his jaw. “I hear she’s a sure thing. Are you sure you don’t want more of a... challenge? The redhead at the jukebox looks promising, too.”

He glanced over his shoulder, giving a solemn nod. “Not bad,” he admitted, then turned back, voice dropping. “But why go for silver when I’ve already got gold?”

He leaned in, their lips a whisper apart, when a swinging door and a blast of cold air pulled their attention.

“Jesus, are you two at it already?” Ethan groaned, shaking snow from his coat and placing it on the back of a stool. "I knew I should’ve stayed home with my Macallan.”

“Here, here!” Jackie chimed in, biting into a Bavarian pretzel. “But on an up note, these two will make me queasy long before the tequila does – so it could save me some money.”

“Really?” Tobias laughed, motioning to the bartender to bring a fresh round.

“Really,” Sienna grinned. “How about a new rule tonight? You two have to keep it PG for once. PG-13 if you absolutely must, but nothing beyond that.”

“Yeah, right!” Bryce chuckled, lifting a fresh pint to his lips. “They wouldn’t make it an hour.”

“What?” Casey frowned. “You really don’t think we can do it?”

“Oh, I know you can’t,” Jackie declared.

Bryce smirked, peeling a twenty from his wallet. “Let’s put our money where our mouths are. After all, we all know where their mouths will be...”

Tobias raised a brow. “You people act like we’re animals! We’re an old married couple now, have a baby at home... we know a thing or two about restraint.”

Aurora, who had been sipping her beer quietly, laughed. “If you knew a thing or two about restraint, you wouldn’t have a baby at home.”

“Hey,” Ethan deadpanned. “Leave my goddaughter out of this – That’s the only thing Carrick’s ever done right.”

Tobias leaned down to whisper something in Casey’s ear, and she flushed pink – a grin stretching on her lips as her handsome husband kissed her temple – not even her lips - but their friends were groaning.

“Pool’s open,” Bryce reminded. “Twenty bucks says they’ll be making baby number two within the hour.”

“Hopefully not in our line of sight,” Jackie groused.

~~~~~

They headed to bar number two, several blocks away. A loud sports bar with dozens of TVs scattered across the walls, one highlighting every local team and beyond. They squeezed into a wooden booth, shouting to hear each other over the noise.

Casey sipped her drink slowly, aware of the eyes on them and the growing pot of cash – she was determined to keep temptation at bay. But Tobias was less restrained. His arm was draped over her, his thumb tracing patterns under the shoulder of her dress. It only took one more whisky, then his grin turned wolfish.

“You promised to behave,” she reminded him, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

“I have behaved,” he insisted, his gaze dipping to her neckline before flicking up to meet her eyes again. “But it’s hard, baby. So… hard.”

Casey snorted mid-sip, nearly choking on her beer as Jackie smacked the table. “Christ almighty! Do you two even hear yourselves?”

“You brought this on yourselves,” Casey shot back, laughing. “Trying to stop us from being us—it was always going to lead to pent-up depravity.”

“It’s been an hour!” Jackie wailed. “Not even an hour!”

“Exactly,” Tobias agreed, his eyes glazed over, whisky still lingering on his tongue. “And I won’t stand for this cruel and unusual punishment anymore.”

Casey slammed her empty shot glass on the table, wiping her lip with the back of her hand. “Hear, hear!” she cheered, her grin wide, tipsy delight radiating from her as she wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck.

Before anyone could stop them, Tobias pulled her in, their mouths crashing in a kiss that was far too hungry, far too naughty for public consumption. It wasn’t neat - it was searing, lips crashing, teeth grazing, tongues tangled with an urgency that was only fueled by too many drinks and too many moments pretending they could keep their hands off each other. Casey laughed into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, one hand sliding into her hair, the other braced against the small of her back. They showed no sign of stopping, deepening until it was less of a kiss and more breathless, shamelessly indulgent claim. Mine – all mine.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and laughing, the table erupted in groans and scattered applause.

“All right! Pay up,” Bryce beamed, extending a hand. Tobias shoved a bill at him without looking.

Casey pulled back, with a mock scowl. “We lost,” she pouted.  

Tobias shrugged, eyes sparkling. “Well worth it,” he grinned, sliding an arm around her waist and bending her back right there in the booth, kissing her again with drunken abandon.

Their friends groaned in unison.

“God help us,” Jackie muttered. “How many more pubs do we have to hit?”

“Three,” Ethan sighed, lifting his glass. “It’s going to be a very long night.”