This Crazy Rich Boy

After breakfast, Claire took a nap. There's nothing to do, anyway, and for some reason, the more coffee she drank, the sleepier she got. Must still be the after-effects of the champagne last night.

When she wakes up, it's still the middle of the day. The sun is still streaming through the windows. It's such a beautiful day to waste holed up in this room. She doesn't know how to call the househelp or Lucille. She doesn't know where Lopez the butler is. The strange thing about this huge mansion is you don't see a lot of people—they seem to be hiding somewhere, or neatly tucked away to avoid being unnecessarily seen.

Claire slips out of the room and out onto a wide, long corridor. The walls are lined with oil paintings of distinguished-looking men of women. At the very end is a life-sized portrait of a young woman who looks every inch like a queen. She must be Gabriel's sister, Claire wonders.

She descends the stairs and out the main door without meeting anyone. Once outside, the breeze is fragrant with the scent of lavender. In the distance, a workman tends the hedges. And farther still, a man on horseback roams the grounds, as though patrolling it. Must be one of the guards—and on horseback, too. How quaint!

Claire explores the grounds, taking delight in everything she sees and encounters. The ancient fountain in the middle of a side garden seems to have seen centuries. How many generations of lovers meeting secretly under the moonlight it must have witnessed? How many heartbreaks, how many triumphs?

As Claire walks farther out and gets enough distance, she looks back and gets a good look at the whole structure of the Palace, which actually looks like Buckingham Palace in London, or Downton Abbey from the TV series. It must have hundreds of rooms, and so easily to get lost into. I wonder where Gabriel is right now, she thinks. A mansion of this size and complexity must employ dozens of housekeepers and maids and maintenance personnel, and yet, she has rarely encountered a lot of people.

After their breakfast, Gabriel excused himself on account of some urgent business, only he didn't say if he's doing that business right here at the Palace or was he driving back to the city. She just ȧssumed that, given the fact that they have to keep up the act of being together, he might as well stay here at the mansion just in case Michelle returns.

She wonders about what kind of hold Michelle has on him to the point he actually has to go to great lengths just to craft this fiction. Normally, you just tell the ex to sod off, right? It doesn't matter whether or not she actually believes your ruse. Who's Michelle Alcantara, anyway? Claire has no idea about the city's socialites and daughters of the ultra-rich, but she has reason to suspect Michelle must be the daughter of some major tycoon, probably one as influential and rich as Gabriel.

"So you're here, Miss Monteverde," a voice says that jolts her. When she turns back, she finds the man on horseback, alighting his horse and bowing to her.

"Does everyone in this place bow?"

The horseman smiles at that. "I'm Eduard, captain of the Palace's guards. Master Gabriel has been looking for you."

"Palace guards? There are actual Palace guards here?"

"Yes," Eduard says. "Many of them are strategically concealed, and the ones we let people see are posted by the main doors and all the obvious passageways. But I ȧssure you there are many of us here, and we know exactly where every single guest is at the moment."

For some reason, Claire blushes at that—so her little solo adventure wasn't so solo after all. "You're saying Gabriel is looking for me?"

"Yes, Miss Monteverde."

"And may I know why?"

Captain Eduard merely smiles. "I won't dare ask the Master his reasons for his orders. He gives word, we follow. I am to bring you to Miss Cassandra for some wardrobe fitting. My knowledge stops there."

Why so mysterious, Claire wonders. It's just a simple thing, yet here in this place, even the simplest things seem to be unnecessarily complicated. Is Miss Cassandra going to give her a new dress, is there a new party tonight? Is this the norm here, every night a party? Doesn't that get tiring and old after a while?

"Where to?" Claire asks.

"Please," Captain Eduard gestures towards his horse, which means she should take a horseride with him.

"I don't know how to ride a horse, Captain Eduard."

"Let me," he says, then he helps her get upon the steed, who is actually very mild mannered.

"She's lovely," Claire mutters, ċȧrėssing the horse's white mane.

"She's the finest there is," Eduard agrees as he, too, climbs.

As they gallop back towards the palace, Claire feels a bit awkward, as many times she has to hold onto Eduard's waist in order not to get thrown off the horse. "I'm sorry," she'd mutter, which Eduard answers with, "Just hold on, Miss Monteverde."

Miss Cassandra's office is directly behind the grand staircase, accessible only through a lavishly appointed and ornate vestibule. Claire had an idea how Miss Cassandra must look, but the actual one still surprises her: Miss Cassandra is not a year older than she is, yet it is obvious that the woman is a well-respected expert in her field. She carries herself with such bearing that Claire finds herself staring at Miss Cassandra's face for a few awkward minutes before she realizes the faux pas.

"Lovely to meet you finally, Miss Monteverde," Miss Cassandra gives a warm, delicate handshake.

"Lovely to meet you, too," Claire mutters, her voice almost a whisper; she's still too stupefied.

"As you know, I'm supposed to dress you up for a little event that is happening right now."

"Right now?"

Miss Cassandra nods. "And I've found the perfect thing to wear for you."

Claire's jaws drop upon seeing what Miss Cassandra's holding: a skimpy two-piece bikini swimsuit.