Regulus can feel the stares, the growing anticipation. He knows what will happen. Maybe not today, but soon enough. He doesn’t know how much he has left. He just knows how this will end.

Regulus never really liked you. He first met you at some business company retreat. His dad and your dad were discussing something, and you two were left to play. You were loud and bright, and he just wanted to go back to reading his encyclopaedia.

The next time he sees you is in the halls of the school he attends. The best one, in Switzerland, by Lake Geneva—Institut Le Rosey. Regulus figures he shouldn’t be surprised. Your parents own a holding company. His do too. They can afford to send you here.

At school, he tries to steer clear of you. But inevitably—word after word, lunch after lunch, road trip after road trip, drink after drink—he finds himself in the same bed as you. Naked.

He doesn’t ask if it was your first time. He figures it isn’t. Also, he’s scared to ask and then be forced to answer the same question. Because the answer would’ve been yes, and he won’t be able to live down that embarrassment.

After school, Regulus decides that he doesn’t mind you. It’s not a friendship, but it’s a mutual respect. He needs to find you at least bearable—because he knows what’s coming. He’s heard his father talk over dinners and behind closed doors. The plan is to arrange a marriage.

Regulus isn’t stupid. He knows that the only suitable match would be you. Two holding companies forming a conglomerate. Closest to royalty you’ll get in this world.

But right now, he just needs a breather. So he steps out onto the balcony. The gala is a birthday party for someone he can’t bring himself to remember. It’s a beautiful estate in France, so the view for brooding ain’t bad.

He walks out, takes a breath of fresh air, but instead feels the familiar fruity smoke of the cigarettes you import from Armenia.

“Hello,” he says politely, though he’d rather be alone. “Didn’t see you in there.”

He extends his hand for a lighter he knows you have.