Two Villains

Ch. 33- Happy Birthday To Royce and Ralf Volkner

When I woke from my unexpected nap, the clock almost struck 8 p.m.

Returning to my room, I sank into sleep like a princess, free from worries. Hunger stirred me awake, and then it hit me – tomorrow was Royce's birthday.

Panic fluttered in my stomach, and with mounting concern, I rushed to Nina's room. The doors were shut tight, my knocks echoing unanswered. Just as I contemplated eavesdropping, a voice stopped me cold.

"Don't listen," she warned. Leaning against the towering pillar beside the suite door stood a young woman. I gave Emilie a puzzled look, and she responded with a sly smile, a playful wink.

"Marco and Nina are... enjoying themselves," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye. Mortified, I couldn't ignore the faint sounds coming from behind the door.

"Where's Leo?" I whispered tentatively, feeling the weight of embarrassment settle in. Emilie erupted into laughter.

"Don't be ridiculous! Leo is fast asleep in his room. Why fret over Leo here?" Emilie chuckled.

Deflated, I sighed at her response.

"I need to go shopping," I muttered to myself.

"For what?" Emilie's curiosity piqued.

"I need to find a birthday gift for Royce," I confessed. Emilie shook her head incredulously.

"What's your budget?" She asked.

My heart sank. Budget? I hadn't even considered it. How could I when buying a gift for the wealthiest man on earth?

"Why the puzzled look, Kay?" Emilie's voice jolted me from my thoughts. I shot her a bewildered glance.

"Let's head to our room," she suggested. I followed her out of the palace to their lavish guesthouse on the estate, different from the one where we had been partying the night before.

"How many guesthouses does this palace have?" I queried as we entered through the back.

"Six... or maybe more, I'm not certain. This is Paris' largest private estate," Emilie replied nonchalantly.

Jasper sat on the tiled floor, a screwdriver in hand, tinkering with a device about two feet square. From a distance, it resembled a sleek black metallic box.

"What's that?" I inquired of Emilie, but my question went unanswered.

"Hey, Doc!" Emil waved at me from a sofa across the room. Though he greeted me, his eyes remained fixed on the large TV screen broadcasting Formula 1 racing. Emil was fervently shouting at the team and the driver.

"Emil used to race in Formula 2," his sister casually informed me as we settled onto the bar stools in the luxurious open kitchen. From there, we had a clear view of the living room and the entrance.

"I'm still in F2!" Emil hollered from his spot on the sofa. Ignoring her brother, Emilie opened the fridge and poured some orange juice for me; it was nearly 9 p.m.

"Have you eaten dinner?" She inquired. I shook my head. Emilie seemed disappointed, almost matronly, and promptly dialed a number on her phone. A butler appeared as if by magic.

"Prepare dinner for all four of us," she instructed. The butler nodded and vanished into the pantry.

"But I need to buy gifts for tomorrow. We should go shopping or order something online," I protested.

"What do you plan on buying for the richest man on earth?" She sneered at me with a hint of arrogance. I was taken aback. Before I could respond, we both heard the mechanical hum of a machine.