Delia fluffs her honey-blonde curls as she admires her burgundy low-rise dress. The waist is pinched with sparkling silver sequins, the skirt fans out to her knees. It’s a bit fancier than she would prefer for an engagement photo, but it’s convincing if nothing else. Everyone knew this was her favourite dress. It’s the one time she doesn’t care if her cleavage shows. Gotta flaunt what your momma gave you, as her mother had said in the past. Even if the flaunting was for a trio of criminals, as her betrothed didn’t seem to give two flying fucks about her appearance—unless she was wearing his clothing.

She flushes at the example of that memory but quickly shoves it aside. They were held hostage in that dingy old room for three whole days. Delia was relieved when the kidnappers ushered them back to the suite this morning, even if it was by force. They didn’t want to arouse suspicion since Delia’s grandmother had shown interest in visiting her. They also wanted that newly engaged photo on Instagram. If she has to be imprisoned, this was more ideal than the blanket less arrangement downstairs. She rushed for her pile of things and hopped into the shower immediately—throwing that lilac dress into the bin. She never wanted to see that article of clothing again.

And, she could wear her nightclothes again—no more wearing burgundy oversized turtlenecks! Not to mention that she could use her favourite sugary vanilla shampoo—and the ability to use a towel—god—she could melt reminiscing about her newfound privileges.

Delia dips into her makeup bag, pulling out some mascara. She applies it generously, giving her violet eyes something to work with. It should be okay—but if this was going to come off as a lover’s engagement pic, she needed to look the part. She slips on a pair of cream coloured tights. There—her outfit is complete.

Once she's done with this arrangement, she can take a nap—finally having the bed all to HERSELF! She squees internally as she imagines herself kicking her legs back and for the on the plush mattress. Theo said he’d take the couch and she’ll follow that creed. He can’t take those words back now!

She exits the room, feeling ready to strike a pose. Instead almost hitting a familiar wall that didn’t even blink an eye at her dolled-up appearance.

“Stop hogging the bathroom every time I have to pee.”

“I-I didn’t! God, you’re rude!” She narrows her eyes at him as he walks past her. Delia’s expression has a dual meaning—one, admitting his bodily functions to her over and over and two, for not noticing her appearance. Maybe Theo preferred men? No, he did have a reaction when she wore his clothes before, but maybe that was pure coincidence.

Just her luck to be engaged to a gay man.

Theo leaves the bathroom wearing black ironed dress pants and a matching burgundy shirt. She didn’t realize he walked in with a change of clothes. Her eyes widen at his parted collar—he looks dashing.

His golden eyes narrow on her as his brow arches. “Is there something on my face?”

“No—you look good, is all.”

“Thanks.” It’s the most flavourless thank you that she’s ever heard. He walks by her, rolling up his sleeves. “When are we starting this picture show?”

“They said they’d give us some time to gussy up.” Theo didn’t notice the effort she put into her gussying up—gah—that makes her mad! She should have said there was some pepper between his teeth or something—to get back at him for his lack of care or attention!

Delia hears the suite door open, a well-dressed man enters the room. A lithe man standing an inch over six feet, he brushes off his black dress jacket. His auburn hair is thick with curls—his face long but youthful. Just how old were their kidnappers?!

“Ah, the two of you look picturesque!” He clasps his hands together. He must be new—that exuberant tone wasn’t one she’s heard before. She glances at Theo’s muted expression—whether it was shock at his flamboyant way of speaking or neutral to all that was happening, she wouldn’t know. "You can call me Two of the Odious Oranges, my stage name of course. Can’t give out my true identity, as it's not policy.” Did he just wink?! He forms a picture frame with his fingers, stepping back as he says, “Imagine this; you married on the night of the summer solstice. It’s a small but elegant gathering of you, the groom and a few witnesses to see the union. And if everything goes well, you could welcome your first child, a boy—maybe two—so the Avangard line would be secure. Then Grandpa Milo can pass on happily, knowing his dynasty is protected—and he'll gladly give you that island you've requested!”

This man was an utter lunatic, is the look on Theo's face. “It’s always that damn island with you lot.”

“A-Avangard? Excuse me, but if I'm to birth any child, it'll be a Firthe!”

“That's your biggest concern?! I don’t want no damn kids!” Delia's taken aback by his claim.

“Ah, yes, Cordelia looks like she would make a fine mother, raising sons and daughters in a most elegant and loving manner. A few honeymoon babies should get you that island for the clan—”

“You’re out of your mind if you think…never mind. My grandfather isn’t going to buy me any damn island so figure out another way of getting it.” Theo growls as he stomps off.

Well, when Two phrases it like that…she just wants to bury her head in the sand.

“Calm him down and take the picture. Boss said you don’t need the encouragement—please don’t make me enforce it.”

Delia narrows her eyes. “You're the one who wound him up with all that nonsense.” Which, she wished he didn’t. Now it was her responsibility to oil this fucked up machine.

Theo didn’t go far—then again, this place wasn’t that spacious. She finds him in the master bedroom—well—the only bedroom in the suite. His back is facing her as he stares out the window.

“Hey, you are making this very difficult!” She says firmly, her hands resting on her hips. “Let’s just put on the act and get on with it…”

Nothing.

“I know Two is beyond quirky, he's acting like a theatre student dropout but honestly I prefer strange phrasing over someone pointing a gun pointed to my skull!”

Theo turns around, You were no help when you played along with his antics.”

“What, you mean back there?! It's true, I’m not just going to be some broodmare for your Avangard spawnlings—our children will be Firthes.”

“I don’t want kids.”

“Well, I do! It doesn’t matter if it's with you or not, but I will be a mother by someone's hand.”

Theo irks, his expression contorts with disapproval. “What? No, what if the papers found out about it? I can’t be dragging my family’s name in the mud because of a philandering wife.” He frowns deeply.

“That is your problem, not mine. My family's name is already besmirched.”

“I’m waiting for that picture!” Both can hear the cheery disposition of Two from the living room.

“Can we talk about this later—I don’t want to get killed.”

He glowers at her. “You’re not sleeping around.” Honestly, she didn’t think he'd care.

“Just come on and play nice for this stupid picture okay?” Delia grabs Theo by the sleeve of his shirt as she drags him from the bedroom to the living room and then to the large balcony outside. Two follows them, handing Theo his phone with the camera app pre-opened. “Take a selfie—don’t bother with the other camera app. It’s shit.”

Theo blinks at his phone and rolls his eyes. “It’s gonna be shit anyway.”

“Just put your hand around my waist and smile,” Delia says, edging Theo towards her. She stands as tall as his shoulder—this wasn’t going to be an easy scene to capture. Feeling the heat through his strong frame does feel nice though…

Theo feigns a half-grin, leaving Delia slightly muddled. It’s fake, but for a second, she thought it could be real. This man looks dashing with only a small grin. At least she didn’t have to prod him to smile. He plays with the angle of the camera couple of times before he snaps a photo. Two out of the three pictures have Delia’s nose scrunched up like she’s going to sneeze, but he looked perfect.

That’s not fair!

“Take another.”

Theo sighs, but amusement fills his tone when he says, “You’re not photogenic, are you?”

“Shut up.” She growls at him.

He laughs to himself as he adjusts the camera once more, Delia managing to smile convincingly. She can tell it’s a sad smile, but Theo didn't notice. He wanted to be done with the ordeal.

Two waves his fingers in Theo’s direction, wanting his phone. He stares at it in splendour. Theo lets go of Delia, the warmth she felt went with him.

“Look at you two! The picture of magnificence.” He makes a chef’s kiss gesture before he adds, “Now for the icing on the cake—the blurb. We gotta get those viewers hungry for a real live romance.” That was impossible, given their current situation. Romance can never blossom from this amount of pressure? Anyone who knew Delia wouldn’t buy this picture’s legitimacy.

Well, maybe Thorne would.

“This seems like a lot of work for an island you’re not gonna get,” Theo mutters, his words filled with irritation as his gaze lingers on the cars below. “I told you that my grandfather’s not going to be interested in me leaving to live on some obscure enclave.”

Two pauses, scratching his chin. “We’re still talking about the island, right?”

“You got your picture—that’s all I’m giving you.” He quips.

“Cordelia, please craft the blurb that will make everyone believe you two are lovers for the ages.”

Was this guy off his rocker? Delia sighs, taking Theo’s phone and staring at the text box above. The line blinking in and out of existence daunts her. Was she ready for this kind of proclamation? Delia only posted her egg sandwich pics on Instagram—and she didn’t even get that many followers. Theo’s follower count reached over 50K—that’s a whole lotta eyeballs seeing this fake publication.

Love at first sight! Kisses and hugs to all of you—no…that’s cheesy.

It needs to be better.

Can’t believe we’re getting married—feels like we’re known each other forever!—ugh, that sounds even worse!

Ready for the adventure of a lifetime! #engaged #summertime #soinlove.

It had to work—she wasn’t lying about the adventure part…except, maybe about being ready for it. A hostage isn’t an adventure she would wish upon anyone.

Delia hands Theo's phone back to Two. “Is this fine?”

“It’s weird to have an engagement picture without showing off a ring…but it’ll have to do.” He takes Theo’s phone and places it back into his bag. “Hopefully there will be some congratulatory calls coming your way.” He slips the phone in his pocket. “You two have free reign of the place—but don’t think about sneaking away. I really don’t want my boss to hurt you two.” Was that sympathy she heard in his voice? He waves, leaving Theo and Delia on the balcony alone.

“We’re too high up to call for help, and I doubt anyone would pay attention to us as is—are you afraid of heights?” Theo asks.

“If you think I’m going to climb over the balcony—you’re sadly mistaken. Looking over the edge makes me woozy enough as is.”

“Just checking.” He shrugs. “Seeing the sight of that man makes me wanna jump.”

Delia can relate. Her imagination couldn’t make up a man who acted so whimsical.

Delia side-eyes him with a grin. “It’s not too late to end our torment.”

Theo scoffs but in amusement. “That’s dark.”

“Who knows how long they’re going to have a hold on us? Is it really impossible for you to convince your grandfather to buy them that stupid island they’re so horny for?”

“Interesting phrasing, but yes, he already has one runaway for a grandson, he doesn’t need another.”

“We need to find a way to tell him the reason why you’re asking. There has to be a way.”

“If I do that, Oli’s finished. Grandfather knows about the crowd he’s running with, and if they find out it’s the same gang who kidnapped us…” It doesn’t take much imagination to discover what Theo meant by that sentence.

“But Oli isn’t involved!”

“But he’ll think he was—for revenge.”

“Why? You said yourself that you don’t think Oli’s that smart.”

“He was caught—no—it’s more accurate to say that his bank account was recorded dipping into our grandfather’s funds.” He pauses, checking to see if he has Delia’s attention, “I say it was a group of hackers using my dumbass brother’s account—they probably scammed him on the street without him even realizing.”

“Is that why was he disinherited? Surely he tried to make a case for himself?”

“No—I mentioned before he wouldn’t give two shits if the world collapsed around him. He didn’t care to clear his name and my grandfather is kind, but he’s dim. He took it to heart that Oli would do such a thing and he basically told him to never show his face again.”

Delia pulls a face, “Doesn’t sound like such a nice guy to me—to disinherit a grandson based on an allegation.”

“Don’t think too much about it—I don’t. They’re both idiots as far as I’m concerned.”

“But that hardly makes any sense—neither of them tried to talk about it?”

“Again, you give my family too much credit—Thea and I are the only bloody sane ones in this family.” He shakes his head, taking off his glasses. “I do hope you have some sense in that brain of yours.”

“Of course, I do!”

“You have an unhealthy obsession with eggs.” Theo cocks a brow.

“How dare you—eggs are the foundation for a balanced breakfast!”

“I never said that they weren’t. But you do know it’s not good for your cholesterol to eat so much. Bad for your heart.” He points to her chest.

“Watch where you point that finger of yours!” She smacks his hand away.

He shrugs.

“Besides, I know a guy who needs to watch how much pepper he puts on his plate!”

Theo sighs, pinching his brows. “Now you’ve made me hungry.”

Delia raises a finger, but she hears her own stomach growl in unison with his words. Dammit, how she craved to eat good food. The eggs were fantastic but…she could do with some variety in her diet.

And not because Theo said so.

“I don’t think they’re going to let us go downstairs. We might be subjugated to more sirloin.” Her voice quivers at the very thought.

“It was better than the pile of hard-boiled eggs you requested. I can’t believe that’s all you ate for the three days we were in that room.” He shakes his head as leaves her on the balcony. 

God, what the hell was she going to do with him?