II · DIMITRI

Dimitri Delacroix's point of view

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"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY SAYING THAT The Lovers of June aren't going to have an ending? Are you insane? What the fuck is happening?" I yelled when my aide, and right-hand Knight, Jean-Paul Aveline, told me about the news that had spread around the Delacroix Duchy this morning when a caravan came from the Royal Capital of Desmoulins.

He gulped, "That's what the merchants that came from Desmoulins told us, Your Grace. It seems like the writer suddenly canceled the so-waited publishing date of the last book, and announced that there wasn't going to have the last book."

I took a deep breath. "Florea Athanasian... Florea Athanasian... I'm going to find this author and make him finish this damned series even if I need to use force!"

Jean chuckled, "Your Grace, I don't think that's how the creative process of a fiction writer works."

Anxiously, I passed my fingers through my honey wavy hair that was loose, sighing, "I've been accompanying this damned series for 9 Gods-damn years, Jean! For fuck's sake. I read the 9th book in hours, hoping to get the last one in a year. And now that the time has come, this damned author does this?" I growled. "I can't stay like this, damn it. It can't end like this."

"I understand your frustration, Your Grace, once I'm also a fan of the series. But what if the writer died?" I glared at him.

"This asshole didn't die. I bet he didn't. If that was the case, we would know by now!"

"Maybe it's a woman," he pondered and I glared at him as if he had grown a second head. "What? Perhaps that's why the identity is kept a secret."

I rolled my eyes. "Our society is against that, Jean. And although I think it's stupid, they would never let women publish a book. They are probably afraid they might be smarter than us men, which I wouldn't doubt, my mother is an example of women's intelligence. But I doubt any women would have the guts to do such a thing because it would be the same as putting all of their reputations at a stake."

"Well, yes. But, still. It's what I can think of as a reason for the sudden cancelation of the book series. Either that or the author died!" I don't think it's either of them.

Suddenly, my mother burst the door of my office open. Genevieve Delacroix, the famous retired savage diamond Duchess, who definitely isn't a flower you should recklessly admire, a fierce beast inside a petite body. Which makes her adorable in my eyes, except when she's angry, and she's constantly angry.

Especially with my father, Olivier Carpentier, a Marquis who only had a night with my mother and impregnated her with the glorious me. Yeah, it's a complicated story. It causes lots of gossips even nowadays, and it's been 26 years since it happened.

"Dimitri Carpentier Delacroix!" She began, putting me on the edge.

Whenever she calls me by my full name, it's never good. Never! "Yes, mother?" I got up.

She came closer and looked up at me. Mom is short in front of me, but she is tall compared to other women, with 175cm of height. "Why did you ghost Lady Jeanne Bourseiller?" Ah, here we go again.

These days she's been bothering me to go on a blind date with the daughter of her friend, Viscountess Nicolette Bourseiller. It's been annoying to avoid that matter.

Sigh. "Mother, I've told you countless of times that I do not wish to marry now. Especially not any of your friends' daughters. Not to mention that Lady Jeanne Bourseiller is five years older than me, and she's almost as tall as I am while using high heels. She's probably the tallest noble Lady around. Maybe even the tallest woman alive!" That giant is 186cm, she makes all the other girls look like dwarves.

Not to mention that she clearly does not like men! I've seen her flirting with Lady Ingrid D'Aboville, the daughter of Baron Porthos D'Aboville, who's my dad's friend. And they were flirting quite shamelessly in the indoor garden of my dad's property on the last ball my stepmother, Rosalie, threw two months ago.

"But what's the problem? I'm a tall woman. And you are 198cm, Dimitri! You can't complain about a girl's height when you are taller than all of them either way!" That's not how it works.

I took a deep breath. "Mom, I like short girls. Your height and bellow. Is it hard to get that?"

"That way my grandchildren will all be dwarves!" She yelled terrified. "My grandsons need to be tall, Dimitri. Marry a tall girl. If you marry a girl who's 150cm, I'm going to kill you!"

It couldn't be helped, I burst out laughing, and she glared at me annoyed to the core. She always had a complex with her height. My maternal grandma, Corinne Delacroix, told me that my mom used to be extremely insecure about being taller than most girls, but after she had me she began getting confident.

Petting her hair kindly, I smiled at her, "Mom, don't worry about that. My genes will probably be stronger and your grandchildren will all be tall, so, don't worry."

She bit her bottom lip, "Tall girls also deserve love, okay?"

"And so does short man," I teased and she glared at me.

"You are far from being short, Dimitri. And I'm not joking!" She slapped my shoulder annoyed.

"I know, mom," I giggled. "Just teasing you. But they need to be loved by someone who is attracted to them. And a girl who's almost as tall as I am is a turn-off to me, okay? It can't be helped."

"Then 160cm and above, alright?" She exclaimed, sulking. "I won't love a daughter-in-law who's shorter than that," she's saying this now, but I'm sure she'll love whoever I marry.

"Okay, mom. Don't worry about that. I'm not going to marry someone who's almost half my height," that made her giggle. "Now, what else did you want to talk to me about?"

"The Crown Prince Louis and his wife, Crown Princess Beatrice, sent us an invitation to spend the winter season on Desmoulins!" Louis is my childhood best friend, and Beatrice is my cousin from my mom's side, she's my aunt's daughter, also one of my best friends, together with Jean.

I nodded. "I was already thinking of going there. Will you come with me this time? Or will you not go again just to avoid meeting dad and Rosalie?" I teased her and she glared at me again.

"Of course, I'll go. I received a letter from Duke Florentin Baudelaire," the widow of my mother's childhood best friend who died more than a decade ago. "It's been quite some time since he last answered my letters. He told me he was going to spend this season in Desmoulins with his children and asked to meet me."

Suspiciously, I glared at her, "I know he has a daughter. So, I'm already telling you not to try to get us together!"

She rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, I won't try anything with this Lady in special. I don't think it would be good to try getting you to marry her, right off the bat, when it's been so long since I was able to contact her family. Her mother was my best friend, I just can't do that."

That surprised me. Softening the expression on my face, I held her hand, "Do you want me to go with you when you meet them?"

"Yes. I want him to meet you. He's your godfather after all. You became a Duke when I retired, so maybe you can give some tips to his eldest son, Adrien, who will take over the Baudelaire Duchy after Florentin," oh, so she wants me to befriend him like she befriended his mother.

"I'll do my best."

She looked around my office and spotted the 9th volume of The Lovers of June, "Oh, you've heard the news? Your favorite author decided to stop publishing the books. It's a pity since he was supposed to finish the series this year."

I felt that familiar frustration fill me in again, "Don't even remind me of that, mom. I wish I could find this asshole and force him to finish this damn story already."

Mom giggled. "Why am I not surprised by hearing you say that?" That made me feel my cheeks getting hot, as I blushed. "You've read those books so many times, and always rent my ears telling me your thoughts and theories about it. I knew you would be sad with the news."

"Hm. I'm not sad, mom. I'm angry!"

"Yeah, yeah," she pinched my cheeks. "The frustration is the same."