Chapter 49: Favorite Color

Or have I done something wrong again? Darius wondered, glancing briefly at Basil’s carefully blank profile. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. The drive here had felt normal enough, so why did it suddenly feel like they were back at the beginning again?

A few moments later, a man in his early forties emerged from the back offices. He was tall and impeccably dressed in a double-breasted charcoal suit that fit him so perfectly it practically advertised his profession. Silver-rimmed glasses rested on his nose, and a measuring tape hung casually around his neck. He carried himself with the effortless confidence of someone who had spent years dressing kings, nobles, and the wealthy elite. He walked over and bowed deeply to Basil. "Good morning, Your Highness. It is always a pleasure to see you."

"Good morning, Laurent," Basil replied politely.

The tailor then turned his sharp gaze toward Darius, his eyes immediately brightening with interest as he took him in.

"And this must be our new prince, Prince Darius."

"Darius is fine," Darius said, offering a casual wave. Laurent looked genuinely horrified.

"I’m afraid I could never address a prince of this realm by his first name, Your Highness. Please forgive me, but that is simply impossible."

Darius stared at him for a second before letting out a small sigh. "Right. Okay. Whatever."

The tailor smiled, visibly relieved.

"Now then, Your Highness, if you would please stand and follow me to the fitting room, we’ll take your measurements for the gala."

He stepped aside, gesturing down the hall.

Darius simply nodded and rose from the couch. As he did, Basil found himself glancing up at him.

The other prince looked back briefly before turning away and following Laurent toward a private fitting suite at the rear of the building.

The tailor held the door open, and Darius stepped inside with him as the wooden panel clicked firmly shut behind them.

Basil let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and sank back into the soft leather of the couch. Darius’s smile was still completely nerve-wracking, lingering beneath his skin in a way he couldn’t seem to shake off. He really needed to pull himself together. How could he possibly be reacting like this to another man, and his supposedly new brother at that? The whole thing was driving him out of his mind.

They didn’t spend much time at the tailor’s.

Once Master Laurent finished taking Darius’s measurements, the two princes wasted little time before heading back to the car and setting off for Maison Étoile. The drive there was completely silent, wrapped in a tension neither of them seemed willing to break. Darius considered saying something several times, only to stop himself each time. Eventually, he decided to let it be and kept his eyes fixed on the city passing outside his window in a blur of glass buildings, busy streets, and early afternoon traffic.

When Basil finally pulled the car into the parking lot of Maison Étoile, Darius looked up and felt his eyebrows rise. If the tailor’s shop had been an exercise in quiet luxury, this boutique was extravagant on an entirely different level.

It occupied an entire corner lot, its towering architecture of dark-tinted glass and polished gold accents gleaming beneath the sunlight. Water cascaded down a decorative stone wall near the entrance, while luxury vehicles lined the private parking area. The sheer scale of the place was almost ridiculous, making him wonder just how much money people were truly willing to spend on clothes.

As they walked toward the entrance, the massive glass doors slid open automatically with a quiet, seamless hum. A sharply dressed floor host standing by the door bowed deeply as they stepped inside. "Welcome to Maison Étoile," the host said smoothly, gesturing for them to enter.

Both princes walked straight in. The interior somehow managed to outdo the exterior.

Crystal lighting hung from the high ceilings, while polished marble floors reflected the soft golden glow of designer display cases. Every section was arranged with meticulous precision.

Luxury watches occupied one wing, formal wear filled another, while shoes, accessories, fragrances, and custom-made garments each occupied their own elegant space.

Darius almost felt poor just standing there.

Almost immediately, a male attendant in the Maison Étoile uniform, a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt and a slim black tie, rushed forward, bowing low to Basil with practiced reverence. "Your Highness, welcome. It is an absolute honor to have you with us today."

"We’re here to shop for him," Basil said, pointing toward Darius without looking at him directly. "He needs an entirely new wardrobe. Formal wear, casual wear, evening clothes, all of it."

The man’s eyes widened slightly as he turned toward Darius, taking him in properly for the first time. Recognition quickly dawned on his face, and he bowed once more. "Ah, my apologies for not recognizing you immediately. You must be the new prince, Prince Darius."

Darius’s brows drew together in a faint crease.

The tailor, he could understand, since it seemed they had been called ahead of time, but this was different. How did the attendant recognize him so easily? What was the need for the upcoming introduction gala when the public already seemed to know exactly who he was?

"No need to apologize," he muttered, waving a hand lazily. The attendant straightened.

"Right this way, Your Highnesses. I will show you our most exclusive collections," he said, gesturing toward a private elevator that brought them up to a breathtaking top-floor VIP lounge lined with racks of custom designer wear.

Within minutes, racks of clothing surrounded them. The attendant began pulling out coats, trousers, and shirts while explaining fabrics, seasonal collections, and color palettes as he laid them out for inspection. Darius stared helplessly at the growing mountain of choices.

Seeing it as the perfect opportunity to break the silence between them, he picked up a dark jacket and turned it over in his hands before letting out a light sigh. Then he looked at Basil.

"I honestly don’t know what to pick here. Can you help me out, big bro?"

Basil froze for a fraction of a second. He could never seem to get used to that title. The stupid title shouldn’t have affected him at all, yet somehow it always did. If he was being completely honest with himself, he actually preferred hearing Darius call him my prince rather than big brother. Yet the sudden flutter in his chest caught him completely off guard.

Masking his reaction instantly, he forced his expression into a picture of cold annoyance, as though he were deeply bothered by the request.

"You’re hopeless," he muttered softly. "What’s so hard about picking out clothes for yourself?"

Darius immediately grinned. "You clearly know this stuff better than I do," he said shamelessly, holding up the jacket in his hands. "You’re a prince. You’ve been dealing with all this fancy noble stuff your entire life. I trust you to pick things that won’t make me look ridiculous."

Basil raised an eyebrow.

Darius talked as though he weren’t the real prince. As though Basil was the rightful one and Darius was somehow the outsider borrowing his place. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t understand why Darius insisted on treating him that way. It was as if Darius was deliberately downplaying his own position, refusing to see himself as the prince of this kingdom while placing Basil on a pedestal that no longer belonged to him. With a quiet sigh, Basil turned toward him and asked,

"What’s your favorite color?"

"Green," Darius answered without hesitation.

The answer caught Basil completely off guard. He had been expecting something like black, blue, gray or even red. Those colors suited Darius’s personality far more than green.

He couldn’t stop the curious question that slipped out before he could think better of it.

"Why green?"

"Because your eyes are green," Darius blurted out before his mind could catch up to his tongue.