Chapter 51: My Prince

Basil cleared his throat, forcing a flat, critical expression onto his face to mask the absolute disaster unfolding inside his head.

"The shoulders are slightly broad, but it’s acceptable. Take it off so the stylist can adjust the fit, and try this one out as well," he said, shoving another random garment into Darius’s arms without even looking at what he was handing him.

"Whatever you say, my prince," Darius replied smoothly, taking the garment with far more amusement than necessary.

He turned to re-enter the fitting room, but Basil’s tense, sharp voice stopped him just before he stepped inside.

"And stop overusing that title," Basil snapped, his posture stiffening as he stared fixedly over Darius’s head to avoid meeting his eyes.

Darius glanced over his shoulder.

"What title, my prince?" he asked, a playful, knowing glint dancing in his blue eyes.

Basil glared at him, sudden heat flooding his cheeks. At this point, it was becoming painfully obvious that Darius knew exactly what effect he was having on him.

"That... that title," he said stiffly. "Stop using it. It sounds ridiculous."

"Oh."

A slow, mischievous smile spread across Darius’s face. "As you wish, my prince."

Before Basil could fire back another reprimand, Darius slipped back into the fitting room and shut the door behind him, accompanied by a quiet, lingering chuckle.

That bastard, Basil thought, gritting his teeth as he stared at the closed door, his heart still beating far too fast for his liking.

The next few hours melted into an exhausting routine of fittings, alterations, and endless wardrobe selections. Darius spent what felt like an eternity cycling through dozens of outfits handpicked by Basil. Some fit perfectly, earning a curt nod of approval from him. Others were deemed slightly too broad in the shoulders or too short at the hem, requiring immediate notes for alterations, while a few looked so absurdly mismatched that they were rejected on sight.

The attendants moved around them in a well-practiced rhythm, taking measurements, making notes, and setting aside approved selections for packing.

By the time Darius emerged from what felt like the hundredth fitting, he was already dragging his feet. Leaning heavily against the fitting room doorframe, he looked completely drained.

"Can we just stop? I think we’ve gotten enough."

He looked ready to collapse onto the nearest couch and sleep for the rest of the day.

Basil didn’t even glance up from the display rack where he was selecting another pair of trousers.

"The order was to replace your entire wardrobe, and that is exactly what we’re going to do."

Fuck me raw! Darius had never known Basil could be this terrifyingly obsessive about something. This was an entirely new side of him, and honestly, it was a little frightening.

"I think I already have enough clothes to last a lifetime," Darius grumbled, dropping dramatically onto a sofa and throwing an arm over his eyes. "Why don’t you shop for yourself as well?"

"This isn’t about me. It’s about you," Basil replied coldly, tossing another item towards Darius.

"Put this on." Darius groaned.

"I’m so damn tired of this." He snatched the garment anyways and retreated into the fitting room once more. A few moments later, the mirrored door slid open just a crack. Darius peeked his head out, looking distinctly uncomfortable as his eyes swept over the lounge. "Uh... I think I need help," he called out.

Both Basil and the attendant looked over.

"What happened?" Basil asked, already sounding annoyed by the interruption.

Darius cleared his throat. "The zipper got stuck."

The attendant immediately stepped forward with a polite smile. "Allow me, Your Highness. I can fix that for you right away." Darius hesitated.

"If you don’t mind," he said, making no move to open the door. "Though... to be honest, I’d really prefer if my brother helped instead. It’s a bit of a... delicate privacy situation. Near the pubic area. Unless you really don’t mind seeing all that."

The attendant flushed instantly and stepped back with an awkward, embarrassed bow.

"Ah. I understand completely, Your Highness. I shall give you some space."

Basil’s eyes narrowed into a sharp, suspicious squint as he stared at Darius across the room.

"Please," Darius whined, exaggerating a wince. "It actually hurts. Just come help me."

With an annoyed sigh, Basil pushed himself off the sofa. Stiffening his shoulders, he walked over and stepped into the fitting room.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Darius grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut with a quiet, solid thud. Before Basil could even process the sudden movement, Darius caught him by the arms, spun him around, and pinned him firmly against the wall.

Basil’s breath caught, his eyes widening in shock. "What are you doing?" he gasped. "I thought you said your zip was stuck."

"Nothing’s stuck," Darius whispered close to his ear, his voice dropping into a low, husky murmur. "I just needed to get you in here."

"What are you playing at?" Basil demanded with a cold glare, his chest heaving as he tried to push against Darius’s solid frame, but the other man didn’t budge an inch.

The air inside the small room turned thick and suffocating. Darius leaned in closer, trapping Basil between the wall and his own body, his dark eyes searching Basil’s face with unyielding intensity.

"I need you to explain something to me," Darius said softly, his gaze locked on Basil’s. "It’s been running through my head for the past few hours. I can’t seem to figure out why you want me to stop using ’my prince.’ Especially when it’s easily my favorite thing to call you."

Basil stared up at him, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs.

"Is that why you pulled me in here?"

"Yeah, my prince," Darius purred, his posture unyielding as he maintained his hold. "It’s actually driving me crazy."

"Yeah, my prince," Darius purred, his posture unyielding as he maintained his hold. "It’s actually driving me crazy."

Basil’s breath hitched, the sudden, suffocating proximity sending a violent jolt of electricity straight through his veins. He could feel the warmth radiating from Darius’s body, could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, could see every detail in those maddeningly intense eyes. His senses felt overwhelmed, every nerve ending acutely aware of just how little space existed between them. His heart was pounding so hard he was certain Darius had to be able to hear it.

Planting both hands against his chest, Basil tried desperately to shove him back, but Darius only leaned his weight forward, completely shutting down any chance of escape.

"I’m waiting for your answer, my prince," Darius whispered, his breath brushing lightly against Basil’s cheek.

Basil’s voice caught in his throat before he finally managed to force the words out.

"Darius... please let me go."