Inconceivable! (18 page)

The room was silent, though the air was heavy with our harsh words. I walked out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Astrid was dusting in the sitting area.

“I’m ready to go home.” She silently led me down the staircases to the entrance I’d used just a few minutes earlier. I got in the black car parked in the curved driveway and waited. A couple of minutes later, a driver came and took me to my apartment.

A painful aching nipped at my heart, overriding the anger. This breach of trust heralded the end of my courtship with John. This was a different kind of royal flush―our relationship was sliding down the toilet.

espite my confrontation with John, I slept deeply. It helped that I’d gotten very little rest the previous night.

Friday morning, I went to my media ethics class where I got into an argument with a Latvian student over whether news bloggers ought to follow the same ethical standards as other journalists.
They totally should.
Then, I came home, put on sweats, and curled up with my textbook. I read and sipped lukewarm coffee, trying to ignore the hollowness I felt inside. A news ticker of headlines about our breakup ran through my head, a ceaseless ribbon reinforcing my misery.

I was about to get up and go to the bathroom when someone knocked on my door. I looked through the peephole and saw John standing there with two members of the Royal Guard. Adrenaline shot through my body. What the heck was he doing
here
? He was dressed like any other twenty-something who might live in my building; he wore a ball cap, slouchy jeans, and a long-sleeve T-shirt under a khaki field jacket. In one hand, he had a black bag that looked like a soft-sided briefcase.

I unlocked the door and opened it. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

“May I come in?”

I stepped out of the way, and he walked inside. The plainclothes guards stayed in the hallway.

“They’re kind of conspicuous. I guess it’s a good thing my neighbors hardly know who I am. Do you want to sit?”

As he walked into the tiny apartment, my nerd glasses slid down my nose. I shoved them into their proper place and pulled back my hair, knowing there was no way I looked presentable, but also not caring―the man had seen me looking like a wet dog and that hadn’t repelled him. I walked over to the couch and plopped down.

“Hatty, I’m sorry to come here unannounced. I wanted to see you at home. At your home. The last thing I want to do is change who you are because there’s so much about you I love.”
Trotting out the l-word? This must be serious.

“Okay.”

He sat beside me. “I also want to say I’m sorry I didn’t call you the minute I found out my family is still in the smelting business. It was wrong of me to wait. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me and I couldn’t bear that. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes. But how do I know you were really going to tell me?”

“Whether it’s the factory or that photo of me with Adela, you have to trust me.” He took my hand in his.

“I want to trust you. But it’s hard because I trusted Jack too, and look where that got me.”

He turned my chin toward him and looked into my eyes. “Please don’t compare me to your ex-boyfriend or punish me for his mistakes. I don’t compare you to Claire. I think we both want the chance to have something different than what we experienced in the past. Isn’t that why we’re dating?” The blaze of sincerity in his eyes sent a surge of affection zipping through my heart. But the journalist in me didn’t lie down and roll over so easily.

“Of course.” I turned my whole body to face him. I needed to see him straight on as he answered my next question; it was too important. “But tell me this: how can you pursue a doctorate in environmental science and give lip service to protecting farmland yet turn a blind eye to what’s going on in Kortrijk? There’s something in the soil and ground water that’s making people sick. This one woman I interviewed… You should hear her voice. She can’t get pregnant, but she doesn’t know why. I want to help these people because they deserve answers.”

“And we want to help them. A generation ago, they begged the monarchy to bring jobs to their town, and that’s what we did when we leased the facility to a private company so they could open the smelter. The fields in that area were dead and residents couldn’t farm. So, we gave them the opportunity to earn decent wages and improve their lives. Hatty, there may be something in the soil out there, but it existed prior to the smelter coming online.”

“What were they doing at the facility before your family cleared the way for the smelting operation?”

“A private investor built the facility in 1897 and opened an asbestos plant. Our government spent millions of euros cleaning up the contamination after we bought the property. Then we let Ren Corp. start up a lead smelter. Of course, we want to know if it’s creating more pollution. But so far, the dots don’t connect.”

“Why are you just now finding out your family still owns the buildings?”

“Granny, my father, and Aunt Elinore talked extensively about selling it a couple of years ago and turning the entire place over to Ren Corp. It sounded like a done deal. I was finishing my master’s degree at the time, so I didn’t follow every detail.”

“What are you getting at here? That I can’t do my story?”

“Not if you plan to continue to have a relationship with me. And if you end our courtship, you can’t report on any of the details I’ve disclosed because of the agreement you signed.”

“Okay. Damn it. Why does this have to be so hard for us?”

“I warned you this would be tricky.”

“Look, if I back off of this story, you have to promise me you’re going to check into the situation out there. I don’t want to leave those people hanging. They need our help.”

John stood. “I understand, and we’ll stay on it. You know, there are so many people who need help, and I think you’re just getting warmed up.” He reached into the black bag by his feet and pulled out a laptop. “This is for you. I believe in you and your talent as a writer. I know you’re going to do great things.”

I took the laptop and set it on the coffee table. My fingers glided across the smooth silver top. I’d told him only once that my laptop was a loaner from the university, so I’d have to return it when I graduated.

“I can’t believe you did this. Thank you so much.”

As I wrapped my arms around his neck, I fought back tears.
A laptop from the guy you’re dating? Seventeen-hundred euros. Knowing he listens when you talk? Priceless
. In that moment, I adored him, and apparently, he felt the same way about me. My mental news ticker with its headlines detailing the end of our relationship stopped dead in its tracks.

“I’d like us to spend more time together… if that sounds good to you,” he said.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Great. If it works with your schedule, I’d like you to accompany me to Berlin tomorrow. From there, we’ll drive to Potsdam. My cousin Pru is having her birthday party at Sanssouci. Have you heard of it?”

“No, but it sounds like fun. I’d love to go with you. Thank you for inviting me.’”

“Thank you for agreeing to come with me on such short notice. I’ll send a driver over at nine, and I’ll meet you at the airport. How does that sound?”

“Perfect! What should I wear?”

“Hmm…” He looked deep in thought as he pulled me closer, and his hands slid down my back. Even after reaching my waist, his hands kept going. When they grazed my ass, he gave it a playful squeeze before moving up again to my lower back. “I’d say a short black dress is in order.”

I melted into him, gently patting his cheek. “You’re lucky, mister. I just happen to have a little black dress.”

“We’re staying only one night, but it will be one hell of an evening. Gatherings at Sanssouci are notorious.”

“Notorious for what?”

“I’ll say this: I have a second cousin who supposedly was conceived there.”

“So, it’s a bunch of cousins getting their freak on? Sounds like a
royally
good time.”

“Very funny. I’m going to go so you can pack.”

He leaned in to kiss me, and my lips parted. Our tongues were well acquainted, and did their own seductive dance. His hands slid around my waist and then down. This ass grab was longer, more intense. The sensation of his fingers caressing a part of my body that rarely enjoyed another person’s touch electrified me. A tingling ricocheted around my stomach before settling between my legs. When he let go, he took a step back.

“I can’t wait to see you all dressed up for Pru’s party. I guarantee I won’t be the only one wanting to grab your ass.”

“Maybe. But yours are the only hands I want touching my body.” I reached for his arms just above the wrists and placed his hands on my rear again. His breathing became uneven as he gave me one last, deep kiss.

After he left, my stomach thrashed at the thought of an evening spent meeting and greeting royals and anyone else famous and rich enough to get invited. At least I’d have John by my side; his presence would help slay my nervousness.

n our flight to Berlin, John and I sipped wine in the comfort of wide leather seats. A small table set up between us held the photos he’d taken with my grandfather’s camera. There was a snapshot of Henri eating breakfast at the palace, multiple pictures around Roeselare taken through a car window, and shots of people walking the halls of the National Assembly building.