Royal Date (12 page)

“Can’t we go out the back again?” I asked, pressing closer to Nico’s side.

“They’re unavoidable tonight, I’m afraid. We will want them to take our picture because of the press it will bring for the event and the charity.”

“Is it always like this for you?”

“Only when I go outside of Monterra. There we have anti-paparazzi laws. We want it to be a safe, comfortable place for anyone who chooses to travel there.”

I imagined it would certainly make his homeland more appealing to celebrities and royals who didn’t want their every move photographed. Which would trickle down to regular tourists, who would visit in hopes of catching a glimpse of famous people in the wild. I wondered why other countries didn’t do the same.

Johann came over and asked to confer with Nico. Nico excused himself and stepped away. Lemon sidled up next to me. “Isn’t this all exciting?”

Exciting
was not the word I would have chosen. I slipped my bracelet off of my wrist and twirled it back and forth with my fingers. The big gems caught the light as I whirled it. “I guess.”

“I can hardly wait to put those pictures up on Facebook. There isn’t a sister at Zeta Beta Gamma who won’t be seething with envy.” She looked down at my hands. “Be careful there, darlin’. That’s worth a lot of money.”

I stopped mid-flicker to look at Lemon. “What do you mean?”

“You were worried about how much your dress cost. That bracelet is worth two of your dresses.”

“I thought this was costume jewelry.” My voice was barely even a whisper.

“Why on earth would they give us costume jewelry? This is the real deal. You’ve got at least twenty carats in diamonds on your ears.”

Great. Now I would spend the rest of the evening checking my earlobes every thirty seconds to make sure I still had those suckers in. I slid the bracelet back on, double-checking the clasp. Another thing to worry about. It sickened me to think about the fact that just one little sliver of my jewelry tonight could solve all of my financial problems.

Someone from security came in, holding the door open. This apparently was the signal for us to get in the cars. Nico came back to claim me, again slipping my hand onto the crook of his arm.

“Stay close to me,” he instructed, putting his hand on top of mine.

Always
.

I didn’t even question where that had come from. I was clearly losing my mind.

If I had thought the paparazzi at the hotel were bad, it was nothing compared to the teeming throng outside of the Intercontinental Grand Hotel. A wide red carpet ran from the street up to the hotel, and there were beautiful, well-dressed people taking pictures up and down its length.

Lemon was in her element. She climbed out with the twins and posed for picture after picture.

“Ready for our first official royal date?” Nico asked me.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to deal with all that.” I remembered that stifling, suffocating feeling I’d had earlier with the group outside of the hotel. This one seemed worse.

He looked disappointed, but directed Giacomo to stay with me and called over Lorenz, one of the security guards. They had a quick conversation in Italian. Nico gave me one last smile and got out of the limo. The paparazzi went nuts. Like teenage girls at a boy band concert.

The driver pulled slightly forward, and Giacomo, Lorenz, and I got out of the limo. “Do we go inside?” I asked.

“We will stay here until His Highness makes his way through the press line.” I wondered if that’s what Nico had told them to do.

It was cold out in the winter night, even though heaters had been set up along the red carpet to warm it. I shivered and ran my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm myself. I watched Nico charm and smile, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. I wished I could hear what he was saying.

On the opposite side of the press line stood a crowd of onlookers who called out to people arriving. While watching the frenzy of the crowd, I saw a little girl, about eight or nine years old, crying. She had on a princess costume.

Was she lost? Alone? I stepped off the carpet and into the group, pushing my way through. As I got closer I saw that she was holding hands with a woman who must have been her mother.

“Is everything all right?” I asked. The little girl just buried her face against her mother’s leg.

The woman started speaking to me in French.

“Do you speak English?
Anglais
?
”

She shook her head no. I turned and almost bumped into Lorenz, human Alp. “Can you get Giacomo?” I asked.

He nodded and spoke into his wrist. Like he was in a James Bond movie. A few seconds later Giacomo arrived. “Do you speak French?”

He looked confused. “Of course.”

“Can you please ask her what’s wrong with her daughter?” It hurt my heart to see a child cry.

He asked, and the mother explained. Turned out the woman’s name was Sandrine, her daughter’s Amelie. Her daughter was obsessed with fairy tales and had asked to come out tonight to see a real-life prince or princess, but the crowd was making it impossible for her to see anything.

“Would you please ask her if she’d like to meet a real prince?”

He gave me another strange look, but translated. The girl started sniffling, wiping her tears away. I heard her say, “
Oui
.”

“Please tell Nico that Kat needs him.” Lorenz hesitated. I knew Nico was busy. I knew tonight was important to him. But somehow I also knew that if I needed him, he would come. “Please.”

Lorenz relayed the message, and my instinct proved correct. Two bodyguards cleared a path for him, and Nico was there. “This little girl came to see you tonight and hasn’t been able to make her way through the crowd, so I thought I should arrange an introduction. This is Princess Amelie, and her mother, Sandrine.”

Nico turned to the child and bowed deeply to her. Then he crouched down so that he was at eye level with Amelie. He started speaking softly to her, and her face lit up. She got embarrassed and snuggled in closer to her mother.

“The prince just introduced himself and told her it was his honor to make the acquaintance of a princess. He also asked if she would like to take a picture with him.” Giacomo continued to translate for me.

Amelie nodded, and her mother took out her phone.

Nico held out both arms to Amelie, and like any woman would, she went right into his arms. He picked her up, holding her on one side. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked absolutely thrilled. Sandrine took a few pictures.

Then he turned to look at me and held out his free hand. Just like Amelie, I walked right into his embrace. He put his arm around my waist and said, “Smile.”

I’d never much liked taking pictures, but it was different with him there.

Nico spoke again to Sandrine, putting Amelie back on the ground where she rushed back to her mother. We said our
au revoir
s, and Sandrine stopped, putting her hand on my arm. “
Merci
,” she said. I could see unshed tears glittering in her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” I said, feeling a bit choked up myself.

The little girl chattered away happily at her mother as they left. Nico put his arm around my waist again, pulling me close to his side. Would I ever get used to the way that made me feel? I needed to be stronger than my hormones. Which might be difficult because it turned out that my hormones were superheroes, able to conquer my common sense and need for self-protection in a single bound.

He had a brilliant smile on his face. A real one. It made my toes curl. “We have a ball to attend,
bella
.”

Nico still had some press to speak with, so Lorenz and Giacomo took me inside. We passed through a luxurious lobby into the Salon Opera room.

My eyes went straight to the high ceiling that soared overhead. The entire room was shaped like a dome, and there were statues, round windows, and columns all along the walls. Everything was ornate and elaborately detailed. I’d never seen anything like it. A chandelier as big as a car dominated the center of the room. There was a hardwood dance floor, and on a stage beyond that an entire orchestra performed. The rest of the ballroom had large tables set up with expensive-looking place settings that reminded me very much of dinner with the royal family.

Lemon ran up to me, her smile bright, and she squealed. “How gorgeous is this? Let’s go find where we’re sitting.”

Every table had a name card next to each setting. We started looking for our names and ended up at the largest table nearest to the dance floor. I saw HRH Prince Dominic in the center, and then my name next to his just to the right. My stupid heart skipped a beat. Lemon, predictably, was seated with his brothers, with Salvatore right across from her. “Maybe I should switch the cards out,” she whispered. I told her not to. There was probably like some ball police who would kick her out if she did. Personally, I was afraid to touch anything.

A tiny little woman balancing on six-inch heels came up to us. She had honey-blonde hair and dark blue eyes, with a perfect little elfin face. I wondered how she could breathe in her blue formfitting gown. One wrong move and her ample, and obviously fake, chest was going to escape. “You are the ones who arrived with Nico?”

She had a refined British accent, but all I could think about was how tall she really was. She barely came up to my shoulder even with those heels on. Lemon confirmed that we were, and the woman said, “I am Lady Claire Sutherland, an old friend of Nico’s from school.”

I immediately hated her. My hate surprised me in both its quickness and intensity. She hadn’t said or done anything to make me feel that way. In fact, she seemed very friendly. But something inside me reacted violently to her and the possessive way she said Nico’s name.

It was up to Lemon to make our introductions because I was gritting my teeth together. A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne, and Claire grabbed two flutes. “Care for a drink?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Oh.” She handed the spare to Lemon, and the waiter walked away. “I’m sure we can send over to the bar and have them get you a fizzy drink.”

I felt like a child. But maybe she wasn’t being passive-aggressively mean. Maybe she was just being nice and my inexplicable hatred was coloring my reaction.

“Is this your first European ball?” When Lemon said yes, Claire smiled. It looked more like a smirk to me. “Besides the dancing, the best part is the chance to talk to so many interesting people. And there are so many fascinating people here tonight! Like over there.” She pointed through the crowd to an older gentleman wearing a colorful dashiki. “That’s Ambassador Mndaweni of South Africa. He just presented at the most brilliant conference on eradicating violence against children. I can introduce you.”

I wasn’t always so great at meeting new people, but Claire grabbed me by the arm and barreled her way through the crowd before I could object. He did sound interesting, and I always liked talking to people who were as dedicated to children as I was.

She made the introductions, and the ambassador smiled and held out his hand to greet me and then Lemon. “Oh, I’ve just seen someone I must say hello to,” Claire said. “If you’ll excuse me.” She leaned in close to my ear and said, “Be sure to ask him about his wife.”

“Are you American students?” he asked with a blinding white smile.

“Yes,” was my brilliant reply.

“You are visiting Paris?”

“Monterra, actually,” Lemon interjected. “We’re here with some friends who invited us. It’s our first time here.”

“Wonderful. How are you finding the city?”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “How is your wife enjoying it?”

The ambassador stilled, and his face went slack. “My wife and children were brutalized and murdered two years ago by insurgents.”

My mouth fell open in horror. “I’m . . . I’m so sorry . . .”

“Please excuse me,” he said and walked away.

My heart dropped into my stomach. I felt sick. Like I wanted to sit right there on the floor and put my head between my knees. “That did not just happen,” I finally said. “She told me to ask about his wife.”

Lemon led me over to a table and had me sit down on the velvet-cushioned chair. “You didn’t know.”