Royal Date

by Sariah Wilson

  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 revoirs, 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 ag
ainst 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.”

  “I didn’t know,” I agreed. But that was the point. I was letting my guard down with Nico. Missing him. Wanting to be near him. But this ball, that conversation, proved that I didn’t belong in this world. I had no idea who any of these people were or how to interact with them. Nico and I had nothing in common. His world was so foreign from mine. I didn’t wear dresses that cost more than a car or hang out in ballrooms with the world’s elite.

  “She set me up.”

  “That Claire is obviously a horrible person. I’ve seen leeches that suck less. Somebody needs to hand that garden gnome a stepladder so she can get over herself.”

  That put a bit of a smile on my face.

  “My mother always says stick to the weather and everybody’s health.”

  I didn’t need the advice because I was never talking to someone I didn’t know ever again.

  “I know you don’t normally drink, but tonight might be a good time to start.”

  “No.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to, and I needed all my wits about me. I saw Lady Claire Sutherland across the ballroom, and she gave me a pointed smirk. I had a feeling this wasn’t over.

  I should have trusted my gut.

  Although, that was the same gut that wanted me to jump up on Nico and plant kisses all over his face, so it wasn’t totally trustworthy.

  “Come on,” Lemon said. “I’m going to put you someplace safe, and then I’m going to get a drink with some bite.” We went back to where our name cards were, and she told me to sit in my seat. “I’ll be right back.”

  I wished I had something to occupy my hands besides my little pink clutch, which only had a keycard and lipstick inside. I set it on the table. I wanted to look for Nico, wondered if he’d made it inside yet. I could tell him what had happened and let him make me feel better. I knew he would. Or maybe he wouldn’t react the way I imagined he would. Maybe he’d be mortified by my blunder. What if I’d just started some kind of international incident?

  So instead I settled for listening to the orchestra and tried not to play my encounter with the ambassador on one endless loop in my mind.

  A skinny man with enormous ears and bright red hair sat in Nico’s seat, startling me. “Kat MacTaggart, I presume?” He had a thick brogue.

  I blinked. “Do I know you?”

  “Not yet. But I’m about to become your best mate.”

  He reached inside his tuxedo and pulled out an envelope and a phone. “The name’s Seamus O’Brien. I work for the Daily Sun as their royalty correspondent.”

  He looked at me expectantly, like I should know what that was. I’d never heard of it or him. If he were a reporter, shouldn’t he be outside with everybody else?

  “My sources tell me you’re staying with Prince Dominic in his palace. Is that correct?”

  How could anyone know that? “I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”

  “Because I have an opportunity for you.” He looked left to right and then handed me the envelope. “Open it.”

  Inside was a stack of cash. I took in a sharp breath. “What’s this?”

  “Five thousand American dollars. Consider it a down payment. I will give you fifty thousand dollars in cash total if you use this phone”—he held it aloft—“and get me pictures of the entire Monterran royal family inside their home. The king’s been a recluse for years now, and a picture of him post-accident is worth quite a bit.”

  Fifty thousand dollars? That was a lot of money. A lot. I could pay off all my student loan debt and start fresh. Buy a car. Get some professional clothes for my new job. Afford food.

  Not only that, but every time I had to move a kid to a new family or group home, I hated how little they actually owned. I could buy them clothes. Toys. Books. Stuffed animals. Things that would make the transition just a bit more bearable. The possibilities raced through my head.

  But how could I do that to Nico’s family? He hated the paparazzi. And his family had been nothing but kind to me. “I don’t think so.” I held the envelope out to him. He took it back from me.

  “What’s the harm? It’s only pictures, and you’d be a lot richer. Prince Dominic is outside right now getting his picture taken by every newspaper in the world. It goes with the position. They expect it.” He must have seen something on my face that told him exactly what I thought of his proposition, because he picked up my clutch and stuffed the envelope and phone inside it.

  “I will be in Monterra in a few days with the rest of the money. Just think about it. Nobody has to know. I promise to keep you out of it completely. It’ll be our secret.”

  “Wait a second . . .”

  He buttoned my clutch back up and put it down on the table. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Seamus O’Brien disappeared back into the crowd before I could stop him.

  Fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand dollars.

  In cash. I expelled a shaky breath.

  And it was just some pictures, right? How much harm could there be in that?

  Lemon returned, sipping on something amber-colored. She handed me a soda, which I put on the table. Next to my clutch. Which made my heart lurch. I should tell her what had happened.

  But before I could, there was a bell calling everyone to dinner. I watched the orchestra pack up their instruments. Our table filled up quickly, with Lady Claire Sutherland seated next to Salvatore and Francesco. Right where I could see her. She gave me another smirk, and I suppressed my shakiness. I didn’t know if I could deal with her witchery and a guilty conscience.

  Which only got worse when Nico arrived and sat next to me. “Buonasera.” Usually, I loved it when he spoke Italian to me, but I could barely look him in the eye.

  I wondered if I had a flashing neon sign on my forehead that said, “I considered selling you out.”

  He set his napkin on his lap, and the dinner service started. Conversation flowed all around the table, but my attention was fixated on everything that had just happened. Nico kept trying to talk to me, but every time he did, someone else claimed his attention. I could see frustration in the set of his mouth. His very beautiful mouth.

  As one course passed into the next, I realized I hadn’t really enjoyed any of it. It all tasted like sawdust in my mouth.

  If I felt this bad and I hadn’t done anything yet, then I obviously couldn’t take any pictures and I couldn’t take any money.

&nbs
p; I resolved to keep an eye out for Seamus and return both the phone and the money. He shouldn’t be that hard to find with that hair.

  But despite trying to covertly observe the ballroom, I didn’t see the reporter anywhere.

  I might not have tasted it, but I could still put the food away. It had been hours since our lunch, and I was hungry. Claire leaned across the table at me, and her boobs came up to her chin. I wondered if she could use those things as flotation devices. “If you’re still hungry, Kat, we can contact the kitchen and ask them to bring you out another serving.”

  She was all concern and sickly sweet smiles, but the implication was clear. She was delicate and hadn’t touched her food; I was a giant cow who ate too much.

  “We can certainly get you more if you’d like,” Nico said to me. He put his arm around the back of my chair. Then he leaned in to whisper, “You know how much I like watching you eat.”

  His breath tickled my ear, and a shiver ran up my spine. “I’m good.” I glared at Claire triumphantly. She sat back, angry, and stared at me.

  Waiters went back and forth, clearing plates and setting new ones. I hoped I could find Seamus before the evening ended. I reached out for my goblet of water and took a big gulp.

  Where something burned its way down my throat. I coughed and sputtered, having already swallowed a quarter of the glass. “What is this?”

  Lemon reached across Rafe and grabbed the goblet out of my hand. She took a sip and grimaced. “This is straight vodka.” She looked at Nico. “Kat doesn’t drink.”

  He got a murderous expression on his face. He immediately demanded that the head of the waitstaff be brought over to explain how this had happened.

  I saw Claire’s reaction. I knew exactly how this had happened. Lemon wasn’t far behind. “Did you do this to her, Claire?”

  “The proper way to address me is Lady Claire,” she said with a serene face. “And what a horrible thing to accuse someone of. I’ve never had anyone dare accuse me of something like this.”