by Lara Hunter
“Francesco!” a wild, blonde model cried. “We’ve been looking all over for you!” She giggled, bringing her fingers over her mouth. “And here you are, up to no good, as usual.”
Francesco took a step back from Kate, grinning at his troupe of friends. “Kate, this is Mike and Randall, along with a few of their new friends.” He gestured toward the models, his eyes dancing in the soft light of the hallway.
“Pleased to meet you,” Kate said, waving her hand.
“It’s time, Francesco,” Mike said, smacking his hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “The contortionist is going to do her dance—the one you hired her for. You can’t miss this, dude. I won’t let you.”
Francesco eyed Kate tentatively, clearly tempted to get back to the party. All romantic tension between them had fallen away, and Kate was left looking at an arrogant, forever bachelor who just wanted to go look at a half-naked woman do some sensual tricks.
“Do you want to get back, then?” Francesco asked her, trying to be polite.
Kate paused for a moment, trying to get her bearings. She eyed the models beside her and shivered, remembering that she’d only agreed to this job for the money Ella would cut her when it was all over.
She faked a yawn, then, covering her lips. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to use your bathroom. Freshen up for a minute. I’ll meet you all downstairs. I don’t want you to miss the contortionist.”
Francesco didn’t miss a beat. “Fine, then. We’ll see you down there.”
He swept toward his friends and placed that familiar hand on a different model’s lower back. She giggled and peered up at him with large, cartoon eyes. All Francesco had been telling her—that she was different than other models—suddenly fell away, and Kate snickered to herself, happy they’d been interrupted before she’d completely lost sight of her reasons for being there.
With Francesco and his unruly band of models and celebrities out of earshot, Kate flicked the switch on the Prince’s private quarters, anxious to snap a few more secret shots for Ella. “Allow my readers to see into his world,” Ella had told her. “See as much of the house as you can.”
The moment the lights flicked on, Kate gasped at the view. The Prince’s quarters were immaculate. There were several rooms all linked together, the bedroom filled with gold-lined furniture and a large four-poster bed, the door leading to a final balcony that swept out over the rainforest (with a net over it to ward off mosquitos).
Kate wandered through the rooms, touching random objects—a sculpture of a naked woman, the edge of a gold plate—before she found a large room filled with framed photographs and paintings. Many of them were similar to the painting in the hallway of the Prince and his brother playing in the sand.
Each painting and photograph spoke of a time of love and family and comfort. Kate peered at them curiously. Before this moment, she’d assumed that the Prince hadn’t cared much about his exile. He was allowed to be as wild as he pleased, without having to answer to a family that apparently despised him, or was simply ashamed of him.
In the photographs, the Prince, as a young boy, clung to his mother and father, grinning at the camera. As a young man, he drank with his brother and another girl, perhaps his sister?
Why in the world had the Prince been exiled if he was so family oriented? Kate snapped a few photos of the paintings and framed photographs, thinking this could be another angle to Ella’s story.
She continued through the quarters, finding more paintings and photographs, along with another massive collection of books. She ran her finger over their spines, noting that several of them seemed to have been read dozens of times. Nothing about the Prince’s quarters related to the man she’d just watched scurry back to the party to take shots with nearly naked women. It seemed that he often took on a different persona, especially during his parties. Maybe the man she’d glimpsed as they’d walked through the mansion together, asking her questions about her personality, was the actual prince, one the rest of the world wasn’t privy to.
In the last room, near the warmth emanating from the balcony, Kate took a seat on a chaise lounge, sighing gratefully as the weight left her aching feet. She was tipsy and jetlagged, already exhausted by the prospect of returning home the following morning. Her eyelids drooped. She lifted her camera from her breast and hooked it up to her phone, uploading the photographs and then sending them to Ella via email. If she took more when she rejoined the party, she could always send those later. In that moment, she just wanted to rest her feet.
She slipped her feet from her golden heels and lifted them up onto the chaise lounge, stretching her toes. A memory of the Prince’s face, mere inches from hers, clouded her mind. The tension between them had been nearly unbearable. If his friends hadn’t appeared to whisk him off, they could have made love all throughout the night.
But this wasn’t reality, she told herself. He was an arrogant, entitled prince. And even if he hadn’t been all that arrogant in private, he had been exiled from Monaco for a reason. He could think back on his time with his parents all he wanted; he could post their pictures on his wall. In the end, though, he was partying downstairs without a care in the world, and that truly wasn’t the kind of man Kate wanted to involve herself with. He’d replace her in a day, anyway.
As she relaxed, she began to drift off to sleep, feeling a tug-of-war battle in her mind. Her last thoughts, of napping for five minutes before snapping some photos of the contortionist, were completely obliterated. In mere moments, she was unconscious, dead to the world. Not even the pounding of the downstairs party music could wake her.
EIGHT
Kate could hear someone laughing. The sound echoed in her mind, forcing her to open her eyes. She sat up and blinked, suddenly unsure of where she was. Sunlight streamed in through the mosquito net over the balcony, and the noise of the rainforest buzzed through the trees.
A man peered down at her. His strong, muscled arms were crossed over his chest, and a smile stretched over his face. He looked at her with both confusion and humor, causing her to remove her feet from the chaise lounge and set them down on the Turkish rug on the floor. She brought her arms over her chest, covering her almost naked body. She realized that the bikini look didn’t quite work in the light of morning.
“Good morning,” the Prince said. He looked fresh and handsome, despite having been awake all night partying. His eyes were filled with light, and his hair was curly and thick, showing his health and vitality. “I wondered where you’d got to last night. You missed a great party.”
Kate gave him a slight smile, feeling embarrassed. “I told you I wasn’t cut out for this scene,” she said.
“Well, I suppose that’s what I get for not investigating your credentials properly. Don’t worry; I’ll still pay you, despite your breach of contract.” He winked at her, causing her stomach to stir.
“Oh, shoot,” Kate said, suddenly remembering the driver’s instruction to meet her at 8 a.m. sharp. She groaned, turning her attention to her phone. It was dead, black.
She eyed him uneasily. “What time is it?”
The Prince checked his watch—an oversized Rolex that gleamed in the light. “It’s just after noon,” he told her, his voice booming.
Kate’s jaw dropped. “What?” she said. “You have to be joking.”
She leaped from the chaise lounge, her breasts bouncing in the golden bikini. “I’ve missed my flight,” she said, her eyes wide.
“You were going to fly home straight after the party?” the Prince asked, surprised. “I assumed you’d want to stick around Panama City for a while, explore. It really is a wonderful place.”
Kate’s panic was rising. She placed her hand over her heart, breathing deeply. “How on earth am I going to get home?” she whispered. “I have a job in Miami this week, and I need that money, Francesco. I can’t just bail on it.”
She wasn’t lying. Just before she’d left, Monica had booked her a baby powder advertising gig. She had n
o desire to “stick around” Panama City, wasting time. She wasn’t the Prince. She couldn’t afford that.
“Can you call your agent? See if they can arrange another transport for you?” Francesco asked.
“My phone’s dead,” Kate said, her voice tense.
“Lucky for you, I happen to have one,” Francesco said, his voice teasing. He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her, smiling mischievously. “I’ll let you have two minutes.”
Kate grabbed the phone, found Monica’s number online, and then dialed it, huffing. She turned and walked to the balcony, cradling the phone against her ear. As the phone rang, her eyes traced the line of trees, searching for monkeys. She felt the Prince’s eyes upon her, gazing at her half-naked form.
Monica answered the phone after three rings. “Hello?” she asked.
“Monica, it’s Kate.”
“Darling, how was the party? I didn’t have you scheduled for arrival until 3 p.m.”
“That’s the thing, Monica. I’ve missed my flight. I was hoping you could schedule me another—”
Monica sighed evenly into the phone. “How did you manage that?” Her voice was incredulous.
“I’m sorry. I was up late with the party and everything, and I just passed out—”
“You weren’t supposed to sleep,” Monica said. “You were meant to be present at the party until 8 a.m., at which time the driver would take you to the airport. I thought you understood the instructions.”
“I did. It was an accident,” Kate murmured. “Accidents happen.”
“Not in this business,” Monica said. “Unfortunately, we cannot cooperate with you on this, Kate. You’ll have to organize your own transport back to Miami. And it better be before Tuesday. Otherwise, I can find another model to replace you on that baby powder shoot. A younger one.”
Monica hung up the phone, leaving Kate stunned. She stared down at Francesco’s phone, her breath coming in gasps. She was furious.
She flung herself across the balcony toward the Prince, tears forming in her eyes. “This is the difference between your life and mine, Francesco. In your world, everyone will cooperate with you. They’ll tell you how much they want you to be around, and they’ll pay for you to get there. Not that money is even an issue for you.”
“They won’t pay for your return?” Francesco asked. A light flashed in his eyes. “Guess that means you’re not exactly their top priority. Is that right?”
Kate shook her head, crestfallen. “Of course it does,” she said. “They wouldn’t mind if I stayed in Panama City for the rest of my life. I’d be forgotten in hours.” She fell back onto the chaise lounge, suddenly not caring about her near-nakedness, or even that she was revealing such anger to the Prince of Monaco. Not of it mattered if her career was dead.
“If I buy my own ticket home, I’ll be spending all the money I made last night at the party,” Kate said. “All the money I earned for wearing this stupid bikini and those dumb heels would go straight to American Airlines. And that means I won’t be able to pay my rent next month.” She shuddered, hot tears falling down her cheeks. “I should never have taken this job in the first place. I knew I shouldn’t have.”
She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt so comfortable in the Prince’s presence. She rarely confided in other people about her problems, yet here she was, throwing caution to the wind.
The Prince spoke, then. His voice was kind, without any of the arrogance of the previous evening. “I hate to see you like this,” he said. “I’m not used to seeing my guests unhappy. It jolts me. And it makes me want to fix it.”
Kate frowned at him. She wanted to tell him not to worry about her—to toss her out and let her figure it out on her own. She was in no position to owe something to the Prince of Monaco, especially when she’d just sent photographs of his party to a celebrity writer.
But she waited for him to finish.
The Prince splayed out his large palms. “Would you like a ride home? With me?” he asked.
Kate laughed, realizing he must be joking. “How on earth would you take me home? Do you have a boat or something? Should I call you captain?”
“You can call me captain if you like,” the Prince said, “but I wouldn’t be captaining a boat. It would take far too much time.”
Kate crossed her arms over her chest and raised a single eyebrow, bemused. “All right, then. What do you suggest?”
“I have a pilot’s license,” the Prince said.
Kate’s heart leaped in her chest. “Wow,” she said. “You’re a man of many surprises.”
“I try,” the Prince said, standing from his chair. He walked across the floor, his custom-made shoes making light tapping sounds on the marble. “I got my license a few years ago, because I don’t want the press to find out exactly where I live.” He gestured around the immaculate quarters. “This way, I can go up to Manhattan whenever I want to. If I had to go through the airport every single time, they’d surely find me out. You know, they have people who just follow me around, taking pictures and stalking me, essentially.”
He gave her a knowing look, then, and for a brief moment, Kate thought he’d found her out. She swallowed dryly, squirming in her seat. “That must be stifling, feeling like you have to hide from people all the time.”
“It’s not that I don’t like the attention sometimes,” the Prince said, “but it’s good to get away from it all here, hidden deep in the rainforest.” He swiped his hand over his forehead, giving her a devilish grin. “I’m offering you an out, Kate. And it’ll cost you nothing but a few hours of my company.”
“I suppose that might not be the worst thing in the world,” Kate said, smiling slightly. “Although I can’t say I trust you as the pilot of a small plane.”
“If there’s anything you can trust me with, it’s this,” the Prince said. “I don’t take a lot of things seriously, but flying allows me to walk that line between life and death. I love the adrenaline.”
“That’s what terrifies me the most,” Kate said, laughing. “But all right. It seems you’re my only hope.” She rose from the chaise lounge and stretched her arms above her head, feeling her back creak. “That party wiped me out.”
“You’re a novice,” the Prince reminded her, “and you were trying to keep up with me. Ha!” He walked toward her, and Kate assumed he was going to place his hand on the small of her back, as he had the night before. But in the light of day, he kept his distance. “Why don’t we get you some real clothes, then?”
“I have some in a locker downstairs,” Kate said. “I’ll go change, and then we can take a trip. Oh, and just so you know, I’m not a swimmer. So I hope you’re as skilled a pilot as you say you are.”
“You live in Miami and you don’t swim?” the Prince asked, laughing. “You don’t party. You don’t swim. What do you do, besides pass out early at parties?”
“Almost nothing,” Kate said, laughing. “You’ve found me out. I might actually be the most boring person on the planet.”
***
Kate bounded down the mansion steps moments later, holding the golden heels in her hands. She grinned to herself, happy that she’d found another route home, and feeling energized by her banter with the Prince. On the party floor, she found carnage, smashed wine glasses decorating the ground. A maid was sorting through the wreckage. Kate smiled at her.
“It was you who did this?” the woman said, gesturing.
Kate shook her head, her smile faltering.
“It was you who did this,” the maid repeated, sweeping bits of wine glass into her dustpan. “I know it.”
Kate crept the rest of the way down the steps, feeling oddly nervous at the thought of running into any more of the palace staff.
She found the dressing room in a similar state of wreckage. The other models had flung their bikinis and heels onto the ground and fled without cleaning up.
Kate scrunched her nose as she undressed, finding her other clothes quickly, along with her regula
r shoes. She smiled at herself in the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair, remembering the feeling of the Prince’s eyes on her as she’d danced the previous night. How wonderful to be seen, she thought, even if those days of being seen were coming to a close.
When she left the dressing room, Francesco was waiting for her in the staff entrance foyer, dressed in what looked distinctly like a pilot’s uniform.
Kate snickered at him, placing her hand over her mouth. “What on earth are you wearing?”
“I wanted to dress the part, just like you had to last night,” he told her. He posed for her, showing off the bulging muscles and taut abdomen beneath his uniform.
Kate giggled. “I have to say, if you fly as well as you dress, then I think we’ll arrive safely.”
As she approached him, the Prince lifted his elbow toward her. Kate accepted it and he guided her toward the exit and into the bright, humid afternoon. A gardener waved his gloved hands from a nearby flowerbed, and she waved back. Inwardly, she pretended she’d been chosen, that the Prince had wanted her to stay the night.