I studied his face, but there was nothing in his expression to indicate if he had any feelings for me at all. I reached up, about to put a hand on his chest, but pulled away instead. He was kind and good enough to give a stupid and selfish runaway princess the most unforgettable vacation of her life.
“I’m sorry. This has been the best day ever. Thank you for Paris, Julian.”
There weren’t many eighteen-year-old boys who would think of doing something like this for someone, let alone be willing to endure a long shopping spree followed by an equally long and tiresome photo session. Julian was a jewel. He never once complained. He never even looked bored.
“You are most welcome,” he said solemnly. “It was my pleasure to escort you.”
“Well, up until now, today has been all about me. Now, it’s your turn. What would you like to do?”
He thought for a moment, and then his face lit up. “Is there a bathing costume among those thousands of things you purchased today?”
Not thousands, more like hundreds, but among those was an adorable blue bikini with neon green polka dots. He hadn’t seen it because I’d been too shy to model it for him. Tiny and revealing, it had a push-up bra element that made me look positively voluptuous. I wasn’t at all sure how Julian would react to the bikini, but I guess I’d find out.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me back to the hotel.
The swimming pool at the Hôtel le Bristol was unlike anything I’d ever seen before, a masterpiece of teak and glass, with a ceiling made of white sailcloth. It had been designed to give the sensation of being on-board a yacht, sailing across the rooftops of Paris. Two of the walls were glass windows with fantastic views of the skyline. A large painting of people in nineteenth-century clothing at the bow of a ship looking out to sea adorned another wall. It made me feel like part of an impressionistic painting, sailing away on a wooden yacht with a party full of elegantly dressed people a hundred years ago.
Julian dropped his robe onto one of the white cushioned deck chairs and jumped in. He came up, laughing and shaking the water out of his hair.
“Come in,” he said, splashing me. We’d left the bodyguards downstairs. They needed a nap after all the shopping.
Julian waited, so I dropped my robe and moved to the side of the pool, sticking a toe into the water. Warm and perfect. Julian stared at me with a strange expression on his face.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, immediately looking at my swimsuit. It was small, but, thankfully, the essential parts had stayed covered. Judging by Julian’s expression, I was afraid I’d exposed something.
“Nothing,” he said, but his voice sounded strange.
I turned around, looking over my shoulder at him. “Is something wrong with my suit?”
He shook his head, looking even more troubled than he had before. “It is small. Maybe thou should cover thyself more appropriately.”
I glared at him. He wore standard male swim trunks, exposing as much of his body as me.
“What do women wear on Vega to swim?” I asked, hands on my hips. My first instinct was to fold my arms over my chest, but that might make me pop out even more from my suit.
Julian thought a moment, his face getting a little red. I guessed, based on his reaction, women did not wear sexy bikinis on Vega. His answer was not at all what I expected.
“On Vega, we usually swim in the nude,” he said.
My eyes flew open as I imagined swimming in the nude with Julian, and from the look on his face, he was thinking the same thing. I jumped into the pool, as he swam to the side. We ended up colliding in the water, our arms and legs getting tangled. We stood up clumsily, our nearly, but not quite naked bodies still touching.
My chest felt tight and strange, and I was breathing hard as if I’d worked out on the elliptical machine at the gym and had put the setting a notch too high. When Julian brushed a wet strand of hair out of my eyes, his hand shook, and I knew he wasn’t immune either. He leaned toward me, and I was sure he wanted to kiss me again, but instead, he reached for my necklace.
“What is this?” he asked, turning it over to look at both sides of the pendant.
“It’s a necklace,” I said. “My boyfriend gave it to me for my birthday.”
Julian’s hand grazed my breast, and an electric jolt went through my body, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. He must have sensed it too because he dropped the necklace and backed away.
“Sorry,” he whispered, looking stricken.
“It’s okay.” I knew the breast graze had been a total accident.
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, but an American couple with two small children came into the pool room and immediately joined us in the water. The children splashed around noisily, so I couldn’t exactly ask him what was wrong.
We swam for a while, and Julian played with the children while I sat on a chair bundled in my fluffy, white robe, watching him. He looked relieved I was covered up and not in the water with him anymore. He still acted a bit strange but grinned as he pulled himself out of the water. I was admiring his well-formed chest when I noticed he had a long scar cutting straight across his abdomen, and several smaller ones crisscrossing his back. I blushed when I realized he saw me staring and handed him a towel.
“Battle scars,” he said, looking at his stomach. He put on a white robe and sat in the chair next to mine.
“Also a story for another day?”
“Perhaps,” he said, giving me a little crooked smile.
We both leaned back in our chairs and stared out at the sun fading over the city of Paris, utterly calm and relaxed. I loved the peaceful feeling after swimming when I was warm and dry and feeling a bit heavy and sluggish after the lightness of being in the water.
“This has been the best day of my whole life.” I gave his hand a little squeeze.
“It isn’t over yet,” he said and brought my hand to his lips. I yanked it away.
“You are turning Parisian with all of your hand-kissing, Your Grace,” I said, but couldn’t get mad at him. He seemed so relaxed and happy. I didn’t want to spoil it.
We went back to the suite to dress for dinner. Thankfully, he let me have the place to myself and showered and dressed in one of the bodyguard’s rooms. I was secretly happy to be on my own for a few minutes. Whenever Julian was next to me, he had a way of becoming all-encompassing. I couldn’t think straight.
As I lingered in the bath, I thought about Adrian. I picked up his mother’s necklace and gazed at it. Adrian felt far away right now, but I sighed, remembering his blond Viking good looks and his exceptional taste in clothing. I loved Adrian; I decided firmly. I had a stupid and infantile crush on Julian. Not a surprise at all. He was handsome and kind, and we were stuck here in close proximity. It was normal to feel a sort of bond with him. It would be wrong of me to let it go any further, however. I owed as much to Adrian and to myself.
I wondered for a second if Julian even wanted it to go any further. He’d responded when I kissed him back in Middleton, but it may have been a typical male reaction to a female. He hadn’t seemed to like me at all on Vega; in fact, he had appeared to find me repulsive there.
I sat up in the bath as a horrible thought occurred to me. Maybe his Vegonian Vision had already faded, and I looked better to him here. It would surely return once we got back to Vega, and I would look ugly, and he would hate me again. I made a little noise and covered my face with my hands. I didn’t want to be ugly again, especially not to Julian, but I had no idea what to do.
As I got out of the bath and slowly dried myself off, I decided to stop worrying about Vega and Julian and Adrian and focus on enjoying each moment of this trip. I had no idea what would happen back on Vega, but I would never have a chance to see Paris again and wasn’t going to ruin it by being miserable.
As I dressed, I decided to use Grace Kelly as my inspiration. She was, after all, blonde, American, and a princess, like me, and Euro
peans loved her classic elegance. Thankfully, I had the perfect dress, a long, champagne-colored creation I bought this morning at Lanvin. I thought of it as my “Princess Grace Meets Greek Goddess” dress. A whisper of chiffon covering a sparkling under-dress, it looked Grecian in style. It had a high neck, exposed my shoulders, and came with a dark golden rope which crossed back and forth over my torso. Floor-length, with a dangerously high slit on one side, it fit like a dream. I’d found the sweetest pair of sparkling gold high-heeled shoes to wear with it. They matched the rope on my waist perfectly.
I tucked Adrian’s necklace into my dress and put on some large gold hoop earrings and a winding gold cuff on my upper arm. After applying the makeup from Lancôme, I pulled my hair into a low chignon at the base of my neck, threw a gold shawl over my shoulders, and glanced at myself in the mirror.
Not perfect. That fact had become amazingly clear, thanks to my delightful experiences on Vega. I did, however, feel beautiful tonight, and wanted to celebrate it. I wished with all my stupid and unfaithful heart Julian could see it too.
Eleven
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” William Shakespeare’s Hamlet
“So tell me about this Vegonian boy who stole your heart,” Julian said as we ate dinner at 114 Faubourg, the restaurant inside our hotel. We sat at a corner table on the lower level of the two-story structure. An elegant stairway curved its way up through the middle of the space, leading to an additional dining area on the second floor. Bright paintings of flowers decorated the walls, and subtle lighting added a sense of intimacy. Massive golden-hued columns rose majestically to the ceiling. Waiters bustled about in white shirts, black vests, and bow ties.
I stared around in amazement. I’d thought Paris couldn’t have possibly matched my expectations, but it managed to surpass them. I’d remember my time here for the rest of my life, and I had Julian to thank for it.
The first course, purple sea urchins with a fine egg mousse covered in butter and garlic, created a symphony of tastes and textures in my mouth. Who knew sea urchins could be so good? I enjoyed the dish immensely, but as soon as I heard Julian’s words, I almost choked.
He sat across from me, dressed impeccably in his white military uniform, his gold medals and fringe sparkling in the candlelight. The women in the restaurant noticed him immediately. They turned to gawk as he walked in and couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him all night. He smiled and inclined his head in a duke-like way but had no idea they were all lusting after him. He resembled the embodiment of a Prince Charming fantasy, which fit since I resembled Cinderella, but I’d never thought of Prince Charming as particularly sexy. Julian, however, was sexy. And he had a sort of magnetism which drew the eye of everyone in the room, male or female. He had my attention, but I frowned, struggling to remember what he’d asked me.
“My boyfriend? What do you want to know?” I touched the corners of my mouth with my napkin, trying to buy some time. I’d become a little lightheaded. We’d started our meal with a celebratory glass of champagne, and I felt the effects immediately. I was clueless about the drinking age in France, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to apply to princesses.
Julian acted unaffected by the alcohol we’d consumed. “Why don’t we begin with his name?”
“Adrian.”
He raised one dark eyebrow at me. “And where is Adrian from?” he asked, taking another bite of sea urchin.
“Bergula.” I answered as concisely as possible, keeping it short and sweet. I hadn’t told my parents about Adrian and didn’t know if Julian planned to snitch or not.
“Bergula is far from Celesta.” He took another sip of champagne and stared intently at me over the glass.
I didn’t know what he was getting at, but I could tell he enjoyed both the food and the drink. When our waiter brought our second course, ravioli stuffed with artichokes, we both sighed in pleasure after the first bite.
Each course of food came accompanied by a different glass of wine. I tried to sip but was buzzed by the time the waiter got to our third course; scallops with black truffle. We also had duck roasted with spiced honey served on polenta with dried fruits, and the waiter brought out a tray of seasonal cheeses.
“Each bite is better than the last,” I said with a sigh, and Julian agreed. By now, the wine had gone entirely to my head, and I smiled at Julian in a slightly loopy way. He ordered water for me, and ever so subtly pushed my wine glass aside.
As we ate, we talked about Paris and Vega and trivial, light topics. I was glad Julian hadn’t asked me any more questions about Adrian. The further he probed, the more I worried. I’d only known Adrian briefly, and a lot had happened since we parted. I would never say so to Julian, however. If I even hinted at being unsure about my feelings for Adrian, Julian would use it as another reason to tease me.
We had a dessert of iced meringue perfumed with rose, pear, and lemon, and Nyangbo chocolate in a liquid form served with thin wafers and a sorbet gilded with real gold. We both sat back in our seats, full and happy.
“This day could not get any better,” I said, with a grin.
Julian smiled back at me. “Oh, yes, it can.”
He took me to enjoy the view from the Eiffel Tower at night. We stood looking over the glittering city of Paris. It was windy, and tendrils of hair blew across my face. He put an arm around my shoulders to steady me and keep me warm. I leaned into his big, muscular body and sighed happily.
“This is like heaven,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “I love it.”
“As much as you love Adrian?” he asked, looking at me oddly. He was not going to give up.
I groaned and pulled away from him. “Adrian is like me. He lived on Earth. He understands me in a way people from Vega cannot. He’s handsome, smart, and funny, and, most importantly, he thinks I’m all of those things too.” I folded my arms across my chest, getting irritated at having to justify myself to him.
“He thinks thou art handsome?” Julian asked, leaning on the balustrade with a smile.
His words made me even more irritated. “Adrian thinks I’m beautiful,” I said, my voice getting angry. “He doesn’t have the whole ridiculous ‘Vegonian Vision’ crap to deal with, so, unlike most of the people on Vega, he doesn’t think I’m ugly.”
Julian leaned forward. Now he looked angry. “I told you before, Princess Starr, thou art not ugly, even on Vega. But we can see things those who are from Earth cannot.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact you are spoiled, shallow, and extremely vain,” he said hotly, and instantly seemed to regret it, but it was already too late. Now I knew the truth.
“That’s how you see me?” I asked, my eyes filling with tears. I blinked them away, and when Julian moved toward me, I stopped him with one hand. “You’ve said enough. Please take me back to my room now.”
We rode in the limo in silence, but I could tell he felt terrible about what he’d said. He turned to me a few times like he wanted to speak, but I kept my eyes pasted on the window of the limo. If we talked, it would end up being a huge argument, and I didn’t want him to see me cry. It took all I had inside to hold back the tears.
When we got to the hotel, I went straight to my bathroom, sat on the edge of my tub, and burst into tears, turning on the fan so Julian wouldn’t hear me. It took a while for the storm to pass, but after it did, I removed my beautiful dress and washed my face, now splotchy and red and not the least bit pretty. I pulled on a chocolate brown silk nightgown with spaghetti straps I’d bought earlier, glad I’d had the sense to get the matching robe. I couldn’t bear the thought of walking out in a sexy nightgown now that I knew exactly what Julian thought of me. It would be humiliating.
I brushed my hair with a full, soft brush, patted my face again with a washcloth soaked in cold water, and firmly tied the belt of the robe around my waist — time for me to put on my big girl panties and stop acting like a moron. I’d been in the bathroom for nearly an hour, and Jul
ian must have fallen asleep by now. I opened the door slowly and peeked outside.
Julian was not asleep. He rested on top of the foldaway bed, his arms crossed under his head as he stared at the ceiling. He wore blue silk pajama bottoms that I’d insisted on buying for him today, but he didn’t wear the matching top. Instead, he had on a tight, white t-shirt.
When he saw me, he jumped off the bed. “Starr,” he said, but got no further because I gently, but firmly closed the French doors separating the rooms, got into my bed, and turned off the lights.
A few minutes later I heard Julian get back into his bed. I lay still on my giant, fluffy mattress, listening to him toss and turn and knowing I’d caused his distress, but I didn’t care.
Spoiled. Shallow. Vain. I kept hearing those words inside my head. Sadly, I knew he was right. Just as I now was able to see the people back in Middleton for how they truly were, I could see myself as well.
The most disturbing thought I had, one which would haunt me for days to come, was the realization that if I saw myself so differently after only a few weeks on Vega, Adrian would undoubtedly see me the same way too. No one would call me beautiful ever again, and the idea brought on a fresh wave of tears. I softly wept until I finally fell asleep from sheer and utter exhaustion.
The next morning, I awoke to glowing Parisian sunshine coming in through my windows and Julian standing next to my bed. He held a tray piled high with croissants, fruit, and steaming cups of coffee.
“Good morning, Princess.”
He wore his jeans with an untucked pale blue cotton shirt. His hair was damp from the shower, and he had dark circles under his eyes, but he still looked terrific. I did not. I grabbed my robe from the side of my bed and mumbled something incoherent before rushing off to the bathroom.
My hair looked mussed, and my skin pale, but after brushing my teeth and washing my face, I was presentable. I opened the door to the bathroom tentatively and slipped out.
Julian still stood next to my bed, holding the tray. He swallowed hard when he saw me. “Princess Starr, I must apologize to you once again. I have insulted you and hurt your feelings, and I am deeply sorry.”
Starr Valentine Page 10