“I will help you and support you no matter what you decide, but you face a hard decision. You may have to choose between love and the throne, your family and your right of succession. I will love you no matter what you decide, but you must be absolutely sure of what you want. There can be no turning back.”
Eric reached for her hand, holding on to her as though he never wanted to let go. He gazed into her eyes. Astrid could sense the conflict raging inside him, the same conflict that consumed her thoughts. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she felt Eric’s lips on her hair, his arm around her shoulder. She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew that she wanted no other man but Eric.
Chapter 13
The prince charmed the press and the social elite of the Paris art scene at La Galerie Bleue. Mingling with a mixture of the country’s most wealthy people and famous artists, Eric was dazzling, or at least Astrid thought so. La Galerie Bleue was Paris’s newest contemporary art gallery and its opening was considered by many to be one of the highlights of the season in Paris, an event made even more noteworthy by the attendance of the popular and handsome prince of Rogandal.
Astrid was careful to maintain a safe distance so as not to be seen to be there as a guest of the prince, but only as a staff member. It was a ruse that seemed to be working. The press photographed the prince chatting with the Norwegian artist Olga Jorgen, a cool blonde woman, taller than the prince and as statuesque as any model. There was a buzz among the reporters that he had come to the gallery just to preview her work, a rumor that Astrid was not planning to discredit.
The prince was handsome man, Prince Charming come to life. Any romantic rumors only contributed to his popularity, especially if he was linked with royalty and accomplished artists such as the stunningly beautiful Olga. In a move that Astrid was not expecting, the prince stopped to praise the work of Kyoto artist Takagi Fuichimo, the son of a legendary geisha.
The fabric artist was noted for his modern interpretation of the kimono and the prince was quick to compliment the Japanese artist to the press. It was a stroke of pure genius, offering an olive branch to the geisha community of Kyoto. Astrid was so proud of him at that moment that it was with effort that she remained reserved in her expression and did not rush to cheer him on like a star athlete in a game.
As the press followed Eric and his ever-growing entourage, she was pleased that the reporters were not grilling him about his sister. In Paris, they seemed to respect her request for privacy, a trend she hoped would continue until she could decide their next move. It was a decision she knew she was going to be forced to make in the coming days.
“Your Highness, what about the Princess Serena?” the reporters asked eagerly.
“The lovely Princess Serena is quite captivating but today I am here at this gallery opening for the art, to support the artists and to bring attention to the Artist Initiative, a foundation that supports art and education in underdeveloped countries of the world,” answered Eric as he posed in front of the display of paintings and sculptures from the famous Parisian artist Alistair Delacour, a strenuous supporter of education.
“Will she be jealous that you came to the gallery opening to see Mademoiselle Jorgen’s work?” a French reporter interjected.
“The princess, jealous? No, she is never jealous. How can she be jealous of an artist as accomplished as Olga Jorgen?”
The reporters continued to ask questions about his love life and how long he intended to remain in their city. The questions about Serena were foremost in their minds, which meant they were being directed to ask them by their editors and readers. It was becoming apparent that the love life of the prince was a subject that was not going away any time soon.
She hoped he would be able to transition from the persona of dashing Prince Charming to a serious leader of his people one day. Listening to the press continue to ask trivial questions, she racked her brain for a serious news piece she could release to them. But the press were like jackals, hungry for what they could sell. Romance and sexual appeal sold, and the prince had both.
The strikingly beautiful Olga Jorgen returned to his side, sliding her arm in his as the prince continued to tour the gallery, the photographers snapping pictures at an alarming rate. Astrid powered on her phone, scanning for any mention of the prince in the news. She was pleased that the press conference was well received and the news feed was just beginning to pick up the art gallery opening story. Pictures of Eric and Princess Serena mixed with the pictures already beginning to appear of him with Olga Jorgen at his side.
The world was hungry for stories about him and any possible romantic entanglements. Sighing, she knew that if that was what they wanted, she had no choice but to give it to them. It was good publicity and he would need all the good publicity he could get if he hoped to successfully oust his sister from her place as the media’s sweetheart.
Scrolling through the news feeds, she saw more coverage than she liked of the Eirinia story. If Eric was going to stay ahead of his sister without resorting to using the bombshell story about the foundation, he was going to need a great deal of positive coverage. Astrid knew how he could accomplish that feat, although she was not thrilled to have to suggest it.
“You want me to do what?” he asked as they rode through the streets of Paris, back to the hotel.
“You heard me. We have to stay one step ahead of your sister. I told you, I have a story prepared that will destroy her and embarrass your family but I don’t want to use it, not unless we have absolutely no other choice. This is the only way to stay in the headlines.”
“There has to be another way,” he said.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
“You know I do; I just don’t know if I can trust anyone else. What you’re asking is putting me in a compromising position. That woman is not subtle – if I repeated the offers she has made me, you wouldn’t be so quick to want me to call her.”
“I know. I hate to ask you to do this, I hate it more than you can ever know, but I feel it’s entirely necessary. Call her now, tell her anything, just get her to agree.”
“This is impossible. I don’t want to and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“It is, trust me. Now do it,” she demanded, “or I will. I’m not happy about it but I will do what I have to do. You are going to be king and that is final.”
The prince held his phone in his hand, staring at it as he asked, “How do you know I have her number?”
“I don’t. I just assume she gave it to you – she probably entered it into your phone’s memory herself. If you don’t have it, I do.”
“How would you have it?” he asked, “Never mind. I don’t want to know how you know anything, I’m just glad you’re on my side.”
“Remember that, now call her.”
The prince nodded. Selecting the contact, he touched the screen and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello, Serena?”
Astrid listened as the prince did as she directed him: he asked Serena to the dinner at the American embassy. After several minutes of small talk and flirting, he powered off the phone and said, “Are you happy? She said yes.”
Astrid was not happy, not at all, but she knew the press would go wild seeing the prince and princess together at an official function as esteemed as the embassy dinner. Slipping her own phone out of her purse, she called her contact at the embassy to make arrangements for the princess and the press that she hoped would be covering the story.
It was heartbreaking to force the man she was falling in love with to ask another woman to be his date, but she had no other choice. The press was fickle and Eric needed to dominate the news cycle for all the right reasons until his father named him successor. Astrid was thankful she had the British resolve and stoicism to see this noble endeavor through to fruition, otherwise she’d be breaking her own heart – and the prince’s – and gaining nothing.
* * *
“This is wrong. It feels wrong,” Eric w
hispered as they made their way back to the hotel after his conversation with Princess Serena.
“It’s not. We are adults. There is nothing wrong about it,” explained Astrid.
“That’s oversimplifying it. You ask me to flirt and be seen with Serena when all I want to do is spend every free moment I have with you. Besides, what am I doing to Serena, leading her on this way?”
“Eric, listen to me – this is important. Serena is not innocent, nor is she some naïve young woman who hasn’t a clue how the world works. She came after you like a cruise missile and you were her target. Besides, she dresses scandalously. I promise you, she doesn’t have a heart to break – she’s the one who breaks hearts. Remember that.”
“Why am I her target?”
“Likely because you’re the most eligible royal bachelor out there right now, but I have a feeling there’s more going on. I don’t know, and right now I’m not worried about her agenda. Her attention and press following are helping us – I mean helping you. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of your claim to the throne.”
“That’s just it, I want to let my emotions get in the way, just not with her.”
Eric reached for Astrid, pulling her to him, his mouth finding her lips and kissing her as he held her in the back of the limousine. “Astrid, you can’t keep expecting me to do whatever you tell me. I’m a man, and you have to understand that I must make my own decisions about who I love and who I want to be seen with,” he said as he brushed her neck with his lips.
“Eric, it’s not that simple,” she answered as he unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. The energy between them was electric. It was increasingly difficult to control her own actions when she was near him, especially when he kissed her. When he unbuttoned her blouse, it only made her want him even more. The tension between them was unbearable. She stopped him with her hand over his.
“Yes, it is that simple. You are so accustomed to getting your way, to giving orders, that you can see no other way,” he said, gazing into her eyes.
“I only want what is best for you and your people,” she answered breathlessly.
“And I want what is best for us. I have followed your counsel because only a fool would choose not to, but I’m not who I once was. I am no longer content to waste my life. One day you are going to have to trust me.”
“Eric.” She said only his name, unable to think of any other words to say while his mouth was on her skin. Her eyes were closed, and she suddenly remembered the press that would be waiting for him at the hotel.
Pushing away from him was the last thing she wanted to do, but her sense of duty prevailed. “Eric, we can’t. The press will be waiting for you.”
“Let them wait,’ he said, as he unbuttoned the second button of her blouse, exposing the lacy top of her bra.
“We can’t. Not here – we’re almost at the hotel. Hurry, straighten your hair,” she said as she slid away from him, buttoning her blouse. The look of disappointment in his eyes was more than she could stand, and gently she touched his face. “I wish it wasn’t like this. I want to spend days, weeks, with you somewhere far away from the rest of the world. I want to go somewhere where it’s just me and you, alone.”
“If I’m named successor I don’t know if we’ll ever get that chance,” he grumbled as the limousine came to stop at the hotel. Pushing the button controlling the privacy barrier, Astrid watched as it slid down.
The chauffeur was looking into the rear-view mirror. “Your Highness, shall I continue to the secure parking in the back of the hotel?”
“No, this will be fine. Thank you.” Eric opened the door. Footmen and bodyguards waited outside the car to escort him through throngs of reporters. Astrid walked behind him, her head down.
As they dressed for the evening, she did so with a heavy heart. She could feel the time slipping away from them. With every new story in the press, the throngs of paparazzi grew larger. She had done this on purpose, of course, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to steal even five minutes away from the ever-watchful eyes of staff, guards, and the threat of photographers with high-powered cameras and zoom lenses.
Each time she scanned the headlines for any mention of Eric, she did so with gnawing anxiety that she would be caught up in the news cycle, romantically linked to him. They were almost inseparable and she was his only constant companion. There was a remedy, but she was unsure if what she had in mind was prudent, not with the clock ticking on the succession.
For the embassy dinner she chose an ice blue gown, tastefully draped to show her curves. Her flame-red hair was in a sleek updo, her jewelry confined to a platinum ring and platinum teardrop earrings. She admired her refection in the mirror before going into the drawing room, her mind consumed by conflicting thoughts: the agenda, and Eric.
Eric was in the drawing room, dashing in a black suit and white vest. Her heart raced just looking at him as she walked across the room to join him.
“Astrid, that color suits you; you’re dazzling tonight,” he said as his eyes met hers.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Astrid said, glancing towards the hotel staff. “I have made arrangements for two cars. I’ll meet you at the dinner after you have collected the princess.”
“That will be fine,” said the prince.
As they walked together toward the elevator, she spoke more quietly. “I’ve decided that we may want to bring Gunter back, to head of security.”
“Gunter? Are you sure?” the prince asked, as his eyes widened with surprise.
“Yes. I know this must be a shock to you, but I believe it’s necessary. We need him as soon as he can join us.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain later. I doubt we can trust him, but we need his presence more than anything else.”
The prince looked at her, his face contorted into an expression of sincere concentration. The elevator pinged as the doors opened, and they continued across the lobby. Astrid raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly towards the doorman, who was watching them closely. “I find his presence and his company reassuring,” she said.
Eric nodded slowly. “I’m reluctant to agree with you. I prefer our current arrangement.”
“As do I, but I believe it will be a necessity in the near future,” she answered.
“If you insist. I have to admit I miss him; I just won’t tolerate anything less than complete loyalty this time. Not from him, not from anyone,” said the prince. He sighed. “Things are becoming more difficult.”
“Make the call; invite him back. We should be in Paris one more day, so we can send the jet for him to join us immediately,” replied Astrid. They reached the curb, where the cars were waiting. “I’ll see you there,” she said, wondering what he was trying to tell her. She stepped close to him, and spoke softly. “Your Highness, what did you mean by everything is becoming more difficult?”
“You’re a smart woman; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He stepped away, and spoke over his shoulder. “I like our arrangement but I see you’ve decided that we need more protection and security. I will see you at the dinner.”
Astrid was left feeling like something was unsaid between them, something important. For a brief moment, she considered texting him, but she didn’t want there to be any evidence of their personal relationship. Getting into her own car, she hoped she would have an opportunity to talk with him in private. There was a new tension between them since Gunter’s name had come up. Racking her brain, she couldn’t imagine how the prince could be angry over something as trivial as a staffing decision.
* * *
Serena was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman at the embassy dinner. Her dark hair hung in perfect waves to her waist, and the golden shimmering gown she wore made her tanned skin glow. She was captivating.
The guests at the dinner seemed to be enamored with the radiant couple, the prince with his Nordic good looks, and the Jordanian princess, an exotic goddess at his side. Astrid had to continually remind
herself that this spectacle was entirely of her own inventing – a thought that did little to settle her as she watched Serena flirt shamelessly with Eric all evening.
Aside from the flickering of jealousy she felt, she was also consumed with curiosity about why Eric had acted frustrated and angry with her before he left that evening. Finally deciding that it couldn’t wait, she approached the circle of diplomats around the celebrity couple for after-dinner cocktails in the drawing room. As she neared the group she could feel several pairs of eyes turn to her, her every word and action being observed.
“Your Highness, I apologize for the interruption, but there is an urgent matter you must address at once,” she said in a calm, steady voice for the benefit of all those watching.
“Can it not wait?” he asked, to her amazement.
“Er, no, Your Highness. Regrettably, it cannot wait.”
“Very well,” he said. “If you will excuse me, this should not take long. Serena, I will back soon.”
Astrid walked quickly out of the drawing room, and finding the door to the study unlocked, pulled the prince inside.
“What is the meaning of this?” he whispered. “What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until we returned to the hotel?”
“Why are you angry with me? Is it about Gunter?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“You know it is. You don’t trust him and neither do I. Your decision to bring him back so quickly, so suddenly, makes me wonder if you want to destroy any chance we have, any chance at all.”
“What do you mean? I don’t want to do anything of the sort,” she answered.
“He worked for my sister. He betrayed me and you insist that he return right now? What are you planning?”
“I’m afraid that us being together all the time compromises any chance you have of becoming the next king. It’s only a matter of time before someone catches us, or hears something. If we have Gunter, it will look far less suspicious.”
Taming the Rebel Prince: The Royals of Rogandal Page 16
