The Prince's Cinderella

by Andrea Bolter

  “Hello, Mother. How is Her Highness today?” He bugged his eyes at Marie. She bit her lip in response as their toes sunk farther into the sand. “Ah, yes, Cici. I remember. But I already have a companion for the season,” he explained with a glance over to Marie. “Marie Paquet, the event manager at the APCF. She’s going to accompany me so that we can compare what’s going on this spring with our gala plans... No, Mother, we’re not dating...”

  No, Mother, I don’t know anything about her family... Yes, I know the press broadcasts every move we make.

  He didn’t respond aloud to that part of the conversation.

  Signature Princess Claudine. A commoner who was fortunate enough to catch the eye of his father, His Serene Highness Prince Hugh, now ruler of Charlegin, Claudine was extremely concerned with the status and station of everyone she encountered. The princess was a master snoop.

  “Thank you once again for the offer, Mother. I’ll be sure to leave Abella at the palace if I feel the need to be the dazzling young prince all the best girls want to get close to.”

  It was his sister Elise’s expressed wish that she did not want Abella raised by her grandmother at the palace should anything happen to her and her husband. While Claudine was outwardly hurt that Elise had left instructions for Abella to be left in Zander’s care if needed, it was clear that she was relieved not to have a baby to deal with. Generally, Her Highness was so busy with her art trips to Bali or on ski slopes in the States, she wasn’t in one place for long.

  More important, Elise and Valentin had hoped to raise a child who cared about humanity as a whole, about those less fortunate and about ways to make the planet a better place. The tutelage of Claudine was not going to bestow that onto Abella.

  It was Prince Hugh who had taught those values to his children. With all of Hugh’s duties now that his own father had passed and the crown had come to sit on his head, Elise wasn’t certain that he’d have time to spend with Abella and undo any superficial attitudes of Claudine’s that might creep in. Elise wanted Zander to care for her child instead.

  “Yes, Mother, the Hungarians, I’ll be there.” He eventually returned the phone to his pocket and turned to Marie. “My mother makes my love life her business.”

  “You’re lucky to have someone who cares.”

  He wondered who cared about Marie.

  “I am, but my mother and I seem to have different ideas about the matter.”

  “How so?”

  Zander would publicly defend his family until the end of the earth, so he chose his words precisely. “She’s been known to fix me up, and always with the wrong women. Now that I have Abella’s necessities to consider, it’s more important than ever to be careful who I have around.”

  “Did something happen?”

  Henriette Fontaine, one of this mother’s matches. That’s what happened.

  “I was seeing someone a few months ago who proved to not be as she appeared.”

  “In what way?”

  Zander well understood that his family, and his subjects, expected him to marry an appropriate woman befitting a prince. While royalty might be permitted to marry commoners, his mother had always stressed to him that she should be one of the best girls, as she’d just repeated to him on the phone. Which had invariably led to superficial socialites who didn’t see Zander as his own person, but only as a bank account and a palace.

  Zander was putting dating aside completely for the time being.

  “You can guess,” he answered Marie. “She pretended to fall in love with Abella because she thought that was a route to my heart. I fell for her song and dance at first.”

  “Then what?”

  “She started spending obscene amounts of my money, telling me it was on things for the baby. My accountants alerted me that instead she was buying jewelry for herself and treating her friends to lavish evenings out.”

  “She outright lied to you?”

  “Then I started noticing that whenever I left the room, she’d completely ignore Abella even if she was crying or communicating a need.”

  “So she was just pretending to care about her?”

  “The pièce de résistance was when she didn’t realize I was standing behind her as she told her girlfriends she couldn’t wait for Abella to be old enough to squire her away to boarding school.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow,” he minced and looked out to the sea. “I know I had been naive to let her near, but I was sincerely hurt by her deception.”

  “Of course you were.”

  He looked from the water to Marie’s face, then quickly back again. He was surprised at how good it felt to talk to her. Words came easily.

  “As you can imagine, I was totally unprepared to care for Abella when my sister and brother-in-law died. Even though Elise had made provisions in the case of her and Valentin’s death, none of us expected it to actually happen.”

  “They were so young.”

  “Elise was a good and noble woman. The crown would have fit well on her head.” He counted out five waves as they broke softly on the shore before retreating with the ebb of the tide. “It will be the great challenge of my life to properly raise her daughter.”

  At the shoreline, Marie was first to walk into the water and get her feet wet, encouraging Zander to follow. The setting sun provided a dramatic orange backdrop as they kicked their feet in the shallow tide.

  It couldn’t be more surprising but being with Marie, he found himself imagining an alternative to the Henriettes of the world. Having a connection with someone that was real, where two people could show each other who they truly were. Where what was inside them was what mattered. Who they could bare their souls with. Beyond crowns and titles, beyond class and wealth and facades.

  Curiosity pecked at him. Claudine’s earlier questioning motivated him to ask, “I’m learning that it’s essential to be sensitive when asking questions about orphaned children. Do you mind my asking, how did your parents die?”

  “They were killed,” Marie answered dully.

  Someday he’d be parlaying those same words to Abella, when she was old enough to understand them. He realized how difficult that was going to be. “That’s terrible.”

  Marie pursed her lips, which made Zander question if either it was too painful for her to talk about it or if she didn’t regard the death of her parents as terrible.

  “I was eleven,” she added.

  His gut thudded for her.

  “What a tragedy. You had no other family who could take you in?” He thought of his own situation. Although it was unusual and unnecessary for royalty to leave any sort of last will and testament, his sister, Elise, had gone to great lengths to document her daughter’s care.

  Marie kicked her feet in the water as she muttered, “My parents didn’t have any contact with anyone else in our family so I didn’t know them.”

  “No grandparents, no aunts or uncles?”

  “They didn’t speak to my parents.”

  “So if you weren’t sent to live with relatives, what did happen?”

  “Foster care. Six different placements.”

  “Six? Why?”

  Marie’s feet splashed in the water again, as if she was trying to bat away something.

  “People fall in love with babies, not the older kids. Plus we don’t fit into the clothes the foster parents keep around. We need things like books and phones. We eat more. The profit margin isn’t as high.”

  “Isn’t all of that controlled by the government? The foster parents get an allowance for your care.”

  “It’s supposed to be. They try. But the system is overcrowded.”

  He had to resist the impulse to put his arm around her or hold her hand. He wanted to comfort her. “Did you feel love and affection from any of your foster parents?”

  “Some of them we
re kinder than others. But it was a business to all of them.” She bit her lip. “Hey, do you want to run?”

  “Run?”

  “Yes, right now. Let’s just run.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?”

  And so they did. Two adults, one a prince, both in street clothes, ran along the shallow tide under the Cannes sunset.

  They ran as if they were being chased.

  Could they outrun their pasts, their destinies?

  After they’d gone as far as they could, stopping with breath heavy from the exertion, Zander said, “I have to get back to the apartment. Iris has been with the baby all day and needs the evening. Let’s order in some food and get work done for the gala.”

  He thought of the powerful film executives he’d agreed to have drinks with tonight and decided he’d tell them that something came up. He couldn’t help but view his calendar through a different lens than he had in the past. Before Elise died. And he knew it was crazy, but being with Marie made him really acknowledge how much he’d changed. And had him appreciating Abella and the new life he’d created even more.

  * * *

  Once they returned from their exhilarating run on the beach, the club attendant handed them the personal items he’d locked up for them. “Your Highness.”

  Reading the young man’s name tag, he replied, “Thank you, Stefan. Please, call me Zander.”

  Marie noticed that the prince spent a lot of time getting people to call him by his first name. He’d told her that outside of official occasions he absolutely hated being called by his title. He wanted to be regarded, and referred to, as a man like any other.

  To be liked, judged or hated for himself, not his standing. While that did break with royal protocol, he didn’t seem to care. This was a prince who rolled up his pants and ran on the beach. Who canceled his plans with Hollywood bigwigs because he wanted to get home to his baby niece.

  A lot had become clear about Zander. Marie’s internet research had identified the woman he was dating a few months ago and Zander’s description of her today explained why Marie hadn’t seen any recent photos of them together. It probably also explained why he was so defensive yesterday, when she had picked up Abella’s sippy cup and he grabbed it out of her hand. He didn’t like anyone to care for the baby. Certainly not someone who’d yet to prove herself trustworthy. Not someone who, for example, was the daughter of murdered criminals.

  His Highness could buy Marie all the fancy gowns in the world. But obviously she wouldn’t be a real date of the prince. She’d never belong in his world. As a matter of fact, a spark of alarm came over her at the thought that being seen in public with Zander might lead to scrutiny, to someone investigating her background. Didn’t the media seem to have special powers to uncover even the most obscure buried secrets? Zander would be furious if he found out she was concealing such repugnant information about herself.

  Oh, how she wished her yesteryears could be erased. That they wouldn’t follow her around like a shadow that decided when and for how long she’d be allowed any sunlight. The past was that gigantic lead ball she was chained to.

  She’d never be free of it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “IS THIS SIMILAR to the corporate events you’ve been working on?” Zander joked with Marie as they were welcomed to the Laublie Foundation for Breast Cancer Research’s “A Night in Mexico.” After passing through the photographers and security to get into the private party space, guests found themselves in an interior courtyard rimmed by one-story white stucco buildings with red roofs.

  An enormous stone fountain dominated the center of the area. Water burst from the center of it in a high and wide spray, accentuated by colored lights alternating between milky white, bright red and sharp green denoting the colors of the Mexican flag.

  “Just a little different than my typical sandwich luncheon,” Marie chuckled.

  The courtyard was packed with party attendees as still more made their way in.

  “And you weren’t kidding about guests taking the theme and dress code seriously.”

  “It’s fun, isn’t it? Don’t you feel different in your gown, senorita?”

  Of course she did. She’d never worn anything even close to the finery of the black lace gown with the colorful floral embroidery Zander had bought her a few days ago. But the people here probably wore luxe clothing every day, like he did.

  So this was grown-up dress up, Marie thought. Surely a rich man’s pleasure.

  As an adolescent, moving from foster home to foster home with a tattered suitcase holding her only belongings, Marie had one itchy and pilled long black dress that she’d wear if she needed to be formal.

  She remembered one time as a teenager when the school planned a dance. The girls in her class talked for weeks about shopping for new outfits and showed up in pretty party dresses. All Marie had was the ratty black dress.

  The other students rolled their eyes as if that was exactly what they expected of her. As much as teenagers often complained about their parents, their troubles were nothing compared with the sloppy girl who didn’t have a family at all.

  Those nasty kids had no idea what it was like to be left an orphan at eleven years old. No one wanted a preteen like her. Babies stood a chance of being chosen for adoption. She was just a paycheck for her foster parents. Shuffled around, with no one taking an interest in her. Nowhere she ever thought of as home.

  “You look incredible,” Zander said, bringing her back to the courtyard, “if I neglected to mention it before.”

  He had sent a hair and makeup artist to style Marie for the evening. Her hair was coiffed into a dramatic sideswipe that curled into a low bun at the side of her neck. Behind her ear was a cluster of fresh red and yellow flowers, which had been delivered to her by courier earlier today.

  The flower arrival had set her heart aflame. It was easy enough to fantasize that chivalrous Prince Zander was her date and that he’d sent flowers with a romantic note professing how much he was looking forward to their evening, or some such sentiment.

  When she opened the box to see that it was the hairpiece she was to give the stylist employed to get her ready, Marie was a little disappointed. But, of course, this wasn’t a date so there was no reason for flowers. Although the fragrant blooms arrived in a gold box tied with a ribbon, she knew it was of no more importance to Zander than if it had been a box of paper files.

  Nonetheless, the whole outfit came together beautifully. And since they’d yet to speak to anyone, the fact that she wasn’t a society doyenne on the arm of the prince hadn’t been uncovered.

  “Would you like a drink?” Zander didn’t wait for an answer as he took two from the tray a waiter presented. Frosty margaritas in heavy blue glasses were prepared traditionally with salt along the rim.

  Coming toward Marie and Zander were two flashy women. One a blonde with her hair up in a snug bun and wearing a pastel green dress that was so tight Marie could count the woman’s ribs. She was with a redhead whose long curls were spiraled into a bun that looked of the breakfast pastry variety.

  “Zander!” one called out.

  “Your Highness!” the other echoed.

  “Yikes,” Zander whispered into Marie’s ear, the warmth from his breath making her neck bend involuntarily in his direction. “I know those two. Quickly, to the tortillas.” He gestured toward the other side of the courtyard where cooks in traditional Mexican garb were pressing balls of dough onto the blistering-hot comal grill.

  Zander and Marie crept in that direction, the prince keeping watch as the two women caught sight of what they were doing. Marie could tell that he felt like game in the wild being chased by predators. One couldn’t blame those girls, though, for being interested in Zander. Although he claimed that he was always surrounded by women who were only after the lifestyle and luxury that his title brought, he might have been m
issing one key component.

  His Highness Zander de Nellay of Charlegin was one crazy-hot prince. Full stop. Indisputable. No doubt about it. And especially tonight, so dapper in his Mexican-style tuxedo with its stitching on the lapels, perfectly fitted to his tall and muscular frame. No wonder women lunged at him with hunting nets.

  In fact, Marie still couldn’t quite believe this remarkable man was her date, even if it was only for educational purposes.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” the blonde shrieked as she caught up with Zander and Marie, her redheaded cohort tagging along. “You owe me a dance back from the concert on Mykonos last summer.”

  “We haven’t seen much of you this year, Zander. We heard you aren’t dating Henriette anymore.” The redhead trailed on the blonde’s heels. “Have we lost you to that adorable baby daughter of yours?”

  “Niece,” he piped quickly.

  “I’m fabulous with babies! You should let me help you take care of her,” the blonde said as the heel of her white-, red-and green-sequined stiletto got caught between two of the stone tiles in the courtyard, causing her to lurch forward. A grimace twisted her face.

  “I love babies, too.” The redhead was not to be outdone. “They’re so squishy and roly.”

  “I don’t know that humans were intended for squishing and rolling but I appreciate your inquiry,” Zander clipped in a tight baritone. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us, I see someone I’ve got to talk to.”

  Behind them, the blonde called out, “But Zander, you haven’t introduced us to your date!”

  Zander said to Marie as he pulled her away, “I think I told you, being a royal bachelor has its challenges.”

  “You have to always remain polite. That must be hard.”

  “Protocol demands that I conduct myself appropriately. I always seem to attract the prince groupies who make that a battle. Who don’t want to really know me at all. They just want to be part of my advantaged life. Which is a far cry from forming genuine relationships.”