She caught one older couple in fancy dress and recognized their particular type of sneer as they looked back and forth between her and Alex. She knew that she and Alex looked mismatched—and it wasn’t only because of their outfits. Paris looked down to where their gaze rested and realized her hand was still in Alex’s—she hadn’t let it go from the time he had rescued her. She shook off their disapproving glare, and followed Bernard to their table.
The couple had barely even sat down before trays of delicious hors d'oeuvres were brought to their table: fresh oysters on a bed of fleur de sel, smoked trout topped with crème fraîche and dill, grilled scallops atop honey carrots, brie and white peaches drizzled with sweet balsamic vinegar. Paris couldn't stop eating. It was as if every new dish they brought to the table was more delicious than the last, and her hunger had finally caught up with her. Apparently, almost dying gave one an incredible appetite.
As Paris ran the last of the peaches through the balsamic, she looked up and saw Alex laughing at her. She suddenly became very self-conscious.
“What? What did I do wrong?”
Alex lifted up the larger fork sitting next to his plate.
“You know we have about five courses still coming, right?”
Paris' jaw dropped.
“What? I thought this was a tapas situation or something. There is more food? How can there be more?”
As if on cue, waiters arrived with bowls of beautiful carrot-colored soup, accompanied by crusty toast and little bowls of garlic sauce. Next, escargot was served, and while Paris would normally never consider eating snails, she'd had enough glasses of rich burgundy wine that she was willing to try anything. Dipped in a delicious garlic butter, the escargot tasted like heaven, and Paris could have eaten a truck-load of them. As she sipped down her second glass of wine, she realized Alex was still staring at her, and she started to feel silly again.
“Do you have some sort of weird fetish involving watching women eat?”
Alex grinned as he poured them both some more wine. “I suppose I don't often have the luxury of enjoying a meal with a woman who actually eats. I wouldn't call it a fetish as much as a curiosity.”
“Who wouldn’t eat all of this!? This is the most amazing meal I’ve ever had in my life!”
Paris raised an intrigued eyebrow at Alex and was just about to push for a longer explanation when the waiters returned with huge plates of coq au vin, accompanied by roasted vegetables. Alex and Paris dug into the food, eating, talking, and drinking, watching as the restaurant cleared out around them, until there was no one left but them and a handful of extremely annoyed waiters who obviously wanted to go home.
He was an avid listener, and seemed intrigued by her—his attention laser-focused on her. It was a heady feeling.
“Tell me about yourself… tell me about where you grew up… tell me about your parents… your siblings… where you went to school… why you are in Paris all by yourself…”
The questions kept coming, she kept talking, and Alex was so charming that Paris almost didn’t notice that he managed to deflect every question she returned his way.
When the food was finally all gone, Paris realized it was well after midnight, and she didn't remotely want to go back to trying to find her crappy hotel in the middle of nowhere in the sketchy part of town.
As if he had read her mind, Alex reached out for her hand. “I know it's getting late, and I know you've had a fairly awful day. But would you like to take a walk with me? My hotel is just along the river, and then when we get there, I can have a car take you wherever you'd like to go. I'd just hate for such a lovely evening to end so soon...”
Paris hesitated briefly… all of her defenses kicking in… but then felt herself getting lost in Alex's big aqua eyes, so serene and honest. His interest in her seemed genuine, and she didn't get the impression his intentions were purely physical, yet she couldn't help but feel he was holding something back. But after everything that had happened during the rest of the day, she wasn't ready to push him for details. For now, Alex was a lovely, kind man who had saved her life. Anything more was for another day.
“I think a walk sounds really nice.”
7
“Your son was supposed to meet me and my wife for dinner at precisely 1900 hours at La Belle Epoche and he never showed up. Do you have any explanation as to why he couldn't be bothered to keep a simple dinner date with his future in-laws?”
King Alexander felt his temples beginning to throb. He looked over at his wife, Queen Catriona, who was sitting at her vanity with her head firmly in her hands. Even from across the room, she could hear Whitney's father shouting. Leonard and Penelope were unpleasant people at the best of times, but when they were drunk and angry? They were unbearable.
Catriona had always felt terrible that their oldest son had been tied to such a crass family, but when they'd made the deal with Estia, the children had been babies, and they knew little about Estia's Royals. As the years had passed, it had become clear Estia needed Dalvana far more than Dalvana needed Estia, and Prince Alexander was just a means to an end for that nouveau-riche Whitney and her ladder-climbing parents.
Catriona motioned at Alexander to hang up the phone, but Alexander made it clear he was trapped in yet another of King Leonard's epic tirades. It was going to be a long, one-sided conversation. She watched as Alexander placated and tried to talk Leonard down from his drunken rage; it took an hour and a half, and Catriona had already gone through her bedtime beauty regimen (twice), but Alexander was finally able to convince Leonard that the Prince had been held up at his diplomatic meeting. It was an excuse that wouldn't fly again, and King Alexander knew it.
Once the phone was safely back in the cradle, the weary king collapsed back onto the mountains of pillows that enveloped the bed.
“Cat... What are we going to do with our son? I know he's not happy about this marriage, but he knows as well as we do that none of us have an option anymore. Even if he keeps offending those drunken idio... I mean, our delightful future in-laws, they aren't going to call off the engagement. They're just going to make all of our lives miserable indefinitely.”
Catriona got up from her vanity and walked over to the bed, curling up next to Alexander and snuggling her head into his shoulder.
“Al, dearest love, your son has the same independent, fiery streak that y
ou have. We were just lucky enough to have been betrothed to one another. Not every royal has the benefit of being paired with the true love of their life. When Alexander returns from Paris, we will just sit him down and have a talk. He doesn't have to like Whitney. He doesn't even have to spend time with her. He doesn’t even have to have children with her—heaven knows, we can find another heir amongst our other children. He just has to put on appearances for the sake of the treaty, and hope against hope that the liver disease kills Whitney sooner rather than later.”
King Alexander's laugh filled the room with a warmth that mimicked that of his son's. He pulled his wife close and kissed her on the forehead.
“You’re right, my love. He will settle down and do his duty, as all royals must do eventually. But I truly am the luckiest man in all of Dalvana, my darling Cat. No one could ask for a better wife.”
Fifteen-hundred miles away, as King Alexander and Queen Catriona curled together close, another man from Dalvana was counting himself among the luckiest men in all the world...
8
Paris couldn't help but stare up at Alex as they walked along the river toward his hotel, as the light bouncing off the river Seine highlighted his aristocratic features. He was so tall, so beautiful, and she couldn't believe that he was here with her. The moon was sparkling off the clear water of the river, and the stars were like a thousand little night lights guiding them along the Seine. It felt like a dream within a dream.
They talked about Paris' transient childhood on the road with her mother, and how difficult it was for her, and Alex's favorite books and movies. Paris couldn't help but notice how evasive Alex was when it came to his personal life, but she wasn't ready to let herself think too deeply about what he might have been hiding. Instead, they walked, and Paris drank in the moment, wondering if she would ever feel so alive again in her life. All of her senses tingled with awareness of the man walking at her side.