a theme been decided on? I don’t see anything about it in my notes.”
“No. And with three weeks to go, it’s rather late in the game to be planning a big theme. But we must. I want this to be one of the most successful benefits of the social season. We have to pull out all of the stops.”
Marie only theoretically understood what Zander was saying. She’d heard of lavish balls in which moneyed guests came dressed as animals or as gangsters from the 1920s. High concepts that were designed to make the evening as impressive as it could be. With the idea that would bring in the highest donations, sponsorships and auction proceeds.
“I’ve only been associated with this organization for a year myself,” Zander said as he scrolled through his files. “Has the annual APCF gala utilized a theme in the past? How big were the previous galas?”
“I don’t know. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can with that information.”
“I understand that the APCF’s invitation list is five hundred. And I’ve added my own personal five hundred. Has the agency hosted a fund-raiser of that size before?”
“I’ll get the answer to that as soon as I can.”
“How do you not know this? Didn’t they brief you?”
“I’m sorry,” Marie started again, but was getting pretty tired of apologizing. “As soon as I gather all of the information, I’ll report back to you.” Felice hadn’t had time to fill her in on the history of the galas and Zander being so on top of everything was very intimidating.
No matter how big an event this was going to be, Marie knew she could get the job done once she had a grasp on it. It was crucial that she show Felice and the other agency bigwigs that she was capable of this position. It was time for her to take a next step up in her career, and this was an unexpected opportunity for her to show what she could do.
Proving naysayers wrong was something she’d spent a lot of her life doing. Frustration crinkled her face when she wondered if she’d ever be finished selling herself to others. Who usually doubted her from the start.
“All right.” Zander made some sort of internal decision and proclamation. He transmitted full authority in every word he said, every gesture he made. Whoever he was other than chairperson for this gala, he was a force to be reckoned with. That’s the kind of person Marie wanted to be. Maybe she could learn something from him. “We need to get you up to speed, and immediately.”
“Yes.”
Zander tapped a number into his phone. “Iris, are you able to manage until this evening?”
Whoever Iris was and whatever she was telling him made him grin. And my, a smiling Zander de Nellay was a sight to behold. No wonder his chairing this gala was such a big deal. That smile could coax a wallet right out of its pocket.
Finishing the call, he returned his attention to Marie. “I’m starved. Let’s go get some food. We’ll work through the files and see where we are on every component,” he commanded as if his will was always obeyed. One thing was for sure. Zander was the most compelling man Marie had ever met.
HALF OF ZANDER’S mind was on Marie Paquet, the young woman beside him as they left the APCF office and walked toward the center of town. The rest of his brain was on Abella, the not yet two-foot-tall girl who was the most important person in the world to him. When he’d called home, Iris let him know that everything was under control at the penthouse so that he didn’t have to worry about rushing back.
That was a relief, what with the moving people and deliveries coming through, and Abella’s needs to be considered. He made a mental note to give Iris some extra days off with pay once they were all settled in. A funny little trio, he, the baby niece and the widowed nanny. But a working unit nonetheless.
To the matter of the gala, he’d yet to conclude whether Marie was going to be a help or a hindrance. She seemed oddly unaware of his royal status so he’d made a point of not telling her. Because as soon as people found out, they acted differently around him. Either nervous to the point of flubbing up simple tasks, or going into overdrive to be perfect. Most people were flustered in the company of His Highness Prince Zander de Nellay of Charlegin.
It was surprising that she didn’t know who he was, but it seemed there were a lot of gaps in what she’d been informed of. So at least in this first encounter, he’d let her think of him only as the event chair whom she had to satisfy, without the added distraction and onus of his title. Perhaps they’d get to know each other a bit first.
He’d come off brusque when they’d met in the office. No one could blame him, though, for being frustrated that, while he was responsible for this crucial fund-raising gala, the agency had undergone a personnel change and Marie, the replacement, was unapprised on more than just his identity.
“Do you know a place?” she asked, reshuffling the weight of a tote bag filled with paperwork on one shoulder and her laptop under the other arm.
“This way.”
Reaching over to take Marie’s bag off her shoulder, an unexpected sensation greeted him. As his fingertips grazed the thin fabric of her blouse in the process, Zander stiffened a little bit. His body suddenly piqued with alertness. For a good twenty paces after that, he was unable to divert his thoughts from wondering what the skin under that white shirt of Marie’s might feel like if he slipped his hand underneath it. Soft as satin, he was sure of it.
It was a strange fascination. He hadn’t felt curiosity about a woman in a long time.
“Do you live in Cannes?” Marie brought him back to the moment with her question, looking up to him with her big and almost completely round light blue eyes.
“I come down for the social season every spring.”
“Down from where?”
“I keep an apartment in Paris. And my home is in Charlegin.”
“Where is that?”
“It’s a small principality near the Belgium border.”
“What do you do there?”
Mashing his lips together, he suppressed a response. He wasn’t used to being asked such direct inquiries. Once people knew who he was, they usually became tongue-tied or fluffed on about the weather or the rosebushes. Marie’s candor was intriguing, if unknowingly inappropriate.
“I’m involved in several charitable organizations,” he answered in absolute truth. “May I?” He gestured at her laptop, taking it and slipping it into his bag alongside his own computer.
Tucking it in, his fingers again made contact with the incongruous item he had encountered when looking for the USB drive while he and Marie were still at the office. Inadvertently squeezing the malleable plastic, a quack sound echoed through the leather. How one of Abella’s bath toys, the squidgy yellow duck, ended up in his bag he’d never know.
“What was that?” Marie asked in response to the sound.
“Oh,
