aah when they found out that the eligible prince was caring for a baby. And then tried to convince him that by decree of their gender they could do a better job of it than he was. When, in his experience, they were only trying to take care of themselves by worming their way into his world.
A hurtful pang reminded him that only a few months ago he’d been duped into just that.
Nothing about Marie suggested she was of that breed. But he wasn’t going to be deceived, or put Abella’s safety in jeopardy, ever again.
He led them to a pedestrians-only block where every other business was a café. Outdoor tables extended as far as the eye could see, each shaded from the sun with cloth awnings or umbrellas in a riot of colors. People sat chatting in groups, nursing aperitifs. Romantic couples leaned in close as they shared pastries.
Picking one of the cafés he thought he remembered from his time here last year, Zander instructed the hostess to seat them at one of the outside tables. With a pull on Marie’s chair, he helped her sit and then took the wicker chair opposite her.
“Café au lait?” he suggested and after her confirmation, he ordered when the waiter arrived.
Quickly perusing the menu, he chose an herbed omelet. Marie took a bit longer to decide but once the waiter returned with the coffees, they had both made their selections.
“This is so scenic,” Marie said as she surveyed the panorama from the café’s patio. Palm trees dotted the horizon beyond the low buildings that lined the block. The air was clean and the sky was blue.
“Yes, Cannes is a very special place. Where are you from?”
She hesitated before answering. “North Marseilles, originally. But I was working for the APCF in Toulouse before this.”
“And you’ve been called to service in Cannes.”
“It’s a great opportunity for me.”
“You have no children? Parents? No husband or boyfriend to consider in a relocation?”
Marie looked downward before lifting her head only slightly and answering through her eyelashes. “No. It’s just me.”
Zander felt a bloom in his gut at finding out that Marie was unattached. Which was ridiculous, as if his body was betraying him. What matter was it of his whether Marie was married or spoken for?
Perhaps he was just curious. Just a year ago he was the playboy bachelor entrenched in the social scene of young royals. Where he spent his days, and nights, in the company of stunning women.
Until the world as Prince Zander knew it came crashing down. When his sister, Princess Elise, and her husband, Prince Valentin, were killed in a plane crash. And Abella, at the time six months old, was put in Zander’s care.
The peculiar thing was, shifting from the jet-setter who dated the most desirable women in the most exotic places and enjoyed enviable pursuits of leisure was a much easier change than anyone would have guessed.
Truthfully, Zander had become tired of romping around. He was especially worn down by the people he met who were interested only in his title and his standing. Who never saw him for who he really was, what he cared about inside. As was personified by the one mistaken go-round with the woman who confirmed all of his suspicions.
After that, it was crystal clear. Tragedy was the catalyst for short-circuiting Prince Zander’s lifestyle. But it was as easy as flipping a switch for him to turn his attention to one female and one female only. One who was hopefully eating her diced peaches before readying herself for a sleep.
His sister, Elise, was two years older than him, the firstborn. Which meant that Abella, her only child, was the crown princess and heir to the throne. Zander was responsible for raising not only a child, but the future ruler of their native Charlegin.
It all added up to why Zander had toy duckies in his briefcase and diced peaches on his mind. He could have hardly been bestowed a more important task than caring for Abella. Which provided a reason for him to stop surrounding himself with untrustworthy people whom he didn’t even really know. He had to be very cautious with whom he brought into his orbit now, as he had the baby princess to protect.
Which was why, Zander reflected as the waiter delivered the food, the personal life of this lovely Mademoiselle Marie across the table from him should be of no interest of his.
So why was it?
Zander thought he’d seen a wash of sadness come across Marie’s face when he asked if there were people in her life she was concerned about leaving behind in Toulouse.
With those big blue pools for eyes and a rose-petal mouth, she was a natural beauty. Her brown hair was a bit of a fright, with too-long fringy bangs and unruly waves tossing her locks this way and that. Yet her porcelain skin, which was so pale it was translucent, captivated his attention.
After they’d had a few bites of food for sustenance, Zander was ready to get down to business.
“In my opinion the most unforgettable galas start with a big thematic concept. It adds magic and theatricality.”
“We had a hot-air balloon theme for a fund-raiser I worked on,” Marie offered. “We carried it through all of the details. Table centerpieces that were small versions of the balloons with flowers coming out of the baskets. And we had party favors with miniature balloons filled with chocolates.”
Zander chose his words carefully. “Marie, I’d consider that more a decorating scheme than an event theme.”
Her eyes got wide. He knew she’d felt criticized, which was not his intention. But if he was going to chair a gala that was to be on par with the lavish affairs the social season was known for, Marie was going to have to expand her thinking. “I’m talking about the no-holds-barred extravaganzas like, for example, the Carnival balls that Venice is known for. They are drenched in theme from top to bottom, with venues and costumes and dinners that take your breath away.”
“The APCF doesn’t typically do galas on that scale.”
“That’s why they asked me to chair. They need to raise the kind of money the larger organizations do. So we’ve decided that throwing the most memorable benefit of the season will be the kickoff to a new level of fund-raising.”
“I’ll do my best. I’ve worked on dozens of events.”
In reality, Zander had very clear ideas of what he wanted to do. He didn’t need a sort of event manager who might not consult with him about every facet of the party. If his name was going to be linked with the APCF, everything was going to be his way. Perhaps someone with less experience like Marie would be a plus. He was willing to spend the next couple of days finding out if they worked well together.
With a charming smile she asked, “Do you have a personal connection to parentless children?”
That reminded him that she still didn’t know who he was.
Which, actually, struck him as more than a little strange. Had she never seen his name in the news?
Sadly, Elise’s and Valentin’s deaths, and Zander’s role in raising Abella, had garnered a lot of coverage. The story was picked up by all of the outlets when the plane crash happened a year
