Innocent Surrender. Robyn Donald
So it was better that she not encounter him again. So even though she had kept an eye out for him over the following week and a half, she’d carefully avoided attending any parties to which he might have gone.
Of course, she knew he’d come to Cannes to work, not to party. But she also knew that sometimes going to parties was part of the work. Some years it had even been part of her own. Fortunately her father had decided not to host one this year.
And now the festival was over. Demetrios, she was sure, was already gone. He’d got what he came for. News stories early this week had reported that he’d landed a big distributor for the film he’d brought to Cannes. And yesterday she’d read that he’d found backing for his next project.
She was happy for him. She almost wished she had seen him again to tell him so. But what good would that have done, really?
It would only have been embarrassing. He might even have believed she was stalking him.
No. She’d already had her own personal fairy tale with Demetrios Savas. One night of lovemaking.
That was enough.
But when Gerard had called her that afternoon and announced, “We will be hosting a party on the royal yacht this evening,” she wasn’t quite as sanguine as she’d hoped.
She’d told herself that she would go to her fate gracefully and willingly. He was a good man. A kind man.
But the truth was, she’d barely given him a thought since the night she’d had dinner with Demetrios.
Now she felt oddly cold and disconnected as she repeated, “We?” Did he meant the royal “we” or “the two of them”?
“My government,” Gerard clarified briskly. “The party was planned to occur whether I was here or not. We hoped to attract film companies, you know. The revenues are an excellent boost to the economy.”
“Yes, of course.” Her father believed that, too.
“And since I’ve finished my work in Toronto, I’m able to be here. And it will be a wonderful opportunity for us to host it together.” He sounded delighted.
Anny wasn’t certain. “Are you sure I should host it with you?” she asked. “I mean, we’re not married.” As if he needed reminding.
“Not yet,” Gerard agreed. “But soon. That is something we need to discuss, Adriana.”
“What is?”
“The date of our wedding.”
“I thought we agreed we’d wait until after I finished my doctorate.”
“Yes, but we can make plans. It will not be an elopement, you know.”
“Of course not. But there will be time—”
“Yes,” Gerard said cheerfully. “Tonight. After the party.”
“But—”
“So, no, you will not be my official hostess,” he went on, “but we have waited long enough. I’ve missed you, Adriana.”
“I’ve—” Anny swallowed “—missed you, too.”
He heard the hesitation in her voice. “You are upset that I wasn’t here last week.”
“No. I—”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be,” he explained to her. “Duty called. It often does,” he added wryly. “You understand. Better than anyone, you understand.”
“Yes.”
“But I am here now. And I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight. I will be there for you at eight.” He rang off before she could object.
Object? Hardly. Gerard had the same ability to command that her father did. It came from a lifetime of expecting people to fall in with his plans. And even if he had stayed on the phone, what possible objection could she have made?
Of course he had sprung it on her at the last minute. But it wasn’t as if she couldn’t pull herself together, find a dress, be prepared to leave at eight.
Princesses were always prepared. It was part of their job description.
She just wished she felt more prepared to marry him.
“His Highness regrets that he is unable to come in person,” the driver said respectfully as he bowed, then helped Anny into the back of the black sedan that had arrived outside her flat at precisely 8:00 p.m. “He is hosting a dinner meeting. He will be on the yacht when you arrive.”
Anny tried to look regretful, too. But what she felt was relief. While she could make conversation with anyone anywhere, thinking about being alone with Gerard in the confines of the car had made her edgy for the past three hours.
He would be all that was proper and polite. And so would she. They would make small talk. Discuss the weather. His trip to Toronto. Her latest chapter notes on her dissertation.
Or their upcoming wedding.
She flashed a quick smile at the driver. “C’est bien. Merci.”
He shut the door, and immediately the silence enveloped her. Sometimes riding in cars like this suffocated her. She felt as if she were buffered from the real world, isolated, with the sounds and commotion beyond the doors held firmly at bay.
But right now, for a few minutes, she welcomed it. The short ride to the harbor would give her a chance to compose her thoughts, to prepare herself, to become the princess of Mont Chamion she would have to be this evening.
But as the car approached the harbor, she became distracted by the rows of yachts and sailboats, thinking about how Demetrios and his brother had brought Franck here. Now she scanned the multitude of boats as if, just by looking, she might be able to tell which one was Theo’s.
Of course chances were very good Demetrios’s brother was already gone. And it didn’t matter anyway. The memories of her night with Demetrios had been intended for her to take out and savor, yes. But they weren’t intended to distract her from the obligations at hand.
Now, though, even when she turned her gaze away from the harbor and stared resolutely straight ahead, it wasn’t the driver she saw. In her mind’s eye she still saw Demetrios making love with her.
“Go away,” she muttered under her breath.
The driver glanced around at the sound of her voice and met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”
“Nothing.” Anny pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling a heachache coming on. “I was simply thinking aloud.”
And she needed to stop. Now.
A small launch carried her to where the royal yacht lay at anchor. As they approached the yacht she could see tuxedo-clad staff scurrying around. She caught snatches of the lively sounds of live music. Maybe she and Gerard would dance. He would hold her in his arms and they would find love together. It had happened that way for Papa and Mama. Her father had assured her it was so. Their marriage had been arranged and it had been wonderful. It could happen.
Determinedly Anny lifted her chin and made herself smile at the prospect.
She even made a point of minding her royal manners and staying primly seated until the crew brought the launch alongside the yacht when she would have preferred to stand up and let the wind whip through her hair or, worse yet, be the one to throw the line and clamber aboard the way she always had on her father’s smaller yacht when she was a child.
So she was definitely in princess mode when she heard Gerard say, “Ah, wonderful. Here you are at last.”
He was waiting on deck and gave her his hand to help her aboard, then let his gaze travel in slow admiration down the length of her navy blue dress with its galaxies of scattered silver sequins for a long moment