Cinderella's Secret Royal Fling. Jessica Gilmore
‘So, you’ll do it?’
No. Both Emilia’s head and heart spoke in unison. Emilia might be twenty-six now, all grown up with her own business and a family of friends she’d assembled herself, but where her father was concerned she was still a hurt, lonely child. And when it came to Simone she was a hurt, angry child. She kept an emotional and a physical distance from them for a reason; she didn’t like who she had been when she lived with them, the way she had acted, her desperate bids for attention, each one more extreme than the one before, how out of control she had been. Better to stay far away. It was self-preservation and it had worked over the last few years.
But the event promised to be lucrative and generate a lot of publicity. This wasn’t just about her; there were four of them with a lot invested in the future of the agency. She couldn’t make a decision like this on her own.
‘I need to talk to my partners. The notice is short and there is a lot to do; I’ll have to leave for Armaria straight away and that means more work for everyone here. Look, I’ll let you know in the morning. Send me numbers and a rough outline of what you need tonight and if they agree then I’ll send through a quote first thing.’
‘There’s no need for a quote. I’ll pay whatever you charge.’ Simone got to her feet in one elegant movement. ‘My assistant will email through the guest list and let you know your contact at the palace. Remember, I expect you to be professional, Emilia. Do not embarrass your father or yourself. No, don’t get up. I can see myself out. I’ll see you in three weeks. I’m expecting perfection. Do not let me down.’
‘WELL, OF COURSE we’ll say no.’ Amber’s green eyes burned with indignation as she paced up and down the small sitting and dining room housed in a conservatory at the back of the house. The whole of the ground floor was given over to office space apart from the galley kitchen and this light, if slightly cramped, area. Upstairs, the first floor and attic floor each housed two bedrooms and a bathroom; Alexandra and Emilia had one floor, Amber and Harriet the other.
Emilia wasn’t sure what lucky star had been shining down on her the Christmas Eve she had decided to stay late at work rather than face her lonely rented room and ready meal for one. As she had finally left the modern South Bank building where she worked she had met first Harriet, then Alexandra and Amber, all, like her, in their early twenties and all with nowhere to go that Christmas. An impromptu drink had lengthened into a meal and, several years later, they were business partners, housemates and sisters, a bond even Harriet’s recent engagement to their former boss, Deangelo Santos, couldn’t break. Although Harriet officially now lived in Deangelo’s penthouse apartment while she and her fiancé looked for the perfect home, she still had her own room at the Chelsea townhouse and often stayed over when Deangelo was out of town. And not even a billionaire fiancé could tempt her to stop working. The Happy Ever After Agency was born of their hopes and dreams. It was far more than a job. Making it work was their top priority and, although they all knew that Deangelo would gladly bankroll them, their independence was too important to allow them to accept a penny.
‘Simone will pay whatever I quote, money no object. And think of the publicity, Amber.’
Alex nodded. ‘The Archduke of Armaria is notoriously private. A ball hosted by him, the first in the royal castle in twenty years, will be headlines in all the gossip magazines, headlines which will give us the kind of boost we need to really get ourselves ahead.’
‘We’re doing okay and we can get ahead another way. Amber’s right. You can’t be an employee at your own father’s birthday.’ Harriet squeezed her hand. ‘You should be there, dancing the night away, not worrying about missing musicians and whether there’s enough canapés.’
‘We all know the only way I’ll be there is if I can invoice for the privilege. Family gatherings are not my style and it’s easier for them to play happy, perfect families without me lurking in the background like the Ghost of Family Past. Look, if we consider this objectively then you know I would be mad to turn it down. It’s a great job.’ Part of her even believed what she was saying, another part, the bewildered little girl she tried hard to forget, just wanted to be at her dad’s birthday party. And the sensible part of her agreed with her friends. She would be much better off turning the event down.
But no way was she giving Simone the satisfaction.
‘Do you want any of us there as backup?’ Alexandra asked in her usual calm, cool way and Emilia seized onto the practical question gratefully.
‘No, thanks. There is plenty to do here; in fact I have another two birthday parties for the pampered Princelings and Princesses of Chelsea, a Golden Wedding and an engagement party in the next three weeks, plus a restaurant launch and a charity coffee morning. Amber, I know you have a lot of your own work on; will you be able to manage?’
‘With your notes and if you’re on the end of the phone, of course,’ Amber said stoutly.
Emilia smiled at her gratefully. ‘We always planned to be doing huge charity balls and corporate launches; it’s time we moved on from children’s games, even if Pass the Parcel has a real diamond bracelet inside. How nice if we got to employ someone to take care of the small events and I could concentrate on the big league. Look, Simone thinks she’s putting me down with this whole scheme, but she’s actually doing us a huge favour so let’s treat this like any other job. Who knows anything about Armaria?’
‘Isn’t it the smallest country in Europe?’ Amber asked, but Harriet shook her head.
‘Third, I think, or fourth. It’s a principality, but the ruling Prince is actually an Archduke for various historical reasons I can’t remember. Armaria is fiercely independent and proud, very patriotic, very beautiful. It’s in the sweet spot between France, Switzerland and Italy so gorgeous coastline, mountains and forests. Castles to die for; you couldn’t ask for a more picturesque location, Emilia.’
‘And how do you know so much about Armaria?’ Alex arched elegant eyebrows at her friend.
‘Deangelo considered investing there. The Archduke wants industry beyond tourism and farming without going down the tax haven route; it wasn’t right for him then but he’s been keeping an eye on the place to see how things change. The Archduke’s father died when he was just a little boy and his mother was regent for many years and she concentrated on stability not growth, which means the economy has stagnated. It’s still an absolute monarchy; there’s some agitating for more democracy, but the last referendum was pretty decisive in favour of the status quo.’
Harriet clearly hadn’t finished but she was interrupted by a squawk from Amber, who waved her phone in the air. ‘According to Your Royal Gossip the pressure is on the Archduke to marry. The next closest heir is an older, unmarried second cousin who runs the local hospital and has no interest in changing that. Rumour is that Prince Laurent d’Armaria is looking outside the usual pool of local aristocrats and European royalty for fresh blood and fresh money...’
‘Your stepsister is single, isn’t she?’ Harriet asked and Emilia nodded.
‘As far as I know. Simone was hoping for a duke or one of the Windsors but obviously that didn’t happen. I wonder if that’s what she meant by closer ties? What’s he like, the Archduke?’
‘Handsome in a cold, blond way. Said to be proud, standoffish.’ Amber held her phone out to Emilia but she waved it away. She’d see him for herself soon enough.
‘Okay, I think we’ve decided that we’re going for it, right? In that case I declare this meeting officially over. Let’s celebrate our new contract the usual way.’
‘Pyjamas, cheese on toast and mugs of hot chocolate?’ Harriet punched the air. ‘Bags me choose the film; Deangelo is on a nature documentary phase and it’s interesting but I am gasping for a good old-fashioned