ELOISE
14 December
London Daily Times
The Prince of Wales partook in a Christmas tradition at RAF Valley. He played Father Christmas and delivered presents to children of personnel stationed there. While he didn't don full regalia, he wore a festive cap and got in the spirit with a Christmas jumper. It will be interesting to see if the Prince attends a family-style holiday dinner at the air station before flying north to Sandringham for the regularly-scheduled royal Christmas. TheDaily Timeswill keep readers posted.
“So yourclient, how is he?” Monique, my dearest friend, asked.
Monique was a trusted member of my inner circle. Her parents were the closest thing I had to a functional family. We'd been in school together. Monique was in the Swiss Alps where reception was spotty but put time on the calendar to visit the lodge for a chat. I loved her for it. Just the sound of her voicecalmed me. She could guess who my client was. Anyone could. I was in Wales with aclientI needed to babysit. Still, per my NDA, I could say little.
“Oh, he's... fine. I forced him to be less bah-humbug and more Santa Claus. You would have thought I was killing him, but the press was great.”
“I may have seen, yes. I am now addicted to British blogs.”
I snickered. “Again, you mean? Did we ever stop?”
We devoured gossip blogs as teenagers at boarding school.
“I did for a bit when my world became Paris.”
Monique worked for an atelier who designed some of the finest nightwear. It was the best shopping experience of my life. I loved pretty lacy things. Anytime I could afford Eurostar and had a long weekend, I would go to Paris and let her spoil me. I'd given up feeling guilt about it. We had the best time.
“It's so weird out here. Quiet.”
“But are you getting to bond with him?”
“I am stuck in Wales only an awkward stone’s throw from the main house. I was told it was impossible to accommodate me anywhere else nearby. There is an air station and then nothing but sheep.”
“Is it nice?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “But nice only if you like a country house. I don’t.”
Monique wasn’t having it. “Boo-hoo! Your client is sexy, right?”
I snickered. “God! He's a client. I don’t think of him like that.”
“You have eyes!”
“Okay, fair, he's hot in a mostly grumpy billionaire sort of way. He seems annoyed with me since all I do is pressure him to get out of his shell on this charm offensive. My client can beannoying. I cannot crack him, though. I usually do okay with men who need to behave.”
“Because you're young and fit!”
“You're sweet. I am not his thin model type. I can assure you there is nothing there at all.”
“Uh-huh. Well, you should make aneffort. You never know when you'll meet Christian Grey again, right?”
I groaned. “Really?”
“Girl, he's beautiful.”
“I will admit that in a uniform, I could find him to be a thirst trap. But I try not to look at him. And then there is the damn pool.”
“What?”
“The pool. There is a pool where I'm at. In a greenhouse like thing. He swims all the time.”
“So you're the creeper staring at him?”
