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‘True.’
‘As well as that, I don’t...’ She was about to give him the spiel she often gave to clients, but refrained. Probably, Beatrice told herself, because he was royal.
‘Please...’ he invited.
It was an odd moment. The low glare of the morning sun over the white lake gave the appearance of an icy winter, and yet the peacocks were calling as he had said they would. Screeching unseen.
‘Go on,’ he said, prompting her with her own words. ‘As well as that...?’
Very well, then. Beatrice stopped walking and so did he. She stared up at him. ‘On a professional level I’m involved, and I do my best, but on a personal level...’
His eyes narrowed more in anticipation than in question, waiting for her to elaborate.
‘I don’t take things personally.’
He frowned.
‘I’m objective. I’m not...’ She took a breath and told him what she told all her clients. ‘I don’t care what you get up to.’
It sounded harsh, yet it was the reason Beatrice was so good at her job. And the reason for her utter detachment? Well, that was not for potential employers to know. It was not for anyone to know.
Beatrice was close to no one.
‘Well,’ Prince Julius said, ‘that makes a refreshing change.’
To her surprise, she was offered the role.
So Beatrice left London to take on the three-month position in Bellanisiá and signed a lease on a furnished second floor flat there, with a small balcony that looked over the marina.
In her first month there she started to take her evening meal on the balcony, looking out at the expensive yachts and sailing boats, as well as the fishing boats. Cannons were often fired, as if at random, which made her smile. In her second month Beatrice bought a bird feeder, and found herself taking breakfast out there too.
She was growing fond of the place.
Working at the palace was incredible—and not only that, Beatrice found she actually enjoyed taking the shuttle bus to and from work. On her way she always sat to the left, because the views were incredible there, and on her return to the right.
The locals didn’t seem to care which side they sat on—they were, of course, more used to the views—and they carried on chatting, or reading, or dozing as the shuttle bus inched its way through the town, picking up palace staff.
There was an all-encompassing mix of designer shops and bazaars and famous fashion houses, as well as florists and bookstores and a gorgeous central square, with government buildings, monuments and houses of worship.
The job was interesting in itself, for there was a lot of pressure from within for the Prince to make haste and marry. A lot of Beatrice’s time was spent going head-to-head with his aides, and even with his own team—who were, to her mind, too keen to please the King.
The simple brief to tidy up his image in preparation for marriage, was not so easily executed.
Now, with three weeks to go on her contract, the slurs in the press kept coming, and Prince Julius appeared no closer to signing the Document of Intent, than he had at the commencement of her work.
And Beatrice had found herself dealing with a very unfamiliar issue.
She liked her boss.
Or rather, she had her first ever crush.
And very inconveniently it was on HRH Prince Julius of Bellanisiá!
There had been signs, for those bats had remained in her chest, and sometimes when she met his eyes it felt as if those peacocks were screeching unseen, but she’d simply ignored her unsettled feelings. But taking the shuttle bus to work one morning, as they’d approached the square, she had found her eyes drawn to the stunning central church, with its glorious dome and endless steps.
It was where the royal wedding would take place...
Where Prince Julius would marry.
