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‘The three of you?’ Beatrice couldn’t stop herself asking.
He nodded. ‘We had costumes and everything.’
‘Did you hate it?’
‘Not at all.’
She’d expected him to grimace, to pull a face, but he surprised her. Many times in their short history Julius had surprised her, and he did so now.
‘I loved it.’ He leant back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, resting there as he thought for a moment. ‘Claude and Jasmine loathed it...’ He smiled to himself at the memory. ‘My father was worried I liked it a little too much!’
Beatrice resisted the smile that ached to spread across her face and reminded herself that she was cold and impassive as Julius spoke on.
‘As well as ballroom, there wassyrtaki, tarantella... Oh, and there washoron.’
‘Horon?’
‘It’s a folk dance, from the Black Sea. My mother’s side...’ He raised his arms and dropped his wrists. ‘Like Irish dancing with your hands in the air. Great fun.’
Her lips started to spread, and then of their own accord they parted, and she didn’t know how to take it off, this smile that remained on her face.
This was the part of Julius she didn’t understand, because at times it felt as if hechoseto make her smile. Sometimes it honestly felt as if he’d made a decision to remain in a conversation with her in order to challenge himself to put a smile upon her face. Then, when he succeeded, when there was no doubt the smile on her face was a genuine one, he returned it.
It was as simple and as un-noteworthy as that. Yet there was something else she couldn’t properly explain...something indefinable.
It was not just that hechoseto make her smile but that on a day like today, when she felt so out of step with the rest of the world, when she felt she must surely be the most unlovable person ever, somehow hefoundher smile.
And returned it.
When it had faded, he asked, ‘Is everything okay, Beatrice?’
‘Of course.’ She nodded, removing her eyes from his and trying to remember where they’d left the conversation. ‘What about Latin American?’
‘Sorry?’
She gestured with her palm towards the spread of disturbingly erotic photos gracing her desk this morning.
‘Ah, I believe I had one-on-one tuition for that. That really is filed under “Limited Access”.’
‘You’re dreadful,’
‘I try to be.’
She felt his eyes upon her and looked up from the images of him dancing to the darkest eyes, which had narrowed just a little. Beatrice reminded herself that she was at work—that he could have been dancing naked on the palace balcony and her job would be to fix the situation.
Back to the issue.
‘Okay... Prince Claude’s anniversary coincided with the start of the Hellenic celebrations?’ She cross-checked the dates.
‘It did.’
‘So that’s why there were so many boats all around?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you discussed this with Security?’
‘I’ll deal with that side of things. All I want from you is to know how best to respond.’
