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CHAPTER FIVE
WHATPROMISEHADbeen made?
Beatrice called Jordan on her way back, as arranged.
‘I heard,’ Jordan said, by way of greeting.
Beatrice wasn’t sure if she was talking about Julius’s meeting with the aides or what the Queen had said. ‘Well, I’m just letting you know.’
‘Thank you,’ Jordan said.
They spoke about the press response, and also the need for a lovely, wholesome picture of their prince.
‘Can I have access to his diary?’ Beatrice asked as she arrived back in her office. ‘I want to sort out an interview and photoshoot, and I want to see the rest of the anniversary photos and footage myself.’
‘You’ll have to come up.’
Beatrice held in a sigh. She needed the computers upstairs to access his diary, even though she could only type in requests which Jordan had to approve. The passage and stairs to Julius’s private offices and residence were seriously starting to irk her, but reminding herself it was just for a few more weeks she started the trek.
And then halted midway.
Only three weeks left. And he would be away for one of them.
In truth, it wasn’t the stairs nor the limited access that frustrated her now.
Nor even the fact that Julius drifted into her office from his residence on occasion—or, worse, stood there all gleaming and reeking of cologne on his way out.
It was simply that in three weeks she’d be gone.
It was strange to stand on a staircase and realise that for the first time ever she felt a little at home.
It wasn’t just him. It was the islands, the people, the palace, her little flat and balcony. How she was starting to know the people on the bus, and how the barista remembered her order.
Jordan, Tobias, even gossipy Despina... All of them were starting to feel like colleagues rather than people who happened to work where she had landed temporarily.
The odd staffer at her last job might have remembered to ask if she wanted to come for a drink once or twice, but here everyone was waiting to hear Tobias’s news—Beatrice included...
Stop it.
She took the last steps and found Jordan in a foul mood—so that helped Beatrice feel better about soon leaving the palace! She practically hammered a limited access code into one of the computers for her.
Good.
And no Julius.
Extra-good!
‘Are you going to be at the Flower Festival the Saturday after next?’ Jordan asked in a grumpy voice.
‘No,’ Beatrice said.
Jordan ignored her. ‘It’s a strict dress code,’ she informed her.
‘For a flower festival?’
‘No, to get into the royal marquee,’ Jordan said. ‘You can bring a guest—just make sure they know about the dress code.’
‘I’m not really big on festivals.’
