Chapter 23
Rachel: Friday night’s event has been changed. You’ll now be accompanying Ethan to Princess Ulrika’s party.
Jamie: Ugh.
Jamie
Princess Ulrika’s party is at a mansion in the Hollywood Hills. Steve drives Ethan and me up the long driveway and stops the limo outside the front door. I gaze up at the place in silent awe. It’s not as big as Miles’s family home, but it’s more imposing. It’s made of steel, concrete and glass.
Ethan gets out of the car and offers his hand to help me out. I don’t need help, but it’s a nice gesture. And I can’t complain about sliding my hand into his when he looks so incredibly handsome in his black suit pants matched with a dark gray shirt that’s open at the neck.
Still, just because I’m with a man who I already know will be the best-looking guy at the party doesn’t mean I’m not as nervous as hell to be here.
“You okay?” Ethan asks when I’m standing next to him.
I’m wearing wide-legged pants and a fitted, backless top, and I like the way his eyes flare with appreciation when he looks at me.
“Not really,” I admit, looking up at the house. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Rachel showed me the party invitation, and my name wasn’t on it.”
“I wanted you with me.” He offers me his arm. “Don’t look so nervous. You never know, you might have fun.”
“Fun?” I shake my head. I feel out of place already, and we haven’t even gone inside yet.
“Maybe I’ll need protection. You’re still my security agent.”
I brighten at that idea. It’s a long shot, but maybe the person sending him threats will finally try something, and at least then we’ll know who it is. We’re still investigating, but we don’t have much to go on.
“We don’t need to stay long,” he adds as we walk up the stairs to the front door. “I’ll talk to Ulrika about some business, then we’ll go and grab some dinner.”
“What business?”
“Don’t know yet. She’s been talking about some kind of partnership.”
We’re greeted at the door by a man in a suit, who turns out to be—of all things—a butler.
The first butler I’ve ever met. He escorts us through the ground floor of the mansion, down a hallway with a very high ceiling, pointing out where we can find bathrooms. We end up at the open back of the house where the party is being held in an outdoor entertaining area complete with swimming pool.
The pool is lit up with underwater lights, and more lights are strung in long ropes around the large paved area.
There’s a lot of outdoor seating in the form of loungers and couches, but hardly anyone is sitting down.
Groups of people are standing around, drinking and talking.
There are about a hundred people here, all in evening dress.
“Ethan!” The princess glides over to us. She kisses Ethan on both cheeks, then gives one of my cheeks a quick peck.
She’s wearing a light blue dress that clings to her slight frame and perfectly matches her ice blue eyes. She’s not wearing a tiara this time, but her long, blonde hair is piled up in an intricate hairstyle that must have taken hours. She looks like Elsa from Frozen.
“Welcome,” she says to him. “I’m glad you came.” Then she turns her smile to me. “And I love your outfit. Jamie, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I say. “Thank you.”
She turns back to Ethan and squeezes his arm. “The bar is over there. Get yourself some drinks. And would you get me another glass of champagne while you’re there, darling?”
Sure enough, when I look through the crowd, I spot a full-sized bar at one end of the entertainment area.
“Would you like champagne?” Ethan asks me.
“No thanks.”
“You’re not drinking?” The princess asks me and doesn’t wait for my answer before turning back to Ethan. “Get her a mocktail then. Go on. I’ll look after Jamie while you’re gone.”
Ethan and I exchange a quick glance. His small frown is a silent question that I answer with a tiny head shake combined with a smile, hoping to both let him know I don’t want a drink, and that I’ll be fine on my own while he goes to the bar. He nods, apparently understanding, and strides away.
The princess watches him go, then turns to me. “Your outfit,” she says. “It’s just so refreshingly simple. I would never have thought to wear something that plain. Tell me, who’s your stylist?”
“I don’t have one,” I say, distracted by watching Ethan as he leans against the bar and lifts a casual hand that instantly summons a barman.
He exudes confidence and doesn’t seem to notice or care that he’s drawing every eye in the room.
Especially every female eye. Young or old, it doesn’t seem to matter.
The sheer number of admiring glances he’s getting is ridiculous.
“Oh,” the princess says. “Well, now it makes sense.” She chuckles, tucking her arm into mine. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you my stylist’s number. She’ll fix your hair in a flash.”
I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong with my hair, then close it again. I’m wearing it loose, over my shoulders, and I hardly ever wear it down. Does it look messy? If the princess didn’t have my arm gripped so tight, I’d head to the bathroom to check the mirror.
Ethan walks back to us and hands the princess a glass of champagne. He’s holding a short glass with lots of ice and an amber liquid that’s probably whiskey. Guess that’s the benefit of having a limo. No need to worry about drunk-driving.
“Ethan,” the princess says, releasing my arm and moving back to him. “Remember how we were talking about Antibes the other night at the restaurant? I was looking at the historical capital growth and thought it might be smart to buy a little place there.”
The other night at the restaurant? When did they go to a restaurant?
Wait. Have the princess and Ethan been dating?
My stomach takes a roller coaster ride to my toes.
Ethan says something that I miss because there’s a sudden roaring in my ears.
But it doesn’t make sense. If Ethan has been dating her, why did he kiss me?
I’m probably just being paranoid because they look so perfect together. He said they were doing business together, that’s all. No need to jump to conclusions.
The princess lets out a musical laugh. “It would be fun to own property there, of course. I just love it when I can combine business and pleasure, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t happen often,” he says.
His tone isn’t exactly encouraging, but the princess is smart as well as gorgeous, and my hair, apparently, needs fixing. She’s batting her long eyelashes at him, and I can’t see how he’s not completely charmed by her.
“But you should buy something there too!” She bats at his arm as though she’s a kitten and he’s a ball of wool. “Tell me, do you prefer to stay at Cap d’Antibes, or closer into town?”
He shrugs as though he doesn’t care. “The view from the headland is better.”
“Have you spent any time in Hyères? You must have been to that divine little…” The rest of the sentence is in another language, and I’m instantly lost.
Ethan, however, responds to her question in the same language.
And I feel even more like a donkey at a thoroughbred show.
I wasn’t following the conversation to start with. The places they’re talking about are probably somewhere in Europe, but I couldn’t point to them on a map if my life depended on it. And I can barely speak English, let alone whatever tongue-twister language they both apparently know.
What the hell am I even doing here?
The princess gives her musical laugh and thankfully reverts back to speaking English. “Oh, I do love the proximity to Cannes,” she gushes. “I always go for the festival.” She turns to face me, stepping closer to Ethan in the process. “What about you, Jamie? Do you enjoy it there?”
Her eyes glint at me.
A rush of understanding hits me.
Oh. My. God. I get it now.
And, man, I can’t believe I was so slow on the uptake.
But in my defense, I’m used to being around my wonderful female friends who have my back, no matter what. So it took me a while to realize the princess is trying to make me feel out of place. And, yeah, she was totally succeeding. But now that I’ve figured out what she’s doing… well, fuck her.
“I’ve never been to Cannes,” I say, mimicking her pronunciation.
“But here’s a question for you. Did you catch the Vanderbilt vs Grossman bout last month?
Grossman used to be a mauler, but he’s shopworn, and Vanderbilt had him outclassed.
It went to the cards, though if you ask me, Grossman should have thrown in the towel by the tenth.
” I give her an innocent smile. “What did you think?”
She blinks at me, her pretty pink lips parted, confusion in her eyes.
I can practically smell the gears in her head blowing out smoke as she searches for a reply, but I don’t want to wait around to hear what she comes up with. Her eyes aren’t glinting any more, and any good fighter knows how critical it is to grab a breather when the bell rings.
“Excuse me,” I say, “while I visit the bathroom.” I give Ethan a quick glance, noting the way his lips are curled up and his dimples are threatening to form. Then I flee to the house.
The butler is nowhere in sight and the hallway is empty.
My heart leaps at the unexpected opportunity. Ulrika isn’t on our suspect board, but maybe she should be. And seeing as I’m here, I may as well snoop around.
I check out the downstairs first, tiptoeing through stately living rooms and dodging around walls to hide from waiters who are bustling from the kitchen with plates of canapés. Down here, the rooms are clearly designed for public access. The bedrooms and other private rooms are upstairs.
When the coast is clear, I dash up the wide staircase to the second floor.
The first room off the landing is clearly a guest bedroom, with no personal items in it. But I strike it lucky with the second room. It’s a home office.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are behind a large desk.
They hold books, and folders, and stacks of papers.
Covering the desk are more papers. They’re mostly business documents, but rifling quickly through them, I also find a letter written in elegant, looped writing on Ulrika’s personal stationery.
The paper is thick and textured, with Princess Ulrika’s name and details embossed at the top, along with a crown.
I don’t have time to read the letter, and I’m even worse at deciphering handwriting than reading normal print, but I tug my phone out of my small shoulder bag and snap a picture.
I’m turning away when I spot something else. On one side of the desk is a pen caddy, and some fancy ink pens with old-fashioned nibs. There’s also a set of three small ink bottles.
One of the bottles holds red ink.
My mind jumps to the last photo, the one of me with red ink splattered on it, and I stuff the bottle into my bag.
Though I’d like to keep snooping, it’s going to look suspicious if I don’t get back to the party soon.
I creep back out the door, but I’m only just starting down the stairs when a security guard appears in the hallway.
It’s the enormous burly guard with the shiny bald head who was guarding the princess at the ball.
I freeze, holding my breath. But he glances up and spots me.
“What the—?” He does a double take, then recovers himself. “Excuse me, Miss Jennings, but I’ll need to ask you to come down. Upstairs is off limits to guests. Those are the princess’s private rooms.” He has the same foreign accent as the princess, only his is a lot stronger, and his voice rougher.
“Oh, silly me,” I say with a tittering laugh, trying my best to seem either drunk or dim-witted. “I came out of the bathroom and got turned around.” I attempt to look innocent, but his eyes are narrowed and suspicious.
He’s clearly got a good memory if he remembers my name from Ethan introducing me to the princess at the ball. This guy isn’t dumb, and he’s not buying my act for a second.
“I’ll escort you back outside, ma’am.” He leads me out of there, directing me back to where all the partygoers are mingling. At least he stops at the entrance to the outdoor area and lets me rejoin the party alone.
And hopefully he won’t rat on me to the princess, though I won’t hold my breath. Judging from his glare, he’s not my biggest fan.
Ethan and the princess are still where I left them.
And as soon as I see them, I swallow a sudden surge of bile.
They’re standing close together, and she’s speaking intently.
Her hand is on his arm as though to pull him even closer, and he’s gazing into her eyes with a serious expression.
He must think whatever she’s saying is fascinating, because he’s hanging onto every word.
My gut churns, and jealousy spikes through me. It’s an unpleasant sensation. One I’m not used to.
I’ve never been a jealous person, so what the hell is wrong with me? They’re probably just talking about business, anyway. And if they’re not… well, it’s not like Ethan and I are dating. I have no claim over him.
Putting my shoulders back, I stroll over to them as though nothing’s wrong.
“…We’ll build luxury condominiums,” I hear the princess saying as I get close. “Of course, the senator will make sure the whole project gets fast-tracked. We won’t even need to wait for it to go through the committee.”
Ethan nods, then glances up at me. He’s frowning, but it’s a thoughtful frown, as though he’s mulling over what she’s saying.
The princess shoots me a narrow-eyed glare when I stop next to Ethan. She looks visibly pissed that I’ve interrupted their conversation, but when Ethan looks back at her, her expression instantly smooths out.
“Well,” she says. “Take some time to think it over, Ethan, and have your assistant contact me to set up another meeting.” She smiles at him a moment longer, then lets go of his arm and turns to me.
“Jamie,” she says in a cloying tone. “You must try a canapé.” She motions a waiter over.
"Which caviar do you prefer? Beluga or Ossetra?”
I barely have time to grimace before Ethan slides his arm around me.
“No time for caviar,” he says, his tone light. “We’re not going to stick around.”
“Oh, but you need to meet the senator!” Ulrika exclaims. “He’s over there, by the bar.”
“Listen, Princess. I don’t need another partner. Thanks for asking, but I’m going to pass. And now we’re leaving. I promised Jamie we’d go and get dinner.” His lips quirk as he gazes down at me, and his voice becomes low and intimate. “You hungry, Knockout?”
Warmth floods through me, and my jealousy instantly seems ridiculous. I smile back at him. “Always.”