Page 35 of A Wise Prince

He pushes a lock of hair out of my face. “We do, in a way I suppose.”

I sigh. “I have to leave in two days too. Family stuff.”

“Everything OK?” he asks.

I nod. “It’s fine. The rents just want to see me. What time do you leave tomorrow?”

“Early,” he says as he trails his finger over my collarbone.

I curl up beside him and he pulls me close.

“It’s been…fun,” I say as I trace little invisible designs on his six-pack.

“Yes, it has,” he agrees, kissing the top of my head. “Maybe we can have fun again someday.”

“Maybe,” I muse as I curl closer to him. Maybe, someday.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

August

I stareat the Alps as I fly over them on my way to the south of France. A part of me wishes I was skiing today instead of heading into the lion’s den. I left Kate sleeping in my bed until I was ready to leave. And then I kissed her goodbye.

I sip on mediocre wine as I try to clear my head of the woman that just rocked my world. I need to fucking focus. I glance at the newspaper on the table in front of me. There’s another article about Conrad Johansen. He was elected three years ago and has risen to power in his party. He’s also vehemently against the monarchy. I toss the paper aside, not wanting to hear what the motherfucker is saying now. I spend the next hour going over the plan Anna concocted for me while trying to remember details of other people attending this auction.

I’m feeling confident as we land. I’m good at acting a part. Hell, I’ve been acting a part my entire life. I have forty-eight hours to schmooze with the wealthiest people in the world prior to the auction which is being held at an art gallery in Nice. The auction is so exclusive that no one knows what’s going to be auctioned until it begins. And to date, no item has failed to sell for less than ten million dollars. Most of the items have sold for well over fifty million dollars and a healthy number over a hundred million dollars. My mind races through the images of famous paintings that have been stolen, ancient artifacts that have gone missing, and various treasures thought to not exist at all. Yet, all of these are now housed in private collections in the homes of some of the wealthiest people in the world: sheiks, royalty, billionaires, arms dealers, former prime ministers, and presidents. My mind scrolls through the lists as I pull up to a private residence in St. Tropez. It’s a property belonging to my father’s best friend who now also happens to be my brother-in-law’s father.

I’ve been here many times before, but seldom by myself. I’m surprised when I see a car is already pulled up to the house. A minute later, my aunt emerges from the house. She looks good. My aunt was injured in the explosion at our Summer Palace a little over a year ago. Her husband, my late uncle, Hans, was trying to overthrow the monarchies of Norddale and our neighboring Montelandia. She’s been seeing Prince Sten of Montelandia since then. Yep, my father’s best friend, King Edvard, now has a son, Logan, who is married to my sister, and his brother, Sten, is dating my aunt. Our alliances with Montelandia have never been stronger.

“August, dear, it’s so good to see you,” she says as she walks toward me. Her gait is still off but she no longer requires the use of a cane. I hug her because regardless of my surprise at her being here, I am happy to see her. In the last year, she’s changed. Where she was always involved in our lives, she’s now…motherly, kind, and happy.

“How are you?” I ask her, pulling back and looking down at her.

“Oh, I can’t complain. Sten and I were just packing up. We are off to London for a conference next week, but I heard you were on the way here, so we delayed our departure. I figured we could have dinner together tonight before we head out,” she suggests.

“I’d love that,” I say, and I mean it. I could use a distraction from…my distraction? I shake my head a little at the crazy situation I’ve gotten myself into this week.

I walk in to find Franny mixing up drinks at the bar. Franny or Francesco is the main employee of this property. He’s in his mid-fifties and is hilarious. He’s worked here for at least two decades that I can remember.

“Augs, what’s popping?” Franny yells as I walk into the open living room of the villa. I can see Sten out in the pool, swimming laps and the waters of the Mediterranean glisten beyond it.

“Hey, Franny,” I say as I walk over to him. Franny looks like the offspring of a surfer and cabana boy. He has a laid-back, “slightly edging on inappropriate” dress code, yet everyone loves him and he’s awesome at managing the property.

“Your drink,” he says, without batting an eye as he hands me a gin and tonic with a lime peel. It’s my go-to vacation drink.

“Thanks.”

He nods. “Anything else you need right now?”

I shake my head as I sip his masterfully mixed drink. The man could be a professional mixologist if he wanted to be.

“Lara, anything for you, my dear?”

“I’m good, thank you, Francesco,” she says as she loops her arm through mine and leads me out to the pool.

I can’t remember the last time I was alone with my aunt. Maybe as a teenager?

“So, Chris tells me that you seem fond of the American girl?” Lara starts as we sit down at the bistro table.

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