Page 14 of Fake Fiancée, Real Baby
“Oh, I couldn’t have done that. It’s your dessert. I’m just glad you enjoyed it. I don’t make these sorts of things very often. Mr. Bellagio likes sorbets and little sweet things. He’s not much of a dessert eater.”
“That’s because he never liked this when we were at school,” the prince said, gesturing to the empty plate. “But he’s missing out on your obvious talents by not asking for it. Will you make me another tomorrow? I’d better not have seconds now. My waistline’s already expanding.”
Claire laughed — she couldn’t help it. The prince was anything but fat. His torso was lean and muscular — a perfect specimen. After all, she’d seen it that very morning.
“I don’t think so. It didn’t look like it to me…” she said, forgetting herself for a moment, then blushing with embarrassment.
The prince obviously realized what she meant, but it didn’t seem to embarrass him. Instead, he smiled with a knowing look.
“Of course — you can judge, can’t you?” he replied, his gaze lingering flirtatiously as he spoke.
Claire was about to apologize, fearing the encounter was getting out of hand, when Anton returned to the deck with coffee and liqueurs for the prince, glaring at Claire, who he obviously thought had overstepped the mark.
“I’d better go back down. The dishes won’t wash themselves. I’m so glad you liked the dessert, Your Highness,” Claire said, taking the empty dish as she rose to her feet.
“Oh, I liked it very much. I’m looking forward to seconds,” the prince replied.
Anton cleared his throat, and Claire hurried back down to the galley, her heart beating fast. Anna-Marie was sitting drinking a can of cola and scrolling on her phone. She looked up as Claire entered the kitchen, glaring at her with her the same sulky expression as earlier.
“Did he like it?” she asked.
Claire smiled and nodded.
“I think he did,” she replied, still not quite believing what had just happened.
CHAPTER 8
ADRIEN
When Adrien awoke the next morning, he lingered in bed for a while, thinking back to the events of the previous evening. The dessert had been delicious — just as he remembered it from school, if not better. There was always a danger that memories could prove false, or that something that had delighted in childhood might well fail to live up to expectations in the present. But the steamed sponge pudding had delivered the delicious nostalgia Adrien had hoped for, bringing with it memories of a simpler time when no one expected anything of him, and he was free to simply be himself.
Holding up his cellphone, he hovered his finger over the power button, knowing that to press it would bring all his troubles flooding back, but to ignore it would only serve to increase them.
I can’t hide forever.
For a few moments, he lay looking at the blank screen, imagining all that was waiting for him. A splash from outside brought him back to his senses, and slipping out of bed, he crossed to the window, standing just a little back, wearing nothing but his underwear. He could see Claire swimming, the red of herbikini visible below the shimmering blue waters below. Smiling to himself, he watched, but decided not to embarrass her as he’d inadvertently done the day before, even as taking his eyes off her proved difficult. She swam strongly, with grace and poise, her body gliding effortlessly through the water.
A beautiful woman.
He’d thought the same the night before, surprised at the sudden force of his attraction to her. She’d listened to him, and, despite her obvious nerves, she’d treated him as an equal — conversed with him without the usual stiff formality he so often encountered. For a few moments, he did nothing but stand and watch her as she swam towards the headland, shaking his head, as he looked back down at his phone.
But I can’t avoid it forever.
With a sigh, he powered up the cellphone, watching as it buzzed into life with a stream of messages and alerts. There were messages from his mother — where was he? Why was he not answering? What had happened between him and the princess? Grieg would be keeping the palace updated with his movements. It wasn’t as if he’d just disappeared off the face of the earth. He had a missed called from the embassy, and a message detailing plans for a royal visit to Spain that was to take place later that summer. Then there were the news alerts. Adrien knew he should know better than to read stories about himself, but there was a compulsion in it, too…
Playboy prince abandons date… Flandenne scandal… House of Mertens in disarray.
It was all their — reports and speculation, even an “eyewitness” from Le Paradiswho claimed they’d seen Adrien and theprincess in an almighty row, culminating in her throwing champagne over him. The stories were wildly untrue, but what did that matter? They sold newspapers and generated advertising. “#Playboyprince” was trending. Adrien turned the phone off and tossed it aside. All he wanted was to be left alone.
“Some coffee, Your Highness?” the steward asked, when Adrien sat down to breakfast on deck a short while later.
He’d showered and dressed, emerging from his cabin with the vague hope of encountering Claire returning from her swim. But the breakfast was already laid out, and only the maid and the steward were on deck.
“Yes… a small cup,” Adrien replied.
The day was warm — bright, and with a clear blue sky. Adrien would swim again and eat. There wasn’t really anything else to do, and having finished his breakfast, the desire for a diversion returned. He didn’t want to turn on his phone again. It would only result in further doomscrolling. He’d read enough about himself already that morning, and, with the steward having cleared the table, Adrien retreated to the upper deck with a book. He liked to read — history mostly — and was working his way through a recently published history of Flandenne.
His ancestors were an interesting mix of the remarkable and the intolerable. Flandenne had a bloody past, established during the Thirty Years War as a result of the amalgamation of various Duchies and principalities, it had owed its continued existence to the political skills of its first king, Leopold I. Adrien was always compared to his paternal ancestor — in looks at least. But he liked to think he, too, would become the skilled diplomat he needed to be, if his country was to prosper. The strengthening of diplomatic ties with Monaco was part of that project,though Adrien knew he’d never be taken seriously so long as #Playboyprince was trending.
