Page 5 of Fake Fiancée, Real Baby
“I think we’re about to find out,” Carlos said, gesturing out of the cabin window to where Mr. Bellagio’s limousine had just pulled up by the gangplank.
There was a scrabble to clear the table. Anton hurried up on deck to ensure the gangplank was secure, while Carlos returned to the skipper’s station, leaving Claire and Anna-Marie to clear away the lunch things and disappear below deck.
“We can see from the galley window,” Anna-Marie said, with an excited tone in her voice.
Claire was distracted by the dirty dishes. It wouldn’t be Anna-Marie who’d be washing them up — or cleaning down the kitchen. But her interest got the better of her, and, leaving the dishes, she went to stand with Anna-Marie at the galley window. They were just above the waterline but could see the gangplank and the limousine parked in front.
“Why aren’t they getting out?” Anna-Marie asked.
“I don’t know,” Claire said. “Perhaps it’s someone really famous and they’re waiting in case there’re paparazzi around.”
Photographers were always taking photos of the superyachts, or waiting slyly on the strip across from the mooring, ready to pounce with their camera lest someone remotely famous should appear. Claire watched with interest. The door to the limousine had still not opened, but a moment later it did — opened by Mr. Bellagio’s driver, Emile. First came Mr. Bellagiohimself, glancing from left to right, and thus confirming Claire’s suspicions.
“He’s looking for the cameras, isn’t he?” Anna-Marie said, leaning up and straining her neck to get a better view.
Claire was curious, and she did the same, craning to see who’d now emerged from the limousine. From its dark depths, a figure appeared, dressed casually in deck clothes, though stylish to a fault. He was dark-haired, with a tanned complexion, a neatly trimmed beard, and aquiline nose — a handsome man, and one Claire thought she recognized, though not from the movies or world of music.
Anna-Marie gasped. “It’s Prince Mertens — Adrien Mertens,” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together as she spoke, her expression changing to one rapt enchantment.
Claire looked again. Could it really be the prince? Adrien was the heir to the throne of Flandenne. He was always in the papers or splashed across some clickbait website — “Fresh Scandal Engulfs the House of Mertens.” Claire had read about him often enough. He was a playboy, and forever getting mixed up with the wrong women. In fact, there’d been something about him she’d read just the day before — “Prince Adrien Leaves Princess High and Dry” someone had posted, with a link to a tabloid story aboutLe Paradisand a stand-up — apparently, the prince had slipped out the back in the middle of a date. That had been why she’d stopped at the restaurant that morning — she must’ve remembered without realizing.
“Are you sure that’s him?” Claire asked, looking again at the man, who was now being ushered up the gangplank by Mr. Bellagio.
Anna-Marie was already scrolling on her phone.
“Yes, look, there he is,” she exclaimed, holding up the phone, on which was now displayed a picture of the crown prince.
There was no mistaking it was him, and Claire’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. To see him up close was extraordinary.
“Goodness… I’ve never cooked for a crown prince before,” she said, wondering if her plans for the langoustines was now too simple.
“I wonder what he’s like,” Anna-Marie said. She was swooning, and Claire turned to her and rolled her eyes.
“He’ll be just like the rest of Mr. Bellagio’s guests — self-entitled and stuck-up. They all are. We’re just staff to them. To be seen and not heard.”
Anna-Marie looked disappointed. “But if it’s just going to be us with him on the yacht for the next few days… won’t he get bored without talking to someone?”
Claire smiled. “I don’t think so. I’m sure he’ll find plenty to amuse himself. Anyway, we should get back to work. If Vittoria knew we were standing here gawping, she wouldn’t be pleased.”
“I’m going to try to get a better look at him. I’ll pretend I’m taking some towels up to his cabin,” Anna-Marie said.
Claire smiled and shook her head. She’d never been particularly interested in celebrities. Monaco was full of them — whether those deserving of the accolade, or those who simply thought they deserved it. One royal someone was much the same as another, as far as she was concerned. Food was a leveler. Everyone had to eat.
And that’s my job. To feed them.
The langoustines were waiting to be boiled, and Claire had it in mind to serve them simply with tomatoes, garlic, and parsley. Good produce spoke for itself, and this was the kind of food she hoped one day to serve in her own restaurant — a dream that still seemed a long way off. As she busied herself in the kitchen, Claire could hear the sound of footsteps above on deck, and the voice of her employer talking to the prince.
“We’ll have lunch, then I’ll leave you. I wish I could stay, but I’ve got to fly to Milan — business with the bank,” he was saying.
It would be strange to set sail without Mr. Bellagio on board. Claire had gotten to know his likes and dislikes — how strong he liked his coffee, the way he preferred his eggs, how he detested anything with anchovies. But the prince was an unknown entity. She didn’t know anything about him, other than his reputation.
“I’ll manage well enough, I’m sure. It’s good of you to do this, Giuseppe. I needed to get away from this place — after all that business with the princess,” the prince was saying.
Claire was trying not to listen, but she could hardly avoid it. They must’ve been standing almost directly above her on the deck, and, with the galley window open, their conversation was clearly audible. The prince spoke with a soft, pleasant accent — a mixture of French lyricism and German exactness.
“It was hardly your fault — she has a reputation for being difficult. You shouldn’t blame yourself. Lots of people walk out on dates,” Mr. Bellagio replied.
There was a pause. Claire was chopping parsley, but she, too, paused, listening for the prince’s excuse as to why he’d slipped away from the restaurant in such a furtive manner,abandoning the princess to what was surely the young woman’s embarrassment.
