15 Shades Of Pink (52 page)

“This is just for us?”

Courtney rolled her eyes. “We’ve never had the chance to throw a dinner party here. And Nicholas takes my meals up to the Prince. I don’t even get to see the look of pleasure on his face when he tastes my exquisite lamb roast. Just indulge us.” She gestured to the table. “Please, be our guest.”

Reginald pulled out her chair, and the indulging was all on their end: appetizers, a soup and salad course, a fresh lemon sorbet to cleanse her palate. At least, that’s what they told her it was for. She’d thought dinner was finished and they were having sherbet for dessert. That led to a few strained laughs until Belle almost busted a gut when she found out what the little lemon scoop was really for. “The last time anyone washed my mouth out it was for experimenting with a certain foul word when I was six, not to make way for more food.” They’d laughed so hard at that, she feared they’d bother the prince.

Belle was full after the fish course, enjoying the conversation with the staff, while Courtney flitted to and from the kitchen, stopping to taste her creations and ask Belle what she thought, before popping back up to bring out the next course.

Mrs. Downing turned on light classical music, and more laughter soon filled the air. Even the dogs joined the party, bounding into the room, rewarded with scraps from the table.

Then Courtney came out with the main course. “Crab-stuffed filet mignon,” she announced.

Belle settled her hands over her stomach. “I couldn’t.”

Courtney pointed the serving fork at her. “You must.”

Belle dropped her head back. Was there such a thing as a food hangover? She was sure to find out the next day. They’d been eating and talking for hours.

“You’re such an amazing cook. And you threw together such a beautiful dinner party. Why are you guys working here, when you can only share your talents with a client you never even see?”

Courtney set down the serving platter and dished out the meat. Her smile disappeared. “I want to open my own restaurant some day. The Prince pays me double what I’d make anywhere else right now, plus free room and board. I’d be crazy to quit.” She didn’t sound entirely convincing.

“I couldn’t leave the prince,” Mrs. Downing said, setting her hand over her heart. “I’ve been with him since he moved to America eight years ago.”

“Same here,” said Rory.

Reginald pursed his lips. “I’ll be with the prince until I die.”

“Enough, already.” Courtney forced a smile. “This is a party. Let’s celebrate the arrival of our new guest. Eat up!”

The dogs stared at the table mournfully, hoping for a few more bits of food, while Belle regaled them with a tale about the time she worked with a man who’d cut off two fingers with a circular saw. “And he was still able to….” Her words trailed off as she watched four sets of eyes shift to the hall. She followed their gaze, and saw a figure dash away. “Was that the prince?”

Reginald rose from the table. “Yes. We’ve upset him.” He left the table and hurried out the door.

Mrs. Downing flicked off the music. “He was such a lovely man before…” She stopped herself, as if she’d said too much.

“Before?” Belle asked.

Nervous looks flashed between the four staff members still in the room.

Courtney sighed. “Before his crazy girlfriend killed herself and ruined his life.”

Belle gasped.

“Quiet! We are not to speak of it!” Rory said, covering the ears of the dog sitting at his feet.

Courtney shrugged. “He loves my lasagna too much to fire me.”

“What did his girlfriend do?” Belle asked quietly.

This time, Mrs. Downing spoke up. “His girlfriend Vivian was … intense. She wanted to get married, so of course, he decided it was time to break up.” She sighed, like an old radiator.

“What happened?”

Courtney picked up the story with a hushed voice. “She lured him out to the balcony where she jumped to her death. After throwing acid in his face.”

Shaking her head, Belle covered her mouth to keep the scream in her throat.

“She said if he wouldn’t love her, she was going to be sure no one would ever love him. And then she jumped.” Mrs. Downing’s voice cracked.

Belle felt tears in her eyes. “What did the acid do to him?”

“It left him grotesquely disfigured. Or so his doctor said. I’ve never seen him,” Courtney said.

Mrs. Downing pulled a small picture from her apron pocket and handed it to Belle. She took the picture, fingering its frayed corners as she studied it. A dark-haired young man in uniform looked up at her. He appeared grim, as if he’d known what was to come. But he was handsome; undeniably, the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, with chiseled features, light blue, deep-set eyes and a lock of thick curls that fell over his forehead. Basically, exactly what you’d expect a prince to look like. “He’s so handsome.” She gazed at him a little longer before handing the picture back to Mrs. Downing.

“He was. He hasn’t let any of us see him since. He’s stayed in his chambers since he left the hospital six years ago.” Mrs. Downing slipped the photo back in her apron and started gathering the dirty plates from the table.

Belle struggled to swallow. Mrs. Downing set her hand on Belle’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have told you. We’re not to speak of it, but it’s a sadness we all carry with us. And now you do, too.”

Belle nodded, disappointed their fun evening was ending on such a sad note. “Can I help you clean up?”

“No, we’ve got everything covered,” Courtney said.

“I’m going to turn in. Thanks for a lovely dinner.” Belle trudged to her room and had a hard time sleeping that night, imagining what the rugged face of the prince looked like now.

***

“No more parties!” shouted the prince, slamming his fist on his desk.

Nicholas spread his hands apart. “It wasn’t a party. It was dinner with our new guest. She’s going to be staying here for a while. We want her to feel comfortable, so she’s relaxed to finish her job.

“Even my dogs abandoned me!” The prince ran his hand through his hair. It was getting long, and he was due for another cut. He buzzed it to his scalp every six months; he wouldn’t let anyone come in to cut it. Life could be difficult when you spent it locked away. And here he’d thought it would be the simplest solution—hiding. It was surely easier than facing the world again.

“You could always join us, your highness.”

The prince laughed, though he wasn’t amused. They both knew Nicholas called him your highness when he was trying to sway Max. “You can’t even bear to look at me, you think the rest of the staff could? You think Belle wouldn’t recoil at the sight of me?” He spat out the words.

Nicholas raised his eyes to him. “I don’t look at you, your highness, because I know it makes you uncomfortable when I do. But when I do catch a glimpse of you, I see the same man I’ve always served.”

Maxim turned from him; he
was
uncomfortable with Nicholas’ gaze. “That’s enough from you tonight, Nicholas.” He was feeling calmer, though his heart rate wasn’t slowing. He was still thinking about Belle. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she wouldn’t gape in horror at him. Someone with such a pleasant laugh couldn’t be cruel, could they?

He’d had all day to look over the research and photos. Belle Foster was training to be a master carpenter, she won a spelling bee when she was twelve, enjoyed reading in her spare time, and she photographed very well. Which made him even angrier to hear her laughing and enjoying herself downstairs while he had lingered at the tops of the stairs eavesdropping like an outcast, imaging he’d been part of the fun.

Nicholas let himself out of the room. The prince sighed. He wasn’t angry about the party. He was angry he hadn’t been brave enough to be part of it. He was angry Vivian had been right; no woman would ever love him again.

From time to time, Nicholas asked him why he didn’t try more reconstructive surgery. He’d undergone three rounds. But doctors had told him they wouldn’t be able to totally repair the damage. He’d never be the same, and anything less than what he had been wasn’t acceptable.

His three dogs had slunk back to his room, and slumbered at the foot of his bed in a shaft of moonlight that shone through a gap in the curtains. He reached down and scratched Duke behind the ear. His leg twitched in response. He liked the feel of the dogs’ wiry fur against his skin. Max hadn’t felt the touch of a human in six years, since he’d holed up in this room.

Three Sea Goddess muffins remained in the box. He broke one in half and tossed it to the dog closest to him. King’s head popped up and he snatched the muffin midair. When Nicholas had brought up samples from a new bakery, he thought they’d be the perfect treat for his dogs. He wasn’t concerned about healthy foods for himself. He ate what he wanted; it was one of the few pleasures left.

His days started with a shower and breakfast in the morning. The next few hours were devoted to reviewing the news from around the world. He broke for lunch and did some reading for enjoyment. Then he attended to whatever business was at hand for the day—reviewing correspondence from his country, checking his investments. He spent a few hours each afternoon lifting weights and running on his treadmill. He was in good shape for a hermit. Dinner followed his workout, and then he faced the long, long evenings. The nights were the worst. Once upon a time, it had been his favorite time of day, filled with drinks and dancing and beautiful women.

That’s probably why he’d been so upset with the dinner party one floor below. Now he was embarrassed by his behavior. Surely, Belle had heard him blustering about when he ran from the stairs. How could he make it up to her? Let her know the recluse prince wasn’t totally lacking in manners in refinement?

He tossed another hunk of muffin to Duke, and Queenie was soon looking for a treat too, so he gave her the rest. He spent the rest of the night mulling over what he could give Belle as an apology. How could he show her he wasn’t the beast he surely seemed to be? And he couldn’t stop thinking about what Nicholas had said: you could always join us.

But he truly couldn’t, could he?

***

Belle jumped every time she heard an unfamiliar noise the next day as she worked on the bookcases. She dropped a handful of nails when Mrs. Downing rapped on the door to ask if she’d like some tea. She was expecting the prince—or his assistant—to come down and fire her for causing a ruckus in his home last night.

Kneeling on the ground, she searched for the tiny nails scattered on the hardwood floor. She couldn’t stop thinking about the handsome prince in that picture and his piercing eyes. The poor man, feeling like such an outcast that he hid away in this gorgeous apartment. Would he even use this library she was finishing?

It was no matter. Her father would be paid, and hopefully get future work from the prince. Picking up the last nail, she sat back on her heels and sighed. It was going to be a long month working here with the mysterious man lurking above, watching and listening in the shadows.

Her head snapped up when she heard a creak in the hall. Nicholas rapped on the door. “May I disturb you for a moment?”

She stood up “Certainly.”

He walked in with an enormous vase of bright flowers. She spotted roses in the bunch, and others far too fancy for her to know.

“These are from the prince. He’d like to apologize for his outburst last night.”

Belle stuffed the nails in the pouch of her tool belt. “This wasn’t necessary.” She took the flowers from him, her cheeks burning.

“He wasn’t himself last night. He’s a very dignified, distinguished man. He’s afraid he gave you the wrong impression.”

She smoothed her hands down her thighs. “I’m sorry we disturbed him.”

“Don’t think twice about it. Can I tell him his apology is accepted?”

“Of course. And can you tell him he’s more than welcome to come and see the work in progress to be sure its to his liking?”

Nicholas forced a smile. “I’ll tell him. But he won’t come.”

“If he never leaves his chambers, why did he have this library made?”

Nicholas shrugged. “He uses an ereader, but he wants a home for his books. He has many first editions, you know. I’ve told him you’re continuing your father’s quality work. How is he?”

“I call the hospital three times a day. No change in his condition. I’m hoping to see him soon.” She frowned. She couldn’t stop to think about her father, or she’d collapse in tears and be no good for the rest of the day. She had to plow through this job so she could get back to his side.

Nicholas pursed his lips. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

***

After lunch, she paused to admire her flowers. She’d never gotten such a gorgeous bouquet. When Stewart did think to send flowers—usually after a fight he hadn’t been able to win—he’d send the obligatory dozen red roses, without a card. None of those bouquets had brought her close to the same thrill as the one sitting in front of her. And she had no idea why.

She picked up her hammer, ready to start the next bookshelf, when she heard another creak in the hall. “You know, I could look into fixing the squeaky floorboard if you’d like, Nicholas.”

There was no answer, just an intake of breath. Goosebumps spread up her arms. The prince was in the hall watching her; she knew it. But more than startled, she was worried her reaction would frighten him away. “Would you like to come in and look at my work, Prince Maxim? You’re going to have a beautiful library, soon. I pride myself in flawless work.”

She waited to hear the rustle of clothing as he rushed away, the quick movement of departing feet, but it was silent. She dared not move; neither did he.

Then a low, deep voice said, “Flawless is good. Something I’m no longer used to in my life.”

She regretted her words immediately. She didn’t know what to say. Luckily, he continued. “But I didn’t come to check on your work. I came to see if you liked the flowers. Nicholas said you were pleased, but he would say that. I had to see for myself.”

She had her back to him and didn’t turn to look; that would spook him away for sure. “They are truly the most lovely flowers I’ve ever received. Not that I’ve gotten many.”