Along Came A Prince
Read Along Came A Prince Online
Authors: Carlyn Cade
ALONG CAME A PRINCE
By
Carlyn Cade
Copyright © 2014 by Carlyn Cade
Table
of Contents
ONE
“I am
so
not a party girl,” Stacia Saunders whispered to her brother, Ryan, as they
exited their limo and stepped onto the red carpet leading to the evening’s
festivities. She might resemble one all dressed up in an ultra-expensive gown,
jewelry and silver stilettos, but she actually felt more like a race horse with
a million dollar purse riding on her nose. In her case, however, it was $50,000
– the price of two tickets to enter Hollywood’s Caviar-on-Ice Extravaganza.
Who paid for those
tickets was still unknown, but her curiosity kept firing the number one
question at her. Why? Why would someone pay that much money to have her come
here tonight and not identify himself? Or perhaps, herself? Would she even find
out who it was? By accepting the tickets, she guessed she was easily bought,
but after all, it was for charity, so how could she not comply with the wishes
of the mystery donor?
The red carpet
parade began. The crowds of celebrity fans had lined both sides of the walkway,
barricaded by fencing, like they did when they watched sleek and silky horses
strut their stuff at a racetrack.
Only this time,
the spotlight was on her and the image she portrayed as an actress and
celebrity. She started to walk slowly, focusing on the instructions given by
her publicist.
Take your time on the red carpet. Model your gown as if you
were on a runway, but be discreet about it. Stay a short distance from your
escort and a longer distance from other celebrities, so only you appear on the
cameras. When you hear your name being yelled from a certain area, be sure to
stop and sign a few autographs. Always be gracious. Don’t lose your patience no
matter what happens.
And the shouting began.
“Hey, Stacia, look this way!”
She did, and
flashes lit the air.
“Stacia, who’s
that guy with you? A new boyfriend?”
“My brother,” she
answered, hoping she wasn’t caught with her mouth open while the cameras
clicked.
She glanced at the
fans gathered up and down the audience rows as they yelled and screamed at
their favorite stars while holding up signs and papers to get their attention.
She noticed a small child with a toothless grin whose arms were stretched out
wide open as she waved her blue book and pen right at Stacia. Her heart melted,
and she went over to the little girl.
“Will you sign my
autograph book, please?” the small child asked shyly and handed Stacia her book
and pen.
“Sure,” Stacia said
and asked her name, and then wrote
To Jenny
on a page, and finished by
writing her own autograph under the child’s name. At the last second, she added
a drawing of a smile face. “Here you go, sweetie,” she said, but before she
could hand the book back to the child, more pieces of paper fluttered in her face.
Remembering her instructions, she signed a few of them and turned to leave,
waving back to the fans and calling out, “Thank you, everyone.”
Continuing her
stroll, she was repeatedly stopped by Entertainment Tonight, Extra, NBC, Access
Hollywood, E! and other newsworthy media. The same questions were repeated.
“Who did your
gown?”
“Armani.”
“What’s your
next movie?”
“I’m still
reading scripts.”
“Anyone special
in your life?”
Stacia shook her
head
.
“Not yet.”
More fluff questions
followed, and her answers reminded her of making photo copies of the same
picture. Sameness didn’t change.
Finally, the mini-interviews
were over, and she joined her brother once more. They entered the theater and
stood in line with the other celebrities and guests waiting to be escorted
one-by-one with their partners to the top of the staircase leading down to the
ballroom.
When it was their
turn and her name was announced, Stacia stood poised for a moment at the top of
the stairs. Taking a deep breath, and with a big smile on her face, she took
Ryan’s arm. They proceeded down the steps to mingle with the rich and famous
invited to this star-drawing, charity event.
The night’s
elegance and sophistication matched the glitz and glamour always present at a
high society affair, except this evening an aura of hushed excitement hovered
over the crowd. The overall effect made shivers slide up and down her arms.
As Ryan and she stepped
through the archways leading to the entry of the ballroom, she realized the
Caviar-on-Ice Extravaganza’s name fit the room’s crystal castle like
Cinderella’s slipper fit her foot. Camera flashes bounced off the ice, causing
a mirrored mirage of twinkling, falling stardust. Piano music drew her into the
promise of romance, while the orchestra’s violins, harps and other string
instruments serenaded her. Soft lighting cast a misty glow to the icy land they
had entered.
“Hmm,” she said,
returning to the reality of the evening. “Where do you suppose the guest of
honor is?”
“You mean the
invisible Prince Clayton Alexander – the one who refuses to have his picture
taken or be interviewed?” Ryan asked. “Makes you wonder why, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe he wants to
be judged for his art and not his riches.”
“Yeah, but it
doesn’t matter what he wants anymore, he’ll be unveiled tonight along with his
work. From the amount of photographers here, he will be known around the world
by morning.”
“Hal said they’re
calling him the best in his field.”
“Doesn’t your
agent call you that too?”
Stacia fought the
urge to laugh out loud. “Don’t you think Hal might be just a
little
prejudiced, like you? He has to think that, or he wouldn’t be able to get me
any roles.”
“I think your Mr.
Montgomery knows talent when he sees it.”
Answering her
brother with a quick smile, her attention was captured once more by the
splendor encasing them. “It’s unbelievable that he’s created all this ice magic.”
“Yeah, it’s beauti
– Damn it, Stace, I have to take this,” Ryan said as he checked the calling
number on his cell phone. “It shouldn’t take long.”
“Take your time. I’ll
wander around the room and see the rest of the prince’s frozen kingdom.” As he
walked away, Stacia decided to explore the massive sculpture in the middle of
the room.
Four ice-chipped
statues of fantasy fish stood perched on their tails around the circular
ice-chiseled pool. Each fish shot cascading champagne from its mouth, the color
dependent on the rainbow reflections of the rotating spotlights aimed at it.
Huge silver plates with high pedestals held caviar and were embedded in the
sides of the pool between each fish. Blocks of ice steps covered with plush red
carpeting, which seemed to be everywhere, led up to the stacks of glass plates waiting
for the guests to indulge in all the caviar they desired. A fountain in the
middle of the fish odyssey shot up continuous streams of champagne.
After studying the
center work-of-art, she moved on to the giant polar bear standing with one paw
held high, his shiny claws implanted into the sides of an ice-sculptured
salmon. Stark white spotlights accented the bear’s frigid transparency. Silver
plates held the salmon delicacy for the guests to enjoy. Wherever she looked,
other ice sculptures came to life and captured her imagination.
How could any one
person be so artistic? How could he coordinate his chiseling chores to come up
with such masterpieces and not have ice melting all over? The temperature in
the room was perfect for her sleeveless gown, yet she couldn’t see any water
drips no matter how closely she inspected each sculpture. What kind of secrets
did he have stored inside him to accomplish such a feat?
Her mind strayed
even further when she started to wonder what the prince looked like. Was he
handsome as a prince should be? Was he young? And where did his talent come
from? Did he –
Bump!
She
felt the rub of someone else’s derriere against hers.
“Ah, my little chickadee...”
a deep, raspy voice began.
Stacia turned to
face, in her opinion and everyone else’s it seemed, the sleaziest movie
producer in Hollywood. Farrell Fontaine had a fetish about W.C. Fields and did
his best to imitate him in everything he did. He stood in front of her, staggering
slightly, a champagne flute swinging precariously between his thumb and
forefinger, its contents dripping down the front of his enormous potbelly. He
certainly was well into his dream world tonight, even though only appetizers
and champagne had been served so far.
“Been-meanin’
ta-call ol’ Hal about you, my little-red-haired-vixen.” His words slurred
together and when he took another sip of his drink, he drooled even more liquid
down his tux and onto the floor.
A cocktail server,
her lavish endowments blatantly displayed, chose that moment to appear with a
fresh tray of drinks. As drunk as he was, Farrell managed to deposit his empty
glass onto her tray, grab a full one and the woman’s behind at the same time.
Stacia took the opportunity to slide away from him, hoping and knowing at the
same time he’d never miss her.
She made a mental
note to discuss Farrell’s remarks with Hal. Farrell needed a hit badly as he
was descending fast into the land of has-beens, and lately he’d produced movies
that were borderline porn. She wanted none of that, as if her agent would allow
it anyway.
To keep her
distance from Farrell, Stacia headed back to the caviar. Though she had never liked
those delicacies the limited times she’d tasted them, surrounded by such
magnificence tonight, she thought it only appropriate to try those little fish
eggs again. A passing waiter offered her champagne. She accepted and strolled
toward the red carpeting. Might as well take advantage of every speck of
glamour she could soak up tonight. After all, this was Hollywood at its best,
and she was a glamorous actress – well, the actress part was correct. Who could
ever call a farm girl who used to milk cows glamorous? Not with the way she
looked then, all freckled and tanned, pigtailed and scrawny. Anyway, when would
she have the opportunity to view a North Pole illusion like this again? Probably
never, at least, not containing Prince Clayton’s creative abilities.
As she approached
one of the platters of caviar, a guy examining the ice sculptures as she had,
leaned sideways, lost his balance and bumped into her in the same manner
Farrell had jarred her. The chain reaction continued as her glass plate flew
out of her hand, hit one of the ice steps and smashed. At the same time, her
grip on the champagne glass loosened, and the liquid splashed down the front of
the man’s pants.
“Oh my gosh,”
Stacia exclaimed.
“Damn,” he
uttered, almost under his breath. “Sorry, I never swear in front of a beautiful
woman. I was just…” he started to say as he bent over and tactfully tried to
brush off the blotches of spilled champagne on his pants.
“And I’m sorry
too.”
“For my ego or my
soggy pants?” He straightened up, a grin surfacing on his face.
“Both, I guess.”
She opened her evening bag and pulled out a couple tissues. She held them up to
him. “Will these help?”
He stared at them
and shook his head. “Thanks, but no thanks. On all this black fabric, the lint
would make it look like it had snowed on me.” He went back to his job of
removing the champagne spots from his trousers. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.
I’m the one who lost my balance.”
“Oh darn, and I
thought you were just falling for me.” She pretended to pout.
Why am I flirting
with this stranger?
She was surprised by her interest and lack of tact
.
She’d
never done that in her life
ever.
“That would be
easy to do.” His grin turned into a full-fledged smile. “Fall for you, I mean,
with the way you look tonight.”
Now
he
was
looking
her
up and down.
Her face tuned into a full-fledged
blush.
“Unfortunately,
lovely lady, we’ll have to continue this conversation later.” He gave her a
small salute, turned and walked away.
She just stood
there and didn’t know if she should be insulted or complimented. Obviously, her
attempt to flirt with him had failed, but what he’d said didn’t sound like she
was a failure.
Who was he? Some celebrity she didn’t know? Or a new handsome
actor she hadn’t seen before? Maybe even a charming gigolo? A waiter? No…not
likely. A waiter would be passing out champagne.
“Is everything
okay, Stace?” Ryan asked as he suddenly appeared in the stranger’s place.
“I’m having a
great time. How about you?”
“I’ve got a
problem,” he said, grimacing.
“What’s wrong?”
Her tone was casual from force of habit, as if she didn’t know the answer from
the disappointments past experience had taught her.
“I just talked to
the chief, and he ordered me to come in. Right now.” He turned both hands palms
up and shrugged. “It’s hell being a detective sometimes.”
“Did you tell him
your ticket cost $25,000?”
“Yes, and he said
we’ve been working on this drug bust, which is worth millions, so how could I
compare it to a piddling amount like $25,000?”
“Did you say you
were working on your own case, trying to find out who sent the tickets?” Stacia
was grasping at straws – anything to keep her brother from missing out on the
rest of the evening.
Ryan laughed. “Yeah,
like I’d say that. Besides, Brannigan was already rambling on about this affair
and all the security he had to provide for it. He said he needed every
available man at the station immediately, and that included me, and I should get
my ass back there.”
“In your tux?”
Stacia had to smile at the thought of her brother appearing at the station
house in his tux. Boy, would he get teased, just as she was teasing him now.
