The Playboy Prince (4 page)

“It’s what I’ve always wanted.” Eve looked down at the diamond-encrusted band on her finger. Even after two years it sometimes astonished her to find it there. “You know, Hannah, some mornings I’m almost afraid to wake up; I think that I’ll find out it was all a dream. Then I look at Alex and Marissa and think, they’re mine. Really mine.” Her eyes clouded a moment with both fear and determination. “I won’t let anything or anyone hurt them.”

“No one will.” Eve’s thoughts were on Deboque, Hannah surmised. The princess was bound by duty to keep some fears to herself. “Now, not to pamper, but I think we could both use some tea, then you can show me what sort of job I can do around here.”

Eve brought herself back with an effort. Nightmares of Deboque, a man she’d never seen, continued to plague her. “Tea’s a wonderful idea, but I didn’t bring you to the Center to work. I just thought you’d like to see it.”

“Eve, you of all people should understand that I need something to do or I’ll be bored to death.”

“But I’d hoped this could be a vacation for you.”

The guilt shimmered a bit. “Some people aren’t meant for vacations.”

“All right then. Why don’t you watch rehearsals with me for an hour or two and give me an honest opinion?”

“I’d love to.”

“Great I’m worried about the opening. We only have a couple of weeks left and I’ve had nothing but trouble with this playwright.”

“Oh, who is it?”

Eve rose and took a deep breath. “Me.”

*   *   *

Hannah drank her tea and stayed in the background. It didn’t take long for her to see that Eve was respected not
only as the wife of the heir, but for her knowledge of theater. She noted too that guards, unobtrusive but in force, were always close at hand. When the princess was in the theater, every entrance was blocked, every interior door was double guarded. Hannah was also aware that a special unit of security checked the Center daily for explosives.

While seated mid-theater with Eve, Hannah watched the rehearsal. She’d always had an affection and respect for actors, as she understood the effort and skill that went into characterization. Now, while lines were cued and staging set, she matched the members of the troupe with the information she already had compiled on each of them.

They were certainly talented, Hannah thought as she found herself drawn into the rhythm and emotion of Eve’s play. The sets were still incomplete, but the players needed no more than Eve’s words and their own skill to make a statement. Each one of the actors had a reputation in theater and a complete security check.

But it had been an actor—Russ Talbot—who’d nearly carried out Deboque’s revenge two years before. Hannah couldn’t forget that it was a strong possibility that someone other than herself had been planted. Deboque was known for covering his bets.

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?”

Drawn back, Hannah looked over at Eve. “I beg your pardon?”

“Chantel O’Hurley. She’s exquisite.” Shifting in her chair, Eve leaned on the seat back in front of her. “She rarely makes a stage performance, so we’re lucky to have her. I’m sure you’ve seen her films in England.”

“Yes.” Hannah gave her full attention to the curvy blonde center stage.

Chantel O’Hurley. Hannah paused to recollect everything she’d read in the actress’s file. Twenty-six. American film star. Residence, Beverly Hills. Daughter of Frances and Margaret O’Hurley, traveling entertainers. Sisters, Abigail and Madelaine. Brother, Trace.

Hannah frowned and continued to watch. She had full background information on the entire O’Hurley family, except the brother. There her sources had closed tight. In any case, Chantel O’Hurley was a talented actress with an impressive list of screen credits and no known affiliation with any political group. Nonetheless,
Hannah would keep an eye on her.

“She’s found the heart of it,” Eve murmured. “I’d finished the play and was trying to work up the courage to produce it, when I saw her in her last film. I knew immediately she’d be the perfect Julia.” On a long breath Eve leaned back again in an unprincesslike slouch. “I can’t believe she’s here, reciting my lines. There isn’t an emotion that voice can’t pull out.”

“I’m sure she’s honored to be performing in a play written and produced by Princess Eve of Cordina.”

On a half laugh, Eve shook her head. “If the play had been lousy, I could have been Empress of Europe and Chantel wouldn’t have accepted the part. That’s what I’m hanging on to.”

“A member of the Royal Family doesn’t write lousy plays.”

At the sound of the voice behind her, Eve was springing up and reaching out. “Alexander! What are you doing here?”

“I, too, have an interest in the Center.” He kissed the hand he held before turning to Hannah. “Please, sit, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No.” Eve sighed and glanced back at the stage where rehearsals continued. “You meant to check up on me.”

It was, of course, the truth, but Alexander only shrugged. In the dim light, Hannah saw his gaze sweep over his wife’s head to the guards placed at several strategic points. “You forget,
ma mie
, that I am still president of the Center. In addition to that, my wife’s play is in rehearsal. I have a small interest there as well.”

“And you came to be certain I wasn’t staying on my feet.” Over the frustration came the tug of love. Eve rose to her toes to kiss him. “Thank you. Hannah, tell His Highness I’ve been taking care of myself in the four hours and forty minutes since he last saw me.”

“Your Highness,” Hannah began dutifully, “the princess has been taking excellent care of herself.”

A smile softened his features, but he continued to stand protectively near his wife. “Thank you, Hannah. I’m sure the credit goes to you.”

With a low laugh, Eve tucked her hand through Alexander’s arm. “Hannah, you can see that I wasn’t joking
when I said that Alex thinks I need a keeper. If you hadn’t come I have no doubt he’d have hired a two-hundred-pound wrestler with tattoos.”

“I’m glad I could save you from that.” What was this? Hannah wondered. A tug of envy? Ridiculous as it seemed to her, she recognized the emotion as she studied Alexander and Eve. So much in love, she thought. The power of it all but cast an aura around them. Did they realize, could they realize, how rare a thing they’d found?

“Now that I’ve interrupted,” Alexander was saying, “I was hoping to convince you to join me for my luncheon with the American senator.”

“The Yankee from Maine.”

With a smile, Alexander stroked her cheek. “My dear, it continues to fascinate me how your country divides itself into sections. But yes, the Yankee from Maine. We should be finished by three and be back at the palace when Marissa wakes from her nap.”

“But you had a meeting this afternoon.”

“I canceled it.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I wanted to spend some time with my family.”

The glow of pleasure all but lit up the theater. “Give me five minutes to get my things. Hannah, you’ll join us?”

“If it wouldn’t inconvenience you, I’d really like to stay and watch the rest of the rehearsal.” Her mind was already shooting ahead. Alone, she could take a casual tour of the complex. If there were vulnerabilities, she’d find them.

“Of course, stay as long as you like.” Eve bent down to kiss her cheek. “We’ll have a car wait for you at the stage door. Five minutes,” she repeated to Alexander before she dashed off.

“What do you think of the play?” Alexander asked Hannah as he took the seat beside her.

“I’m hardly an expert on the theater, Your Highness.”

“In private, please call me Alexander.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, aware that this gave her an intimacy rewarded to few. “There’s an intensity, an immediacy in the dialogue that makes one care deeply about the characters. I don’t know the end, but I find
myself hoping Julia wins even while I’m afraid she won’t.”

“Eve would like to hear that. The play—and other things—have her very tense right now.”

“You’re worried about her.” In a gesture that was pure instinct, Hannah placed a hand on his. “She’s very strong.”

“I know that, better than most.” But he’d never been able to block off the memory of how her body had stiffened, then gone limp in his arms when a bullet had struck her. “I haven’t told you before how very grateful I am that you came to be with her. She needs friendship. I changed her life, selfishly perhaps because I couldn’t live mine without her. Whatever can be done to give her a sense of normalcy, a sense of peace, I’ll do. You understand the obligations of royalty. The limitations. Even the risk.”

“Yes, I do.” Hannah left her hand on his another moment before removing it. “And I understand a happy woman when I see one.”

When he turned to her then, Hannah saw the strong resemblance to his father. The lean, almost scholarly face, the aristocratic lines, the mouth that was held firm. “Thank you, Hannah. I think perhaps you’ll be good for all of us.”

“I hope so.” She looked back at the stage, at the players, at the roles. “I do hope so.”

*   *   *

Alone, Hannah watched for another half hour. Yes, the play was good, she decided, even gripping, but she had other games to play.

The guards remained, but with no royalty present they were more for the purpose of keeping others out than monitoring those already in. Lady Hannah was already established as the princess’s confidante and companion. Trusted by Prince Armand himself, she wasn’t followed when she rose and slipped through a side door.

There was a miniature camera concealed in a lipstick case in her handbag, but she didn’t use it now. Her training had taught her to rely on her powers of observation first, her equipment second.

A building the size of the sprawling Center wasn’t easily secured. Hannah found herself giving Reeve MacGee a nod of respect as she walked through. Heat sensors as well as hidden cameras. But the sensors were activated only when the Center was closed.

Security passes were required at the door for members of the cast and crew. On the night of a performance, however, entrance could be gained for the price of a ticket. Deboque would step from behind bars in a day’s time.

As she walked, leaving one corridor for the next, Hannah drew a blueprint in her mind. She’d studied the layout of the Center on paper before, but preferred to walk in it, to focus on it, to touch the walls and floor.

Too many blind corners, she thought. Too many small rooms used for storage. Too many places to hide. Even with Reeve’s expertise, the building could be vulnerable with the right plan of attack. But then, Hannah believed any building could be.

She turned into Wardrobe, pretending a casual interest in the costumes. Did the guard at the door know everyone by sight? How easy would it be to replace one of the technicians? A photo was affixed to the pass, but makeup and hairpieces could take care of that. How often had she, or another like her, gained access to a place by faked credentials or a clever disguise?

Once inside, a man could disappear easily. If a man on the security panel could be bribed or replaced, so much the better.

Yes, she’d put that scenario in her report and let her superiors chew on it awhile. She’d add to that the fact that no one had checked her bag. A small plastic explosive could be easily carried and easily planted.

She walked from Wardrobe into a rehearsal hall walled with mirrors. With a little shock, she stared at her reflection on all sides. Then, as she had in the garden, she let out a low, easy laugh.

Oh, Hannah, she thought, how miserably dull you are. Turning to the side, she shook her head. No, maroon did nothing for her, and the high-necked jacket with its bulky belt only made her look unattractively thin. The skirt came well below the knee to hide her legs. She’d braided her hair today, tightly, then had circled the braid at the base of her neck.

Being a part of herself, it was the best cover she could have conceived. She’d been too skinny as a child, with unmanageable hair, and knees that were forever scraped. Her facial bones had been prominent even then, but in the young girl’s face had seemed too sharp, too angular.

Then when the other girls had begun to bloom and curve, Hannah’s body had remained stubbornly straight. She’d been bright and athletic and cheerful. Boys had patted her on the back and called her a good sport, but they hadn’t been interested in taking her to any dances.

She’d learned to ride, swim, shoot skeet and to put an arrow in a bull’s-eye from a hundred paces, but she hadn’t dated.

She’d learned to speak Russian and French and enough Cantonese to surprise even her father, but she’d gone alone to her own graduation ball.

When she turned twenty, her body changed, but Hannah hid the late blossoming under dull clothes. She’d already chosen her path in life. Beauty turned heads and in her field it was always best to go unnoticed.

Now, she looked at the results in the wall of mirrors and was satisfied. No man would desire her. It was human nature to look at the physical shell and draw emotion from that long before you dipped beneath to the intellect or soul. No woman would envy her. Dull was safe, after all.

No one would suspect a plain, bookish woman of excellent breeding and quiet social manners of deception or violence. Only a select few were aware that the woman beneath was capable of both.

For a reason she couldn’t name, that thought made her turn away from her reflection. Deception had been with her all of her adult life, and yet she couldn’t quite dismiss the twinges of guilt she felt whenever Eve looked at her as a friend.

It was a job, Hannah reminded herself. No emotional attachments, no emotional involvements were permitted. That was the first and most important rule of the game. She couldn’t afford to allow herself to like Eve, to even think of her as anything but a political symbol. If she did, everything she’d worked for could be lost.

The envy had to go as well, Hannah reminded herself. It was a dangerous lapse to let herself look at the
love between the prince and Eve and wish something similar for herself. There was no room for love in her profession. There were only goals, commitments and risks.