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“I’m focusing,” he insisted.
But only, it seemed, on Anny. He couldn’t seem to make sense of anything beyond her soft voice somewhere behind him, followed by the melodious sound of her laughter. Then he heard Gerard, too, chiming in, speaking rapidly in French to whoever they were talking to, and then Anny switched to French as well. Their conversation went too quickly for him to have any idea what they were saying.
She sounded happy, though. Was she happy? What about her loveless marriage?
“But if I drowned, I couldn’t be in your film then, could I?” Mona was saying.
He stared at her blankly.
She laughed, again. “Never mind, dear.” She gave him air kisses and began to move away. “Another time. I think I’ll find another drink.”
“I’ll get you a drink,” he said hastily.
“No, dear boy. I’m fine. You stay here and entertain royalty.” And giving his cheek one more pat, she swept away.
He turned to protest again—and came face-to-face with Anny.
Her wide eyes were searching his face. Her smile, so polished earlier, looked slightly more strained now. “Demetrios.”
He drew himself up straight. “Your Highness,” he said stiffly.
“Anny,” she corrected, her voice soft, the way it had been in bed.
He ground his teeth. “I don’t think so.” His voice was, he hoped, pure steel. He braced his back and elbows against the railing, and glared down at her.
“Anny,” she insisted. “It’s who I am.”
“Certainly not all of who you are,” he reminded her sharply. “You could have told me.” He looked around for Gerard, expecting him to appear at her side. But her prince had moved away and on the other side of the deck, deep in conversation with Rollo and another studio executive Demetrios knew.
“I could have,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to. Why should I?” Her tone was indifferent, as if it could make her idiocy appear perfectly reasonable.
“Because I might have liked to know?” he snapped.
No one was close to them. The sextet had begun to play. A clarinet was warbling. Thank God, because this wasn’t a conversation anyone should be overhearing.
“I asked you to tell me what I should know about you,” he reminded her.
“You didn’t need to know that.”
“You asked me to sleep with you!”
Color flared in her cheeks. She glanced around quickly as if fearing people would hear.
A corner of his mouth twisted. “Something else you don’t want anyone to know? Afraid your elderly widower will learn what you were up to?”
“My what?” She looked confused.
“Your fiancé,” he bit out. “The man who is oh-so old and decrepit and who doesn’t love you.”
“I never said he was elderly or decrepit. Gerard is twenty-one years older than I am,” she said through her teeth. “Which may not seem like much to you, but it is a different generation.”
He grunted, acknowledging that. But it didn’t explain the rest. “So why are you marrying him? Daddy forcing you? Are you making a governmental alliance?” He spat the words.
“Something like that.”
He snorted. “Give me a break. This is the twenty-first century!”
“It can still happen,” she maintained.
“You’re saying your old man sold you off to the highest bidder?”
“Of course not! It was simply…arranged. It’s good for both countries.”
“Countries? That’s what matters? Not people?”
She lifted her chin. “Gerard is a fine man.”
“Whom you betrayed by sleeping with me,” he pointed out sardonically.
She opened her mouth as if she would deny it, but then she closed it again, her lips pressing into a thin line. The color was high in her cheeks. She looked indignant, furious, and incredibly beautiful.
“Obviously I made a mistake,” she said tightly, hugging her arms across her chest. “I was out of line. I never should have suggested anything of the sort. It was…” She stopped, her voice not so much trailing off as dropping abruptly.
“What was it?” Demetrios asked her, trying to fathom what was going on in that beautiful head of hers.
She shook it. “Nothing. Never mind. Forget it.”
“Will you?” he asked her.
“Yes.” The word came out quickly. Then her gaze dropped. So did her voice. “No.”
At her soft yet stark admission, his own eyes jerked up to search her face, to try to understand her. Once he’d caught on to Lissa’s duplicitous behavior, he began to have an inkling what she was up to, though God knew he’d had no idea how far she would go.
But Anny didn’t sound like she was lying now. Not this time.
“Did it solve anything?” he pressed her.
She didn’t answer. Finally, when he thought she wasn’t going to reply at all, she shrugged. “I don’t know.” She wasn’t looking at him now. She’d come to stand next to the railing, too, and now stared across the water toward the lights of Cannes. Her shoulders were slumped.
Demetrios was still angry, though whether he was more annoyed at her or at himself, he couldn’t have said. After Lissa, he damned well should have known better. And what the hell was Anny doing, letting herself be a pawn?
It was none of his business, he reminded himself. He should turn and walk away. But his feet didn’t take the hint. They stayed right where they were. Behind them the sextet had segued into something lilting and jazzy.
Anny didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze never wavered from the shore.
“Fascinating, is it?” he demanded when she still didn’t look at him.
“It’s beautiful,” she replied simply.
He grunted. “All lit up like a fairy tale,” he said mockingly, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“Some would say that,” she agreed quietly.
“Not you?” He pressed her. The breeze lifted her hair. It smelled of citrus and the sea. He wanted to touch it, to brush it away from her face, hook it behind her ear, touch her cheek. Touch her.
He knotted his fingers together instead.
“I’m not a big believer in fairy tales,” she said in a soft monotone.
“Except for one night,” he reminded her harshly.
“I’m sorry. You could have said no,” she pointed out.
His jaw tightened. “Should have said no,” he corrected.
The breeze caught her hair again and tossed tendrils of it against his cheek. More citrus scent assailed his nostrils. Demetrios turned his head away, but just as quickly turned back to breathe in the scent again, to feel the softness touch his face.
She took a careful breath. “I want to thank you for going back to see Franck.”
“No thanks necessary. I didn’t do it for you,” he said flatly.
“I know that. But even so, it means a great deal. To him,” she added. “And taking him sailing.” She turned her head to smile at him. “Brilliant. I can’t believe you got him to do it. But he loved every minute.”
Demetrios didn’t want her thanks. He didn’t want her smiles. He shrugged irritably. “I was glad to do it. He’s a good kid. Smart. He’s got a lot of potential.”
“Yes.” Anny smiled slightly. “I agree. I’m afraid he doesn’t.”
“He’s angry. Given what happened to him, why shouldn’t he be?” Demetrios remembered all the times in the past three years when his own anger had stopped him cold, threatening to derail his dreams. There were too many to count. Now he took a slow careful breath. “He’ll find his way,” he said. They continued to stare at the seafront in silence for a long moment, then he added, “He’ll get there with some support from friends like you.”
“And you,” Anny added.
Demetrios shook his head. “I’m leaving. Bright and early tomorrow morning. I’m taking my brother’s boat to Santorini.”
“But you won’t forget Franck.” She sounded certain.
How could she know him well enough to be sure of that when he felt like she didn’t know him at all? Demetrios didn’t know. But he had to admit she was right in this case. “No, I won’t forget him. I’ll stay in touch.”
She smiled, satisfied. “He’ll like that.” She stared down at the water, unspeaking for a long moment, but she didn’t walk away.
Neither did he. He didn’t feel as angry now. He couldn’t have said why, except that this Anny, princess or not, was the one he remembered.
She brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I thought you’d be gone by now. You got what you came for—excellent distribution, a highly acclaimed film.”
“Rollo’s taking it on, yes. And the critics have been kind.”
“I’m sure it’s not just kindness.”
“You didn’t see it?” Surely princesses could see whatever they wanted. Royal prerogative or some such thing.
“No. I—I wanted to. But I didn’t want you to think—” She stopped.
“Think what?” he demanded.
She shrugged awkwardly. “That I was…chasing you. I meant what I said, one night. I told you the truth, Demetrios. I just…didn’t tell you all of it.” She had turned and was looking at him intently now, as if she were begging him to believe her.
Did he? Or was she as good an actress as Lissa?
It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. Princess or not, she wasn’t part of his life. Not after tonight.
But he couldn’t stop himself saying, “Look, Anny. You can’t do this if you’re not sure. Gerard might be a great guy. But marriage is—” He let out a harsh breath, knowing he was the last person on earth who should be offering advice on marriage. But then, who knew better the mistakes you could make even when you thought you were marrying for love?
“Marriage is what?” she asked when he didn’t go on.
“Marriage is too damned hard to risk on flimsy hopes!” He blurted the words angrily, not at her, but at Lissa.
Of course Anny didn’t know that. She stared at him, eyes wide at his outburst.
Demetrios stared back. It was none of his business. None of his business. The words echoed over and over in his head.
“Adriana!” Gerard’s voice behind them made them both start.
“I have to go,” Anny said quickly.
Demetrios straightened up at once, and gave her a polite distant nod. “Of course.”
But still she didn’t move away. She faced him and looked into his eyes for a long moment, a slight smile on her face. “Thank you.”
He raised a brow. “For the memories?” he said sardonically.
She nodded. Their gazes locked.
“Adriana!” Gerard’s voice came again, more insistent this time. Anny turned to go. Demetrios caught her hand and held her until she looked back at him. “Don’t regret your life, princess.”
Demetrios kept away from her the rest of the evening.
Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? He thought she’d used him and lied by omission. It hadn’t felt like a lie. It had felt like being able—for once—to share herself, the woman, not the princess, that she really was.
But she didn’t suppose Demetrios saw it that way. He was probably avoiding her. Or maybe he had forgotten her already. She was the one who had vowed to remember. And dear God, she was. Every single second Anny knew exactly where he was. She saw who he talked to, who talked to him.
As Gerard’s unofficial hostess she was required to focus on other things, on all his guests. And no one could have faulted her attention to her role. She chatted with his guests, gave them what she hoped appeared to be her undivided attention—even when it was being shared with the tall, lean man with wind-blown hair talking to this producer or that actress.
Gerard kept her close, smiling at her and nodding his approval. “Your papa is right. You are marvelous,” he told her.
Yes, Papa would be proud. But Anny’s heart wasn’t in it. Her soul wasn’t in it. Only later that evening when, shortly before midnight, she saw Demetrios board the launch back to the harbor, did her heart and soul let her know where they were. A hollow desperate ache opened up inside her.
He wasn’t for her. She knew that.
She repeated it over and over in her head even as she continued smiling brightly at the couple telling her about their South Pacific cruise. She nodded, commented, laughed at a witty remark and didn’t miss a beat.
