“If I were a doctor, I would do that,” she said, and he smiled at her.
“I know you would.”
“I wish I could dedicate my life to helping people, as you do. The things I do for my father seem so stupid. The ribbon business. It means nothing, to anyone,” least of all to her.
“I'm sure it means something to them,” he said gently.
“It shouldn't. I'm nothing more than a hospitality committee. My father does the real work, he makes economic decisions that affect the country positively, or negatively if he makes the wrong decision, although usually he makes the right ones.” She smiled loyally. “He makes humanitarian efforts, he makes things better for people. He takes his responsibilities so seriously.”
“So do you.” Parker was extremely impressed by that about her.
“It makes no difference. Cutting a ribbon will never change anyone's life.” She wanted to start working at the foundation that winter, but hadn't had time yet. Her father was keeping her too busy making state appearances for him, many of which were things Freddy should have been doing, but never did. In some instances, Christianna was carrying the ball for all three of them. At least if she started work at the foundation, she would feel she was doing something useful. But going to state dinners, and all her other minor duties seemed meaningless to her. And for that, she was having to give Parker up. It seemed inordinately cruel to her, just so she could be a princess, obey her father, and serve the people of Liechtenstein.
“Does your brother do anything?” Parker asked cautiously. He knew it was a sore subject with her.
“Not if he can help it. He says he will wait to grow up until he is the reigning prince, and that could be a long time from now. I hope it will be.” Parker nodded. Her brother sounded like a scoundrel and a black sheep, but he didn't say it to her.
Eventually, they went upstairs to change for dinner, but never made it out the door of their room. They wound up making love again, sitting in the bathtub together afterward, and ordering room service. And they fell asleep in each other's arms again. It was the perfect weekend.
The next day they went to mass at Sacre Coeur, and listened to a choir of nuns sing. It was a beautiful day, and they walked in the Bois de Boulogne, and smiled at people kissing and walking their babies and dogs. It was a perfect day. They went for ice cream, stopped for coffee, and finally, relaxed and happy, they drove back to the Place Vendôme, and walked into the Ritz. She had asked the concierge to make dinner reservations at Le Voltaire, which was her favorite small, chic restaurant in Paris. They had few tables, a cozy atmosphere, great service, and fabulous food.
At nine o'clock they left the hotel, dressed for dinner and in high spirits. Christianna was wearing a very pretty pale blue Chanel suit, with high heels and diamond earrings. She loved dressing up for him, although it was certainly different than when they had been in Senafe. And he loved how elegant she was now.
As they walked out of the lobby, he put his arm around her as soon as they came out of the revolving door. The air was balmy, and she was smiling at him lovingly—when suddenly like a rocket explosion there was a flash of lights in her face. She didn't even have time to register what it was and they ran to the waiting car, followed by a trail of paparazzi. Parker looked stunned, and Christianna instantly unhappy when Max whisked them away.
“Go! Go! Go!” Max told the driver, as Sam hopped in next to them in back, and within seconds they sped off but not before two more photographers got them.
“Damn!” Christianna said, looking at Max in the front seat. “How did that happen? Do you suppose someone called them?”
“I think it was an accident,” he said apologetically. “I almost warned you, but you came out too fast. Madonna walked out of the hotel just before you did. She's staying at the hotel, too, and they were waiting for her. I think you were just a bonus.” But they had obviously recognized her the moment she came out of the hotel, and they had caught her smiling adoringly up at Parker, with his arm around her. There was no mistaking what this was, or that it was a romance. “We'll go in the back way later.”
“It's a little late for that,” she said tersely, and looked at Parker, who was still stunned. He hadn't even had time to react yet, and his eyes still had spots in front of them from the strobes. There was no doubt in Christianna's mind that the photographs would turn up somewhere. They always did. At an inopportune time when it was embarrassing, or at the very least awkward. And if her father saw them, which he would if they came out, he was not going to like it. Particularly her lying that this was a shopping trip. And he didn't like her making a spectacle of herself in the press. They had enough of that with Freddy.
Christianna was quiet on the way to the restaurant, and Parker was sorry to see her upset. He tried to console her, and she was a good sport about it, but it was obvious that she was worried. “I'm sorry, baby.”
“Me, too. We didn't need that headache. It was so nice while no one knew.” And essential.
“Maybe they won't use them,” he said, trying to sound hopeful.
“They will. They always do,” she said sadly. “My brother makes such an ass of himself all the time that they always try to tar me with the same brush. The shocking Liechtenstein prince and princess. They love saying things about royals. And I'm so careful to stay out of the press that they always get excited when they see me.”
“It was rotten luck that they were waiting for Madonna.” She agreed with Max that he should have warned her, but he explained that she must have already left the room when he saw them, because she was out the door within seconds, and Madonna had just sped off in a limousine with her children.
She tried not to let it spoil dinner for them, but Parker could see that she was distracted and worried. They enjoyed it anyway, but it put a damper on the evening. She was worried sick about what her father would say when he saw the press, and once he saw Parker. It opened a whole can of worms she didn't want to have to deal with yet, and had taken the timing right out of her hands. But she was helpless to change it.
They went in through the service entrance of the Ritz, on the rue Cambon. It was the same entrance Princess Diana had used when she stayed at the hotel. Many celebrities and royals came in the back entrance, and rode up in the tiny elevator, to avoid the paparazzi waiting for them out front. And then finally they were back in the safety of her room, and she relaxed again in his arms. They made love again that night, and there was a bittersweet feeling to it. She was so afraid that the photographs that had been taken would be used to force her hand with Parker. Once her father knew, she would be entirely at his mercy, which was the last thing she wanted.
Still worrying about it, she slept fitfully that night, and woke up several times with nightmares. Parker comforted her as best he could, and they were both quiet over breakfast the next morning, as the roomservice waiter poured their coffee. They waited until he left the room to discuss it further. Christianna trusted no one now. She had been shaken by the paparazzi attack the night before. She dreaded discussing it with her father, if it actually hit the press.
“Sweetheart, there's nothing you can do about it,” Parker said sensibly. “It happened. It's over. We'll deal with it if it comes out,” he said calmly, sipping the hot coffee.
“No, we won't deal with it, if it comes out,” she said, sounding strained and unhappy. She was tired after sleeping badly the night before, and obviously worried. “If it happens, I'll deal with it. And so will my father. I'll be dealing with him alone. I didn't want that to happen to us, until we were ready. Because I'll get one shot at this, to convince my father about us. He won't let me discuss it with him twice. And the way to start that conversation wasn't with a lie. I lied to him about coming to Paris.” But as always, she'd had no other choice. Her range of options was always narrow, and limited at best. “I just don't like it. Being exposed in the press is so tacky and unpleasant.” She had an aversion to that, unlike her brother, or perhaps because of him, and his frequent scandals, she was even more sensitive about it.