“Good,” Flicka said, watching everyone.“Now everyone puts their handguns in their holsters, and rifles will be slung by the straps over your backs, except the police.” She counted to three again.
The soldiers and mercenaries reluctantly secured their weapons.
“And now the police will holster their sidearms,” she said. “One, two, three.”
The police moved slowly, sliding their guns into their holsters while watching the heavily armedcrowd.
Flicka exhaled and leaned over, bracing herself on her knees. “And it’s over.”
Pierre said, “This would never have happened if you hadn’t had a bunch of mercenaries around you.”
“Don’t gaslight me, Pierre. Your commandos invaded my home. Obviously, you planned it, all along. I knew you’d pull something like this. You were going to kidnap me again. Hell, you might have been trying tokill me again.”
“Kill you?” The rise in Pierre’s deep voice sounded genuinely dismayed. “Again? I’venevertried to kill you.”
“At least twice,” Flicka said.
“Never.”
“When you had your hands around my throat and damn near choked me to death.”
“I’ve explained that. I’ve apologized for that.”
Didn’t mean it didn’t happen. “And at Wulfram’s wedding in Paris, when a sniper shot at me, and yourSecret Service left me high and dry.”
Pierre held his hands up and open. “I didn’t order that. I swear. I didn’t even know about it until afterward.”
Flicka stared at him, and she refrained from gasping. “Who ordered it?”
“My uncle, Rainier. I thought you knew this.”
“No.Why the hell would he try to kill me? I thought he liked that the Grimaldi had finally captured a Hannover princess.”
Pierre sighed and glanced out the windows. “I’m convinced that several of his bad decisions were precursors of the stroke, that he was having neurological symptoms months before the actual event.”
“He hated me because his brain was bleeding?”
“Not you. He always liked you, and he liked what you were.” Pierre said.“Me.He hatedme.He was trying to disinherit me. Once he found out about Abigaiand our children, he was absolutely convinced I was unsuitable and would ruin Monaco.”
“If the sniper was shooting at you, he was a lousy shot. Your uncle should hire better assassins.”
“The shot was supposed to wing you, not kill you. When the Secret Service took off and left you there—which Rainier also ordered, not me—he thought you would divorce me. It all comes down to divorce and the Church,yet again.”
“It sure as hell does, Pierre. Now get out, and take your military that can’t even properly assault a two-hundred-year-old party castle with you.”
“Weneedto talk,” Pierre told her.
Flicka shook her head. “No, we don’t.”
“Flicka, I beg you—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“The police still have arrest warrants.”
Flicka raised her head and spoke to the officer nearest to her. “He’sblackmailing me with those warrants. He said he’ll withdraw them if I do what he wants.”
The officer scratched her head and said to Pierre, “Mr. Grimaldi, if you’ve made these accusations in bad faith, there are consequences.”
