When he dug his teeth into the side of her neck, she cried out, and the world vibrated and shifted as the air turned white around her. Every rub of his hard, muscular body against and inside her ignited another swarm of ecstasy in her body and skull.
Eventually, she opened her eyes to the small bedroom, with Dieter holding her in his arms and murmuring,“My love, myDurchlauchtig,”as his lips caressed her temple and ear.
They sat up for a little while and ate the supper thatOcéane had packed for them, leaving some rolls for breakfast the next morning, before they turned out the light.
Flicka snuggled down in Dieter’s arms and tried to sleep, at least tried to rest, but all night, she listened for Monegasque boots marching up the spiral staircaseto take her back to Pierre and the Prince’s Palace, that medieval fortress. Dieter wouldn’t get a second chance to break her out. They would probably murder him in this cheap hotel in the Swiss red-light district.
While Dieter had been inOcéane’s house, she’d found a newspaper blowing across the parking lot. In the Arts and Society section, she’d read that the Monaco Council of Nobles had notconfirmed Prince Pierre Grimaldi as the next Sovereign Prince of Monaco as had been expected, and they would meet again in two days.
No mention was made that the Princess of Monaco was missing, but her absence was surely why the confirmation process hadn’t been a mere formality.
Pierre would be getting desperate to find her.
Flicka prayed that they would get toSchloss Marienburgthe next day,and surely they would be safe in the Gothic Revival castle, surrounded by her father’s guards.
She got what rest she could and watched the sun rise over thePâquisdistrict of Geneva, surrounded by Dieter’s strong arms.
