Dree said, “I was a worker on one of Prince Maxence’s charity missions. He hired me away from the charity to be his admin for a few weeks. He said there was somewhere I can stay here.”
The administrator’s lips crawled inside his mouth. “I was not informed.”
Dree started to apologize, but the bodyguard next to her said, “Come on, Sam. She’s been tramping around the countryside of Nepal for a month with Prince Maxence on another one of his charity jaunts. She’s exhausted and needs a room in the palace for at least a couple of days. I’m not sure if she’s going to be here permanently or just while she gets her bearings. In any case, she needs a place to stay tonight, and it needs to be here.”
Sam the administrator-guy shrugged and said, “I can assign her one of the scullery maid’s quarters in the back.”
Dree didn’t even rate being an admin anymore. Now she was a scullery maid.
Story of her life.
The guy clapped Sam on the shoulder and nearly sent him reeling into a wall. “I knew you had space in here somewhere. Now get someone to show her to it.”
A young woman was summoned, a slim secretarial-type wearing a black sheath dress and modest heels. Her dark blond hair was knotted tightly at the back of her head. She clasped her hands delicately at her waist and seemed to be perpetually leaning forward to listen to directions. She smiled faintly and led Dree through the rabbit warren of hallways to a small bedroom with an accompanying bathroom.
Dree slung her backpack off her shoulder and let it fall onto the bed. “Oh, thank God, it has a shower.”
The woman’s faint smile didn’t waver. “And what will you be doing for His Highness?”
She shrugged. “He said he needed an admin. I have a hard time believing you guys don’t have hot and cold running admins around here.”
The woman nodded, a measured movement that didn’t give anything away.
Dree asked her, “Do you know where I can go shopping around here? He said that I had to be ‘professionally attired,’ and I’m not even sure what that means.”
The woman cocked her head almost robotically. “Weren’t you an administrative assistant before?”
Dree shook her head. “I’m a nurse practitioner. I was out in the wilds of Nepal, treating infections and vitamin deficiencies, and now suddenly, I’m here. I’ve never been to Monaco before. Heck, before last month, I’d never been out of the southwestern United States.”
The woman blinked, and her expression softened to allow the tiniest bit of worry. “Oh, you poor thing.”
“And he just picked me up, told me I was his admin now, and dumped me here with the command to be in his office at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and not look like a slob who’s just gotten back from camping for a month. I have a few pairs of jeans, some thermal underwear, and ski pants. I don’t think that’s going to work.”
The woman looked at her watch. “It’s six o’clock.”
“What time do the shops close around here?”
The woman turned and started for the bedroom door. “The shopping center across the street is open until seven-thirty. It’s the one where we shop at, not the ‘billionaire shopping center.’”
“I don’t have any money,” Dree admitted.
“I’ll get a petty-cash credit card. His Highness said you were to be ‘professionally attired.’ That’s practically a purchase order. My name is Chiara Diallo. You have precisely ten minutes to shower, and then we will leave.”
Twenty minutes later, they were standing in theCentre commercial de Fontvieille,in a dark, narrow corridor lined with small stores. Christmas trees and potted poinsettias overflowed the edges of the hallway.
Dree stared at a storefront full of denim and red bandanas. “We’re in the middle of Monaco, in the French Riviera, in Europe, across the street from a medieval palace, and there’s a store here calledTexas.”
“Yes, certainly,” Chiara said blandly. “Monaco caters to many tastes.”
Dree tilted her head, because surely, she wasn’t seeing what she was seeing. “The denim jackets have red plastic arm fringe. This is an abomination of dude culture.”
Chiara was thumbing a text into her phone. Even when she was emergency-shopping, she stood with her feet together and her elbows near her sides, and her red lipstick was perfect.
Dree needed to learn how to do that.
Chiara said, “Nothing in that store would qualify as ‘professional attire.’ We’ll be shopping atCamaïeu Femmefor tonight. Surely, I can throw together something for you. We will get shoes at Minelli. Tomorrow, after His Highness dismisses you, I will take you to my little shops for proper clothes. But for tonight, we will make do.” She looked over the top of her phone at Dree and lowered her perfectly groomed eyebrows. “My hairdresser has responded. He is holding his shop open for us tonight, and you have an appointment at eight-thirty for a cut, facial, cosmetics consult, and manicure. I am sorry to say this, but your hair looks like someone chopped it off with a machete.”
Dree nodded. “Surgical scissors. I did it myself about a month ago.”
