Maxence looked at Dree. “You have it?”
She nodded, bending that supple neck of hers.
He turned back to Nico. “Who else?”
He stared at Maxence, dropping one eyebrow. “You really aren’t going to stand for election, are you?”
“No.”
“Good, because I’m essentially giving you a hit list of the people who might stand in your way. If you were like half our relatives, I would worry that anyone whose name came out of my mouth might end up a floater in the harbor by the yacht club.”
Maxence chuckled. “I don’t want to be the prince, Nico. If I could sneak out of this country in the dead of night without repercussions, I would, but I don’t think that’s the case. I did my best not to come back for a decade. I want to be a priest, and I would have taken Holy Orders by now if Uncle Rainier would’ve allowed it.”
Nico let his head drop backward again. “I guess that’s true.”
“You might not want to mention this list to other people.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Is there anybody else who either is considering a run for it, or we should consider prodding them to?”
Nico shook his head, rolling his skull back and forth where it lay on the back of the chair. “I need time to think about this. I thought you asked me here to secure my vote. I didn’t even consider the possibility of someone else, and I certainly don’t have a list of nominations right at the forefront of my brain. I’ll keep in touch if I think of anybody.”
“Yes, thank you,” Maxence said.
Nico left them, and Maxence was once again alone with the tantalizing Dree Clark, whose shoe was still dangling from her toes like fresh meat in front of a hungry wolf.
Chapter Five
Kissin’ Cousins
Dree
Dree steadied the tablet on her knees and prepared to take notes like a secretary once again, even though she was a nurse. And she had a master’s degree in nursing. And she had several years’ work experience in a major hospital as a nurse.
Not that she was whining about it or anything.
Didn’t secretaries get chased around the desk by the boss? She needed to negotiate which perks and fringe benefits she was entitled to.
The slim phone on Max’s desk spoke. “Your Highness, sir, Their Graces the Duke and Duchess of Valentinois have arrived.”
Dree tried not to snort. Geez, that was a mouthful. It was a good thing they didn’t have to do that at the hospital where she’d worked in Phoenix.Your Highness, Dr. Jackson, sir, His Grace the Duke of Ahwatukee and Count of Chapparal, Lord of the White Tank Mountains, is currently presenting with a Code Blue.The patient would be brain dead before the call for the crash cart was finished.
At the end of the long room, the door opened.
Maxence stood and told her, “Your subject is wool prices.”
Oh, heck. She could natter on about wool for hours.
“Alexandre!” Maxence stepped around the huge desk and strode across the palace office toward the couple who’d been shown in by Quentin Sault, who remained inside and stood at the back of the office.
That guy, Quentin, was so unobtrusive that he seemed to fade away, first to a gray mist, then settling between the books like dust.
The white man and woman who stood by the door were slender in a way that suggested health and exercise, not cigarettes and pills.
Max didn’t introduce Dree to his guests. Dree was staff, sort of. She set her tablet computer on her knees and tried to disappear into the air the way the other staff members did.
Staring at the backlit screen became too difficult, and Dree sneaked a peek at the two people Maxence was approaching with his arms spread wide.
