The inside of Maxence’s head screamed.
His skin crawled under the reek of the shirt.
The blackness and the tiny space, filled with his own breath and his stench, pressed on his flesh, smashing him.
I give you my pain.
I give you my fear.
I will endure anything if you show me the way.
Give me a sign, or give me certainty, or give me the strength to put my feet on the right path.
When Maxence couldn’t stand it anymore, he slapped the light switch to turn the light back on.
He was lying on his side on the rough carpeting, staring up at the silent wooden carving.
Chapter Seventeen
His Highness, Prince Jules Grimaldi
Maxence
January days turned into January weeks.
Another dawn and another day Maxence spent at the office dealing with the minutiae of Monaco and the interminable quest for the next sovereign prince.
Dree Clark was installed in her admin’s chair, ostensibly taking notes for the palace archives but actually writing down whatever he told her to, which usually did not resemble the conversation in the slightest. She was lovely, sitting there in a pearl pink dress and ivory shoes the color of her skin. Maybe if they had a moment between appointments, he would have her sit on his desk with one foot on either side of his hips so he could run his hands up those shapely legs of hers to her panties and see if they were wet.
And if they weren’t, they would be soon enough.
He wanted to take her somewhere remote, somewhere far away, where he could have a week with her for all the depraved things he craved, not stolen minutes between meetings or after midnight.
Maxence was considering clawing his way out of the palace through the walls to spirit her away. That inclination increased tenfold when the office phone at his elbow clicked and the receptionist said, “Your next appointment is here, His Highness, Prince Jules Grimaldi.”
Seriously, the medieval walls were probably only a foot of stone and plaster. Max could probably dig his way through with his hot chocolate spoon.
The door at the end of the long office opened.
Maxence wondered if his uncle Prince Rainier IV had ever had that trapdoor and secret passage installed under his desk as he’d griped about for years.
Jules Grimaldi bounded up the long carpet, his hand extended to shake as he grinned. “Maxence, so good to see you again.”
He rose and extended his hand in return. “Uncle, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
His uncle Jules’s hand was cool and damp like shaking a fish, and Jules grinned a mischievous smile. “I heard both Duke Alexandre and Lady Christine Grimaldi have returned to Monaco!”
Maxence shrugged. “I hadn’t heard.”
“But this is excellent news! We can hold the Council of Nobles meeting and elect a sovereign prince!”
“I think that’s premature.”
“But Maxence, my dear boy, you are already doing the job. Don’t you want the title and recognition that goes with it?”
Ah, Uncle Jules had come to play. “Someone needs to handle the day-to-day business of the principality. Since I am the first in line to the throne, it naturally falls to me, and I am at least moderately trained for the job. Uncle Rainier saw to it that I had at least a remedial education in administration, though of course, he prepared Pierre much more thoroughly.”
“But you’re so diligent at it. Anyone would think you were auditioning.”
