Maxence shook his head. “I’m not having this discussion with you again. I have a doctorate in theology, and I have completed most of the qualifications to become a Jesuit. I have every intention of becoming a priest.”
“And why haven’t you been ordained, yet?” Jules asked lightly, and then his stare into Max’s eyes became more intense.
Maxence smiled. “The timing hasn’t been right.”
“Prince Rainier IV intervened with Pope Celestine VI.”
Rainier’s opposition to Max’s vocation was no secret. “Celestine is no longer the pontiff, and I will soon be at liberty to take my vows.”
“I would have thought you’d have pushed harder.”
“Even a prince has no authority over the pope.”
“But Monaco is a deeply conservative country. Many of our citizens want you to take up Rainier’s mantle.”
“I’ve made my intentions perfectly clear. I am to become a Catholic priest. I will repeat my determination to do so at the Council of Nobles.”
Jules didn’t break the eye contact, and neither did Max. “I’m surprised you think you are going to be able to escape taking the throne.”
Maxence shrugged and allowed his gaze to drift toward the office’s high ceiling and ornate crown moulding, trying to show his absolute disdain for this line of thinking. “His Holiness Pope Vincent de Paul will support me in my quest for the priesthood after a new prince is crowned. We are also a deeply Catholic country. His word will prevail.”
“You always seemed more ambitious than merely being an itinerant Jesuit, wandering about the globe with your liberation theology heresies. I thought you’d have given that up by now.”
Jules had always paid laser-sharp attention to the people ahead of him in the line of succession.
Max leaned forward with his elbows on the desk and stared straight into his uncle’s gray-blue eyes. “Why would I want to administrate forty thousand citizens from thePalais Princierwhen I can rule a billion souls from the Vatican?”
Jules’s grin finally reached his eyes, where it turned into fiery hunger.“That’sthe Maxence I’ve always known, and now everything makes sense. I don’t like it when people don’t make sense.”
Maxence settled back in his seat.
“Your continued disinterest in the throne should lead you to call a meeting as soon as possible, don’t you think? Especially now that Alexandre and Christine are back.”
“Other Council members are not currently available. I believe we will have to wait a week or so until they return.”
“But the Sea Change Gala is just a few weeks away.”
“Yes, you’ve noted that on many occasions.”
“But it is. Official invitations must be printed.”
“That’s not your job.”
“And yet I know that it has to happen.”
“My position has always been that we should not rush to anoint a new sovereign merely because a charity event is scheduled.”
“But who will host?”
“Does the gala really need an ‘official’ host?” Maxence asked, not entirely able to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Surely, the Grimaldi familyen massecan be the hosts of record, and guests will be happy to have their pictures taken with any one of the dozen or more Grimaldi who will be there.”
Jules shook his head. “That’s not why people buy tickets for thousands or tables fortensof thousands of euros, not to mention the VIP tickets. They have high expectations for the honor they will get for their money.”
“Would you like to host the Sea Change Gala, Prince Jules?”
“Oh, not me. I’ve reconsidered that. I’m abominable at these kinds of soirées. Everyone is expecting you, not a has-been like myself.”
“I was planning to attend, but there’s no reason for me to host officially. Indeed, many would see it as presumptuous.”
