“Howdy, Otto.” Dree lifted her head and asked Max, “Are these guys royal people or priests?”
That got a laugh.
Arthur chuckled very Britishly. “I can guarantee that’s the first time I’ve ever been mistaken for a priest. Wait, no it’s not. But it’s nothing to be spoken of.”
Dree said to Arthur, “Your voice sounds familiar.”
“We spoke on Maxence’s phone during the Sea Change Gala, I’m afraid.”
“I’m pretty glad we did if it led to y’all getting me out of that mess.”
Maxence made the introductions around. “The English gentleman in the front seat is Lord Arthur Finch-Hatton, Earl of Severn. He lives just outside of London, and his wife was delivered of their first child and heir to his earldom just over a month ago.”
“Oh, congratulations!” Dree called up to him, even though everyone could hear her just fine through their headphones.
Arthur puffed up in his seat like he might explode from paternal pride. “We thank you.”
“And the gentleman under your head is Prince Casimir van Amsberg of the Netherlands. He will never be the king because his older sister is the Crown Princess and seems to truly enjoy having babies. I believe they are up to, what, five? And every time his sister, whom we call Princess Anastasia the Nefarious, feelsbroody,Caz drops another spot in the line of succession.”
Casimir bent his neck and looked down at the girl in his lap. Max wanted to remind him to keep his hands to himself. Casimir said, “Which is all well and good. I’m an entertainment lawyer in Los Angeles, and my wife doesn’t like the cold.”
Dree grinned up at him, and Maxence wanted to guide her chin toward him so he could feel that smile. She said, “I hear that. I don’t even like the winter in Phoenix.”
Maxence continued, “And in the middle seat is Tristan King, who joined Le Rosey when we were in upper school. He does some sort of stock trading with computers. And the other three guys are our friends, too. We’ll meet them later.”
Twist held his hand above her, and Dree reached up to shake. He said, “Call me Twist. I do high-frequency arbitrage trading and venture capital.”
Dree was blinking at him as she shook his hand. “That sounds fascinating.”
Twist raised one dark eyebrow at her and grinned. “AndI’mnot married.”
Dree giggled at him, her succulent flesh jiggling on all their laps.
Maxence ran his hand up her calf to her knee. “AndI’mright here.”
Dree pushed herself up on her elbows to look at Max, and Casimir’s expression turned very nervous for a second until she was solidly braced. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I was going to die in there. They kept talking about how they were going to shoot me, and their biggest problem was how and where to dispose of my body, those assholes.”
A faint cold sweat popped out of Max’s pores. “I’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again, I promise.”
Dree tilted her head to the side. “Maxence, honey, it’s not your fault. It’s their faults. They did this, and no one could have protected anyone from it.”
“But I’ll make sure. I’ll make sure you’re safe, no matter what I have to do.”
Casimir leaned over Dree’s head. “Max, we can divert to Nice and go directly to The Hague. Anastasia would relish having the two of you under her roof for as long as necessary.”
Maxence shook his head. “Now that Dree is accounted for, the Crown Council meeting is in less than six hours.”
Casimir frowned. “Monaco isn’t safe for you. You were kidnapped last night in an attempted coup. You can fall back and plan your next move in exile. It would be safer.”
“Like Napoleon exiled on Elba?” Max asked him.
Casimir said gently, “Napoleon regained power.”
“Napoleon was an aggressive little jerk who attacked first and came up with his strategy later.”
“Like walking into the Crown Council meeting unprepared for another kidnapping or assassination attempt?” That was less gentle.
Dammit, Caz was right. “Monaco is in danger. I won’t leave the citizens of Monaco to be ruled by a dictator, because that’s exactly what Prince Jules would do.”
