I don’t know why Casimir, Roxanne, and Julianna even flew to London first. They should’ve flown directly to Nice so they would be sure to arrive in time. Austin is six months old. He can probably walk from the heliport to the palace. Where the hell are they?
From her vantage point several stories above most of Monaco, Dree saw a helicopter with the Union Jack flag painted on the tail lowering onto the palace’s roof like a very British dragonfly.
She texted back to Maxence,Looks like they’re here. We won’t have to postpone the wedding of the century after all.And she began to call Chiara.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Landing
Lord Arthur Finch-Hatten, Earl of Severn
Arthur leaped from the helicopter as soon as the skids touched the helipad on the Prince’s Palace and held the door open for his wife and the others to disembark. He crouched, and the propwash ruffled his black hair. “Come on, come on! We haven’t a moment to spare!”
Casimir opened the rear door and stepped down onto the tarmac, reaching back into the aircraft for a tiny human being who was passed to him. “It’s okay, Julianna. Daddy’s got you.” He secured the toddler under one arm and then held out the other to steady his wife, Roxanne, who was clambering down.
Arthur braced the door with his back and reached inside for the infant carrier. He slung the handle over one arm and then helped his wife, Lady Genevieve Finch-Hatton, the Countess of Severn, step out of the helicopter. She was still more voluptuous than usual after she’d been delivered of their son six months ago, and Arthur had half-convinced himself that she was as delicate as a soap bubble in this condition. If he tried to lift her down from the helicopter, she would probably fend him off out of habit. The diaper bag swinging from her arm was big enough to hold Liechtenstein.
After Casimir and Arthur settled their wives and children on the tarmac, they both reached back into the helicopter to hand their respective nannies out. It seemed inadvisable to take children under two years old to an internationally televised event that involved silently sitting and not moving.
Gen took the infant cradle back from him and crowded the babysitter off to the side. “What are we going to do with Austin and Lydia? They can’t come to the ceremony with us. We didn’t have time to check into the hotel. They don’t have anywhere to go.”
Casimir’s wife, Roxanne, was saying something very similar, except with the names Julianna and Maranda.
Arthur told them all, “We need to get away from the helicopter and into the palace.”
The door from the palace slammed open. Black-clad mercenaries stormed onto the roof, arms extended as they aimed handguns at the group of them.
Arthur and Casimir spun, their hands up.
Casimir called out, “We are here for the wedding! Please call Prince Maxence. I am Prince Casimir of the Netherlands, and this is Lord Arthur Finch-Hatton, Earl of Severn of Great Britain.”
The man with a short ginger beard under his sunglasses, wearing black mercenary fatigues and pointing a semiautomatic pistol at Arthur, didn’t flinch. Arthur recognized Aiden Grier from his stocky peasant build to the psychopathic deadness behind his blue eyes.
A man at the back, whom Arthur vaguely recognized from the last time they’d stood on this roof with Maxence, called out for the Rogue Security mercenaries to stand down and then said something in Dutch to Casimir, who laughed.
The rest of the mercenaries lowered their weapons to aim at the tarmac just in front of their feet.
Arthur took several sidesteps away from his wife and child so they wouldn’t get hit by a stray bullet or shrapnel, and he did not look away from Aiden Grier’s unblinking eyes.
Aiden Grier snapped his gun to his side, but he didn’t break the stare, either.
The door flung open again, and a slim woman wearing a black pencil skirt and suit jacket while holding a computer tablet walked out onto the helipad. Her tightly controlled hair wound into a bun did not move in the prop wash from the helicopter blades.
She stopped in front of the mercenaries, standing with her feet pressed together as she studiously consulted the tablet in her arms. “Your Highnesses and My Lord and Lady, please come right this way. Ms. Clark has tasked me with finding accommodations for your children in the palace while you attend the wedding. My name is Chiara Diallo, andI will make sure everything is perfect.”
Chapter Forty
Altar
Maxence
Maxence stood at the altar that again had been assembled at the base of the two curving staircases descending from the second-floor loggia to the courtyard of the Prince’s Palace of Monaco.
The roses and gardenias radiated their sweet scent into warm air that June evening, and Maxence twisted to wave to the crowd behind him.
Lady Valentina Martini had made a full recovery after her heart attack during Max’s enthronement and had resumed her place in one of the forward boxes reserved for the nobles. Her prim nod suggested such a spectacle would not happen again.
Alexandre and his wife Georgie were seated in their box reserved for the Duchy of Valentinois, and a couple whom Maxence didn’t know was sitting with them. The blond woman’s feet swung a few inches above the ground. She wore a flowing pink dress that floated around her in the light summer breeze.
