Was that his sister?A friend? A girlfriend? Why didn’t he introduce her to us? Maybe she’s his married mistress or a fuck buddy.
Yeah, that must be it.That’s what I’d expect from Count Jonas d’Alenq.
CHAPTER6
JONAS
I guide Gigi…ahem, Princess Eugénie, downstairs to the soundproof room. Until a month ago, there had been no such room in this house. But then Princess Felicia—our oracle and Gigi’s mom—had a vision about me. A couple of days later, two MacGyver-type agents from the Mount Evor Secret Service hauled supplies and tools into my basement and created this room.
Gigi’s bodyguard follows us a few steps behind. When I open the door to the “conference room,” he goes in first and inspects it before nodding to Gigi that it’s safe for her to go in.
“Thank you,” she says to him. “Please wait outside.”
He frowns.
She sighs. “Oh, come on! You just inspected the room.”
His face a picture of resigned stoicism, he exits.
Gigi steps inside. I switch on the light and tug on the handle behind me. The door closes with a quiet click. Silence descends. The sounds of the house filled with thirty or so people and the sounds of the street that’s just a dozen feet away on the other side of the fence disappear. The MESS MacGyvers know their shit.
The room is windowless. Its only source of light is the fixture in the ceiling. The bare walls and the ceiling have been painted pristine white, making it look eerily sterile. There’s a stale scent in the air that comes from the closed-in atmosphere, spiced up with hints of fresh paint and glue.
I bow. “Your Royal Highness.”
“Count d’Alenq.” She inclines her head demurely before winking at me. “Let’s switch to Gigi and Jonas, shall we? I doubt the head of Royal Protocol can hear us now.”
“Indeed, he can’t.”
She takes in the bare walls, hardwood floors, and lack of furniture. “Cute dungeon!”
“Thank you,” I deadpan. “It’s where I spank my detractors.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Detractors or willing girlfriends?”
“Impossible!”
“Which part? You having a willing girlfriend or you spanking her?”
Dropping my poker face, I laugh.Gigi has bite!
If we weren’t distant cousins, that alone might’ve gotten me interested in her. What annoys me, though, is that she knocks the bottom out of my theory of women. I’d write her off as the exception that proves the rule, but if I’m being honest, I’ve seen other exceptions. There’s Prince Maximilian’s wife Lucie, my cousin Louis’s fiancée Camille… and Margot Nolan.
It doesn’t matter. Beckhap’s law has been serving me too well to allow reality to challenge it.
Gigi makes a sweeping gesture. “Jokes aside, this is a little over the top even for MESS, don’t you think?”
“They’re overcompensating because they still haven’t outed Kurt Ozzi’s mole inside the palace.”
“True…”
I’m itching to pull up a chair and invite her to have a seat. But there are no chairs in this room.
Gigi gives her bob a small shake as if to chase away some unpleasant thought. “How are you folks? And little Matteo?”
“Everybody’s fine. Mother plays the piano all day long, as usual. Celeste knits or reads through movie scripts with joy, or reluctantly handles the admin work for the studio. And Matteo… he’s doing great.”
All things considered.
