Princess Thief: Stealing Your Heart (15 page)

“Oh,
for God’s sake-” Guillermo rolled his eyes.

The
baron continued,
“My
associates and I have been meeting with Prince Guillermo every day since his
late arrival in the capital — an arrival delayed until after the previous king
had been laid to rest in his immortal tomb because the prince was too busy with
his constituents in North Africa to bother keeping up with events in his own
country, our beloved San Morrando — and we have emerged from those meetings
with the prince most concerned.  Most concerned, indeed.”

“Do
you believe this?” Guillermo said.

“Sir. 
Please,” Armand shushed him.

“My
biggest concern — no, I should say,
our
biggest concern — is the
cavalier attitude that the prince brings to Palais d
’Or.  His
priorities clearly lay elsewhere; his focus is overseas, whether it be
gallivanting around North Africa or maintaining his playboy lifestyle.”

“Playboy
lifestyle!?” Guillermo blurted out.

“Where
is the respect for tradition?” Baron Amsel droned on.  “Where is the gravitas
that the prince — the man who would be our king — needs to display to maintain
the respect of foreign leaders?  Some would argue that youth is a good thing to
have in a monarch.  I would counter that the last thing San Morrando needs is a
king who is out-of-control, who is privileged, who doesn’t realize what an
honor it is to serve, who thumbs his nose at tradition, and who is more in
touch with the average citizen of North Africa than he is with his own citizens
right here in San Morrando.

“And
so, working with several of my esteemed fellow senators, we have crafted a
common sense bill — a bill which, if passed, will cement into law a respect for
the monarchy so that the citizens may have a king that they are proud of; the
king they deserve.  As I’m sure you’ll see, these are nothing more than common
sense proposals — a list of long-standing traditions that we are merely codifying
into law.”

The
baron unfurled a scroll and began reading. 
“Article 1: the monarch may spend no
more than 21 days outside of the principality within a calendar year.  This is
to insure-”

“That
bastard,” Guillermo growled.  “He knows it will take at least 2 months to get
the North Africa charities stabilized.”

“Article
2: The monarch shall have one job and one job only: being king.  This will
insure that the king will spend his time being king and not playing doctor-”

“Playing
doctor?!” Guillermo was outraged.  “Armand!  What is the meaning of this?!”

“I
believe I might have an answer.”  Juliette turned to see the Solicitor General,
Señor Ordaz, standing in the doorway behind her.

“Señor?”
Guillermo asked.

Armand
made a motion to Alicia; she nodded and muted the TV.

The
Solicitor General continued. 
“The baron’s office was kind enough to fax me a copy
of the proposed law.”  He held up five pages of paper.

“And?”
Guillermo prompted.

“And
it’s quite restrictive, as you’ve no doubt heard.  If you or Princess Sofia
fail to meet any of conditions of the law, your family will forfeit the crown.”

“To
whom?” Juliette asked.

“It
doesn’t say anything in
this
law, but you
’ll no doubt
remember from your high school civics class on the Constitution that should the
monarch fail to perform his duties or otherwise be found unfit
and
no suitable
heir can be found, the monarchy reverts to the Senior Senator of the
Parliament.
”

“Baron
Amsel,” Guillermo frowned.

“Exactly,”
the lawyer nodded.

“How
long do we have before he presents this to Parliament?” Guillermo asked.

“The
Constitution mandates at least 24 hours of debate on any newly proposed law. 
If he presents it first thing tomorrow morning, the full Parliament could hold
a vote as soon as the next day.  At any rate, we can meet in my office later to
go over the specifics if you would like.”

“Yes,
please, Señor,” Guillermo said.  “And thank you.”  Guillermo turned to Alicia
and said, “Alicia, rewind it a bit.  I want to hear the rest of it.”

Alicia
did so, then pressed Play.  The baron
’s voice intoned out of the TV speakers.

Se
ñor Ordaz leaned
down and whispered directly into Juliette’s ear.  “Miss, if I might see you for
a moment in private?”

Juliette
looked up and nodded, then followed the lawyer out into the hallway. 
“I wanted to
show you this.”  He pointed out a paragraph of text on the fax he had received
from Baron Amsel’s office.  Juliette took the paper from him and began reading.

Article
8: Any male monarch must be married before assuming the throne.

Juliette
gasped. 
“Señor!”
she whispered, “Does this mean what I think it means?”

The
Solicitor General nodded. 
“I’m afraid so.  If this law goes through, I would
not be able to fight it.  The prince would be required to marry before his
coronation.”

Juliette
felt the blood drain from her face.

“I
might eventually be able to overturn it,” the lawyer continued, “but it could
take several months, perhaps even a year — long after the prince would need to
be crowned king in order to keep the throne in his family.”

“No,”
Juliette whispered, “this can’t be happening.  We were this close!”

“I’m
sorry, miss, but I thought you should know right away.”

Suddenly,
there was a commotion in the break room; Juliette could hear panicked voices
and furniture being dragged across the floor.  She rushed in to see Guillermo
bending over one of her personal maids, Emilia, lying unconscious on the
couch. 
“She’s
just fainted,” Guillermo said calmly.  “Can someone bring me a cold damp
towel?”

“Right
away, sir,” one of male kitchen staff roughly pushed his way past Juliette and
ran out the door.

“She’s
going to be fine,” Guillermo assured everyone.  “Here, Alicia, help me lean her
forward.”

As
Alicia and Guillermo gently tilted Emilia
’s head down, Juliette glanced at the
TV; it was paused on a picture of Lady Olivia Amsel, standing on the steps
behind her father, looking smug and cheap and supremely proud of herself.

Juliette
shuffled into the dining room carrying a plate of eggs and bacon in one hand
and a cup of coffee in the other.  The only other person in the room was Sofia;
she was seated at the end of the table wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, no
makeup, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.  Juliette thought she looked cute
that way
—
but very young.  Sofia stirred her coffee absently, staring off into space.

At
the other end of the table, the waitstaff had set a silver tray with coffee,
sugar, cream, and white porcelain cups.

“How
did you sleep?” Sofia asked as Juliette set her plate down on the table.

“Sleep? 
What’s that?” Juliette replied with a smirk.  “How about you?”

Sofia
shook her head and took a sip of coffee. 
“You don’t want to know.”

“That
bad, eh?”  Juliette looked around the room.  “Where’s Guillermo?”

“In
the King’s Study.”

“How
is he?”

Sofia
sighed heavily. 
“About
how you’d expect.  Barking orders.  Ready to explode.”  Her eyes fixed on
something over Juliette’s left shoulder.  “Speak of the devil,” she murmured
and nodded towards the door.  Juliette turned in her chair.

“Ah,
you’re awake,” Guillermo noticed, emotionless, as if commenting on the
weather.  He stood at the other end of the table and poured himself a cup of
coffee.

“I
never actually fell asleep, if you want to know the truth,” Juliette responded.

“What
did the Solicitor General say?” Sofia asked.

Guillermo
set the carafe down and took a sip from his cup. 
“Not much.  He
left for Parliament about 10 minutes ago to try and drum up support for our
side.  He said it could go either way; Baron Amsel didn’t leave us much time.”

“Just
exactly how bad is the law?” Sofia wondered.

“Bad.” 
Guillermo took another drink of coffee, then continued, “If this bill becomes
law, you and I are pretty much screwed.  They’re going to hold us to all sorts
of ridiculous restrictions that were placed on the monarchy 600 years ago —
junk that makes no sense today.”  He reached into his back pocket and pulled
out a folded up stack of paper.  “Did you see Article 5?”  He read aloud,
“’Article 5: The king must wear his crown whenever he is outdoors or performing
a public duty of any kind.’  So basically, I’d be required to wear my crown to
walk the dog.”

“You’re
joking,” Sofia said.

Guillermo
held up his index finger. 
“Wait — it gets better: ‘The queen must cover her
head with a hat when not wearing her tiara.’”

Sofia
groaned. 
“I
hate
hats.  This is
ridiculous.
”

“Speaking
of ridiculous, did you see Article 8?” Juliette asked.

“Article
8?”  Guillermo flipped the page.  “The marriage requirement?  What about it?”

Sofia
and Guillermo both looked at her with innocent, blank expressions.

Oh,
if you only knew!

“Nothing. 
Never mind.”

Sofia
interjected,
“I
thought Article 9 was the most absurd one: ‘The wife shall produce a male heir
within the first 3 years of marriage’ or something like that.  How are you
supposed to obey that?  Someone needs to send him a ninth grade biology
textbook.”

Guillermo
shrugged. 
“It’s
a shotgun blast.  He’s tossing everything he can into the bill — even things he
knows don’t have a chance to survive a debate in Parliament — in order to mask
the things that he truly wants.  He’s playing a game.  He knows Parliament will
strip out a lot of the articles.  But even if he just gets half of what he
wrote into the bill, we’re still chained down.”

“But
what
does
he truly want,
Memo?
”
Sofia asked.  “Why even write this law?”

Guillermo
’s expression
turned serious.  “He
says
that he wants
to preserve the San Morrando traditions for future generations.  However, what
he really wants is to make the position of king so onerous that I
’ll forfeit the
throne.”  He set down his coffee cup.  “I’ve been keeping some things from you
— from both of you, actually.  The baron has been nipping at my heels for days
now, trying to get me to give him the throne.”

“That’s
absurd!” Sofia said.  “Baron Amsel, the king?”

Guillermo
shrugged,
“I
don’t understand it any better than you do.  He’s been trying to get me to
renounce the crown voluntarily ever since I returned from North Africa.  He’s
made empty threats, insults, guilt trips, you name it.  I guess he realized I
was never going to give it up so he launched this attack.”

“But
why does he want it so badly?” Sofia pressed.

“Why
does anyone want it?” Guillermo countered.  “Power, I suppose.  Prestige. 
Validation.  Legacy.  Take your pick.”

Sofia
frowned. 
“As
if being leader of Parliament wasn’t enough for him.  What an ass.”

Guillermo
nodded. 
“What
galls me is that he is willing to sacrifice who knows how many children in
order to get what he wants.  If his law passes, not only can I not practice
medicine in Africa, I can’t even practice in San Morrando!”

“Isn’t
there something we can do?” Juliette asked.

Guillermo
shook his head. 
“Not
really.  It’s in the Solicitor General’s hands.  He’s up at Parliament right
now lobbying to get the worst parts of the law removed.  I gave him a list of
articles that would prevent me from doing my job.  With any luck, he can get
those stripped out before it passes.  I suppose I can wear a damned crown to
walk the dog-”

A
wave of emotion swept over Juliette; a feeling of guilt so strong, so intense,
so overwhelming that she could hear her heart pounding in her ears.  She held
her head in her hands and asked with a timid voice,
“Is Article 8 on
that list?”

“Article
8?  I don’t think so.  Why?” Guillermo asked.

“I
think she means Article 9, Memo.  You know, the baby one?”  Sofia touched
Juliette’s elbow.  “Is that what you’re worried about?”

Juliette
took a deep breath, close to bursting into tears, then said,
“Guillermo… 
Sofia… there’s something I have to tell you-”

“Lady
Olivia Adana Amsel,” Emilia announced suddenly from the doorway.

“Emilia?!”
Guillermo snapped.  “This is most irregular!  We’re in no condition to receive
guests.”

Juliette
quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and sat up straight.

“I’m
sorry, sir,” Emilia apologized.  “I told her-”

Lady
Olivia breezed into the room and waved her hand dismissively. 
“Yes, Emilia,
thank you, that will be all.”

Emilia,
face red with frustration, bowed and quickly left.

Olivia
was wearing a hip-hugging red dress, far too much makeup, and a ridiculously ornate
necklace with a huge stone nestled between her breasts.  The outfit, which
would look sumptuous on another woman, only made Olivia look cheap and plastic.

“Olivia,”
Guillermo growled.  “What are you doing here?”

Olivia
ignored him.  She scanned the room quickly, then called out over her shoulder,
“Roslynne, dear,
are you there?”

“Coming,”
Roslynne, sounding annoyed, entered the room.  “Oh.  So the gang’s all here,
then.”

“What
do you think of turning this room into a spa?” Olivia asked Roslynne.

“A
spa?” Sofia interrupted.

“We
could put the treadmills there,” Olivia pointed, “and have a sauna built right
there.  Of course, these dreadful knickknacks would all have to come down.”

“Dreadful?”
Sofia’s voice rose.  “My mother decor-”

Juliette
kicked Sofia in the shin, then smiled sweetly. 
“Careful, princess,” Juliette
whispered.  “Your coffee might spill.”

“That’s
enough, Olivia,” Guillermo commanded.  “What’s all of this about?”

“I
just wanted to see the place before we took over.  You know, so we could make
plans for the remodeling.  Oh, and,” Olivia gave Guillermo a coy glance, “I
thought I’d give you one more chance to reconsider my marriage proposal.”

“Marriage?!”
Juliette interjected.

“Oh?”
Olivia turned.  “Is the flower girl still here?”  She faced Guillermo again,
“What is
she
still doing
here?
”

Guillermo
replied,
“
She
is my fianc
ée, Olivia, and
I’d appreciate it if you would treat her with the respect she is due.”

“Fiancée,
eh?”  Olivia looked Juliette up and down, then muttered, “For how much longer,
I wonder…  Well, no matter.”  She spun on Guillermo and continued, “Surely you
see how pointless it would be to proceed with that marriage to her?  Your only
reasonable option is to marry me.  If you do, I’m sure daddy would let you keep
the throne without any strings attached.  You could go play with your orphans
in North Africa or whatever; I wouldn’t mind.”  Her tone was a disgusting
mixture of sugary sweet and condescending.

Guillermo
frowned. 
“Olivia,
listen to me.  We dated for 6 weeks when I was in college.  That was over 10
years ago.  I can’t even remember a single one of our dates.  I don’t love
you.  I never loved you.  And I never
will
love you.
”

Olivia
’s face grew red
with rage and embarrassment.  “Fine.  Fine.  That’s just fine!  I thought I
would give you a chance but I should have known better?  Well, no matter.  With
or without you, this castle will be mine within a few days.”

She
turned on her heels with such force that her gauche necklace flew upwards and
landed at an angle around her neck.  Her venomous eyes found Sofia. 
“And you!  You…
you smug little bitch.  Always so high and mighty.  I’ve waited for years to
see you-”

Wait
a minute.  That
’s
not right.  Could it be?  Is
that
what this is
really all about?  Only one way to find out.

“My,
my, my,” Juliette interrupted loudly.  “I guess it’s true what they say; money
can’t buy class.”

“What’s
that?” Olivia focused her wrath on Juliette.  “What’s that?  The flower girl
has something to say?  Say it to my face, you low-rent trash!”

Juliette
chuckled. 
“Are
you always so noisy?  No wonder you don’t have a man.”

Olivia
stomped over to Juliette, bent forward and screamed, inches from her face,
“How dare you
talk to me like that!  When I’m queen, I’ll make damned sure you know your
place!”

Juliette
pounced — she grabbed the large jewel in Olivia
’s necklace and inspected it
closely.

“What?! 
What are you doing?” Olivia demanded.

Juliette
released the red jewel, leaned back in her chair, and grinned like the Cheshire
Cat. 
“Nice
necklace, Olivia.”

Olivia
blanched.  She stared at Juliette, frozen.

Juliette
met her gaze and nodded.

“What?”
Roslynne asked, confused.  “What is it?”

Olivia,
obviously flustered, declared,
“Come, Roslynne.  We’re leaving!”  Olivia stormed
towards the exit, then yelled over her shoulder, “Now!”

Roslynne,
looking lost, finally sighed, shook her head, and followed.

As
soon as they left the room, Juliette turned to Guillermo. 
“I need to see
you and Armand in the King’s Study.  We need to talk.”

“Olivia’s
jewelry is fake.”

Juliette
sat across the conference table from Guillermo; Armand stood at his side.

“They’re
expertly done,” Juliette continued, “but they’re fake.  Their weight is all
wrong, their color is too uniform.  I’ve always thought she looked cheap and
garish — now I know why.  She’s been wearing fake jewelry the entire time.”

Guillermo
leaned forward and asked in a serious tone,
“Are you sure?”

Juliette
gave him a withering look. 
“Who do you think you’re talking to?  Hello?  Jewel
thief over here.”

Guillermo
looked up at Armand, puzzled.

“Oh,
come on.  Don’t you see?” Juliette continued.  “It’s not a power grab.  It’s a
money grab!  Olivia’s father — the baron — doesn’t want the throne for power or
glory or his legacy.  He
needs
the throne for the money.
”

Guillermo
’s brow furrowed
in thought; he asked Armand, “Wasn’t there a rumor that the baron lost his
entire investment in China three years ago?  Some resort that was abandoned due
to pollution?”