Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (7 page)

After getting dressed, I went to the kitchen to get some coffee. I overheard Marian say, “Well, it was just a bit of fun, a laugh.”

“We all dream of knights in shining armor! I’m sure Charlotte didn’t really think he was going to leave his girlfriend for her. She’s sensible,” Hillary added.

I heard Kathleen sigh at the mention of a knight. “Well, at least she went for it.”

“True. Someday, when she’s old and grey and a granny, she can say she once was on the covers of magazines all over the world. Her grandchildren will be the envy of everyone. Who else will have a granny publicly accused of giving Des Bannerman a hand job?” Marian threw in.

“They’re jealous
they
didn’t meet someone,” Tiziana purred over my shoulder. She, too, had eavesdropped on the conversation. Nudging me forward, we entered the kitchen with a loud “Buon Giorno” from her. Immediately, talk switched to breakfast and skiing.

The weather over the last few days had produced a crusty layer of ice over powdery snow. Skiing was a bit hazardous and hard work. By lunch, we were all exhausted. We made our way into a restaurant and ordered a hearty lunch and sipped cups of coffee while waiting for our order. We gave each other a good ribbing over our respective wipeouts.

“I swear to god, I didn’t see that flag! My bum still smarts!” Marian grimaced, rubbing her posterior.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not as bad as your forehead,” Kathleen taunted. Marian had missed a danger flag and skied outside of the safe area. The next thing we knew, she’d become a human snowball and was rolling down the hill toward a large rock. She’d put her feet down to stop herself, her skis somewhere behind her. Unfortunately, all she’d done was flip herself around; she’d managed to hit the rock with her head. How her bum got tortured was anyone’s guess.

“Well, I think it’s a good thing you lost your poles early on. Who knows, you might have harpooned someone or yourself,” Kathleen teased.

“I don’t resemble a whale of any form,” Marian answered good-naturedly.

Toward the end of our meal, we saw people pointing fingers at a crowd as it moved toward us. Heads bobbed up and down as people tried to see what was going on. The hum and pointing gathered in volume.

“Look, it’s him!” Kathleen shrieked. A very swarthy male who exuded elegance held her rapt attention.

“Who is he?” I asked, absolutely clueless.

With Kathleen’s attention riveted elsewhere, Hillary answered, “It is Miguel Alfonso Montefeltro della Rovere. He is Spain’s Prince of Belmonte.” Her British blue-blood was showing.

“So, it’s okay for you to get giddy about a prince?” I teased them. “Next thing you know, we’ll be traipsing all over Spain, France and Monaco searching for royalty.”

Three faces turned toward me. “You heard all that?” Kathleen asked.

“Yes, I did. But don’t worry, I understand. I’m not taking it seriously. But let me ask you, if you had the chance to meet someone you had a crush on, what would you do? If the prince over there sat down beside you and talked to you, would you be able to walk away without any thoughts of ‘what if’?”

Gracefully, they all acknowledged that there would be some lingering fantasies.

It was only when I suggested, “Does anyone want to try skiing up at the top? I heard someone in the lift line say that the sun is shining up there. The map shows that there are a few easy runs,” that everyone returned to the present. With trepidation, they agreed to go with me to the top of the mountain.

“Come on! Let’s go get some more skiing in before Marian’s ass gets too stiff,” I said with a smile.

As we were gathering our clothing and skis, I saw Kathleen look wistfully over toward the Prince of Belmonte; his entourage had settled down not too far from us. Quietly, she asked me, “I wonder what he would do if I were to walk up to him and ask if I could join him for a drink?”

“I know! That’s the problem. You wouldn’t think twice with an average guy. Hell, he would be flattered and happy to have a beautiful, confident woman approach him for a change. It’s amazing how being famous removes all the normal rules.”

Eventually, we found the correct line to wait in, and talk turned to what everyone would be doing once our holiday came to an end. All our lives had become complex with responsibilities. Between talking about jobs, biological clocks, finding Mr. Right, finances, and other friends, we reached the mountaintop quickly.

Instead of sun, we found that a heavy fog had set in, making it challenging to see even just a few feet ahead. “Look, there’s the map.” Hillary pointed toward a large sign with skiers gathered around.

We skied over to try to determine which way to go. Upon deciding which run to take, Marian suggested, “Promise you’ll stay close to me! I might need one of you to get the ski patrol!”

Though there was general laughter at the comment, I could see a bit of fear in her eyes and slid up next to her. “I got a good look at a few of the guys on patrol. You might want to fake an injury! It might not lead to love, but it might lead to getting laid.”

“True!” I could see the wheels in Marian’s head grinding. “Well then, if I shout the words, ‘Holy Christ,’ just stay away, and let me work my magic.”

Kathleen, having overheard us, remarked, “More likely she’ll be hitting him over the head with her ski pole.”

After a little more ribbing as we slid ever so slowly down the mountain, we found ourselves in fog thick as pea soup.

Kathleen, who was in the lead, came to a stop. “Wow, I can barely see a thing,” she said when we skied off to the side to join her.

Breathless, I took the map out and looked at it for a minute before calmly stating, “Nobody panic, but I think we’re on a Black Diamond. We must have gone the wrong way.”

After a minute of worried whining, Marian got everyone to regroup. “Where are your balls? We can manage, we’re women! We’ll just take it slow. Charlotte, since you’re the best skier, why don’t you go up front and lead the way?”

Agreeing, we made our way at a snail’s pace. I could hear the gals chatting behind me, telling ghost stories of skiers lost in the mountains and having to forage for berries. The fog got thicker, and the conversation gradually dropped off as everyone concentrated on what was directly ahead of them. I pulled off to the side of the run so that we could all catch our breath.

I waited for a minute, then two. I called out their names and wondered what was taking so long. After another minute, I realized that they weren’t behind me. Hard skiing and fear had kept me warm, but now a chill began to set in. I decided to head down the hill and hoped to meet them at the bottom or get help.

Trying to calm my nerves, I focused on the first thing that came to my mind.
Des Bannerman
. He really was a nice man. His girlfriend was a piece of work, that was for sure. It must be tough, though, being followed every moment. I supposed I would be bitchy if, every time I turned around, someone was throwing herself at my boyfriend. I talked quietly to myself for a minute or two, weighing the pros and cons of being famous. Taking a break, I stopped again and consulted my map. It was useless, since I didn’t have any points of reference. I could only hope I was close to the bottom. Looking around me and seeing blobs of grey, I started to get freaked out. “Come on, woman, you can’t let your imagination get to you now. You’re almost there.”

“Just a quiet word among friends?” asked Des Bannerman, his voice mocking me.

I promptly fell into a heap in the snow. In amazement, I pushed back my hood and goggles. “Where did you come from?” Had he heard any of the conversation I’d been having with myself? Total panic set in. Trying to calm myself, I focused on the situation at hand and tried to get back on my feet. Instead, I entertained Des by sliding around in the snow for a while. After getting a few laughs at my expense, he finally offered to help me to my feet.

Taking his hand, I hauled myself up out of the snow. By then I was sweaty from exertion and wet from melting snow. “I saw your friend, Tiziana, up the mountain, and she told me that you had become separated. I offered to look for you. Fortunately for me, you’re the only one down here. Well, actually, you would have been easy to spot in a crowd, as you’re the only one down here with a gold jacket. You’re a veritable beacon in the mist.”

“Thanks for the hand!” I hoped he would understand my reference to the tabloid headlines.

“It’s the least I can do, since you’ve been so helpful.” He clearly understood.

“So, where did you see Tiziana? Was she with the rest of my friends? Are they all right? Should I wait for them?” I rushed through my list of questions, still somewhat exhausted from flailing in the snow.

“They’re fine. We thought they might know you when we heard your name being yodeled across the French Alps. I’m quite certain people in Geneva, possibly even Zurich, are wondering where Charlotte is. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them. They were certain you’d skied off a cliff, by the way. I assured them you would see civilization again. As we speak, Ted is escorting them down to the bottom, where we’re to meet up.” When he finished speaking, his blue eyes were crinkled up at the edges. I couldn’t help but notice that his speech pattern in real life was very much like in his movies, as was his inclination toward monologues.

He continued to smile broadly, reliving a memory.

“What?” The crinkly, blue eyes made me wonder.

“Oh, just thinking about your friend Marian! I’m glad I’m not you. You’re in for quite a lecture when we get to the bottom. Not sure I’ve ever heard anyone, male or female, string the litany of curses together that she did.”

I cleared my throat. “I can only imagine. Sorry about that. It’s her way of letting you know she cares.”

“Yes, well, she threatened my reproductive organs if I took advantage of you. Then she threatened them if I didn’t take advantage of you.”

Mortified, my cheeks were flaming. I gasped, “She didn’t. Please say she didn’t.”

Clearing his throat, as if he were uncomfortable, he said, “Well, I think it might have been fear speaking, but she mentioned that you had a bit of crush on me. For fourteen years, apparently. That, if you were dying, it would be gentlemanly of me to send you off with a smile on your face. But if you were intact, I was to leave you alone because you were in a fragile state.”

Promising myself that I would kill Marian later, I tried to find enough composure to speak. “Well, Marian’s just upset. We’ve been friends forever, and she’s protective. Not to mention all those older brothers. She can be pretty unfiltered.” I completely skipped over the subject of my crush.

“Not for the reasons Marian mentioned, I’m quite glad to have a few minutes alone with you. I couldn’t help but notice last night that Brynn was rather cold with you. She’s generally quite sweet, not prone to bursts of anger. Let’s just say that life has been challenging lately, and our commitments have plotted against us. The paparazzi have been particularly annoying. This holiday has been months in the making and was meant to be relaxing. Unfortunately, it has been anything but. I know it shouldn’t matter, but I would rather you have a more pleasant opinion of her. She is quite lovely.”

Saying the first thing that came to my mind, I said, “Okey doke.” I nudged my skis downhill. He took the hint and followed behind me.

We skied in silence. I wanted to appear focused on skiing through the fog, but mostly I was caught up in my thoughts. Finally, I decided to seize the moment and came to a stop. He stopped, looking at me curiously.

“I can appreciate that she’s fed up, and I’m genuinely sorry that I added to the problem. I can’t deny that I enjoyed talking with you the other night. If she’s as wonderful as you say, I’m sure, under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed talking with her, as well. But let’s be honest. Under what normal circumstances would I be sitting around and hanging out with two of the world’s most famous movie stars?”

“Thanks, Charlotte. If it makes you feel any better, I rarely get invited anywhere for a chat. You think, when you’re watching the Golden Globes or what have you, that we’re enjoying ourselves. Really what’s happening is one bloke walks over to another and says with a smile, “You were fucking terrible in that role.” Or, “They asked me, but I knew the film would tank!” And the women! They’re even more brutal!” he joked. Or at least I thought he was joking.

Not being satisfied to leave well enough alone, I said, “You know, you both chose a way of life that puts you in the public eye. People are curious, and it’s that curiosity that helps pay for your twelve houses, fancy holidays, and whatever else. You weren’t born royal or wealthy. Don’t you remember imagining how wonderful someone’s life might be?”

Not knowing what to expect, I was surprised when he answered forthrightly, “You’re right. But then, so is Brynn. If people would be content with a smile or even a hello, it would be fine. The problem is that many of the people and paparazzi we encounter want something from us, and they aren’t particularly concerned with being reasonable or polite. As for you, at the casino, you were persistent but not rude.”

Inwardly, I felt hypocritical. He hadn’t caught on to the fact that Tiziana had been part of the plan or that I had been searching for him before the night we met.

“Well, I was a bit rude. To be fair, I can’t imagine how you stand all of it. Everyone wanting your attention. You wouldn’t remember, but a few years back, you and I were at an event at Oxford. You were speaking about taking charge of your life, not waiting for things to happen to you. Anyway, afterwards I was standing about two feet from you. You smiled, but I didn’t know if it was at me. Very deflating to a girl’s ego, I’ll add. If you or Brynn want reassurance, I have enjoyed your company, I know you love your girlfriend, and I never thought you were interested in me.” The last bit rushed out of my mouth and left me embarrassed and breathless.

I was rewarded by a genuine chuckle. “I must say, your frankness is refreshing. You’re quite right, you know. Too many questionable people, and, undoubtedly, I’ve become jaded. I’ll endeavor to look at people less suspiciously,” he said and then added, “You appear to be quite unique, Charlotte.”