Danni was still stung by her run-in with Adam the next night as she and her father ate their minestrone in front of the fire. Soup and a movie was their Sunday night tradition.
They finished the first half of the tradition and settled in for the movie. A big bowl of buttery popcorn sat on the coffee table and an action adventure comedy was ready to go in the DVD player, just waiting for her press of the button.
Usually, when she was in San Philippe she came round from her apartment for the evening. But her place was being redecorated so she’d been staying with her father for the last week. She had yet to tell him about the fiasco last night. Tonight would be the perfect opportunity.
But she hadn’t fully recovered from the experience.
Although she pretended to herself that she was indifferent, at odd moments the latter part of the evening resurfaced and replayed itself in her head. She should have done everything so differently. Starting with keeping her mouth shut in the first place.
As head driver, her father had a right to know what had happened. Would expect to know. But she hadn’t been able to tell him. Because more than head driver, he was her father and he’d be so disappointed in her. And she hated disappointing the man who’d done so much for her and who asked so little of her.
It had occurred to her that if she just kept quiet, he need never know. It’s not as if she’d ever be driving for Adam again.
Besides, her silence was justified because her father was still so saddened by the visit to his friend. She wanted to alleviate, not add, to that sorrow. At least that was her excuse. The movie they were about to watch would be the perfect tonic. The fact that it featured an awesome and realistic car chase scene would be an added bonus. And they’d both once met the main stunt driver.
It didn’t matter, she told herself, if she never drove for Adam again. It was such a rare occurrence in the first place it was hardly going to make any difference. And she knew Adam wouldn’t let it have any bearing on her father’s position within the palace staff. No. Their exchange had been personal. He’d keep it so. That was part of his code.
She’d just found the television remote when three sharp knocks sounded at the door. Her father looked at her, his curiosity matching hers. He moved to stand but Danni held up her hand. “Stay there. I’ll get it.”
Visitors were rare, particularly without notice. Because her father lived on the palace grounds, in what had once been the gatehouse, friends couldn’t just drop by on a whim.
Danni opened the door.
This was no friend.
Two
“Adam.” Danni couldn’t quite keep the shock from her voice. Was this about last night or was there some further trouble she had gotten into?
“Danielle.” His face was unreadable. “I’d like to talk to you. May I come in?”
After the briefest hesitation she stepped back, giving him access. Much as instinct and pride screamed to do otherwise, you didn’t refuse the heir to the throne when he asked to come in. But to her knowledge, the last time Adam had been on this doorstep looking for her was fifteen years ago when he and Rafe had turned up to invite her to join in the game of baseball they were organizing. She couldn’t quite remember the reason for the game—something to do with a leadership project Rafe had been doing for school. What she remembered with absolute clarity was how badly that endeavor had ended.
Adam stepped into the small entranceway, dominating the space. He smelled good. Reminding her of last night. By rights she should loathe the scent linked with her mortification rather than want to savor it. She heard her father standing up from the couch in the living room behind her.
“St. Claire.” Adam smiled at her father. “Nothing important. I wanted a word with Danielle if I may.”
“Of course. I’ll just pop out to the workshop.”
Danni didn’t want her father to hear whatever it was Adam was about to say because despite his apparent efforts at geniality it couldn’t possibly be good. Nor did she want her father to go because while he was here Adam might actually have to refrain from saying whatever it was that had brought him here.
“Working on another project?” Adam asked.
A smile lit her father’s face as he came to join them in the foyer. “A model airplane. Tiger Moth. I should have it finished in a few more months. A nice manageable project.” Both men smiled.
Not long after Danni and her father’s return to San Philippe when she was five, he’d inherited the almost unrecognizable remnants of a Type 49 Bugatti.
For years the Bugatti had been an ongoing project occupying all of his spare time. It had been therapy for him following the end of his marriage to Danni’s mother.
There had been nothing awful about her parents’ marriage, aside from the fact that their love for each other wasn’t enough to overcome their love for their respective home countries. Her father was miserable in America and her mother was miserable in San Philippe.
And for a few years, after his mother’s death, Adam had helped her father on the car. Danni too had joined them, her primary role being to sit on the workbench and watch and pass tools. And to remind them when it was time to stop and eat. Building the car had been therapy, and a distraction for all of them. She had an early memory of sitting in the car with Adam after her father had finished for the evening. Adam, probably no more than eleven, had entertained her by pretending to drive her, complete with sound effects, to imaginary destinations.
By the time Danni was fifteen none of them needed the therapy so much anymore. Adam, busy with schooling and life, had long since stopped calling around. Her father sold the still unfinished car to a collector. Parts had been a nightmare to either source or make and time had been scarce. Though Danni had later come to suspect, guiltily, that the timing of the sale may have had something to do with the fact that her mother had been lobbying for her to go to college in the States. And fees weren’t cheap.
Her father shut the door behind him and she and Adam turned to face one another. Adam’s gaze swept over her, a frown creasing his brow. She looked down at her jeans and sweater, her normal casual wear. Definitely not palace standard but she wasn’t at the palace.
Silence loomed.
“Sit down.” Danni gestured through to the living room and the couch recently vacated by her father.
“No, that’s … okay.” The uncertainty was uncharacteristic. Seeming to change his mind, Adam walked through to the living room and sat.
Danni followed and sat on the armchair, watching, wary.
“I have to apologize.”
Not this again. “You did that.”
Adam suddenly stood and crossed to the fireplace. “Not for … that. Though I am still sorry. And I do still maintain that I didn’t mean it the way you took it. You’re obviously—”
“Then what for?” She cut him off before he could damn her femininity with faint praise.
“For sacking you.”
She almost laughed. “It’s not my real job, Adam. I have the Grand Prix work. I was covering for Dad as a favor. The loss is no hardship.”
“But I need to apologize because I want you to drive for me again.”
This time the silence was all hers as she stared at him.
Finally she found her voice. “Thanks, but no thanks. Like I said, the loss was no hardship. I think I demonstrated why I’m the last person you want as your driver.”
“Yes, you are the last person I want as my driver because you’re so perceptive and so blunt you make me uncomfortable. But unfortunately I think I need you.”
She made him uncomfortable?