Affairs of State(22)
“I’m so glad I’ll finally meet you after all these years. I do feel terrible guilt about what happened. That poor Ted never knew he had a beautiful daughter growing up all that time. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that. Have the two of you become close now?”
She hesitated. “Actually I haven’t met him yet. Since he’s the president he’s surrounded by all sorts of high security and no one entirely believed the story that I’m his daughter until the DNA test results came out. I don’t think the White House knows quite what to do with me.”
She rambled on. “And I suppose he’s busy running the country. And dealing with that mess in the Middle East. They’re thinking of sending troops.” Every time she watched the news now she felt each domestic and international event a bit more keenly, knowing that her own flesh and blood had to make decisions about how to handle each crisis.
“Oh, I just thought that since you were both in Washington…”
She shoved a hand through her hair and tried to keep her embarrassment out of her voice. “We’re going to meet very soon. ANS is arranging a televised special and we’re going to appear on camera together.” She wanted to sound happy and excited, not terrified.
“You won’t tell anyone that we’re going to meet, though, right?” Eleanor’s voice had shrunk again.
“I promise I won’t tell a soul. Is it okay if I call you sometime?” She’d already scribbled down the number, afraid it might disappear into the recesses of her phone or get accidentally deleted.
“I’d like that very much.”
They ended the phone call with much excitement about the planned meeting. Ariella then managed to wolf down the toast and dash to work before her first appointment, adrenaline pounding in her veins like a dangerous drug. The receptionist handed her a message that Francesca wanted to chat about the upcoming ANS special that would bring her together with her famous father.
“It’s lucky I thrive on being busy,” she muttered to herself, as she opened the door to her office. She had umpteen phone calls to make about events happening this week, and now her mind was being tugged between the prospect of meeting her mother, doing a TV show with her father and, of course, seeing Simon again. There was way too much going on for everything to work out smoothly. That was something she’d learned early on in her years as an event planner. Too many balls in the air meant broken pieces on the floor, and soon.
But which ball would crash first?
* * *
On the evening of her date with Simon she left work early so she’d have time for a shower. She was about to climb in and wash her hair when she remembered she’d run out of conditioner. Great. Frizzy hair for her dinner with a prince. She’d have to head to the deli around the corner and pick some up.
She tied up her hair and put on jeans and a jacket. There was no more running to the store in shorts and a tank top now that reporters lurked in every crevice.
She strode into the shop and picked up a bottle of some harmless-looking generic conditioner—the store didn’t carry her rather esoteric favorite—and marched up to the counter, fishing in her pocket for cash. A magazine behind the counter caught her eye. Royal Watch was the title, emblazoned in yellow letters.
Simon’s gorgeous face almost totally filled the front cover. The rest of it, unfortunately, was hogged by the shiny, overly made-up face of a young blonde woman pressing her cheek against his. A young woman who was most decidedly not Ariella Winthrop.
“Two ninety-nine.” The cashier’s voice tugged her back to the present.
She handed him a twenty. “And I’ll take that magazine, too.” Her voice came out hoarse. She pointed at Royal Watch. “Research for work.” Because of course she was just buying it to see if there was any information about what the Duke of Buckingham might want for his wedding decorations. Yeah. That was it.
She hurried back to her apartment with the magazine rolled tightly. She certainly didn’t need any press coverage of her buying Royal Watch. Once inside she locked the door and walked slowly to the kitchen counter, now almost afraid to look at the cover again. Was she jealous? She’d only just met Simon. He must have an entire history of romances that had nothing to do with his feelings for her.
She risked another glance at the girl on the cover. Blue eyes, heavily outlined with dark eyeliner. The text over the photo said Prince Simon Engaged!
She frowned. He couldn’t be in love with someone else and kissing her—could he? She flipped to the “article,” which consisted of two paragraphs accompanied by a lot more pictures. All the photos appeared to be from the same outdoor sporting event—some kind of horse race—with all the women in big hats.