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“Which of these dresses do you think I should wear tonight?” Amanda breezed into the high-ceilinged formal room Nick used as his office above the Sanctuary Club. Sparsely furnished, the morning sun danced through the tall windows onto the highly-polished wood floors.
Nick put down the phone and looked up at the two garments waving from Amanda’s hands. One appeared to have a neckline which would plunge down to Amanda’s navel, while the other one had slits he could imagine would reveal most of her long legs. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, avoiding the entire issue.
“A little soiree at the embassy tonight,” she replied archly. “Come on, help me.”
Knowing that whichever on he chose it would be wrong, he quickly replied, “The red one.” He was already questioning this living arrangement. Although it was comforting to go to sleep at night knowing that he was on holy ground and therefore safe from immortal challenges, having Amanda interrupting him several times a day seemed to bring their relationship back ten years when he was still blissfully unaware of his impending immortality. Still, the rooms were comfortable and Amanda did have certain charms.
“Red?” Amanda’s voice ratcheted up a notch. “This is not red; it’s cranberry. Are you sure you don’t like the azure one?” She was hoping Nick would ask about the party, maybe even show some jealousy, but he just looked at her, his eyebrows raised as if he just wanted to get back to work. She was enjoying the living arrangement. Although she did not really want to admit it to herself, she had missed Nick and worried about him for the long absence. Finding he was still alive had relieved her darkest fears in the years he was missing. Knowing he was safely under her wing again was a comfort.
“Do you mean the blue one? Maybe you should ask the guy you’re going with,” suggested Nick.
“I’m sure he’ll adore me in whichever one I choose,” Amanda shot back over her shoulder as she turned to leave the room. Hanging over an ornate chair was a tuxedo still in its cleaners’ bag. She stopped for a fraction of a second. “Looks like you’re going out too. Fancy place by the looks of things.”
“Hmm,” said Nick. He looked at the garment as if it had just sprung to life there. “Oh, that? It needed to be cleaned. Is there anything else?” His face betrayed nothing. Let her squirm.
Amanda’s eyes hardened. “Not a thing.” The sound of the door slamming rattled the windows.
Nick smiled. Amanda might be irritating, but he did enjoy playing the game with her. Looking at the tux, he speculated briefly before shaking his head. Surely there was more than one party happening tonight. This was Paris after all.
Bert was sitting at the round bar, the blue light casting pallor on his skin. Papers were spread on the bar around his laptop. “I think you should get an office,” suggested Nick, coming up behind him. “There’s enough space.”
Without looking up, Bert said, “Amanda was talking about turning this into a restaurant instead of a night club. The renovations she has suggested are going to cost a fortune. Tell me again why I went into business with her?” Amanda had suddenly realized that Bert knew where Nick had been all those years. The fact he hadn’t bothered to share this information with her enraged her. Burying him in paperwork was only part of the revenge planned in retaliation.
“Because at the time you didn’t know she was a thousand year old thief?” suggested Nick. “I think a restaurant is a lousy idea. It’s nice that it’s peaceful here during the day. It’s been a steady money-maker, hasn’t it? Why mess with a good thing?” When he pulled some of the papers towards him, Bert noticed his sleeve.
The plans were forgotten as Bert turned to look at his normally-scruffy friend. “Wait a minute. I hate to tell you this but Amanda left fifteen minutes ago.” He looked smug, taking in the formal attire, the blindingly white shirt with the silk tie in a perfect bow. From the tips of his shiny shoes to the top of his head, with his usually unruly hair tamed, Nick looked splendid. “That’s not even a clip-on and you even shaved,” Bert considered a minute before adding, “What a waste.”
“Why thank you,” said Nick, trying not to think about the desire to rip off the tie. “But I’m not going with Amanda. However, I don’t want to keep my date waiting, so I’ll catch you later.” Draping a white scarf around his neck, Nick waved his hand as he crossed the carpet towards the front door. “Don’t wait up!”
“When did he get classy?” muttered Bert. “And why am I talking to myself?” Checking his watch and realizing that the staff were circling, hoping to finish preparing the club for its opening, he swept up his belongings and departed.
Nick emerged from the cab into the soft air of a late summer evening. Music wafted from the Swedish embassy as he joined the last of the formally clad guests on the red carpet leading into the main entrance. Once through security, he stepped into the crowded formal ball room, with its banners in the colors of the royal family. Nick looked up at the formal portraits of King Carl Gustav and his lovely dark-haired wife Queen Sylvia. The royal family had not yet arrived, according to the custom of allowing all the guests to be present before putting in an appearance.
Accepting a glass of champagne from one waiter and a canapé from another, Nick felt the presence of another immortal. The voice of his teacher floated into his head. “If you’re in crowd and you sense another immortal, the wisest course of action is not to react. Unless the other immortal knows you by sight, they won’t be able to figure out who you are. It makes retreat easier if you do not desire a challenge. But learn to detect other immortals by their reaction. It is always good to know where the competition is.”
“It’s the same as undercover work,” Nick had responded. “Figure out where the enemy is without giving yourself away.” From the corner of his eye he spied a blue, no azure dress. His reverse psychology had worked, he noted to himself as those wonderful legs flashed as she walked in on the arm of a tall handsome man, whose white-blond hair and regal bearing indicated his origin. Amanda smiled briefly in his direction as she sailed past, happy to see he was alone.
A rustling in the crowd announced the presence of the hosts before the liveried man could do so formally. Amanda’s smile faded quickly when a tall young woman, sporting the light blue sash of royalty with the picture of her father over a pink dress approached Nick. “Nick! You came!” she crowed, throwing her arms around his neck. Blue eyes sparkled, blonde hair was piled on her head and diamonds dripped from her ears and neck.
Nick hugged her as best he could without spilling his drink. “Princess Madeleine,” he managed. “You’ve grown up.” He swallowed the last of his canapé.
“Of course, silly. The last time you saw me, I was barely into my twenties.”
“And now you’re all of twenty-six,” Nick responded, allowing a smile onto his normally serious face.
“I’m all grown up,” agreed the princess. Hooking her arm through his, she moved through the crowds. “Come and say hello to Mama and Papa, they’ll be thrilled to see you.”
“You’ll have to forgive Madeleine’s impulsiveness,” King Carl Gustav looked indulgently at his youngest daughter. “I would have thought by now she would have outgrown this.” Thirty years older than his dark-haired wife, with a lined face and grey hair, he smiled as he shook hands with Nick. “It’s good to see you again. I trust you’ve been well?”
“Yes, thank you. It was very kind to invite me, Your Majesty.”
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