Twice Upon a Time (20 page)

‘What are you doing?’

‘Taking photos for
Hello
magazine,’ she said, acid dripping from her voice.

‘Very funny.’

‘I want to try a few poses before I decide on which one is best.’

Gus tried unsuccessfully to relax as she walked about the room, eyes always on him, taking photos from all angles.

‘Cross your legs.

‘Uncross them.

‘Hands in your lap.

‘One hand on the arm of the chair.

‘Smile.

‘Don’t smile.’ She barked out the orders, and Gus did everything she asked. He found it strangely arousing.

‘Do you enjoy bossing me around?’ he asked, a small smile playing on his mouth.

An unreadable expression flashed across her face, but she didn’t say anything. She was so careful around him, so guarded about what she revealed. But he didn’t blame her. He had been a prick ever since he met her.

‘Have you heard from Ludo?’ he asked casually.

She paused for just a second too long before smiling brightly at him.

‘Of course. It sounds like he’s actually having fun,’ she said as she sat down on a dining chair and scrolled through the images she’d taken.

‘Doesn’t it? I laughed when I saw that picture of him and Valentina on the elephant.’

Cinda’s head snapped up at him and he realised she hadn’t seen the photo. A strange satisfaction came over him. She needed to know how unreliable Ludo was, and this was a good start. Ludo would soon forget about her, like he did all the others, and then Cinda would be free. But free for what?

‘I haven’t seen that,’ she said, and he saw a flash of something in her eyes. What was it? Hurt? Concern?

He instantly felt awful. Why did he insist on hurting this girl?

‘It was nothing important,’ he said smoothly. ‘Just a PR photo.’

‘Okay,’ she said, and he heard hope in her voice. She stood up, staring at him, her eyes narrowed. ‘Stand up,’ she said. ‘And take off your jacket.’

He did as she asked and carefully hung it over a chair.

She walked towards him, looking intently at him like she might a shop mannequin – not a person, just a shape.

She put her hands on his arms and he jumped at her touch.

Undoing the button on one of the cuffs, she carefully rolled up his sleeve before doing the same on the other side. Her hands felt strong, assured, as though she knew and used every muscle. Then she pressed her hands on the fabric of the shirt and started to squeeze the sleeves up his arms, crumpling the fabric. He noticed how fine and thick her hair was and how it curled at the nape of her neck. She ran her hands over his chest, rumpling the fabric of his shirt and undoing the top two buttons. He could feel her breath as she worked, the touch of her long fingers.

Then her hands were inside his collar. She pulled at the fabric, opening it up to expose some of his neck. The touch of her skin on his made him shiver a little, but she didn’t seem to notice.

She pushed him gently in the chest. ‘Sit,’ she said in a low voice and he did as she asked. Right now he’d do anything she wanted; she only had to ask.

She took a step back and looked at him as though critiquing her work.

‘That’s better,’ she said, and she smiled.

Gus felt like he had just been given the greatest compliment he’d ever received. Their eyes met.

‘I’m glad I finally meet with your approval,’ he said.

‘Hmm,’ she said cryptically, and she picked up a sketchpad and sat on the chair by the easel.

She started to sketch furiously, moving her chair and tearing each drawing off the pad as she finished, tossing them to the floor.

His eyes moved to examine each one as it fluttered to the floor, versions of himself from different angles.

He looked more relaxed than he felt. In some he was smiling, in some he was serious, but in all of them he looked like himself. There was no trace of Ludo’s longer hair or the casual way he held himself.

‘How are you going to make me look like Ludo?’ he asked as she examined one of the sketches.

Cinda paused and looked up. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’ll take the stick out of your arse and see if you relax.’ Her face was smiling but her eyes were steely.

Gus gave a short laugh. ‘I guess I deserved that.’

She worked in silence, and Gus watched her. She was looking at him constantly, but as though she was putting together a puzzle.

‘Did you mean what you said about my family being bullies?’ he heard himself ask.

The words were out before he realised. What a fool. Why did he ask that?

He’d thought a lot about that argument since it had happened, but he’d been determined to not mention it. But, as usual, he came undone when he was around her. How did she do this to him?

Cinda didn’t look up as she worked, but there was a change in her and Gus knew she was considering his question. ‘I guess I did.’

‘Are you anti-monarchy? A republican?’

‘I’m not anti-anything,’ she said, looking up now and meeting his eyes. ‘But you are a bully, and so is your mother. Don’t get me wrong – Jonas and I appreciate all this,’ she gestured around the room. ‘It’s a lovely apartment. You are generous bullies.’

Gus felt his temper rising at that. But he thought about the way they’d separated Ludo and Cinda. The way his mother had spoken to Cinda. The way he had spoken to Cinda on numerous occasions.

She was right; they were bullies.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

‘For what?’ she said, returning to her sketch, not looking at him.

‘For being a prick from the moment I met you. You deserve better, and I should know better. I want to make it up to you.’ He had a sudden thought. ‘How much did you and Ludo agree on for the portrait? Did he pay you an advance before he left?’

She crossed her legs. ‘We haven’t discussed a price yet,’ she said, and the expression that crossed her face looked a lot like vulnerability and confusion to Gus.

‘How are you living in Paris? It’s an expensive city.’

‘It doesn’t cost me much to live,’ said Cinda with a shrug. ‘We are lucky to have the accommodation. Jonas and I eat here mostly, take the metro whenever we can.’

Gus frowned. Of course Ludo wouldn’t have thought of details such as Cinda’s living expenses.

‘We will discuss the costs and transfer the money,’ he said.

‘It’s fine, honestly,’ said Cinda. ‘I don’t need anything, not after you sent me all those art supplies.’

Her attitude had softened and he smiled. ‘I’d never been into an art-supply store before. They’re addictive, aren’t they?’

‘They’re like stationery stores on crack,’ she laughed, and then she leant forward, her eyes bright. ‘Did you go yourself?’

‘I did,’ he nodded. ‘And I enjoyed it immensely.’

‘I assumed you’d send a footman or a winged monkey.’

‘The winged monkeys were all busy. But I can do things myself, you know.’

‘I’m sure,’ she laughed. ‘You polish your own crown. Vacuum your own red carpet. I bet you’re super independent.’

Gus laughed. ‘Yeah well, good call. He paused and ran his hands through his short hair. ‘But what about you, Miss Independence? I bet Mummy cooks you all your meals and Daddy drives you everywhere. Life in middle-class Land of Oz must be swell.’

Cinda laughed. ‘You are so far off the mark it doesn’t even matter.’

‘Oh yes?’ Do tell.’

Cinda paused and then looked him in the eye. ‘I’ve done most of the cooking, and all of the cleaning, since I was tall enough to reach the kitchen bench. I’ve had a weekend job since the day I turned fifteen. My mother is a bohemian opera singer, and a terrible judge of men. My father left us when Mum got pregnant with me, and drops in and out of my life whenever he wants, but really, I have no desire to see him. My life is no worse than most normal people’s, but it’s not quite as you assume. Although Jonas steps in whenever I need a consort.’

Gus opened his mouth to speak but Cinda put her hand up to stop him. ‘And before you question why I’m in Paris, enjoying the benevolence of your family, besides the fact that your brother asked me to stay, it’s because I have nowhere else to go. My mother rented out our home for six months while she heads off to New Zealand to get married – for the fourth time – to a man I have never met, without inviting me to the wedding.’

Gus was silent as he processed all this.

‘She didn’t ask you to the wedding?’ he finally asked.

‘Nope,’ said Cinda with a shrug, but the red flush to her cheeks pointed to this hurting more than she was letting on.

‘I am very sorry about that, Cinda.’

‘Yeah, well,
merde
happens,’ she said, looking at her phone and standing up. ‘Well, that’s three hours gone. Same time tomorrow?’

He glanced at his watch. Three hours already? He thought of that quote – was it Einstein? Something about putting your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it feeling like an hour – but sitting with a pretty girl for an hour feeling like a minute.

Gus could hardly wait until tomorrow.

23

Alex circled Cinda, who stood very still, waiting for her next instruction.

They had been working all week on how to greet royals and dignitaries, even how to walk and sit, which Cinda thought was hilarious until Alex told her that what she was doing was all wrong and she would have to start from scratch.

Then it was manners and small talk. And today it was how to get in and out of the car without showing your undies.

Jonas had sat in on all the lessons, doing everything Cinda had done. But this one he was sitting out.

‘Unless I am wearing a kilt, I doubt there will ever be a problem with me exiting cars,’ he had said, instead choosing to lunch with Gideon.

‘I feel stupid,’ Cinda complained for the umpteenth time.

‘You’ll feel more stupid when people are looking up what colour your underwear is online,’ snapped Alex.

‘Fair enough,’ conceded Cinda. ‘But I still think this is overkill.’

‘It’s not overkill if you and Ludo get serious. And anyway, these are skills you’ll never regret having.’ Alex gestured for Cinda to sit on the chair and try the turn out of the pretend car yet again.

‘Legs together and swing,’ she said as Cinda executed the move perfectly.

‘Well done,’ she said, walking over to her handbag and picking up her leather-bound notebook. ‘Now we’re ready.’

‘Ready for what?’

‘For your debut,’ said Alex lightly as she ran her perfectly manicured finger down the calendar and paused at a date. ‘Yes, perfect. A week from now we will have a small dinner in your honour.’

‘Oh fun,’ said Cinda, relieved. ‘Just us and the boys? And Petra?’

‘And a few others,’ said Alex carefully as her phone rang and she took the call in French. ‘I have to run,’ she said when she ended the call, kissing Cinda on both cheeks.

‘I thought princesses never ran.’

‘Manner of speech, darling,’ said Alex as she glided out the door.

Cinda wandered about the apartment.

Gus wasn’t coming in today and, while she probably had enough to start with, she still hadn’t put brush to canvas. She was still figuring out the best way to portray him.

The sound of her phone startled her and she ran to answer it, hoping for Ludo. Instead it was Gus.

‘Hey,’ she said, trying not to allow the disappointment to overwhelm her.

‘Hello, Lucinda, how are you?’ he asked in his usual formal tone.

‘Fine, thanks,’ she said as she wandered to the window and looked out at the street below. The leaves were changing colour.

‘Are you busy right now?’ he asked, and Cinda looked around the perfect apartment. She didn’t even have any cleaning to distract herself with. The day stretched before her with no real plans.

‘Not really.’

‘I was wondering if you’d like to come and see something with me.’

‘What is it?’

‘It might be helpful for the painting,’ he said cryptically.

‘Um, I’m not sure,’ she said, wondering why she felt nervous about going out with Gus. ‘I should really be painting.’

‘You can paint tomorrow,’ he said, and she glanced through the open door to the dining room at the blank canvas that mocked her.

‘Okay then.’

‘I will pick you up in an hour,’ he said, hanging up.

Cinda immediately dialled Alex. ‘Gus wants to take me out, something to do with the painting,’ she said. ‘What do I wear? I don’t have anything that works for a trip with a prince whose idea of casual wear is a Hugo Boss dinner suit without the jacket.’

Alex laughed. ‘I’ll send over something for you now.’

‘That won’t work. He’ll be here in an hour and anyway, I won’t fit into anything of yours.’

‘Twenty minutes, trust me,’ Alex’s voice was calm. ‘I’m not far away, I just left you, remember? I’m picking something up en route. Go and do your make-up and hair. A nice high ponytail will do fine, easy on the accessories.’

Cinda did as she was told, and exactly twenty minutes later the doorbell rang and Alex walked through the door with one bag from Marni and another from Marc Jacobs.

‘Here,’ she said, pulling out a navy jumper with tiny white hearts on it, a white miniskirt and a pair of black flats.

‘I like the jumper,’ said Cinda gratefully. ‘But there is no way that skirt is going to fit me,’ she said as she held it up.