James Bond secrecy.
Oh, God. I hope I didn’t have an accident. If there’s a stain on my rear, and he’s about to tell me, I am going to call my mom and go home to Virginia. Tomorrow.
No, tonight. I bet I can at least get to Munich tonight.
“Here,” he whispers, then opens a door. I realize that we’re on a balcony overlooking a huge reception hall. The floor below us is hardwood, with all these beautiful inlays. Big velvet curtains are hanging from windows that are almost two stories high, ending right below the balcony that circles the room. I feel like I’ve escaped from aWhite House tour and stumbled into one of the secured areas.
“We’re not supposed to be here, are we?”
“It’s all right,” he says. “But I wanted to get you alone so we could talk.”
I start getting a creepy feeling. But excited, too, because he doesn’t look upset or stressed, and I know I sure would be if I had to tell a girl she’s been walking around with a big red spot on her pants.
This might even be something fun.
I eye the door we just entered through. “The library’s not good enough?”
He shakes his head. “Karl will show up the minute we go in there. Or my father will, if he knows I’m home from school. He’ll want me to tell him about my homework, what’s due, all that. He keeps a very close eye on my assignments.”
“That blows.”
He lets out a little puff of air, kind of a half laugh. “Well, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“About homework?”
“No. About the fact you say things like having my father watching me every secondblows. You’re … you’re very normal.”
“Thanks, I think.” I’d rather he told me I—m hot, or maybe that I’m brilliant. At least that I’m a lot of fun. But I’ll settle for normal.
“Trust me, it’s a compliment.” He drops down into one of the straight-backed chairs along the wall at the back of the balcony, and waves for me to do the same. I set my backpack down between my feet, then take the seat next to him.
“So what’s up? You didn’t need to talk to me alone about that, did you?”
He turns his head to look at me, and since we’re less than an arm’s length apart, I think I’m going to fall over. His eyes are just amazing. Not as good as David’s—on the sparkly-cool scale, at least. But intense.
Georg takes a deep breath. “Do you know who I am, Valerie?”
“An ax murderer.” It just pops out. I know he’s trying to be serious, but I need
him
to tell me who he is.
He cracks up. “Would you have followed me in here if you believed that?”
“Not unless I had an ax of my own. And maybe a chainsaw.”
He smiles, then props his elbows on his thighs and folds his hands in front of him. For a second he looks away from me and stares at his shoes. I want to tell him that for all his dark hair and serious expressions, he looks nothing like an ax murderer.
Or a prince. I mean, a prince who wears Levi’s and rides the
strassenbahn
? A prince who hangs out with
moi
?
He told me I was normal.
I think I’m neurotic. He’s probably the normal one.
I’m about to tell him this when he turns sideways in his chair and touches my hand. “I’m a prince. My dad’s Prince Manfred.” He looks up from where his hand is touching mine, and my heart stops cold the minute his eyes catch mine. “Did you know that, Valerie?”
Whoa.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know. But I didn’t. Not that evening when we first met in the library. I figured it out later.”
“So how come you didn’t say anything?”
I shrug, but all I can think about is how warm and strong his fingers are on mine. I wish they weren’t. And I wish I didn’t havesuch a thing about a guy’s hands. It’s distracting.
“I don’t know,” I finally answer. “You didn’t say anything to me about it, so I figured it wasn’t my business. That you’d tell me when you wanted to.”
“But you didn’t treat me any differently. You treated me like I was
Oh, God. I hope I didn’t have an accident. If there’s a stain on my rear, and he’s about to tell me, I am going to call my mom and go home to Virginia. Tomorrow.
No, tonight. I bet I can at least get to Munich tonight.
“Here,” he whispers, then opens a door. I realize that we’re on a balcony overlooking a huge reception hall. The floor below us is hardwood, with all these beautiful inlays. Big velvet curtains are hanging from windows that are almost two stories high, ending right below the balcony that circles the room. I feel like I’ve escaped from aWhite House tour and stumbled into one of the secured areas.
“We’re not supposed to be here, are we?”
“It’s all right,” he says. “But I wanted to get you alone so we could talk.”
I start getting a creepy feeling. But excited, too, because he doesn’t look upset or stressed, and I know I sure would be if I had to tell a girl she’s been walking around with a big red spot on her pants.
This might even be something fun.
I eye the door we just entered through. “The library’s not good enough?”
He shakes his head. “Karl will show up the minute we go in there. Or my father will, if he knows I’m home from school. He’ll want me to tell him about my homework, what’s due, all that. He keeps a very close eye on my assignments.”
“That blows.”
He lets out a little puff of air, kind of a half laugh. “Well, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“About homework?”
“No. About the fact you say things like having my father watching me every secondblows. You’re … you’re very normal.”
“Thanks, I think.” I’d rather he told me I—m hot, or maybe that I’m brilliant. At least that I’m a lot of fun. But I’ll settle for normal.
“Trust me, it’s a compliment.” He drops down into one of the straight-backed chairs along the wall at the back of the balcony, and waves for me to do the same. I set my backpack down between my feet, then take the seat next to him.
“So what’s up? You didn’t need to talk to me alone about that, did you?”
He turns his head to look at me, and since we’re less than an arm’s length apart, I think I’m going to fall over. His eyes are just amazing. Not as good as David’s—on the sparkly-cool scale, at least. But intense.
Georg takes a deep breath. “Do you know who I am, Valerie?”
“An ax murderer.” It just pops out. I know he’s trying to be serious, but I need
him
to tell me who he is.
He cracks up. “Would you have followed me in here if you believed that?”
“Not unless I had an ax of my own. And maybe a chainsaw.”
He smiles, then props his elbows on his thighs and folds his hands in front of him. For a second he looks away from me and stares at his shoes. I want to tell him that for all his dark hair and serious expressions, he looks nothing like an ax murderer.
Or a prince. I mean, a prince who wears Levi’s and rides the
strassenbahn
? A prince who hangs out with
moi
?
He told me I was normal.
I think I’m neurotic. He’s probably the normal one.
I’m about to tell him this when he turns sideways in his chair and touches my hand. “I’m a prince. My dad’s Prince Manfred.” He looks up from where his hand is touching mine, and my heart stops cold the minute his eyes catch mine. “Did you know that, Valerie?”
Whoa.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know. But I didn’t. Not that evening when we first met in the library. I figured it out later.”
“So how come you didn’t say anything?”
I shrug, but all I can think about is how warm and strong his fingers are on mine. I wish they weren’t. And I wish I didn’t havesuch a thing about a guy’s hands. It’s distracting.
“I don’t know,” I finally answer. “You didn’t say anything to me about it, so I figured it wasn’t my business. That you’d tell me when you wanted to.”
“But you didn’t treat me any differently. You treated me like I was
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