The Prince's Secret (Prince Harry Fanfic)

Part 69 - Imprisoned in a Fairy Tale

Samantha

It was surprising how quickly the plan came together.

Randa was happy to take care of Drizzle while I was gone, especially when I told her the salary Harry would pay her. And she agreed wholeheartedly that it was not safe for me to stay at the flat any longer. She looked pointedly at my left cheek, which bore a nasty-looking cut held closed with steri-strips. I'd lied to Harry about the extent of the damage because I didn't want him to worry about me or cut his trip short.

"You'll have no more of that," Randa said, "and I'm glad you'll have someone around to keep the looloos away from you—someone who gets paid to crack heads and shove people around. And I won't have to hire a taxi just so I can get past the idiots to visit you."

Randa brought tape and boxes and together we packed up most of my possessions. Besides my sewing machine and stacks of fabric and patterns, I really didn't have a lot of stuff. I'd only been in the UK a little over six months. Six months! It was hard to fathom that my life had changed so much in such a short time.

My phone began to fill up with texts from Colin, Harry's private secretary. Hotel reservations at the Connaught. Timetable for Duncan to pick me up. Where my boxes would be stored. Plane tickets—first class nonstop to Vancouver on the afternoon of March 19th. As promised, it was all taken care of and there was nothing left for me to worry about...except the call I would have to make to my dad.

I boxed up my remaining groceries for Randa to take with her, then held up the last two bottles of beer in the fridge. "Shall we?"

"Why not?"

We sprawled out on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, and turned up the stereo to help drown out the voices outside. Popping the tops off, Randa held up her bottle.

"I'd like to propose a toast."

I giggled but held up my bottle. "Okay."

"To the future," she said solemnly, although her eyes were twinkling.

"Whatever it may bring," I agreed, and we clinked the bottles together.

"Oh, and if the well-traveled prince happens to have a nice single friend looking for a date, be sure and drop my name," Randa added.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Duncan arrived at precisely 3pm with another man I did not recognize, who carried my boxes downstairs and put them in a van while Duncan supervised. When he picked up my sewing machine I said, "No, not that. I'm taking it with me."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "To the hotel, ma'am?"

"Yes. I need to finish some coats before I leave London."

"Could we at least...put it in a bag?" Duncan asked.

I didn't have any more suitcases, so we made do with an extra packing box. I sensed that Duncan was not overly happy about it, or the duffel bag full of fabric beside it, but he refrained from making any comments.

The van drove away, and it was just Duncan and I left in the flat. I took one last trip around, making sure I had everything, before stopping in the doorway. I would miss the place, even though I always knew it would be temporary. A lot had happened to me while I was living there, and I was definitely not the same person I was when I moved in.

I was nervous about leaving the building, but Duncan was a pro. There was a driver waiting with the car pulled up right in front of the door, and Duncan hustled me into it, using his body to shield me from the gathered crowd. Then the door was shut and he slid in on the other side, so the only pictures they might have gotten were of Duncan's grim face as he glared out the window. As the car sped away, I wondered if this was a portent of what my life was about to become.

I was whisked into the hotel so quickly I had only an impression of dark wood and hunting prints, like some Downton Abbey dream world. Duncan accompanied me to my suite, checked all the windows and doors, and then introduced me to Paulo, who was going to be my guard dog for the next few days.

Paulo was tall and well-dressed, looking more like a business executive than a bodyguard. I got the feeling that his dark eyes missed nothing, that he was taking inventory of every cushion and chair in the room, every twitch of a curtain. Paulo stood off to one side as Duncan rattled off "His Royal Highness's requests," nodding in agreement as Duncan outlined the rules I was supposed to abide by.

Basically, I was in a very nice and, I assumed, very expensive prison for the next few days. I was not to leave my room without Paulo by my side, and not to leave the hotel at all. If I needed anything, there was a butler provided by the hotel, concierge, and room service. I was to order anything I wanted, and my every wish would be granted...as long as I stayed put.

"I hope I don't need any bias tape or velvet ribbon," I muttered under my breath, glad that I at least had something to work on while I was cloistered away. It was kind of like being trapped in a fairy tale. Maybe, if I wished hard enough, Rumpelstiltskin or some little mice would show up to help me finish off the coats for Eugenie and Beatrice.

Duncan scribbled out a list of contact numbers for me and finally took his leave, and Paulo followed soon after. I had no idea where Paulo was going, but I had little doubt that if I were to wander about the halls of the my exquisite prison he would show up within minutes.

Not that it mattered. I had sewing to do, and right now, a phone call to make.

"Hi, Dad," I said when he picked up, trying to sound nonchalant. "How are things?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Briefs and contracts." He sounded like he was also trying to keep his voice light, avoiding subjects that might cause disagreement.

Well, that might end shortly. "Umm...I just wanted you to know...I'm coming back to Vancouver in a few days. Not permanently," I added hastily, cutting him off, "but just to stay for a while."

"Good," he said, and although his voice was clipped I could hear the relief. "It's about time. What do you need? Do you want me to book your flight?"

"No, that's all taken care of. I'll send you the details."

"Will you be staying here?" he asked.

"If it's too much trouble, I can get a hotel—"

"I'd feel better if you were here with us. I know you're probably upset, but you knew it wouldn't last. Come home and we can talk about your future."

I laughed and shook my head. "I didn't get dumped by the prince, if that's what you're thinking. But it has been rather difficult here lately. I just need to get out of London for a while, and Harry thinks it will be safer for me in Vancouver while things settle down."

"Harry thinks?" My father snorted. "What do you think, Sam?"

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror across the room, hoping that the visible bruises and scratches would heal a bit more before my dad saw me—never mind Harry. "I tend to agree with him. Really, Dad, if it's too much trouble, I can stay somewhere else."

"Don't be silly. Of course you will stay here."

"Thanks," I said, and meant it. "And Dad...I do want to talk about my future while I'm there. It's kind of important."