If the Slipper Fits. Elizabeth Harbison
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pretty important in those circles. And word is, he’s staying here because this is where his father used to stay, back in the days when this was a happening hotel.”
“Then the word is wrong.” She refused to take the bait about the hotel not being what it used to be. “But you’re welcome to back off a little bit and take all the pictures you want of the place.” She tried to smile, but it came off as more of a smirk. “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”
He watched her for a moment, then said to his companions, “She looks like she’s on the up-and-up.”
“I don’t know,” another one said. “If he is there, it’s her job to tell us he’s not.”
Lily sighed. “Listen—like I said, you can do what you like off the property. If you publish pictures with the hotel’s name, so much the better. But you cannot stand here and do it because you are making my guests uncomfortable.” She smiled sweetly. “Please don’t make me call the police.”
“Forget it,” said the lone woman in the pack. “I’m not waiting here all night to take pictures of Brittany Oliver, no matter who she’s with or how many silly girls are ga-ga over him.”
Several of the others began to put their equipment away.
“Thank you,” Lily said to them.
“I’m not budging,” one of them said. “A shot of His Royal holier-than-thou-ness is worth a hell of a lot more than a shot of the inside of my apartment.”
This caused a small rumble of agreement among them. Lily knew that arguing further at this point would make her look suspicious, so she shook her head and said, “Just make sure you stay back from the property, then, or I will call the police on you for loitering.”
She went back into the building trying to formulate a Plan B. By the time she got back to Prince Conrad’s room, she had decided that the best place to hide a person—especially in a case like this—was right out in the open.
“How about if you put on a hat and coat, and we simply have one of the employees pick you up in his private car and drive you back to your hotel?” she suggested to Brittany.
“Aren’t the photographers looking for me?” Brittany asked, in a way that made Lily think that a “no” would have been far more upsetting to the actress than a “yes.”
“Yes,” Lily conceded. “Which is why, when you walk right out, they won’t even look at you. They’ll be looking for you to be smuggled out with the laundry or some other such nonsense.”
Conrad smiled for the first time since Lily had been in the room. “You’re right. It’s a good idea.”
Lily was disarmed by his smile, and told herself it was because it was unexpected, not because he was so incredibly good-looking. “I think it will work.”
Brittany glanced back and forth between the two of them. “What if one of them recognizes me?”
“Then they’ll take your picture and speculate about your involvement with a man who may or may not be here,” Lily said simply.
This seemed to satisfy Brittany.
At the same time, it seemed to irritate Prince Conrad—he lowered his brow and his jaw tightened a bit, but he said nothing.
“Should I call Mike to bring the car around?” Lily asked, wishing to get this exercise over with.
“Let’s do it!” Brittany said, clapping her hands together. “This is going to be fun.”
Fun, Lily thought wearily. This “fun” was interrupting her valuable sleep time. “Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she said to Brittany. “It would probably be best if you stayed in the suite, Your Highness, so you’re not seen.”
“I’m not used to hiding.”
No, he was probably just used to hiding his dates.
“You should stay here, Conrad,” Brittany said. “If you come out and tell them we’re just friends or something, it will only fuel the fire.” It may have been a trick of the light, but Brittany looked hopeful.
He looked at her curiously for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you wish. Thank you for coming tonight. I enjoyed our meeting and I appreciate your help.”
Lily felt a little ill at this characterization of what was obviously a romantic tête-à-tête. More than that, she did not want to be here in the middle of things during their goodbye, but she was stuck.
“Me, too.” Brittany threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek, while pressing herself against him in a way that made Lily feel as if she should leave them alone.
Conrad pulled away first. “Please return and let me know when Ms. Oliver is safely on her way,” he said to Lily.
She sighed inwardly. Her time could be much better spent sleeping, but the guest was always the priority. “Very well,” she said to him. “I’m sure it will go without a hitch.”
She led Brittany down the hall and to the elevator. “We have several coats that were left behind a long time ago and never claimed,” she said. “You could use one of them to cover up.”
“I am not going to wear some stranger’s smelly old coat,” Brittany said haughtily. Suddenly her sweet and cooperative act was over. “No way. I’ve got my own coat.”
“Yes, you do,” Lily said, looking at the long, plush mink coat—probably real—that the actress was sporting. “I was just thinking that perhaps you would be less conspicuous in something else.”
The elevator arrived and Lily pulled back the metal gates and ushered the actress on board.
“At this point, if I’m recognized, I just can’t help it,” Brittany said, and the look in her eyes left no doubt that she was counting on being recognized and photographed. “Prince Conrad and I have much more…business…to do together, so we’ll just have to get used to the attention, I guess.”
Lily was fairly certain Brittany would make sure of that. “Your driver is right outside the front door,” she said, swallowing one or two sharp comments about Brittany’s intentions. Then, to ensure that the actress wouldn’t stall any longer, she added, “But I’m afraid I already see some photographers.”
“Really?” Brittany turned a delighted face to the night and Lily took the opportunity to bid her goodnight and return to the hotel.
She was down to a possible five hours of sleep, and that was if she fell asleep right now. Unfortunately, she had to go back to Prince Conrad’s suite first and assure him that his guest had gotten into the car safely.
She plodded back up to his suite, reminding herself with every step that this was helpful to Gerard and the hotel in general. The photographer had been right about one thing: once this had been a grand place, and very popular with royalty and dignitaries, yet since 2001 business had slowed down and, so far, it hadn’t really picked back up.
They had done promotions, and Romantic Weekend packages, and so on, but what they needed was something to make the hotel interesting again. Brittany Oliver wasn’t going to do that, of course, but maybe the dashing Prince Conrad could.
Lily would do everything she could to protect his privacy—she would always do her job the best she could—but that didn’t stop her from sort of hoping the photographers had gotten an interesting picture or two that could show up in celebrity magazines with a caption about the location.
She figured Gerard probably hoped the same thing, but neither one of them would ever say it out loud.
When she got to Conrad’s suite, and he opened the door at her knock, he looked nearly as tired as she felt.
“Has she gone?” he asked, without preamble.
“Yes, she left several minutes ago. I don’t think there