I would like to thank three very dedicated and extraordinary women; 
Ely-chan, Regan, and Margie D, without whom I would never have 
been able to write this story.  Thank you, so much, you do not know 
what your help has done for me.

The second part will be out some time between 2 and 4 
weeks?please be patient?I've got a term to start, and a whole 
bunch of new classes to learn.

Disclaimer:  I don't own the characters; they are Naoko Takeuchi's.  
The story IS mine, so please, don't plagiarize.  I've already had to 
deal with a few?so please don't make my head hurt any more.

All of the songs quoted here are sung by Madonna, and I credit her and 
her partners somewhere in the story.  I really enjoy her music, and have 
become addicted to listening to it while writing this.

STYLE
By Crystal Heart
crisinti@hotmail.com

Volume I ? Preparations

"Long stem roses are the way to your heart
But he needs to start with your head
Satin sheets are very romantic
What happens when you're not in bed
You deserve the best in life
So if the time isn't right then move on
Second best is never enough
You'll do much better baby on your own"

~ "Express Yourself" - Madonna and Stephen Bray

Chapter 1 ? The Photographer

	Her size 6 scuffed-up Skecher sneaker kept in time with 
Madonna's "Express Yourself".  The elevator occupants watched the 
blonde, nodding to the beat pounding through her earphones.
	Eyebrows quirked; it was sure that they wondered who she was.  
She had presence.
	Her tastes were inclined to great stunning, stylish, sexy ambitious 
blondes of the past: Madonna, Grace Kelly, Marilyn Monroe.  Her 
physical appearance suggested otherwise.  Tastes, she'd always said, had 
nothing to do with what you could afford, and what made you 
comfortable.
	She got off the elevator on the 17th floor of Boston's John Hancock 
building, and entered the offices that housed the headquarters of 
Albright's STYLE magazine.  The tall leggy blonde's excellent form was 
cloaked in flaming red T-shirt, and baggy jeans, with a clashing orange 
and fuchsia flannel tied around her waist.
	She kept her most expensive and most-treasured possessions in the 
bag that hung over her shoulder.
	"The princess returns!"
	Behind her plastic-framed Hepburn-esque sunglasses, she rolled 
her eyes at idle office gossip, and continued to the offices of her employer.  
"I'm here," she entered, sat down in the chair in front of the desk, took off 
her headphones, letting them hang around her neck, and placed her bag 
down in the chair next to her.
	Minda Sullivan, at twenty-three, a chronic over-achiever and 
compulsive worrywart, frowned at her best photographer.  "You're late, 
Reece."
	"No surprise there.  You don't pay me enough to get me here on 
time."
	Knowing that she'd gotten her remark in, she continued.  "We lost 
the exclusive on Katsy Brandywise.  VOGUE got her?and I think they 
will get the new line in their exclusive.  We get her leftovers."
	Reece took off her sunglasses, revealing her sharp focused laser 
blue eyes.  She frowned at the blonde, pursed her lips, and then persisted.  
"She's not that gorgeous.  We'll get someone else.  Besides, they don't 
have me," she arrogantly tossed her sloppy low ponytail over her shoulder.
	Reece's ego did get on her nerves quite a bit.  "Katsy was the 
cover girl for April.  Cover girls for STYLE don't showcase leftovers.  Do 
you have another idea?"
	Reece sat forward.  "As a matter of fact, I do.  I've been thinking 
about it for a while."
	"Oh?" Sullivan asked, intrigued.  The photographer had a 
mind that went the speed of light, and the ideas that came from it 
radiated with every color of the rainbow.  Sullivan usually ignored 
the inspirations and aspirations of the supposed creative design 
department, and was more inclined to look at history and facts; 
Reece's tastes in model, in pose, and in flavor had brought STYLE 
many successes.  "What's this little seed that's growing in your 
mind?"
	"How about a fresh face?" Reece checked her roughly callused and 
semi-decently manicured nails.
	"Do you have anyone in mind?"
	"Maybe."
	Sullivan sat back, calculating business mind finally at ease.  Her 
education at New York University had amounted to two things: a desire to 
do more than best, and a mind appreciative of pure brilliance and 
invention.  "Who's the girl?"
	"A girl I know," Reece shrugged, carelessly.
	Sullivan's eyes narrowed.  "We know this is not for your selfless 
heart.  What do you want for this?"
	"As if you needed to ask.  Larger cut; I think Gabrielle," she 
gestured toward the camera in the worn leather bag, "has a yen for a new 
telephoto lens."
	Without hesitation, Minda Sullivan nodded.  "Done.  I'll write 
some terms satisfactory to me and send them to you.  If you don't like 
them, you can talk to me about them later.  Why don't you get going?  
You've got a girl to bag, and not a lot of time to do it in."
	Serena Audrey Reece laughed, voice deep, filled with money.  
"Three months from now, STYLE will have the dish on the newest icon in 
class and fashion.  I'LL send you MY terms tomorrow morning for you to 
sign."

Chapter 2 ? The Model

	The streets of Boston crammed with heavy traffic and blares of 
horns at rush hour.  The winter hours said goodnight to the sun, which set 
at its appointed time at 5:13 p.m.
	The brunette walked across Harvard Bridge, not acknowledging 
any of that.  Her eye was on the Boston skyline, calculating the seconds 
left to her in this dismal setting; she'd be in California soon, she hoped.
	Years of study to find herself close to flat broke.
	Her fianc頨ad left her last year; the emotional loss was not as 
acute as it could have been.  The material loss was greater, as she lost 
accommodations: her fianc頷as moving in with her ex-roommate.
	"It's not your fault" he had said.
	Right, it wasn't.  She had slammed the door behind her, not 
looking back.
	Her parents had long been dead; they'd died when she was young, 
when THEY were young.  Fitting, to die when they had spent most of their 
lives, working to "build" something.
	Whatever they thought they had built for their daughter dwindled 
when she fell under the protection of her aunt.  Her aunt, after being 
divorced a third time in this lifetime, decided that it was time to die of 
heartbreak two years ago; light on her financial records revealed many 
debts.
	After paying her aunt's debts, she'd been left almost destitute, save 
for the financial aid that was helping her get her bachelor's degree.
	Living in Boston was expensive, and nothing was becoming easier.  
She'd finished college almost a year ago.  The break that she had been 
expecting had not yet come.
	Would it ever?
	
Chapter 3 ? The Sucker

	"No!  You're getting it all wrong!" his partner yelled to him.
	Sweat ran down his spine, and he shifted uncomfortably in the heat 
of his mask.  Resigned to having messed up once more, he took off the 
mask and wiped his brow with the clean white cuff of his sleeve.  "Well 
I'm sorry, your majesty."
	He was not the violent type.  His whole being was sweet, 
considerate, and noble.  His sapphire eyes had sparked the fantasies of 
teenage girls in his adolescent years.  At twenty-two, Prince Gregory 
Manuel's dreamy boyish looks had developed into handsome chiseled 
features that bespoke of class and establishment.
	Crown Princess Lolita Cecilia Ordino of Andorra narrowed her 
eyes at her younger brother, but could not stay mad, and reached out and 
tousled his light brown hair.  He really was too adorable.
	"She's right.  Your en guard pose is wrong.  Lower position puts 
more spring on your legs.  And your parries are horrible."  The entrant of 
their conversation appeared at the pillar-framed doorway.
	Lolita, or Lita to her family, smiled in greeting to the guest, taking 
off her fencing mask, putting down the sabre.  Her light brown hair, 
streaked with auburn, was pulled in a tight but elegant bun.  Her slim 
figure was outlined in the whites; the colorlessness of the clothes brought 
out the lush emerald color in her eyes, the lively rose in her smooth 
cheeks.  "Darien!  It has been too long.  Care to?" she offered the sabre.
	Crown Prince Darien Bernadotte of Norway came forward, taking 
her hand, kissing it.  "Perhaps later."
	There was little about Darien Bernadotte that did not stun the 
people around him.  His tall figure was athletic, maintained by his training 
in the Navy.  He held himself distinguished, and fancied himself 
intelligent; often, the case was true.  His handsome features did not figure 
in the fantasy of many teenage girls in his adolescence, as Gregory's had, 
for he treasured his privacy, and ensured it in his youth.  Now, at twenty-
seven, Darien's distinguished ice blue eyes and velvet black hair 
complemented his attitude: frigid propriety and responsibility.
	"Where is your sister?" Lita asked, eyes glowing admiringly.
	"Rei?  She'll be here soon enough."
	Princess Reija Caprice Bernadotte entered the room, smiling 
warmly to the conversationalists.  Her eyes were shades lighter than her 
older brother's, a lavender unique to only her.  She had the dark 
Bernadotte hair, and wore it long, and up in mazes of braids and curls, 
winding around ribbons, pins, and pearls.  "Good morning, Greg, how 
are you?"
	Gregory smiled casually.  "Better now that I have seen you.  You 
are stunning."
	Rei laughed, offered her snow-white hand for his kiss, and 
received one.
	Her face was white rose petal, pale and soft, silky in texture.  Her 
eyes often reflected mirth; while her brother had been delegated the 
responsibilities of royalty, she had absorbed and seized on the vein of style 
and elegance that came with being of the Bernadotte blood.
	Minimal schooling had led her to small goals; in this life, a 
husband and a future would suffice.  She would get both in a few months.

Chapter 4 ? Lipsticks & Pouts

	40 the Fenway was a small co-op by the Fens in Back Bay Boston.  
Nestled by some fraternity houses from nearby colleges and some musical 
institutes, the sounds from the streets around it vacillated between distant 
piano music, raunchy inebriated cries, and the sirens of police cars, cutting 
through traffic, in a hurry, always in a hurry.
	On the first floor, in the living room facing the Fens, Serena 
exercised.  Completing her hundredth curl up, she let her stomach relieve 
itself of strain as she lay back on her hardwood floor, staring at ceiling.
	The floor needed mopping and waxing, but she had neither the 
time nor inspiration to accomplish either.
	The door unlocked and her roommate entered the building, a tired 
smile as her greeting.
	Serena sat up on the floor, and examined the woman.  Yes, she 
would do the job.  And she would do it well.  "How was work today?"
	There was only one way the young woman answered that question, 
and Serena waited for the response without fail: "Underpaid."
	Success, Serena decided, would be sweet and efficient.  She'd need 
to approach it carefully, however.  "If you don't like it, why do you stick 
around?"
	"Because there is nothing else to do," the tall brunette responded 
nastily, going downstairs to the kitchen area, opening the fridge, and 
taking out the almost-empty plastic container of 2% milk.  The moves 
were somewhat jerky, Serena concluded, but they could be polished 
easily.  The air was there, at least.  Many of those in the modeling business 
would never breathe the "air", no matter how much they wanted to; it was 
natural, it was in the genes.
	The brunette turned her back on Serena.   "The House needs more 
milk," she said, as she fluidly went to the sink, washed a dirty mug, and 
poured herself the remnants of the jug.
	Serena went to the growing grocery list taped on the refrigerator 
and requested it of the house's steward, and afterwards approached the 
counter island energetically, facing her suitemate, toweling off the 
perspiration from her neck and forehead.  She put on her glasses, and 
assessed the features of her subject.
	The eyes were stunningly deep, endless.  Outlining them would 
make them unforgettable, maybe even haunting in certain lights, in certain 
moods.  The mouth curved for sonnets.  Lipstick and pouts would make 
men fall on their knees.  High cheekbones bespoke of elegance and 
aristocracy.  And the figure was very slender and subtly curvaceous and 
could be accented and brought out with the right clothes.  And the hair.  
There were endless possibilities with the silk that remained coiled in a low 
bun at the base of the perfect ivory swan neck.
	"Amy, why haven't you ever considered posing for me?  You 
could make a bundle with that face."
	Amy Miller looked at her roommate as if she were crazy, but 
responded to this tentatively, as she did everything.  "I didn't know I 
could."
	"You've got the looks.  Why aren't you modeling?"
	"You've got looks too, why aren't you?" she retorted.
	The blonde laughed.  "Not like you.  Your look is unique.  
Exclusive.  Blondes, they're always around.  No?" she remarked, 
admiring Amy's dark silky tresses, of a hue that teased the eye with its 
shifting tones.  "I think you'd do well.  Let me shoot you."
	"If you have the gun, go ahead."
	Behind the glasses, Serena's eyes narrowed.  "Put yourself in my 
hands, Amy.  You've got places to go.  Where do you want to go?"
	Amy's answer was prompt, automatic.  "California."
	"And is your job going to get you there?" Serena asked, 
reasonably.
	Amy's honesty fought with her stubbornness.  The honesty won 
out: "No."
	"I can get you there.  You just have to do the right things.  Meet 
the right people.  Be the right person."
	"Am I the right person?" Amy looked at her suitemate.
	"Trust me, you're the right person.  You may have to?" Serena 
began.
	"Use and manipulate people?" Amy asked.
	Serena shrugged.  "Perhaps."
	Amy shook her head.  "I can't handle this.  You want me to give 
up my job to model for a few pictures?  I don't think so."
	"Like your job with MIT Dining Services is much better.  You 
went to school to work with physics.  That didn't work out.  Why don't 
you try a different way instead of trying to push on the same door?  I'm 
holding this one wide open for you."
	Amy knew her roommate's own internal system of morals and 
ethics were not stellar and squeaky clean.  And she could only imagine her 
involvement in them would draw her further into this bitter mass that she 
had become immersed in these past few years.
	So many years ago, she had been so hopeful, approached 
everything with such stupid zeal.  She'd been seduced into the world of 
optimism and hard work.  That hadn't worked out.
	So many years, wasted.  And here, Serena was offering something 
that she imagined to be the BIG deal.  The one that could change her life.
	So there would be some moral pushing involved.  It was not like she 
hadn't been screwed over several times herself in the past.  It was time 
someone else suffered instead of her, right?
	Maybe it was time for something different.
	"What does this involve?"

Chapter 5 ? Ballgowns to lingerie

	While the Prince Gregory of Andorra was polishing his lunges, and 
refining his advances and retreats, Amy was working on polishing her 
nails and refining her runway walk.
	Serena had to work fast.  The glamour that came with fashion was 
often quickly established by true geniuses, but often also spawned from 
efforts that surpassed the capacity of most men's strength.
	But Serena was a woman.  She had drive, style and ideas.
	Late hours, spent dwelling on different images, different ways to 
forward Amy into this new world of glamour were oft attended to with 
fixations of badly brewed black coffee.  Amy would shoot well from every 
angle.  She had to find the best ones.
	Amy tired easily.  There was a lot to learn.  Posture.  The slant of 
the eyebrow.  What to eat.  And surprisingly, how to eat it.  What to wear.  
How she wore it.
	How to flirt.
	Flirt.  Amy Miller had never flirted in her life.  And soon, even the 
name Amy Miller ceased to exist; Serena despised the trite common girl-
next-door ring to it.  She had a model name.  Amy Miller, with a model 
name!  She became Aimee Lace.
	She never called herself Aimee Lace.  She'd refer to Aimee as 
Aimee.  A separate person all together.  There would be a time when she 
would have to BE Aimee Lace.  But for now, Aimee was someone she 
practiced, pretended to be for small intervals, as Serena told her to turn a 
certain angle, smile a certain way, or not smile at all.
	Aimee Lace wore lines that suited her curves well; Serena took her 
shopping, lording over her with particular tastes.  Amy could not afford 
Aimee's tastes, but Serena could.  She silenced Amy with a simple 
argument:  "You're an investment, and I'm sure the return will be large."
	Serena was a shrewd businesswoman; that Amy found out soon.  
Aimee soon learned to appreciate it.  Amy found it disturbing.  The 
woman was effective and precise.  Serena made no mistakes.
	She had once asked Serena "Is your real name Serena, or do you 
use a name too?"
	Serena had turned to her.  "No.  Serena isn't my real name."
	"Then what is it?" Amy had asked.
	 "That isn't important," Serena had gone back to work.
	Aimee's development was relatively quick; Amy, though new to 
the field, picked up on the nuances easily; Aimee used people, anyway she 
wanted.
	Aimee had the control that Serena exhaled; the omniscient scope, 
the ability to assess and accrue her situation, whether it be socially or 
financially.
	The control that Aimee had had appealed to the hurting woman's 
hunger.  She had consumed it quickly; let it consume her.  Let the yuppies 
all talk about getting ahead in life the "right" way; she was tired of it.  It 
was time she started doing things her way?or, at least, Aimee's way.
	Walking on the Harvard Bridge was not a time for self-pity: pity 
was a waste of time.  It was a time to regroup and reassess.  Always 
regroup and reassess.
	Her parents, her aunt, her ex-fiance and her ex-roommate did not 
exist.  If they did, Aimee used the memories to ensure her heartless 
approach to others; most people had intentions other than what they 
appeared to be.  No one could be counted on but herself.
	Two months before Serena's anticipated feature of Aimee Lace in 
STYLE, the article announcing the official engagement of Prince Gregory 
to Princess Reija found its ways into social columns of newspapers and 
magazines, and Serena knew she had to step up the pace.  She brought 
Aimee with her to New York that weekend.  
	Aimee was starting to get exposure in the fashion world.  Serena's 
first clever shoots got them a few designers, who wanted her in their 
shows.  After Serena taught Aimee the walk, they moved quickly.  Money 
from the shows went more into investments.
	More and more clothes.  A shower of silk and satin, prints and 
stripes.  Ballgowns to lingerie.  Aimee Lace had one major coup left: the 
cover girl status.
	Serena wouldn't let her get there yet, though it was obvious she 
was planning for it.  Aimee trusted Serena to know the right moment to 
put her forward, and so prepared herself.
	But Serena's plans in New York did not involve major buying trips 
on the overpriced Fifth Avenue.  No new clothes.  Serena brought Aimee 
to small places, places that had no photo shoots.  Aimee had been 
confused at first; her best outfits did not satisfy Serena now.  Serena 
demanded beyond that.
	The parties were small.  Aimee soon discovered they were with 
some very big names, some very rich men.  Nights to the ballet in box 
seats were certainly not for Serena's love for classical music; strategy 
placed them next to some wealthy-looking young men.
	And Aimee knew then what Serena had prepared her for.
	In the manner of a Geisha, she hosted the advances of these rising 
businessmen.  Let them bring her flowers.  After one courtesy wearing, 
she pawned the jewelry they showered her with, and gave that money to 
Serena to "invest" in other options.
	One man led to another dinner party.  That dinner party, in turn, 
introduced another man.
	Aimee Lace got her toes in everywhere, settling herself in, and 
moving on.  Aimee enjoyed it immensely.

Chapter 6 ? Lips Pursed in Thought

	She did abhor parties.  Watching Aimee, Serena sipped her 
champagne contemplatively in a corner, by herself.  Things were working 
well.  It looked like Terrence Kilbourne took a liking to Aimee.  Good.  
Terrence would lead to Vincent, and Vincent would lead to Andrew.  And 
Andrew?
	"She's stunning."
	If it had been anyone else, she would have scowled, and sent him 
away.  If had been anyone else, saying those same old advances, she 
would have simply and bluntly refused to participate, and ignored him 
completely.  If it had been anyone else, trying to show her some attention, 
she would have made it clear to him that she appreciated no attention, 
from anybody.  Her life, her opinions, and her thoughts were hers, and she 
did not share.
	However, Serena smiled warmly to the handsome young blonde 
who joined her, glad he could make their appointment.  His uncomfortable
shift in his suit delighted her.  He hated dressing up.  "Good.  She's going 
to do it."
	The man turned to her.  "Are you nuts?  This one?"
	"Why not?  He likes them young, he likes brunettes, and despite all 
that cake and makeup, she reflects this 'protect me' aura that preys on 
men's hearts more than anything else."
	The man resented being classified in such a generalization, but did 
not comment.  Sipping from his flute of champagne, he appreciated Serena 
Reece's outfit: a short black professional suit, revealing nicely toned legs, 
long blond hair pulled back in a straight, no-nonsense bun.  She wore the 
black plastic frames of upper-class intellectual New York taste.  She rarely 
looked so neat.  "I read an interesting article not so long ago," he said.
	She turned to him.  "Well, are you going to tell me what it said?"
	"Prince Gregory's getting married soon," he announced 
complacently.  "They set the date to be in three months; short notice, to be 
sure.  But I'm sure, given the devoted love our royal brats feel for each 
other, and the size of their bank accounts, that time does not matter.  And 
if I heard you correctly last time you called me, you want to put Glamour 
Girl on the cover of every magazine in two months.  I'm sorry, duchess, I 
don't think you're plan is going to work.  You need time.  The wedding is 
going to be 'full-speed-ahead' in two months, and the subject of every 
cover, rather than your little model."
	Her lips pursed in thought, brow wrinkled.  She turned to her 
conversation partner pinning him with forceful stare.  "It's excellent 
timing; the more this cooks, the louder the explosion that comes when I 
take it all apart.  But you're right.  I need to do something to buy myself 
some opportunities."
	He nodded, smugly.  "Because unless he gets to the States fast, or 
Princess Rei is somehow indisposed, I'm afraid that all your plotting will 
be for naught."
	He did so love it when she failed.  It proved her inferior, in many 
ways to him.  She should have never tried to last without him.  She needed 
him.  He sipped his champagne, licked his lips, and cleared his throat. He 
was about to insist on her moving back to New York when she suddenly 
turned to him.  
	"Yes, it would be for naught.  So I guess you'll have to kidnap the 
princess."
	"What?" he spit out the champagne.
	The set around him turned to focus on him, giving him a collective 
high-society-New-York glare, and he embarrassedly led her out of the 
room to the hallway.
	"I can't do that.  Ree, I'm a musician, not a criminal."
	Serena looked at him with those blue eyes, and he sighed.  He'd 
never be able to turn her down.

Chapter 7 ? Gold

	The elevator announced their arrival on the floor with a tinny bell 
sound that was as artificial as the smiles on their faces.
	Serena led the way through the floor, parting the gossip and noise 
into a silence as the newest, most stunning woman gracefully floated 
through, not deigning to give any acknowledgement to anyone.
	It was Aimee Lace?the soft whir of excitement entered the room.  
They'd heard of the rising fashion star.  No one could speak.
	She passed them all without acknowledgement or recognition.
	She did, however, let herself give a double-take to the stockboy by 
the door.  Teenage boys were too much fun.
	Serena opened the door for her charge, and Aimee entered the 
office.
	"Hello, Sullivan," Serena greeted Minda triumphantly.  "I'd like 
you to meet Aimee Lace."
	Minda's jaw dropped.  "THE Aimee Lace?" she said on a gasp.
	The newest legend of fashion runways sat in the chair in front of 
her, hair newly cut short, framing her ivory face.  Her cerulean eyes did 
not glitter: they smoothly glimmered, perhaps even radiated beauty.  And 
they were cold.  No passion in them.  The ice was?phenomenal.
	Her elegant figure was in a button down, V-neck, and khakis.  No 
woman should have looked so gorgeous in them.  They were supposed to 
be scholarly, average of the yuppie class.  Certainly not cover material.
	But on this woman, it was if they had never been worn the right 
way before.
	Aware that the model was now lifting her left brow at her silence 
and awe, Minda cleared her throat.  "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
	When she'd heard the rumor that a new model had hit the runways, 
and taken them with her, Minda had automatically wanted to sign Aimee 
Lace for the April cover.  The March cover.  Or any cover she wanted.
	Aimee's face had not been booked yet, though; Minda had kept 
track of it.  Aimee's agent, a mysterious unknown, had dismissed all 
magazine offers as of yet.
	Minda thought it rather foolish; what was Lace waiting for?
	Serena spoke warmly.  "I'd like you to meet your cover girl for 
April."
	Minda's jaw dropped.  "What did you say?" she asked, above 
whisper, knowing that she'd wake up soon.
	Serena laughed, sitting next to Aimee.  "You heard me, Sullivan.  
You told me to deliver.  I did."
	Aimee remained silent; they had decided that Serena would do all 
the talking.  She kept her expression indifferent.  As if uninterested with 
petty concerns like business deals.
	Minda looked from the model to her photographer.  "You mean 
SHE was the fresh face you had in mind?"
	Serena shook her head.  "You never understand, do you?  I never 
back out on my word."
	Minda turned to gawk at the model once more, and said quietly.  
"We ought to work fast, Reece.  Get her out on the cover next month 
instead."
	"No," Serena said, simply.
	"Are you mad?  The woman's gold now."
	The awkward Amy in the model went starry-eyed.  One of the best 
fashion-editors in the circuit, saying that SHE was gold.  The excitement 
did not even manage to bubble to the surface.
Aimee simply examined her nails, and decided that she was due for 
another manicure.
  	And what was Serena doing?  Aimee blanched at her questioning 
her maker.  Serena had everything under control.
	"We wait until April.  She'll be bigger then."
	Minda's expression was not short of pure astonishment.  "How is 
that possible?  She's got the most momentum out there now."
	"We do things my way, or we don't do the exclusive.  I'm sure 
Aimee has other offers, doesn't she?"
	She had.  Aimee absently nodded.
	Minda sighed in resignation.  "Fine, your way.  You win."
	Serena nodded.  "I brought her in to show you progress.  I have.  I 
don't plan on showing you any more until it's ready to be printed.  I don't 
want any assignments the next two months.  We've got things to do, and 
I've got photos to shoot."
	With that, Serena stood, and Aimee followed suit.
	"Thank you for being our cover model," Minda said, worshipfully.
	Aimee nodded, and said very smoothly, "It's been interesting, Ms. 
Sullivan."
	Oh god, Minda sighed, as the model and her photographer left her 
office.  The woman had a voice that probably could trap night into a spell.
	She had no idea how Reece had done it, and for that, the contract 
that Reece had proposed a month ago was modified; the terms each tripled 
in magnitude, a term that she was sure the photographer would agree to; 
the payoff for this shoot would be tremendous.

Chapter 8 ? Atmosphere & Ambience

	Sometimes the scenery bored him.
	Lately, he found it bored him more often than not.
	Naturists would have said that he had no soul; writers would have 
said he had no romance.  And he would have agreed with them.
	Darien sighed back at his window seat, and looked out into the 
winter.
	Boredom seeped into the corners of the room until he thought it 
would snap.  A single sound would make the room explode.  The whole 
atmosphere and ambience would fall apart.
	He wished to be out on the water once more, amidst the breath of 
salt and wind.  To be caressed into relaxation by the sea's swaying 
motions.
	"Darien?"
	Darien turned to see his sister leaning against the frame of the 
doorway, gentle hands caressing the cherry wood.
	"What's wrong, Rei?" he stood up at his desk, coming around it to 
take her hands.
	"Nothing.  It's only?do you ever wonder what's out there?"
	"I know what's out there," he told his sister, touching her nose.  
"Problems.  The world.  More problems."  He kissed the wrinkle on her 
forehead away.
	"You hide me from all that, Darien.  I'm twenty.  I haven't had 
schooling outside of this palace.  Why don't I go to college?  Why don't I 
learn more of the world like other people?"
	Darien laughed.  "Because, my darling sister, it would depress you, 
and sadness is not meant for those eyes.  You know that I try to do what's 
best for you?"
	She looked at her older brother, who had five years more of 
wisdom, and allowed herself to agree half-heartedly.
	"Now come.  We're going have some dinner with Mom and Dad, 
and you can play your piano for me."
	Rei smiled for her brother, but inwardly felt a tinge of pain.  
Always the piano for him.  That was all she ever did.  Learned that stupid 
piano.
	However, she smiled, and followed him out of the desk room.
	Darien closed the door behind him, shutting out the outside world 
once more, and taking instead the world and the people dearest to his 
heart.

Chapter 9 ? Test waters

	Chadwick Jed Grace, or Jed as his friends knew him, stared at the 
magazine at the elegant brunette.
	He knew nothing about kidnapping royalty like Princess Reija, let 
alone kidnapping women in general.
	But there was no way that he could refuse Ree.  He loved her.
	The blonde grabbed at his hair, pulling at it in frustration.  There 
was entirely too much to think about.  The factors.  Security.   Where to 
find her.  How to get to Norway.
	He was a musician.  He had to compose music!
	He glared at the piano in the corner in the room.
	It had not helped that he had dropped out of Julliard last term.  He 
just couldn't take all the rigidity of the curriculum.  He needed more 
freedom to test waters.  He wanted to compose now; not attend more 
classes on theory.
	The twenty-one-year-old got up, went to his dirty window, and 
stared out into the dark, messy streets.
	He liked his life the way it was.  What Ree had asked, well, that 
would change things.
	There were repercussions that would certainly affect his life; he 
could go to jail.  He could be killed in certain countries.  He had not yet 
researched Norway's laws on kidnapping royalty.  And even then, how 
would he even get close enough to her to kidnap her?
	Jed sighed and tossed back a shot of brandy, mulling in the 
darkness at the picture of the princess of Norway.  He then leaned 
forward, and proceeded to research some more.

Chapter 10 ? Elegant Distance

	Andrew Garamond knew his companies, stocks, and cars.  And he 
knew women.
	Aimee Lace was top of the line.
	Definitely top, as one slim heartstoppingly beautiful leg shot out of 
the limo.
	He turned to his friend and rolled his eyes.  "You see what I 
mean?"
	Aimee Lace's thin elegant frame was wrapped in a smooth fluid 
sheath in shimmery smooth blue.  Her hair twisted in little rolls around 
small jewels in her hair, exposing that kissable neck, and the sapphire 
necklace that Andrew had given her two days ago for the 10-day 
anniversary of their acquaintance.
	His friend rolled his eyes and smiled snidely.  "She didn't come 
alone."
	Serena Reece's very elegant formfitting dress of black accented 
curves and revealed nothing but her pale forearms, and her collarbones, 
which were framed by the soft fabric.  Her own long hair was pulled back 
stiffly.  Oh, she was a cold one, the young man mused.
	Andrew scowled with his friend.  "No, Aimee never does.  It's as if 
the other one is her buffer; she always complains at some hour, and they 
both leave."  He then turned to his friend.
	Darien Bernadotte rolled his eyes.  "You invited me over an ocean 
to distract a chaperone?  Can't you handle your own love problems?"
	Andrew looked at him.  "Come on; you said yourself that life at 
home was getting boring.  Spice it up a little."
	Darien narrowed his eyes.  "If you utter one more clich頰hrase of 
how I should let go or whatever, I will personally see to it that this friend 
of your interest will want to leave immediately."
	Knowing he'd gotten Darien to cooperate, Andrew smiled 
complacently to himself, and moved forward through the crowd.  "Aimee!  
I'm so glad you could make it to the party!"
	Aimee Lace looked snidely around her.  A charity ball.  
How?common.  She offered her hand to her escort.  "I wouldn't have 
missed it for the world."
	Andrew smiled, and kissed her hand, and gestured Darien to come 
forward before Serena took his other arm.  "I'd like you ladies to meet a 
friend of mine; this is Darien Bernadotte."
	Aimee's brow lifted at the handsome young man in the elegant 
tuxedo, and she slid a surreptitious glance to her accomplice.  Serena 
looked back at her calmly without signal.
	But it appeared that Aimee would not even have a chance to see 
whether or not she wanted the handsome, VERY sexy young man's 
advances; he approached Serena.  "And you would be?"
	"Not available," Serena quipped, and turned, walking to the other 
side of the ballroom in a smooth, dismissing stride.
	Darien widened his eyes, sent an exasperated glare to Andrew, 
who triumphed.  Sliding a hand on Aimee's bare, exposed back, he 
lowered his voice.  "Now, shall we dance?"
	Aimee, angered at Darien's lack of interest, seized on the poor 
fool's advances to heal her ego.  "I'd love to."
	Serena tossed back the champagne, and looked out onto the dance 
floor; if she were to take the advances of a bored, overeager prince 
tonight, she'd need it.  "What, no fan club here, your highness?" she asked 
as he approached her once more.
	 The simple fact that she knew who he was set him in a defensive, 
wary mode.  "My friend Andrew said that we were perfectly suited to each 
other.  I highly value his opinion, and I am inclined to agree," he began 
sarcastically.
	Serena glared at him.  "We both know that you were sent to 
dispose of me.  Though I admit, Andrew does go about doing these things 
with style; a Prince?  All for me?" she reached for another flute, when the 
prince's hand came across to stop hers, and to take her fingers in a 
caressing intimate grasp.
	"I think you already had too much to drink."
	"I hold my alcohol well," she looked back at him.  "And excuse 
me?  You're blocking my view," she looked around him.
	He considered staying where he was just to upset her, but turned 
around and watched the couple on the floor and sipped from his own 
champagne flute contemplatively.
	She knew about Garamond's link to Andorra.  The link to Norway, 
however, was new to her, and upset her.  She thought she had gone 
through a thorough check on Garamond.  The man, however, was 
evidently full of surprises.  And she would have to do some investigations.
Had he brought his delightful sister with him?  "So what does the Prince 
of Norway have to do with the owner of Garamond Hotels?"
	"Is that the initiation of a conversation?" he turned to her.
	"I was merely curious," she shrugged.
 	"Well I am too.  Not everyone knows that Norway even has 
royalty.  How come you do?"
	"Because I'm a scheming cat out to seduce and marry someone 
rich, and preferably with a title," she rolled her eyes, and turned to him.
	Darien shook his head.  "Too trite.  Besides, you aren't the 
marrying type.  Really, how?"
	She shrugged.  "I know things.  I read the news.  Your sister is 
getting married.  I know you hate publicity, your highness, but you can't 
always escape from notice."
	She said the words "your highness" so snidely.  He gritted his 
teeth.
	"Now you have to answer my question," she turned to him.  She 
allowed her eyes to meet his now.
	There was grinding in her stomach, and she almost stopped 
breathing.  It was absolutely debilitating to look into Prince Darien 
Bernadotte's eyes.
	He did not remain unaffected.  She saw the quick flash in his eyes, 
and inwardly laughed.  Men, they were so obvious.  She turned back to 
Aimee and watched as Aimee stepped out of Andrew's embrace and dance 
at an elegant distance away.  Very nice, she mused.  "Well?" she asked.
	"If you read the news, you'd know that I was educated at Exeter 
for my high school years, and studied for two years at Harvard."
	"Before you dropped out, yes."
	He glared her into silence.  "I don't appreciate Americans too 
much.  There was nothing to interest me here.  Andrew was one of the few 
friends I made, and the acquaintance stands."
	Ah yes, Andrew WOULD be the "bosom friend" of a man like 
Darien Bernadotte.  The opposites suited each other.
	Andrew Garamond, who currently dipped a hand a little low on 
Aimee's back, which Aimee quickly corrected, was a playboy.  A man 
who excelled in business because of that elegant grace and seductive, 
enchanting manner of his.
	Prince Darien, she recalled her brief research, was a?stiff old 
board.  Decorum and decency had never found such a more adequate 
home.  He possessed no charm over others; he simply intimidated them 
out of their wits.
	They stood in uncomfortable silence.  Serena did not like it.  The 
feeling of being read and read over until meaning was found came to 
mind.  When was he going to get the picture that she was not going to be 
understood?  She extinguished the quivering flame of excitement in her 
stomach, and turned to him.  "If you don't like Americans, what are you 
doing here?"
	He smirked.  "Talkative, are we?"
	Serena scowled, and turned away.
	"I wanted to see Andrew."  *I wanted to get away.  Far away.*
	She frowned at herself even as she asked, "How long do you plan 
on staying?"
	"Long enough," he curtly replied.
	This was not helping, but it would be worth investigating.  She was 
not following the royals as closely as she had thought.
	As he was no longer of any use, she put down the empty flute, and 
made for a withdrawal.  "I'll let you go now, your highness.  I know 
you're not suited to ballroom talk; socializing must be SO tiring."
	He grabbed her arm, and spun her into the waltzing circle that 
revolved around the ballroom floor.
	Serena's eyes widened momentarily, in surprise, and focused on 
the man once more.  He was a sly one.
	She crushed her stiletto on his toe.  "Oh DEAR, your highness, I 
didn't mean that."
	Darien hid the grimace of pain and gritted his teeth into a smile.  
"I'm sure you did."  He did not let his grasp on her form loosen.  
Contrarily, he drew her closer into the circle of his arms.  She was 
surprisingly soft?very soft.
	She stepped on his foot once more, this time, her aim more 
focused.  "Oh, that must be painful," she whipped out of his embrace 
quickly.  Her breath was entirely too quick.  She felt her heart pounding.
	And her arms tingled from where his brushed them.
	She cleared her throat.  "I have two left feet.  If you'll excuse me, 
but I'm not used to this much exertion.  I think I'll go to the ladies' room."
	Ten minutes later, the ladies left.
	Andrew frowned at the exits.  Darien joined him, laughing.
	"Couldn't you be even a little more charming?  You have the 
looks, you might have just smiled at her?that might have been enough."
	Darien shrugged.  "I guess I could have."
	Andrew glared at him.
	Darien gave no response.
	"So?" Andrew bit out, frustrated.
	"She wouldn't have bought it anyway.  The woman's got a good 
head, and an eye.  Nothing would slip by her.  Lace hangs out with her for 
a reason, Andrew, and if I were you, I'd be careful and see just want she 
wanted with you before you go and offer everything."
	Andrew rolled his eyes.  "I don't expect you to understand, nor 
know anything?I saw your 'smooth moves' with the blonde.  She wasn't 
that responsive?ha?guess that wasn't one of those things they taught 
you in finishing school."
	Darien smirked, and took another flute and tossed it back.  "I may 
not have been as smooth and debonair as some Casanovas here," he 
toasted to his friend sarcastically, "but that blonde will be thinking of me 
tonight.  Will Aimee Lace even consider you as she smiles at the next man 
who leers at her legs?"

Volume II ? Execution

"You've got style, that's what all the girls say
Satin sheets and luxuries so fine
All your suits are custom made in London
But I've got something that you'll really like"

~ "Dress You Up (in my love)" - Peggy Stanziale and Andrea LaRusso

Chapter 1 ? Elaborate Plan

	The note was simple:  "The princess is in Boston, why aren't 
you?"
	He swore.  Well, there went the extremely expensive airline ticket 
to Norway he'd sold his favorite chair.  Nearly $400, wasted just for the 
ticket!  He'd need more once he got there, as well!  He didn't save for 
these things!  Serena was probably able to waste around money like that, 
but he certainly wasn't!
	The small packet of papers that came with the note, and a one way 
ticket to Boston, were even more frustrating:  "How to kidnap Princess 
Reija while she's in Boston."
	Well there went the extremely elaborate plan he'd drawn up.  He 
flipped through it casually.  Ree didn't know what she was saying; she 
hadn't done research like him.
	Drat.  The plans were amazingly effective.  And wasted less time.  
Jed stared at his tickets to Norway.
	TWO HECTIC WEEKS to put it all together.  TWO WEEKS of 
his work, blown apart for something, he imagined, that took Ree only 
minutes to formulate and send off.
	Ree always did know how to make him feel like a five-year-old, 
without a clue.  A list of all amazingly effective and minutely describe 
alternatives, one through thirty-five.  Looking over plan #32, he nodded 
approvingly.  Perhaps that would be all right.
	But what about Norway?
	Hang Norway.  Looking at the calendar, and the airline ticket Ree 
had included for his trip to Boston, and her plans, he decided to follow, 
but only because these plans did not include learning Norwegian.

Chapter 2 ? Hostage

	Staring out at the top of the Prudential Center, he mused at the sun 
vanishing behind clouds.
	Across the table, his dinner companion frowned.  "Darien you 
haven't paid any attention to a word I'm saying," Rei reprimanded.
	Darien turned to his sister.  "I've had my mind on some certain 
matters, as of late."
	Rei sat back in her chair, fingering the tight collar of her red silk 
oriental dress.  "What's wrong?"
	"Nothing.  I always get like this when I get over here.  People here 
move too quickly, eat too little, and think too much.  It catches.  I'll be 
better off when we go home on Thursday."
	Thursday.  Was it already almost over?  Rei looked out the 
window at her Boston, a Boston very much different, she imagined, from 
what her brother saw.
	He'd probably seen the view from the top of the Prudential several 
times.  He'd probably seen the city inside out; in his college years, he'd 
had time to explore those streets, to study the characters whirling around 
him in the waltz of life.
	She did not want to go home.  She did not want to just sit around, 
and let Darien move her around into various little protective situations.
	Their parents, they didn't care.  Always praising Darien's love for 
his sister.
	When he had announced his intention to visit the Americas to see a 
college friend, Rei had announced her intention to go with him, and 
despite his rigid disapproval, she'd this time gotten her parents into the 
argument; it would be beneficial for a woman of culture to see how the 
other hemisphere worked?
	When she came two days ago, she was caught up in the whirlwind 
of rhythm.  It intrigued her, seduced her into the movements, into the 
fascination that saturated her being with impatience currently.
	She wondered if her brother noticed, and if he did, if he would do 
anything about it.  "Darien, can I have a few days to explore the city?"
	"You have had the past two days.  Are they not enough for you?" 
Darien cut into his house steak.
	Rei sighed.  "On my own.  I want to have some time to see the city 
by myself.  Have it make its own impressions on me.  I know you've 
already lived here for a while, in college, but Darien, I've never been so 
up close to American culture before.  I'd like to take it in a little before I 
decide to condemn it as you do," she teased her older brother.
	Darien turned back to the city, and watched the disappearing sun 
frame the clouds in the last touches of gold.  "By all means, forget you 
have duties and responsibilities?"
	Rei's eyes narrowed.  "I don't forget.  I can't, with you to remind 
me?you want me to watch myself, but you won't even let me see what I 
have to watch myself for.  Darien, you know I love you, and you know 
that I would do anything to please you and mother and father, but I can't 
handle too much right now.  I just wanted to explore a few things.  Get a 
taste, on my own, without your opinions."
	Darien remained silent.
	Rei stiffened, and threw her napkin down.  "You aren't listening.  I 
don't want to be here anymore.  I want to go back to the hotel.  Tomorrow, 
I am going exploring.  On my own.  I don't want you or anyone around."
	"There is no way you are going out alone."
	"Come on, I'm the princess of Norway; no one cares about 
Norway's royalty.  Hardly anyone even knows that Norway HAS royalty.  
I assure you, I'll be fine," she glared.
	"Rei?don't make a scene," Darien began.
	"I will.  It's about time I did.  Now if you'll excuse me, the last 
time I checked, I had to be on a plane back to Norway in three days.  I'm 
going to make the most of those days, starting now.  Don't wait up for me, 
Darien."
	Punctuating her action with the drop of her fork on the fine China, 
Rei allowed the waiter to pull her chair back, and she swept out of the 
table, and out of the restaurant.
	Darien scowled at the empty spot across the table.
	The waiter discreetly took the plates away, muttering under his 
breath in sympathy with the prince.  "Women."
	Darien turned agitatedly to the waiter, "Mind your own business."
	"Fine." The blonde young man shrugged, and left the table, not to 
return.

	There was freedom in walking wherever you wanted, whenever 
you wanted, Rei Bernadotte found.
	She was learning a variety of things that night, as she smiled shyly 
at the handsome jogger who winked now at her.
	Letting a soft hand come to her tendril, she tucked it shyly behind 
her ear as she settled down at a bench at Boston Common.  The ceaseless 
whir of traffic, accompanied by the laughter of the rowdy banter of 
teenagers and sultry lover-like laughs of couples settled in her stomach.  
Her appetite for the experience did not wane; she continued to watch the 
passing people with avid fascination.
	The couple who sat across the path from her on their own bench 
now stood up, the man offering his arm to the woman, who took it.  The 
way she smiled at him was far too intimate to be allowable in public, was 
it not? Rei mused.
	As they settled in their own rhythm, she wondered why she and 
Greg never held hands, never sat down on benches in the middle of parks.
	And now another couple came by, the young woman laughing with 
her heart in her eyes.
	Had she ever laughed like that?  Had Greg ever told her something 
that moved her heart, made it swell so much that it rose to her eyes?
	She made it entirely too easy.  The young man behind the trees 
dropped the cigarette and crushed it under the heel of his dress shoe.  
Taking the gun from his dark khakis, he stepped towards her, settling 
down next to her.
	Rei smiled courteously to the young man who joined her on the 
bench, and was about to make a remark on the evening when she found 
herself gathered up close to his frame, and an object, very cold, pressed to 
her side, hidden from the view of any who walked by.
	"I'm sorry, your highness, you're going to have to come with me," 
he breathed nervously into her ear.
	Turning, she met the azure eyes of a familiar young man.  She'd 
seen him before.  Earlier today?  The waiter.  Had he overheard the 
conversation?
	She almost felt a sliver of fear.  Almost.  She played the odds.  
"It's not worth it.  Believe me, I'm not worth it."
	He looked at her, and repeated his words once more.  "Come with 
me."
	"No," she simply replied.
	He hadn't expected her to disobey.  "But I have a gun," he said, 
almost helplessly.
	"I highly doubt you know how to use it."
	He growled in exasperation.  "I don't think it requires much 
knowledge.  I pull the trigger."
	"If you pull the trigger, nothing will happen."
	"How do you know?" he questioned, rolling his eyes.
	"You don't have the safety undone, and you are by far too scared 
to use that thing."
	Jed pressed the gun more firmly into her body.  "Are you so sure 
of that?"
	Rei met his eyes.
	"You're coming with me," he said the words slowly, making them 
sink into her.
	His eyes, too beautiful and too revealing to be intimidating locked 
her gaze.  His blonde hair needed a haircut, as the ends touched the collar 
of the white dress shirt of his waiter uniform.  Beads of sweat coalesced 
on his forehead and followed the smooth planes of his face down the 
elegant neck into the collar.  His frame was not athletic, but still rather 
lithe.  If she pressed her luck, MAYBE she'd be able to fend him off 
herself.
	She would have felt scared, but was far too entertained by the 
adorable little spectacle he was making of himself.  She could just get up 
and scream right now; he would not touch a hair on her head.  But 
amused, she agreed.  It'd be quite an adventure, and he really was quite 
cute.  "Fine."
	The sudden change in sentiment stunned him.  She watched him in 
amusement, as he gathered his wits about him.
	"Well, then.  Come with me.  I'll put away the gun if you promise 
not to run," he said softly.  "I won't hurt you."
	Rei let him take her arm, and followed him without hesitation, and 
without trepidation.  Jed should have known then that he had made the 
biggest mistake of his life.

	She must have laughed more in the past hour than she had ever 
laughed in her entire life.  "You want me to what?"
	"Write a note to your brother.  He might be worried about where 
you are."
	"As my kidnapper, aren't you supposed use that against him?  And 
you're supposed to write the note, a ransom note."
	"Ransom note?" Jed turned the young woman.
	"Yes, I'm worth money, you know."
	Jed shrugged.  "I don't need money and I can't give you back right 
now."
	"You know it can't hurt," she said, looking across the car at him.  
She absently started to drum her long manicured and polished nails on the 
passenger side of the dashboard, and Jed immediately screamed for her to 
stop.
	Startled, she turned to him.  "What?  What did I do?"
	"The car's not mine.  It's a rental.  I'd prefer for you to leave it 
alone."
	Rei laughed.
	Jed turned to her.  "NOW what's so funny?"
	"You!" she smiled at him.
	"Look, I'm doing my best here, lady.  I was given a job to do, and 
granted, I didn't do it as well as others could have, but I got it 
accomplished.  Now write that note."
	"I need paper and pencil.  I need clothes.  You'll need money, and 
looking at you, I don't think you'd be the type to have it."
	Jed checked his clothes.  "What's wrong with my clothing?"  Still 
in his respectable white shirt and dark khakis, he narrowed his eyes at her 
defaming his best clothes.
	"Now who's a tad upset?"  The white shirt looked slightly yellow 
with age, and the bottom cuffs of the khakis were scuffed from wear.  
They did not hide the raw beauty of his features and form, but went a 
considerable long way in making him less appealing.  And that hair.  She 
REALLY wanted him to get a haircut.  And shave.  Definitely a shave.
	Jed turned to her.  "You, quiet."  He sank back in his seat, deep in 
thought.  When the light turned green, he proceeded.
	He needed cash.  He needed a plan.  He needed paper and a pen.
	He sighed as he redirected his route, swearing under his breath.  
Taking the familiar route on car was different from on foot; the path was 
riddled with one-way streets he did not expect, and he arrived at 40 the 
Fenway in a state of anger and frustration.  He glared at his companion.  
"Not a word.  I'm getting out of this car.  I'll be back."
	The townhouses on the row looked charming.  There were some 
swamps in a park across the street and now they were dark, mysterious.  
Rei pouted, then turned to her kidnapper.  "I can escape while you're 
gone."
	Jed growled.  "Fine, come with me, but put on my hat and coat or 
something, or else people will notice?" he took off his own coat and New 
York Yankees baseball cap.
	Rei cringed as she put on the ratty coat, and got of the car.
	Jed took her arm in a tight grip, and she allowed him to guide her 
into the house.  Inside the corridor, he rang the bell.
	Through the windows of the door, Rei inspected the semi-decent 
furniture, and hid her cringe.
	Jed rang the bell again.
	A young woman came to the door, hair pulled back and hid under a 
scarf, ready to go out grocery shopping.  "Aimee, you seen Ree?"
	"Upstairs in her room?" the young woman said, slipping out the 
door into the city.
	"Don't touch the banister.  It's broken?" Jed warned her as he led 
the way up the winding, semi-clean staircase.
	Rei looked around her.  The prints on the walls were of eclectic 
tastes, and certainly looked old enough.  Yellowed.  The walls needed 
another coat of paint.  The banister needed more than repairs; it needed to 
be taken out and put out of its painfully broken misery.  The hallways 
needed better lighting.
	He led Rei up two flights of stairs past the doors to other residents' 
quarters, and knocked on the closed bedroom door.
	The door opened, and a young woman in loose sweats frowned.  
"You weren't supposed to bring her HERE, but I'll give you credit for the 
accomplishment."
	"I need cash.  She needs clothes.  Where am I supposed to take 
her?  What am I supposed to do with her?  Geez, Ree?" he followed her 
into the mess.
	"You should have thought of that before," the blonde pushed aside 
the mass of clutter to make a clear pathway in the room.
	Rei started at the room in fascination.  Racks of beautiful gowns, 
and shoes amassed in a mountain in the floor.
	"I see progress for the move-out is slow," he noted.
	The blonde shrugged, and Rei watched the interaction closely in 
fascination.
	"No one makes the transition from Back-Bay co-op to Beacon Hill 
townhouse without a mess somewhere in between."
	"How do you plan on moving all the crap?"
	"As if you had to ask.  Garamond's a sucker for that kind of save 
the girl some trouble and get a leg in crap," Serena went back to carefully 
boxing shoes.
	Rei hid her response.  Garamond?  Did Darien's college friend 
have anything to do with this?  She did not have time to ponder this as Jed 
exasperatedly asked,	"Clothes, Ree?"
	"Aimee may have some left from before.  Not princess material?"
	Jed rolled his eyes, and glared Rei into silence.  "That's fine.  I 
need some paper and pens, some cash too?"
	Ree paused in her activities.  "Where you taking her?"
	"Thinking of bringing her to Oklahoma or the City, hiding her out 
there?"
	Ree carelessly tossed the bag of clothes to Jed, and went to her 
desk and grabbed a pen and paper.  Dug into her purse and withdrew a 
wallet, took out three thousand dollars in cash.
	"I didn't know you had so much to carelessly give it all away?" 
Jed tucked the bills into his own wallet.
	"Investments, ideas.  Unlike you, this didn't occur to me over 
night.  I doubt you'll need more, but should you find yourself lacking, call 
me.  And don't have her leave a note: a phone call would suffice.  She 
wants some time to relax and reflect before marriage.  Did you at least 
wait until she came at odds with her brother on the freedom issue?"
	She hated having her actions predicted by a total stranger.  Rei 
glared, and was about to open her mouth when Jed silenced her with a 
hand gesture.
	"Big fallout during dinner.  Decided on her own that she wanted 
the next few days on her own."
	"Finally, something right.  Call from a pay phone.  Have her call 
him every once in a while.  That way you won't have the feds breathing 
down your back.  Don't take her to the City.  If brother suspects anything, 
the first places he'll check are all nearby major cities.  Oklahoma's the bet, 
and don't tell Delores and Kirk anything about her, or else you'll have the 
cops with a knife down your throat and Interpol with a bullet in your gut 
as soon as they call the Parsons to gossip.  And that won't even be 
comparable to what I'll do to you."
	Jed nodded, absorbing everything.
	"You're dismissed.  And if I catch you around here with her again, 
I will not be as forgiving and generous," she shooed them out the door, 
slamming it after them.
	Rei remained silent as she took the bag that Jed shoved into her 
arms, and followed him down the stairs, and out to the car.  Settling down 
in the seat, she turned to him.  "She must have quite a hold on you."
	"Ree?  I'm crazy about her," Jed started the car again.
	Rei sat in speculative silence.

Chapter 3 ? Shifting
	
	Darien stared agitatedly out the window into the runways of Logan 
Airport.
	He did not want to leave, not when he knew Rei was somewhere 
out in the middle of the country, very possibly in some harm.
	However, her last phone call had been very assuring, and perhaps a 
bit annoying.  She seemed to be having a perfectly wonderful time in the 
"real" world.
	She had not taken any clothes with her.  She had not taken any 
money.  At first, he had laughed at his sister's foolishness.  Without those 
resources, he was almost positive she'd be back before the next day was 
over.
	But when the next day finished, and no phone call and no sign of 
Rei was to be seen, he had started the investigations for his sister.  At 
around ten the evening after, a tired phone call from his sister assured him 
of her safety, and her complete and utter disregard for what his concern.
	She was fine, she'd said.  She was getting by, and having a 
marvelous time.
	He'd managed to have the phone call traced to somewhere in 
Tennessee.
	Tennessee!
	He would have sent his men after her, but Rei had been adamant.  
She wanted time to herself.  And she was determined to have it.
	He hated it when his sister had little selfish fits like these.  Without 
regard to her own safety, her thoughts for her parents and her brother, 
she'd just wander the streets, easily allowing her melodramatically poetic 
soul to absorb the happenings, allowing it to take over her mind, and let 
her forget about the importance of her station.
	Well, if she wanted it that way, Darien scowled, fine.
"Are you ready, your highness?"
"Yes, let's go."

	The 51 Chestnut Street townhouse was prestigious, and bespoke of 
class, riches, and style.
	In Serena's eyes, it was a sore hole in her pocket.
	The sleek furnishings had seen the deterioration of all her profits 
for the past ten shoots.  Aimee's income helped tremendously in the 
purchase of other accents in the rooms, a few colorful impressionistic 
prints, and some lacy curtains, some upholstery.  All the proceeds, though, 
would go for a kill.
	Lace had already amassed quite a sum.  The story hadn't even 
begun for her yet.
	Soon, Serena mused, a place like this would not be just a 
temporary set for the play that was to occur.  It would not be the transitory 
indulgence used to play up appearances.  It would be her life.  It would be 
hers. 
	Walking past the living room into their pristine kitchen, she poured 
herself some of the coffee she was making, and settled down at the dining 
table, legal pad at hand.
	The date scrawled across the top read March 10, and location 
scrawled across the bottom read Carnegie Hall.

	"I have a plane to catch, but it's been good having your company."
	"One more toast," Lita smiled indulgently.  "Gregory, why don't 
you do the honors?"
	Gregory turned from his gaze spanning the ornately decorated 
newly renovated restaurant in Garamond's newest hotel: Garamond 
Copley Plaza in Boston.  He turned back to the table to meet the confused 
looks of his friend Sir Kent Lowry, his sister, and of course his friend 
Andrew Garamond.
	"Toast, Gregory?  Has the jetlag got you?" Kent teased.
	Gregory shrugged.  "I'm just restless.  I think I'll need to take a 
walk later."
	"By all means," Andrew boyishly grinned and bragged, quoting 
the brochure.  "After all, the best part of Garamond Copley Plaza is 'its 
location right by the Common, and the Beacon Hill area.'  Some prime 
property over there?" Andrew nodded his head.
	"Well, now about this toast.  To my friend.  Andrew, you couldn't 
have chosen a finer hotel to take over.  The former Copley Plaza was 
already pretty good, for not being a Garamond Hotel, but it is of course all 
the better.  And I might add, you many now reap the benefits of having a 
hotel in yet another touristy ritzy city."
	Andrew smiled widely.  "I'll drink to that.  Now if you'll excuse 
me, but Garamond's board of directors is meeting very early tomorrow 
morning in New York.  I'll see you all in New York in a few days' 
time?"
	"But of course?" Lita smiled courteously.
	The young man in the soft-gray business suit got out of his suit got 
up from the table, shook hands, and was on his way.
	Settling back to their after dinner conversation, Lita turned to 
Greg.  "Perhaps you want to go out for a walk?  Shall I find Marco?"
	"No, I won't need company tonight," he declined the need for a 
bodyguard.  "I'll be all right.  I can take care of myself, and I'll only be 
out for a little while," he got up.  "I'm going up to change."
	Kent and Lita nodded, and as he left, Lita sighed.  "He is 
unhappy."
	"You could say that?" Kent speculated.
	"Come, you've known Greg from the cradle, as long as I have.  
You, of all people, should be able to agree that Rei's disappearance is 
affecting him very deeply."
	Kent watched the young man across the room, leaving the dining 
room.  "I don't think it's Rei's disappearance."
	"What do you mean by that, Kent?" Lita laughed.  "Surely, my 
brother has not been carrying on in any strange affairs with any foundlings 
in Andorra."
	"I'm not claiming that he's in love with anyone.  I'm just simply 
stating that I think Greg has been giving a lot of second thoughts to the 
wedding.  Perhaps Rei's own abrupt vacation has been a relief; I think 
both of them need to decide if this is indeed the right thing to do."
	Lita pouted.  "Of course it is.  They were perfectly suited for each 
other from the time they were first born.  Gregory and Rei have known 
each other, borne each other, and given to each other confidences unique 
to the closest of friends."
	"Yes, friends, Lita.  But not lovers."
	"They love each other," Lita said argumentatively.
	"Not the way I would picture Greg wants to love a woman, and 
though Rei may not realize it, I can bet she's feeling some second doubts 
about the feelings she feels for Greg as well."
	"No one falls out of love with my brother!"
	"They'd have to be in love with him in the first place," Kent 
quickly snapped back.
	Lita did hate it when he sat back in that chair, so smugly.
	"I say you just lay off the pressure.  Let Greg decide for himself 
what he wants?"
	"He's still a boy, he doesn't know what he wants."
	"And you do?"
	"I have four years' more wisdom than he."
	"And compared to your twenty-six years, I have thirty-one.  So 
believe me when I tell you that one does not like having important life-
altering decisions made by other people."
	He saw the fight in her eyes burn in quickly, and relished in that 
flare.  The boring future queen of Andorra really was the most interesting 
when she was highly illogical and passionate.
	She hardly EVER let herself get so riled.  And few could do it.  
But conversation for conversation, Sir Kent Lowry could poke her into 
argument, whether she be six or twenty-six.
	The English businessman was of old money and even older 
integrity.  Always a gentleman, except with her.  With her he would take a 
swipe with those elegant clipped words, and leave her snarling and biting 
like a little cat.  And then he'd pet her patiently, as if she were a kitten, 
and send her out the door.
	And of course, he was handsome and charming enough to keep his 
true nature veiled to others.  Smart smoky gray eyes, with brown hair, 
streaked with some blond.  Chiseled features that bespoke of 
sophistication.
	He was never rumpled, tired, or agitated.  The constant aura of 
peace and calm he exuded made her even angrier that she could not 
maintain such with him.  He never sweat, and he never shivered.  He 
simply sat, with that belittling smile, as if HE were royalty.
	Lita frowned across the table darkly at Kent.  "I do so love it when 
you decide to interfere with my own affairs," she rolled her eyes.  
"Remember that while Gregory is young enough to advise, I am beyond 
the age that needs YOUR help to make a decision."
	The English gentleman rolled his eyes at the same argument she 
had always presented to him as a little girl, as a spirited teenager, and now, 
as a young woman.  A foolish young woman.  "Don't say I didn't warn 
you," he got up.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm tired."
	"Old people often tire easily, especially when intelligent youth 
outwit them," Lita said, smartly.
	"If you say so."

	Throwing aside her copy of Jane Austen's "Pride & Prejudice", 
Amy sat forward on the floor, and let her arms rest cross, capping her 
knees.  Curled in her ball, she looked around the room.
	Surroundings this decadent were only supposed to be in her 
dreams.  Fantasies.
	Serena had delivered quite a bit, but she was sure that Serena had 
more plans for Aimee Lace.
	Aimee Lace was pleased.  Serena would continue to impress with 
her outrageous, stupefying ideas.  And they'd approach them, and make 
them happen.
	Amy was tired, though.  Every night, they had to go out.  Tonight, 
Serena allowed Aimee a vacation.  Mondays were always Aimee's 
personal days.
	But tomorrow would be Andrew's night, with a concert at 
Symphony Hall.
	Amy hated Andrew Garamond.  His patent advances and ferocious 
possessiveness embarrassed her.  But Serena claimed that Andrew's era 
would be over soon.
	She was almost positive it had ended a week ago, when they'd met 
the mysterious Darien Bernadotte.  She had been certain that Serena 
wanted the connection, but in Serena's reaction, and later personal refusal 
of his advances, Amy read that Serena's intentions lay far from that 
pathway.
	She had never seen her tutor in that light, however.  Serena was 
very pretty, of course, but had never used her own looks for any kind of 
advancement; while Serena knew what colors a woman ought to wear, the 
way she ought to wear them, Serena never practiced such doctrines 
herself.
	And when confronted with the advances of a man as handsome and 
exhilaratingly exciting as Darien Bernadotte, Serena looked them in the 
eye, and denied them even the pleasure of acknowledgement.
	Serena was amazingly smooth and cool.  Amy was interested, 
curious, and bursting with questions, but Aimee had simply let the woman 
have her privacy, as Serena's behaviors and past did not immediately 
concern the model's career.  A woman was entitled to her past.  After all, 
Serena did not even show remote concern for Amy's life, from the second 
she entered the co-op five months ago.
	And so, Amy concluded, standing up, stretching, whatever Serena 
was thinking was her business.  And hers alone.
	She was thirsty.  She wanted some juice.
	Going to the closet, she grabbed a spring coat, and layered it over 
her MIT sweatshirt and sweatpants.  Walking by Serena's closed door, she 
thought to ask Serena if she wanted anything, but the closed door usually 
meant that Serena would bite off the head of any intruder.  Amy continued 
down the stairs, and out the front door.  It was time to make a run to 
Deluca's.

	Pulling on a Boston Red Sox cap low on his brow, Prince Gregory 
Manuel Ordino looked around him, and smiled at the young college 
student who currently was checking him out.  She blushed, and he 
laughed, and continued.
	Really, Lita was being a little too forceful with this talk of 
weddings.
	When he had been asked by Lita to propose to Rei, he'd been 
happy to oblige; Rei was a dear friend, a great confidant of his, and they 
got along very well.  No two people could have been closer, Greg knew.
	And their tastes were fairly similar, and they enjoyed each other's 
company.
	So why did he feel so horrible on the inside when he proposed to 
her?
	Rei was very, very important to him.  She was very close to his 
heart.  Very close.  He could not rationalize any simple reason why he 
somehow felt he did not belong with her.
	But if a prince's duties were to the people, did it not follow that 
he'd marry for his people?  And marrying Rei would be excellent for 
Andorra.  A beautiful jewel like Rei as their lady?
	And Rei simply up and disappeared.  He wished she were around.  
So that they had more time to talk it over.  He was sure she'd help him 
come to a decision that would agree to them both.  Left alone, however, he 
was forced to think very selfishly.
	But surely, if Rei left, it must have been a sign that she needed 
some time to think as well.  Taking another absent turn, he found himself 
outside the Common, and in the middle of a rather nice area.  But 
unknown to him.
	He should have paid more attention, perhaps, but, well, what could 
he say?
	Exiting Deluca's Market, she cursed her predilection for fruit 
deals, and shifted the bag with the grapes precariously balanced on top, 
trying to find a suitable way to hold the lumpy thing.
	He grabbed it from her as it slid from her grasp.  Looking up, he 
met her eyes, and smiled very kindly.  "Are you all right?"
	Amy actually blushed.  Had she done anything Aimeeish?
	Amy never got attention from men.  Always immersed in the 
comfort of her large oversized cotton clothes, Amy never gave any 
indication that she even wanted notice.
	Aimee had the look-at-me magnetism, the clothes and the 
confidence that Amy lacked.  SHE got the men.
	She looked down at her rather old attire, and decided that this 
young man was, indeed, just being a kind soul.  "I'm fine, thank you."
	"You shouldn't be carrying so much.  Let me help you," Greg said, 
courteously.  She was a pretty young thing.  Very?American in those 
clothes.  A woman, trying to get home after a long day?
	"I don't think I should allow strange men follow me home?" she 
shook her head disapprovingly.  Despite herself, a small shy smile 
appeared on her lips.  He was absolutely adorable.
	"Trust me; I'm likeable," he said, in that tone that always got Lita 
to agree to whatever he wanted.
	Amy let a small sweet laugh escape her lips.  When was the last 
time she had laughed like that?  "I'll bet.  Now fork over my groceries, 
and let me be on my way?"
	"I can't let you go on your own.  My family raised me to be a 
gentleman, and my sister will have my hide if I let you go and fend for 
yourself, so for my sake, allow me to escort you home?"
	"Nice try.  I can handle it on my own, trust me," she said, taking 
the bag back.
	"Then answer just one question before you leave."
	Amy turned back.  "Yes?"
	"How do I get back to Garamond's Copley Plaza?"
	Amy refused to let the name get to her.  "Through the park, and 
walk along Boylston.  You'll get there soon enough."
	"Thank you.  For that, I will reward you."
	"I hope not with your company on the way home?" she rolled her 
eyes.
	"No, a gallant kiss on the hand," and he shifted the groceries on his 
arms once more, took her hand, and kissed it softly, and let it go.
	Amy felt the blush coming again, and grabbed back her groceries, 
turning away in departure.  "Um, have a good evening, sir."
	"You as well."

Chapter 4 ? Not Bad, just Different

	On the third day in her American Escapade, as she had derisively 
called it, Reija Bernadotte fell in love with her kidnapper.
	It was very irrational and illogical, of course.
	Sitting in the used car he had just bought with some of the money 
the mysterious Ree had given him, she berated her tastes in men.  (He 
could have had better taste in cars as well; didn't he KNOW that he was 
going to kidnap the princess of Norway?)
	As the '87 Oldsmobile station wagon lurched its way through 
states, Rei kept her attentions fixed outside of the car, ignoring her 
surroundings.  Ignoring the sweatshirt and jeans that she wore.  Ignoring 
the scent of smoke coming from her traveling companion.
	The first two days, she had expected him to talk to her, and 
therefore had persecuted him into forced and often clipped conversation.  
He did not talk of anything that pertained to himself, or his life.  His 
remarks were often sarcastic, and very bitter, but other things had given 
indication that he was anything but.
	An artist's soul, she mused.  He had passion in those eyes, which 
he tried to hide, poorly.  He had compassion.  And right now, confusion.  
He had been thrown into the situation, and, she mused, was probably as 
lost as she.
	But he continued to remain quiet.  He continued to remain distant.
	The sun fell in through the window, warming her seat unbearably, 
but she did not complain.
	Perhaps if he had slept more, he would have been nicer.  He drove 
all day, jaw tense, with nothing but National Public Radio on, talking to 
him so that he would not fall asleep at the wheel.  They stopped for two 
meals a day; the last meal was bought in the grocery market, and they 
would eat it later as he drove.  During the evening, he drove until he felt 
tired, and parked the car at a rest area and slept until his strength was 
replenished, and started the cycle once more.
	She missed hotels.  She wanted a shower.  She wanted to get away.  
He had allowed her trips to the bathroom to freshen up, but she was now 
the dirtiest she'd ever been in her life.
	Her kidnapper was not very conversational, and certainly not very 
charming when he spoke.
	And, to make matters worse, he smoked!  Rei abhorred the 
practice, as it irritated her lungs and eyes.  She glared at him every time he 
lit up, but perhaps as his own statement of his superiority, he ignored her 
protests, and continued with the annoying unhealthy disgusting habit.
	So it was very much unexpected that despite his defects, namely 
the last, she'd find herself admiring his profile, the gruff frankness in his 
voice.  She loved the way the sun fell into the car through his window to 
halo his hair.  Really, he was quite handsome.  If only he cleaned up a 
little more, smiled a little more, and just?in general did more of 
everything?
	Despite how disgusting she should have felt by now, or how lost 
she should have felt, she somehow found herself?enjoying the situation 
immensely.
	There was adventure, there was the?rush of the unknown.  And 
somehow, there was romance; she had unexpectedly come to admire her 
kidnapper.  He did not suit the image she had of any of her suitors, and 
perhaps she liked him the better for it.  He made her heart tumble in a way 
that Greg never did.  In the last few days with him, she'd seen more in her 
life, felt more in her life than she'd ever felt in her last twenty-two years.
	Rei shook her head in disgust, and looked out the window, but 
smiled quietly to herself.  She'd never felt happier in her life.

	Following him into the small salon, she looked around.  As a grey-
haired lady in hot magenta sweatshirt and white jeans got up to leave, she 
cringed.  Wasn't it painful to have hair look that way?
	She looked at Jed, eyes widened in fear.
	"Hello there?" the clerk winked at Jed.
	Jed smiled with as much charm as he could muster, and leaned in 
against the counter.  "Have any free slots?"
	"For you or for your girlfriend?"
	"She's not my girlfriend?" he winked back.
	The clerk let her breath catch, "Well?"
	"I'm his wife." Maliciously, Rei came forward, disrupting the 
exchange, grabbing Jed's arm possessively.
	The clerk cleared her throat, after sending Jed a killing gaze.
	Jed swallowed and turned to Rei.  What did she do that for?
	"I'll take her.  What were you thinking for your hair?" A woman, 
whose own hair hopefully was not a testament to her skill, stepped 
forward.
	Rei turned to Jed.  Jed said, "My WIFE wants her hair cut real 
short, and then we want it dyed.  Blonde."
	The stylist's eyes widened with intrigue, and Rei's eyes widened in 
fear.  Her hair!  It was one of the most beautiful things about her, and he 
wanted her to DYE it!?!  "Excuse me?but I think my husband and I need 
to talk this over?" she said to the stylist.
	"Well hurry?I don't have all day."
	She led him out of the shop, and turned on him finger to his chest.  
"What do you think you're doing?"
	"I'm sure that my hometown would be thrilled to know that I'm 
bringing home the Princess of Norway?but I'm sure you wouldn't be 
exactly ecstatic with the hospitality they give celebrities?you'd be 
swamped, and I'd prefer not to be your bodyguard too."
	Rei opened her mouth to protest and realized he had a point.  
"Wow, did you think about that all by yourself?"
	Jed ground his teeth.  And pushed her towards the door of the 
shop.  He followed her in.
	"Now, while my wife is getting her hair cut, do you know where I 
can find a good barber?" he asked the clerk.  He had considered getting his 
hair cut here, but now that he knew that the clerk had probably told the 
women in there quite a story, he preferred to have OTHER people taking 
sharp objects to his head.

	An hour later, Jed Grace entered Lynette's Salon with a sharp new 
haircut, a shave, and some decent-looking clothes.  He held a bag from the 
nearest women's shop as well.
	Rei checked her reflection in the mirror.
	Well, she had always been curious to see how she looked blonde.  
And now, well, she knew.  And she wanted to have her old hair color, and 
all of her hair, some of which was now strewn in long limp curls at the 
foot of the stool.
	It didn't look bad, just different.
	Jed took in a breath.  He had imagined that he'd somehow spoil her 
beauty with his orders, which was perfectly fine with him; Mother would 
have never figured Jed would meet a PRETTY girl?but it didn't work.
	"What do you think, DARLING?" she bit out viciously.
	"I think you look wonderful," he said absently, and went to the 
clerk to pay for his wife's new look.
	"I hope we're almost there?" she said, as they exited the salon.
	"Actually we're about two hours away.  I needed you to do all this 
outside of Norman radius?"
	"Norman radius?"
	"If I bring a suspicious-looking woman in and change her looks 
there, there will be talk all over my hometown.  I needed to do it all out of 
there, where I'm a stranger.  Here?" he shoved the bag into her arms.
	She looked in.  "A dress?" she observed.
	"I checked the other clothes for size.  I want you to impress my 
Mom?"
	"So we're visiting your parents?  You brought me all the way to 
introduce me to your kidnapper parents?"  The gesture was?adorable.
	"They're not kidnappers."
	He unlocked the car, and got in.  She got in and settled in as well.
	"Don't get comfy yet.  I'm going to the gas station on the corner.  
As I'm filling up, you're going to change."

	Meeting his parents.  Wasn't that a very big step for him?  Pleased 
to see that he wanted to show her off, she allowed her eyelids to drift 
close.
	"What are they like?" she said softly.
	He turned to her, and watched those lips utter those words.  No 
matter what she wore, how she wore it?she'd be gorgeous.  How would 
anyone in town believe a beautiful gorgeous woman like her would end up 
with a loser like him?
	"Who?" he asked.
	"Your parents?"
	"Delores and Kirk Grace.  They live at 3426 Cottonwood, in a 
townsville that's part of Norman, Oklahoma.  My mother, she's very nice.  
Librarian at Eisenhower Elementary School, and first and foremost a wife 
and mother.  My Dad, he's an engineer.  We're pretty well off?not 
bad?"
	"Do you have siblings in the house?"
	"Yes, you'll meet my little sister, Zoey."
	"And?"
	"And what?  What do you want me to say?"
	"Tell me about your home."
	"Not much to tell.  Last time I was home was two or three years 
ago.  Don't call.  Don't write?not good at the communication thing."  He 
kept his eyes on the horizon, and his expression was unreadable.
	"My mother would kill me if she didn't hear from me every other 
day?"
	"Let's just say our families are different?" He tightened his lips 
into an unreadable line.
	"But what about?"
	"I'd just as soon just not talk about it anymore, your highness."

Chapter 5 ? All or Nothing

	Serena carefully examined Aimee's dress.  Everything had to be 
perfect.  Not a strand or strap out of place.  Tonight it was all or nothing.
	Aimee watched the photographer with a wary eye.  Her heart 
thudded.  She felt it: tonight was very important.  Something very 
important was going to happen?tonight.
	Serena was beyond catty tonight.  Aimee was careful not to do 
anything to irritate; Serena's claws were unsheathed, and temper and 
strain and precision filled her eyes to almost black, quite beyond darkness.
	She would have asked questions, but Serena would not have 
answered them anyhow.  So Aimee remained silent.

	Norman, Oklahoma, was a well-to-do community, with a lot of 
well-to-do residents.  And it was growing.
	The lawns were always monitored for weeds, and cut weekly.  The 
gardens were organized little armies of posies, positioned most likely by 
professionals.
	But the residents themselves weren't ALL snobs, neither were they 
rich snooty folk.  And the residents of 3426 Cottonwood certainly were 
not.  They were warm, friendly people, who strived to be the essence of 
the American Dream.
	Tonight, they'd find another piece of that dream falling into place.
	3426 Cottonwood was in the townsville of Hall Park, on the corner 
of Cottonwood and 24th Avenue, and the kitchen window, right above the 
sink, afforded a great view of the church across the street, and the 
intersection, and who drove through it.
	"Oh my?" Delores Grace, fifty, of dyed blond hair and short 
stature, put down her dishes in the kitchen sink as she looked out the 
window.  She then ran through the house, pausing at the window in the 
living room that looked out to the driveway.  "Kirk!  Get over here!"
	Kirk Grace, in the family room, tried to concentrate on the local 
news, grumbling about his wife's tendency to place too much importance 
on trivial things, and ruin a perfectly relaxing evening.  "What is it, 
Delores?" he yelled.
	"You have to see this!" she said, as her husband reluctantly came 
to the screen door, pushed it open, and joined his wife outside on the 
porch.
	"What?"
	"Look at that!" she gestured toward the car that was now parking 
in the Grace driveway.  "Kirk, I do believe it's our son!"
	Kirk tried focus, tired from a long day's work.  Delores got into 
these sentimental moods of hers, always persisting that some stranger was 
always the son who had left and never wrote, called, or visited.  But he did 
not need to concentrate hard on the figure to recognize the slouch of the 
man.  "Well, I'll be?"
	"I told you, Kirk!" Delores hugged her husband enthusiastically.  
"And isn't he handsome?  And do you see that woman?  Isn't she 
gorgeous?"
	Kirk nodded, speechless as the two visitors approached the front 
door.
	"Let me do the talking," Jed said quietly to Rei, letting a hand 
curve around her waist, drawing her close.  "Not a WORD.  What I say 
you are IS what you are."
	Rei was too nervous to do anything.  These were his PARENTS.  
She quelled the nervousness.  She'd faced all sorts of royalty in the past; 
surely, a couple in the middle of Oklahoma should not have been a 
challenge.
	"Chadwick Jed Grace!" Delores threw herself through the front 
door, into her son's arms.
	Rei almost choked on the giggle she was trying to stifle.  
*Chadwick?*
	Jed scowled at her, even while smiling at his mother.  "Hello, 
Mom?"
	"So you decided to finally come home, son?" Kirk joined the 
reunion.
	"And doesn't he just look so handsome?  Didn't I just say he was 
so handsome?" Delores asked of her husband.
	Jed shifted nervously.  And now, to present Rei to his parents.  
"Er?Mom, Dad, this is er?Rachel Byrne.  We're engaged."
	"CHADWICK JED GRACE, YOU'RE GETTING 
MARRIED?!?!" his mother exclaimed.
	"Mom, you'll embarrass me in front of Rach.  Rach, these are my 
parents, Delores and Kirk Grace."
	It was all so confusing.  One minute, she was Princess Reija 
Bernadotte, fianc饠to the Prince of Andorra, and now she was Rachel 
Byrne, and ENGAGED to Chadwick Jed Grace?  They'd have to talk 
later.  "I'm very pleased to meet you."
	"Oh, call us Mom and Dad," Delores grinned widely.  "Oh I'm so 
happy.  My son's getting MARRIED.  And isn't she so pretty, Kirk?  
Wasn't I just telling you that she was so pretty?"
	Jed looked apologetically to Rei, who grinned back at him, and 
allowed herself to be caught up in Delores Grace's tight embrace.
	"Welcome to the family, Ms. Byrne."
	"If I get to call you Mom and Dad, you must call me Rach," Rei 
smiled, allowing Delores to put an arm around her shoulder, and lead her 
up the front steps.

	"Nice to see you again, Serena," Andrew smiled courteously.  God 
would the woman ever leave them alone?  He took both her arm, and 
Aimee's, and led them into Carnegie Hall.
	The plane ride from Boston to New York had been annoying, but 
fast.  Just as quickly, a limo picked them up at the airport, and transported 
them to Carnegie Hall, where they now stood, Serena said to herself, to 
gain quite a position and money in a matter of minutes.
	"The others are already in the box," Andrew said, leading them up 
a set of velvet stairs.
	The women did not speak.
	Making the last turn, they entered the balcony box, and Aimee 
almost jumped back in surprise at the sight that met her eyes.
	Greg's vivid, sparklingly blue eyes flashed in recognition as well, 
and he warmly smiled.  "Why hello, I see you got home safely that 
night?"
	Serena kept her gaze at the stage, but sent a glare to Aimee that 
told her not to screw it up.  Aimee's rouged lips did not quirk with a 
playful smile, which Amy would have done, and the pleasant reply that 
had been in mind was smothered away.  "I am sorry, but I do not know 
what you speak of."
	Andrew looked at the two, puzzled.  "Well, then I suppose I'll still 
have to go through introductions.  Aimee, this is Greg Ordino.  This is his 
sister, Lolita, or Lita Ordino.  And this is their friend, Kent Lowry."
	Aimee smiled courteously to all, and returned her attention to 
Andrew.  The game, she realized, was to be on Greg.  And so, she strived 
to make herself as inaccessible as possible.  They all too their seats, and 
speaking to Andrew, she slid her arm to link with his.  "So nice of you to 
invite friends?"
	"Actually, Aimee, they invited me."
	"Oh?  Do they have season tickets?  It is awfully hard to secure 
these seats," she mused.
	"No, they don't.  They're royalty," Andrew smiled widely.
	Aimee's face paled, and she could hear Greg stifling his amused 
chuckle.
	Serena's expression was unreadable, but Aimee knew she'd 
screwed up.  But she would still fight.  Collecting herself, she turned to the 
guests.  "Of what country?"
	"Andorra," Lolita Ordino replied.  She then turned to Kent Lowry, 
and whispered something to him, to which he responded with a soft 
reprimanding scowl.  Aimee's presence was momentarily dismissed and 
forgotten by Lolita, who proceeded to converse with Kent on the subject 
of the pianist they were to see tonight.
	But Greg's gaze did not move from her.  She met it unflinchingly.
	"Andorra, what a?small country?" she said, at a loss for words.
	Serena almost let herself laugh at that one, but kept her eye on the 
stage, and her profile locked on objective observation.
	"Indeed small."
	"You should see it, Aimee?it's a darling country," Andrew 
chatted amiably.
	Aimee turned to the man at her side, focusing and lavishing all her 
attentions on him, this time, silent and careful of what she said; she could 
not risk another naﶥ mistake such as the one she had just made.

	"Could you please pass the chicken?" Rei asked.  What 
glorious food!  How her standards of food had lowered in the past 
days!
	"How long was the drive?"  Kirk asked of Jed, while passing the 
dish to Rei.
	"Long enough.  A few days?" Jed said.  "Where's Zoey?"
	"Oh, out with David, probably," Delores said, sighing happily.  
"Oh I'm so proud of her: she made head cheerleader this year!"
	"Oh, well, Mom, that's?uh?great," Jed said.
	"And she's going out with the captain of the football team, David 
Kunze too!" Delores continued to beam.  "Oh, I'm just so proud of her?"
	"Any ideas on where she is going for college?" Jed asked, taking a 
sip of lemonade.
	"Well, I think she was telling me about taking a year off before 
making that decision.  She applied this year, of course, and got accepted at 
OU, and I think she'll probably go there, but you know, you're only young 
once."
	"Did she apply anywhere else?  Maybe out of state?"
	"Oh NO, why would she do that?  She'd leave everyone else and 
everything behind back here?" Delores said, horrified.
	Jed smothered the urge to tell her that such prospects were not such 
a bad idea, and took another sip of lemonade.
	Rei noted the change over his features, and took his hand under the 
table.
	Delores continued.  "You know, I never understood why you 
wanted to leave, but I can see you're all wizened up now.  We'll start 
looking for a house for you and Rach tomorrow!  I think the Fairleys are 
moving out of their house on Asbury Court?it's pretty small, but you and 
Rach can move to a bigger house when you start having children.  Or are 
you already thinking of having them?"
	"Um, Mom?" Jed shifted uncomfortably.  "We're not here 
to?uh?"
	"So where are you from, Rach?" Kirk interrupted.  "You've got 
quite an accent."
	"I'm from-"
	"Denmark," Jed completed.  "She was an international student.  
We met last year?"
	"At Julliard?"
	"Kind of.  We met through a mutual acquaintance.  They 
introduced us.  Rach goes to Columbia."
	"Oh, isn't she quite a brain!  I'm sure that Mollie Neflynn will 
want to talk with her," Delores interjected.
	Jed rolled his eyes at the mention of the name, but courteously 
smiled.
	"You know that Mollie Gordon got married, right?" Delores 
continued, "Well you know after you both graduated from high school, 
you ran off to Julliard, and Mollie, she went to Rice.  Waited around for a 
while, hoping you'd return.  You know, Rach, Jed was quite a looker even 
back then?never wore the right clothes though, and did horrendous 
things, but Mollie was a very tolerant, sweet kind of girl," she confided.
	Rach smiled and looked at Jed who muttered a curse and 
concentrated on his dinner.
	"Anyhow, so Mark Neflynn came into town half a year ago, as a 
new district attorney, when Mollie was getting settled in her job over at 
the newspaper.  And he fell hard for her, and pursued her.  Your memory 
didn't stand a chance.  If you actually answered the phone, I could have 
told you to come home and save her?but she fell fast, and they just got 
married last month.  I'm surprised you didn't get an invitation to the 
wedding?"
	"I did.  I couldn't come."
	"Oh Jed, you do beat all.  When your old girlfriend gets married, 
it's only appropriate to come and offer blessings?"
	"Mollie and I never went out in high school, Mom.  We were just 
good friends," Jed said, quietly.  "And I did call her up and offer her my 
congratulations.  I was busy.  A month ago, I thinking about getting 
married myself?" he assumed a lovesick gaze at Rei, which she took in 
stride, but not without a kick at him under the table.  But outwardly, she 
glimmered a lovesick smile of her own, and let their hands entwine on the 
top of the table.
	"But oh, I'm so glad that things worked out this way," Delores 
gushed.
	"I am sure that Mollie is as well," Jed said, wryly.

	He was just entirely too simple to read.
	The interest and intrigue was evident in those sparkling blue eyes.  
Aimee infused her whole being into looking interested in Andrew's talk, 
and pretending to be unaware of Greg's stare.
	Serena watched from the corner of her eye, satisfied.  It had started 
off with a disaster, but it was very obvious now that Aimee had the 
Prince's attention.
	But the remark he had made in the beginning puzzled her.  She 
could not think of any other event that Aimee and Greg could have met at, 
and yet, his initial pleasure and delight at seeing her revealed he was no 
stranger.
	Well, whatever it was, it appeared to have worked for Aimee, so 
she sat back and closed her eyes.
	The liquid piano notes tumbled into each other, and she 
remembered Jed's melodies, tumbling her heart into a soft and outwardly 
imperceptible remembrance.
	Serena's were not the only eyes on the Prince that night.
	Lolita scowled at her brother's obvious infatuation with the patent 
gold-digger.  Oh why did her brother have to be such an easy and nice 
person?  She felt a poke at her side, and she turned to Kent, who leaned in 
and whispered, "Arrogance does not become you, Lita.  Let him be."
	Lolita shrugged off his remarks.  "I do not know what you are 
talking about."
	But settling back into the performance, she let her brow furrow 
once more.

Chapter 6 - Development of a Rather Serious Nature

	"Darien!"
	"Lita!  This is an unexpected surprise," Darien sat back in the easy 
chair, straightening the phone at his ear, and clamping it securely between 
his right jaw and shoulder.
	"I'm calling because of a development of a rather serious nature."
	"I'm listening," Darien said, flipping through the newspaper.
	"There's a woman here, one of Andrew's chits, who has caught Greg's
eye.  I think he needs to be reminded of his royal duties.  If you would?"
	Darien sighed, tiredly.  "Lita, can't you speak to him?  Or Kent?"
	"He trusts you, Darien.  He looks to you first for advice, and if you 
would just?help him along, and push him back in the right direction?"
	"Fine.  Where and when do you want me?" he took out the legal 
pad, starting to structure yet another trip.

	The townhouse at 51 Chestnut Street was impressive.  Did Andrew 
pay for it?  Darien smirked to himself as he went up the steps to the door, 
and rang the doorbell.
	Geraniums in the flower box at the window.  How quaint.  Did she 
get a gardener to plant them?
	The door opened, "I'm sorry but we're just not interested in?oh."
	Surprise was an understatement, and only the beginning of what he 
felt.  Greg was after HER?  The BLONDE?
	She was speechless for a whole half-second.  She had opened the 
door expecting a solicitor.  Well, this was a surprising development.  
"When a girl says no, your highness, she means no," Serena moved to 
close the door.
	"But you have no qualms in accepting the advances of another 
man?" he snidely replied, and if she wasn't mistaken, was that jealousy 
and a bruised ego in his tone of voice?
	Serena paused in her actions.  "I have no idea to what you are 
referring."
	"I am talking about the fact that you are trying to trap my future 
brother-in-law," he entered the foyer of the townhouse.
	Serena smiled sardonically.  "Wrong uncooperative gold digger.  
You mean my housemate."
	"Serena, did you get the door?  Oh?hello," Aimee entered, tying a 
scarf around her hair.  "I'm going out," she said to Serena.  It was her 
business.
	Serena nodded carelessly.
	Darien remained silent as Aimee left the house, and turned back to 
the woman he now knew was Serena.  "I apologize, Miss Serena, for my 
bluntness, but we know she's not after him for his charms.  Your 
housemate is in my sister's way.  Nothing personal, but it just can't work 
that way."
	Serena did not like how he used her name.  Straightening her posture, 
she stood at her full height, and dismissed him just as easily and 
condescendingly.  "I'm sorry, YOUR HIGHNESS, but your sister is in my 
housemate's way.  Nothing personal, but I can't work that way.  Why don't you 
get her out of the picture so I can keep on working, huh?"


Remember, Part 2 comes out in two to four weeks.  thankyamuch!

Crisinti@hotmail.com