Page 2 of The Prince

He stammered. “No, no, of course not. I just. I couldn’t help it. It’s true. You carry yourself so well. Anyway, I look for beauty.” He held up his camera.

She sat with a huff and motioned for him to take the seat beside her. “Let me take a look. Start at the pictures before you started with me, no hiding any.”

“Really, I’ll delete them.” She was starting to pull at his patience.

He turned settings so the menu pulled up on his back display and then turned the dial to flip to the beginning of his ocean shots so she would catch the moment she broke free from the water. A part of him was excited to show her, excited to see what he had found.

He moved through the shots, with her looking over his shoulder.

She made noises of surprise and he paused, eyeing her.

“Those are really good.”

“Thank you. Ok, watch, here we come. I was playing with the light on the water here, see? It fluctuates in an interesting way, and then boom!” He laughed. “There you were.”

She went still as he slowly moved through the shots of her coming up out of the water. Most of them were good, but not strikingly so. He was about to give up on any possible crossroads. What he’d seen through the lens, was magnificent, the pictures actually preserved were just nice. A bit disappointed, he kept scrolling.

But she seemed touched. Her hands went up, and she wiped her eyes.

And then he paused. His breathing quickened.There. “This one.” He turned to her, unable to calm the energy that surged through him. “What were you thinking just then?”

She wiped at her eyes again. “I hardly think that’s any of your business.”

“Please. It’s important to me.”

Her face pinched as if in pain and then cleared. “It’s nothing.”

He held up his camera. “This is a special image. I’ve been hoping to capture one just like it for years. Could I send it to you instead of deleting it? I don’t even have to keep it, but someone should.”

Her eyes searched his and the intensity he saw in the blue depths surprised him. “This may surprise you, given my initial reaction, but it would mean a lot to me to have it.” She turned from him, and snapped. “But you have to delete it from your files.”

“I said I would.” When she turned back to him, he studied her face, staring into her eyes until she nodded.

He asked for her email and used the Wi-Fi settings to send her the whole bundle. She may as well have them as anyone. After the menu showed the group as sent, he was about to delete them when she said, “Wait. You can keep the one.”

Relief filled him and he nodded. “Thank you. Believe it or not, that would mean a lot to me.” He chuckled. “And it has little to do with that lovely suit.”

She bristled; he felt her stiffen. “I’ll never believe that. Now, it’s time for me to go. You’ve interrupted my morning long enough.” She stood and marched off toward what he assumed was her towel on the sand.

He shook his head. She was the most fascinating woman he had ever seen; she pulled all of his artistic yearnings, and he was intrigued with the way she carried herself. But she had a fire inside that he didn’t think anything could quench, and he was happy to be away from its blast.

Chapter 2

Melodia Harper. She signed her name. The lady at the check-in desk smiled, handed her a small folder, and looked to the next person in line.

Dismissed. She moved to the changing room. Her dress today had its own room. She guessed it was worth several thousand dollars and the designer was careful about who could touch it. She couldn’t do much with it by herself. She found the door labelled with her dress. Not her name, but the dress she would wear. As soon as she opened it, three people approached her at once. “Good, you’re here. Let’s get your face on first.”

She was guided toward a chair, stripped of her clothes, handed a robe, and told to sit. They began painting on layers of color, shading, lighting, everything it took to give her the ethereal look they were going for lately. Then they painted her legs, her ankles, smoothed over her knees, and kneaded moisture into her hands and arms. She stood with her robe open to dry. Nothing could mark the dress. And then they lifted it gently off the hanger.

A knock sounded, “We need the Gianco.” The name of her designer. Not her name. “Five minutes.”

The team of dressers sprung into quicker action, carefully dropping the gown over her head. It clung to her, but not overly tight. The dress fit her just as it should. They zipped it where it should be zipped and adjusted it where it needed and then the second knock. “One minute.”

“The Gianco’s ready.” The man called.

They opened the door and Melodia exited. She joined a line of other dresses and they all walked toward the stage. Today’s audience was more high end than the last one she had worked. Their dresses shimmered with wealth. Often she would walk for the smaller designers. Melodia was glad to pretend the high powered fashion industry decisions makers weren’t there, less pressure. The girls entered one by one, counted their steps, precisely moving to the end of the stage, pausing just long enough at the assigned intervals. Today she was third. Or rather, the dress was third.

She moved beneath the lights’ glare and went into her zone. Her gaze, expressionless, her focus, dim, she walked as though unaware of the camera flashing, the strobing lights, or the faces. So many faces were watching, looking.

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