Page 49 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

BLACK AND GOLD

Sebastian

Time for me to step in. “Yep,” I said. “Anastasia Alexandra Glucksburg-Thompkins, Princess of Saxony and of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg. And that’s the smallest part of who she is.”

Alix said, “Sebastian’s right. I’m not really a princess.

I mean, I am, but it’s what my grandmother says.

We’re ersatz princesses, because those titles were abolished over a hundred years ago.

I’m telling you the truth. I’m an electrician.

I started doing that after high school over my parents’ screaming objections instead of going to college, probably because I wanted to be tough, or tougher than life had let me be so far.

I went to college eventually, but I stopped with two quarters to go, and now I’m back pulling wire until I figure out whether I want to finish. I’m contrary like that, apparently.”

“But your grandmother did grow up in a palace,” Jennifer said.

“You’re a direct descendant of Queen Victoria, and related to the British royal family.

There were jewels, too. I saw a picture of your …

great-grandparents? and there was se rious jewelry.

Crown jewelry. That’s not really ersatz, is it?

I’d think it would just be fun, but it isn’t? Huh.”

Dakota said, “Anastasia. Like the Grand Duchess. Were you named after her?”

“After my mother and grandmother,” Alix said.

“Who, yes, were named in honor of the Tsarina and her daughter, not that Alexandra was any kind of great humanitarian that you’d want to be named after.

” She sighed. “Look. It was all a very long time ago, and the jewels—the emerald parure you’re talking about—that’s just a pair of very special earrings now.

The other pieces are sold or lost. The earrings are beautiful, but plenty of women inherit jewelry from their mothers. And you know—” She hesitated.

“What?” Dakota asked.

“It’s all tied up together,” Alix said, “at least for my grandmother and me. The princess thing, and what happened in Germany. It’s not really something we want to revisit, except?—”

“Except what?” Dakota asked.

Alix shrugged. “My grandmother told me today that she wants me to help her look for the tiara. She sold the other pieces a long time ago, and she had to leave the tiara behind in a cellar in the Residenzschloss— the palace—when she ran from Dresden ahead of the Soviet army. But you know, I keep thinking—what about the Jews whose treasures were looted and never returned? It’s because of them that survivors have the right to retrieve their family’s property after all this time, even if somebody else paid for it, even if a whole lot of somebodies passed it down the line so whoever owns it now got it legitimately.

What happened to the Jews, or the Poles, or anybody else wasn’t my grandmother’s fault—she was only eighteen when she left Germany after the war—but every German bore some responsibility.

The whole deal’s not the nicest inheritance, is what I’m saying. ”

“Complicated,” Dakota said. “So what will you do?”

“I’ll help her, of course. She’s my grandmother, and she’s ninety-four.

There’s not always time for ‘later,’ and this is one of those times.

But maybe you can see why I have mixed feelings about it.

Anyway, the tiara’s walled up in that palace, best case.

More likely looted by the Russians, or found during renovation, when they probably opened that wall, and getting it back even if it’s surfaced somewhere is going to be a whole project in itself.

Plus—I’m living in a trailer. I wear fluorescent work pants, and I drive a pickup.

I don’t have much call for tiaras in my life.

But she’s my grandmother, and it’s hers, so if I can help her, I will. ”

Blake said, “Can’t do anything about who you’re born to. I’m adopted myself. Don’t know my birth parents.”

Dakota said, “Of course you can’t. My birth father’s probably still in prison, and my mom wasn’t exactly Mother of the Year.

The way I figure it, if you have somebody in your life as a kid who loves you and takes care of you, that’s the lottery you want to win, not who your parents were.

But I’d probably still like to think I was a princess.

And you do look like one, I have to say. Aristocratic.”

“I do not look aristocratic.” Alix was still smiling, still trying to laugh it off, but I could feel the tension in her.

“You’d never have thought that if you didn’t know my story, because there’s no such thing.

Family resemblance, that’s all. I look like my grandmother, but not because we’re both princesses.

Because those are my genetics, just like King Charles has his, poor guy.

That’s more like ‘aristocratic looks,’ where you marry your third cousin like his parents did, and your kids all look a little equine.

My grandmother was a third cousin to both Elizabeth and Philip herself, but fortunately, she broke the chain and married a commoner. That’s probably why I have a chin.”

“It’s odd,” Jennifer said. “I spent most of my life trying to get out of the box the world put me in, but not because it was good. Because it was bad. I never thought about it the other way.”

“Same,” Dakota said. “But it’s not so different to being one of these guys, is it?

People know you in one dimension, but none of us is one-dimensional.

When you are a star, you have to create this …

persona, something you can let the world see, so they’re satisfied.

And hold the rest of yourself tight so you don’t lose it. ”

“Not me so much,” Owen said. He’d been quiet all this time, looking serious, but now he was clearly joking.

“People normally just think I have some kind of glandular disorder. But you’re right.

I’m more than happy to let them keep thinking so, not get mobbed everywhere I go like Thor here.

Who needs it? And as for Blake …” He glanced at his former quarterback, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “He can’t blend to save his life.”

“And I’m not trying,” Blake said. “My personality’s right out there, and I’m not apologizing for it. Can’t say I’m sorry to have got to play ball, either. Do the thing I love best and get paid stupid money for it? Sure, everything has a price, but that’s not exactly news.”

“Celebrity’s a weird thing, all right,” I said.

“Every kind of it. Everybody wants it until they see what it means. But hey. It is Alix’s birthday, and they have this dark chocolate rye whiskey cake here.

Sounds a little weird, but I’ll believe they know what they’re doing.

Want to split a piece of that with me?” I asked her. “Or another dessert?”

She said, “Oh, chocolate cake for sure. This is the upside of being an electrician again. I get to eat cake.”

Dakota said, “You’ve got that right. Want to eat cheesecake with me, Blake?”

“You bet, darlin’,” he said. “I’m out of the game and don’t have to care. ”

Jennifer sighed. “Dakota’s baby girl is younger than Nick, and after about three months, Dakota looked exactly the same as before she had her.

I don’t get dessert. That’s because I already had too many desserts.

Christmas about did me in. I’ll have a decaf coffee instead and tell myself I’m enjoying it.

If you get dessert, Harlan, do not offer me a bite. ”

“No worries,” he said. “I don’t need dessert, and Owen hardly ever eats it. You’re safe between us. I’ll have a decaf coffee, too.”

Dessert time was the moment of truth. I’d put this off all day, and I needed to do it now.

I’d thought this evening would be good, a relaxed time out with friends, but the princess stuff had left Alix raw, and I didn’t want that to be what she took away from this evening.

So when that chocolate cake came, I pulled the wrapped package from the little bag I’d carried all night and put it in front of her.

“Happy birthday,” I said. And pretty much held my breath.

Alix

I stared down at the package. Or rather—packages, because there seemed to be two things here. A larger box, and a smaller one on top of it.

“Ooh,” Jennifer said. “Exciting. I love to watch people open presents.”

“You are a secure man, Sebastian,” Dakota said, “giving them to her where these guys can razz you about it. What if your present bombs?”

“Then,” he said, “I’ll return it and get something Alix likes.”

“Right,” Blake said. “Except that women generally don’t like to turn to you in front of your buddies and say, “Sebastian, honey, you have some truly terrible taste. Next time, ask me first, because this thing’s hideous.”

Everybody laughed at that, including me, and Sebastian said, “Alix is perfectly capable of that much honesty. I’m not worried.” But he looked worried. Maybe not to somebody else, but to me.

I said, “I’m so touched. Honestly.” My hand on the package. “It wasn’t necessary, but?—”

Dakota said, “Would you open it?”

I pulled the gold ribbon holding the shiny silver-wrapped boxes together and separated them.

The first one was tiny, maybe two inches on a side.

I thought, However bad it is, wait until later to tell him.

I wasn’t accepting any more diamond tennis necklaces, because what had I been running from if not the constant compromising of who I was?

But I couldn’t humiliate Sebastian. If there were ever a time to sharpen my acting skills, that time was now.

I thought all that as my finger slid under the silver paper and the tape released, as I pulled the paper aside and revealed the box.

It was plain white. And the black printing on it said Chanel.

I couldn’t look at Sebastian. Please, I begged silently. Not gaudy, not big, and not covered in diamonds. Then opened that box and found another one inside. Black velvet. Opened the lid and …