For the rest of the evening, Isabella tried to keep her focus away from him. It was harder than she thought.
Prince Alexander Laurent did not act like the most powerful man at charity functions. He didn't dominate conversations or surround himself with adoring fans.
Instead, he moved in the background at the event, talking to the donors, mostly just listening. Twice she saw women approach him with their best charades. Twice he greeted them politely then excused himself quickly.
Isabella told herself it didn't matter. She had work to do. Updating guest lists, adjusting seating arrangements. The charity director asked her to get in touch with some international sponsors. But still at times, without meaning to, her eyes would go to him. And they always found him.
Once he caught her eye – not casually but intently as if he was trying to see something in her which no one else had.
The moment their eyes met, she looked away. The last thing she needed was a prince who was curious about her.
The charity event finished for the night yet Isabella Hart still felt its aftermath in her chest. The chandeliers. The measured laughter. The heavy scent of expensive perfumes which was put on a show for the world was perfect.
She had spent almost a year building a quiet life in Monaco, and events like that brought into perspective how fragile that peace could be. The powerful do find each other out. She spent the past year out of their sphere.
As she left the taxi which had brought her home the street was quiet. Her apartment building which sat above a small bakery on a corner street. It was modest. This place is really different from the luxury penthouse Isabella used to live in with Daniel.
Isabella walked up the stairs slowly. Her heels made a soft noise on the old stone. By the time she reached her door tiredness was in her bones.
The charity work was great. Today made her think about things she tried to forget. She opened the door. Went inside.
Her apartment is small like a studio, a room, a tiny kitchen, and a window that looks out onto a quiet street. There were no traces of a marriage that had almost broken her.
Isabella removed her shoes and sat at the edge of the bed. For a while, that quiet went on which was in fact comforting. Then the memories came back. The ballroom. The crash. The man who had helped her collect the scattered papers.
Prince Alexander Laurent.
Of course, she had known his name before that night. In Europe everyone did. The heir to Monaco's royal dynasty. A billionaire prince who was a mix of diplomacy, business and power.
Exactly the type of man she had told herself to stay away from. But something about him had gotten to her. Not his arrogance. Not his charm. Something quiet.
The way he looked at her. Not as a scandal. Not as a woman with a broken marriage. But as if he was seeing someone else entirely.
She took a slow breath in and out and pushed the thought away. It meant nothing. People meet at charity functions all the time. Brief chats. Polite hellos. Then back to your own world. That is what it had been. Still… His voice played in her head.
"You're the only person in this room who didn't apologize for bumping into me for ten minutes. " A small smile played on her lips against her will.
Then she got up, out of her evening wear into something simpler before finally going to bed. Sleep came slowly. But it did come in the end.
Three days later, Monaco woke beneath bright Mediterranean sunlight. The port shimmered with luxury yachts and the town was alive with tourists and residents who were out for the early afternoon.
That morning Isabella left the charity office which was her world, arms full of files. They specialized in women who came out of abusive relationships. Mainly what she did was coordinate housing programs and counseling services. She didn't often talk about her own issues. It was easier for her to listen.
That day's task was simple – to take a set of files to a partner foundation near the harbor. She walked the streets at a steady pace. The sun warms against her skin. For the first time in a while life felt stable. Quiet. Safe.
She stopped at a cafe near the marina which had small outdoor tables. She put the files down, and ordered a coffee.
The waiter smiled politely and went in.
Isabella leaned back in her chair, watching boats pass by on the bright water. Monaco was beautiful in an almost unreal way. And sometimes she wondered if she really fit in there.
Her coffee came a moment later. "Merci." He nodded and left. She brought the cup to her lips – And accidentally knocked one of the folders to the ground.
The papers went scattering across the pavement. "Oh no –" she bent quickly to pick them up.
At the same time, another set of hands reached out. Large hands. Steady. Careful. "Also," a familiar voice said coolly, "this is becoming a routine. " Her breath caught.
Slowly Isabella looked up.
Prince Alexander Laurent crouched beside her, he had a few of the dropped-off papers in his hands. For a moment all she did was stare at him.
Today he was casual – no full suit, just a dark jacket and an open collar shirt. Without the royal ballroom setting, he looked... in a different light. And very much so dangerously attractive. He handed over the papers. "You have a thing for dropping important stuff at my feet."
She blinked. "I didn't know the marina was your thing." He smiled slightly. "Not yet." She gathered what papers were left and stood.
"I should apologize for the mess."
"You did that once already." He said.
"That was at the gala." She replied.
"This is becoming a trend." A small laugh left her before she could stop it. Then she remembered who he was. The laughter died.
"I didn't think to see you again," she said, careful as can be.
Alexander studied her for a while. "Monaco is a small place when you spend enough time here."
"You spend a lot of time watching our charity workers drop papers?" She asked. "Only the specific ones." That which he said made her uneasy. Not because it was flirtatious. Because it was deliberate.
She took another sip of her coffee. "You should be out there doing important things instead of following me around."
"The following part would only happen if you told me where you were going." She paused. "Do you know that for a fact?"
Alexander gave her a steady look. "No." There was something in that answer that put her at ease. Also a little off. They stood in silence for a moment while the port breeze moved through the café umbrellas.
At last, he spoke. "We never finished that other night's talk." She furrowed her brow. "I didn't start it."
"I recall you saying you don't get into relationships with powerful men anymore." Her stomach tightened. "I meant what I said."
"I assumed you did."
"Then why now?" She asked. Alexander leaned in against the table. "Usually when people say that, it's after some sort of hurt." She crossed her arms.
"That is a safe assumption to make."
"Was your husband the one who hurt you then?" The question was soft but direct. It hit at what she didn't expect. She looked out at the water instead of replying. "That isn't something I share out here with strangers."
"I get that."
"Do you?" She asked.
"Yes." He replied.
"How do you?" Alexander didn't reply right away. His eyes went out to the harbor for a while. "Also in a place like Monaco, people don't just show up and set up home unless they are running from something." Her heart tightened. He wasn't at all incorrect.