As they walked out of the lobby, he put his arm around her as soon as they came out of the revolving door. The air was balmy, and she was smiling at him lovingly—when suddenly like a rocket explosion there was a flash of lights in her face. She didn't even have time to register what it was and they ran to the waiting car, followed by a trail of paparazzi. Parker looked stunned, and Christianna instantly unhappy when Max whisked them away.

“Go! Go! Go!” Max told the driver, as Sam hopped in next to them in back, and within seconds they sped off but not before two more photographers got them.

“Damn!” Christianna said, looking at Max in the front seat. “How did that happen? Do you suppose someone called them?”

“I think it was an accident,” he said apologetically. “I almost warned you, but you came out too fast. Madonna walked out of the hotel just before you did. She's staying at the hotel, too, and they were waiting for her. I think you were just a bonus.” But they had obviously recognized her the moment she came out of the hotel, and they had caught her smiling adoringly up at Parker, with his arm around her. There was no mistaking what this was, or that it was a romance. “We'll go in the back way later.”

“It's a little late for that,” she said tersely, and looked at Parker, who was still stunned. He hadn't even had time to react yet, and his eyes still had spots in front of them from the strobes. There was no doubt in Christianna's mind that the photographs would turn up somewhere. They always did. At an inopportune time when it was embarrassing, or at the very least awkward. And if her father saw them, which he would if they came out, he was not going to like it. Particularly her lying that this was a shopping trip. And he didn't like her making a spectacle of herself in the press. They had enough of that with Freddy.

Christianna was quiet on the way to the restaurant, and Parker was sorry to see her upset. He tried to console her, and she was a good sport about it, but it was obvious that she was worried. “I'm sorry, baby.”

“Me, too. We didn't need that headache. It was so nice while no one knew.” And essential.

“Maybe they won't use them,” he said, trying to sound hopeful.

“They will. They always do,” she said sadly. “My brother makes such an ass of himself all the time that they always try to tar me with the same brush. The shocking Liechtenstein prince and princess. They love saying things about royals. And I'm so careful to stay out of the press that they always get excited when they see me.”

“It was rotten luck that they were waiting for Madonna.” She agreed with Max that he should have warned her, but he explained that she must have already left the room when he saw them, because she was out the door within seconds, and Madonna had just sped off in a limousine with her children.

She tried not to let it spoil dinner for them, but Parker could see that she was distracted and worried. They enjoyed it anyway, but it put a damper on the evening. She was worried sick about what her father would say when he saw the press, and once he saw Parker. It opened a whole can of worms she didn't want to have to deal with yet, and had taken the timing right out of her hands. But she was helpless to change it.

They went in through the service entrance of the Ritz, on the rue Cambon. It was the same entrance Princess Diana had used when she stayed at the hotel. Many celebrities and royals came in the back entrance, and rode up in the tiny elevator, to avoid the paparazzi waiting for them out front. And then finally they were back in the safety of her room, and she relaxed again in his arms. They made love again that night, and there was a bittersweet feeling to it. She was so afraid that the photographs that had been taken would be used to force her hand with Parker. Once her father knew, she would be entirely at his mercy, which was the last thing she wanted.

Still worrying about it, she slept fitfully that night, and woke up several times with nightmares. Parker comforted her as best he could, and they were both quiet over breakfast the next morning, as the roomservice waiter poured their coffee. They waited until he left the room to discuss it further. Christianna trusted no one now. She had been shaken by the paparazzi attack the night before. She dreaded discussing it with her father, if it actually hit the press.

“Sweetheart, there's nothing you can do about it,” Parker said sensibly. “It happened. It's over. We'll deal with it if it comes out,” he said calmly, sipping the hot coffee.

“No, we won't deal with it, if it comes out,” she said, sounding strained and unhappy. She was tired after sleeping badly the night before, and obviously worried. “If it happens, I'll deal with it. And so will my father. I'll be dealing with him alone. I didn't want that to happen to us, until we were ready. Because I'll get one shot at this, to convince my father about us. He won't let me discuss it with him twice. And the way to start that conversation wasn't with a lie. I lied to him about coming to Paris.” But as always, she'd had no other choice. Her range of options was always narrow, and limited at best. “I just don't like it. Being exposed in the press is so tacky and unpleasant.” She had an aversion to that, unlike her brother, or perhaps because of him, and his frequent scandals, she was even more sensitive about it.

“Yes, it is.” He didn't disagree with her, nor did he react to anything she'd said. “But all we can do is make the best of it. What other choice do we have?”

“None.” She sighed, and drank her coffee, and made an effort not to beat him up about it. It wasn't his fault, but it was causing her grave concern, and he could see it.

After breakfast, they dressed and went out. They wandered down the Faubourg St. Honoré to look at the shops, and then went to L'Avenue for lunch. She relaxed finally and was relieved to see that no one had followed them. Max and Sam stayed close, and they continued to have Christianna and Parker use the back entrance of the hotel on the rue Cambon to go in and out. It was safer and more prudent.

After lunch, they went back to the hotel. They both packed, and then curled up on the bed. They had both booked the latest flights they could, so that they would have as much time together as possible. They didn't want to lose a minute with each other, or even less a lifetime, thanks to the paparazzi. Although she knew that her chances of convincing her father were slim to none, she didn't want anything to tip that balance further, and scandalous press in the tabloids would almost certainly do that.

They lay on the bed together for a long time, and eventually they made love for the last time, gently, slowly, tenderly, savoring their final moments together. And afterward she lay in his arms and cried. She was so afraid now that she would never be able to see him again. She wanted everything they'd had before, in Senafe, and all they had now were these tiny borrowed moments whenever they could find them. He made her promise that they would come to Paris again, whenever she could get away. He said he would arrange his schedule around her at a moment's notice. As a research doctor, and not one who saw patients regularly, he had more freedom to do that. She didn't know yet what effect the paparazzi's photographs would have, if any. She said they needed to lie low for a while and wait to see what happened. Hopefully, nothing. But that seemed too much to ask. If so, they had been lucky.

They got out of bed finally, showered together, and dressed. He had never used his room once during the entire weekend, but it had given them respectability, and he was perfectly happy to pay for it, even if for nothing. Especially if it made things better for her. Parker wanted to do everything possible to make this work. She was more familiar with the situation than he was, and the restrictions on her, so he was more than willing to play by her rules, or her father's. He was truly in love with her, and more than life itself, he wanted to see her again, and, if they were incredibly lucky and blessed, marry her one day. She said it was impossible, but he was willing to hang around and wait. She was the only woman he had loved that way. And she was just as in love with him.

They kissed long and hard before they left the room, and then left the hotel together through the back door. Max and Sam took care of all the necessary arrangements. They were driving to the airport in the same car, as their flights were almost at the same time, hers to Zurich, and his to Boston. And then finally, their last moments came. She kissed him before they left the car, and then only stood looking at him sadly in the airport. She could not kiss him there, and he understood that. It was the burden of who she was, which he now fully accepted.

“I love you,” she said, standing two feet away from him and facing him. “Thank you for a wonderful weekend,” she said politely, and he smiled. She was always gracious and polite, even when she was worried, like after the paparazzi.

“I love you too, Cricky. Everything's going to be all right. Try not to worry too much about the paparazzi.” She nodded and said nothing. And then, unable to stop herself, she reached out and touched his hand, and he held it. “It's going to be all right,” he told her in a whisper. “I'll see you soon, all right?”

She nodded, with tears in her eyes. She mouthed the words I love you again, and almost as though she had to tear herself away from him, she walked slowly to her plane, with Max and Sam carrying her bags, and Parker picked up his and went to check in for his flight. He turned to look at her as she walked away. She turned and smiled bravely at him, with one hand raised for him, and then touched her heart, as from across the airport and the worlds that separated them, he touched his.