As he wandered down the steps to the car, Joseph was perversely pleased that she hadn't come down to see him off. It would have been difficult, inappropriate almost, both of them pretending to be civil, distant…and, to be entirely honest, he was worried whether he could bear it. He smiled to himself, remembering a few days earlier when they had been 'caught' in his study by Carlos. It hadn't been late, and, as the door swung open, she had composed herself with almost frightening rapidity, rising from his lap to lean over the desk and appear absorbed in the scattered papers in front of him. She really was quite an actress. No, in that respect, he didn't have a patch on her. That said, this morning she had seemed to be slipping. He couldn't help but see the tears in her eyes as she had playfully shoved him from the room. This time, though, he had chosen not to see…it was clear that she didn't want him to. Maybe next time.

Relaxing back into the expensive leather seats, as the car pulled away, the buzzing of his cell phone broke him from his reverie. Flipping it open, and pressing the cool handset to his cheek, he couldn't help but smile,

"Darling…"

She giggled, her voice a little husky,

"How did you know it was me, Joseph? Or do you address all your staff like that?"

Licking his lips, he pondered his response,

"Well…Carlos has always seemed to appreciate it…"

"I'm sure he does."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Arriving at the Genovian Embassy in Paris just after five, Joseph was exhausted. He had, after all, rather exerted himself the night before. As much as he would have liked to take supper in his room and crawl into bed nice and early, though, it simply wasn't possible. The first scheduled meeting was at six, with the French PM and, he was pleased to find, it went without any hitches. All the difficult policy issues that he and parliament had spent the past month working on were acceptable and negotiations generally went in Genovia's favour.

As the meeting came to a close though, he was surprised to receive an urgent message. Bidding the Prime Minister farewell, he quickly opened the note, and was rather taken aback to see that it was from the Italian ambassador in Paris, Gianluca Ferrario. He had met the man several years ago, back in Genovia and, whilst their evening had been a pleasant one, he struggled to fathom why the man suddenly wished to see him. He only hoped the Italians were not in some way ready to object to the recent trade treaties with France and Spain.

Handing the note back to Carlos, who had, as always, accompanied him on the trip, he asked him to telephone the Italian embassy and fix an appointment, preferably somewhere neutral, preferably somewhere with good food. That done, he retired to his suite, where he managed a quick shower before the Spanish diplomats arrived for dinner.

And so the next few days passed, meeting punctuated by meeting, with the occasional 'sanity break' in which he snuck away to call Clarisse. He was exhausted, and she was well aware of the fact, often cutting their nightly conversations short in a bid to make him go to sleep. Little did she know that, without her at his side, sleep was hard to come by.

By Thursday, he was thoroughly ready to return home and, with only two more meetings left, he was beginning to look forward to the trip. Only one more official engagement, a debriefing with the French foreign secretary and then one more unofficial, that dinner with the Italian.

By five thirty, the first was over and, having changed into something less formal, he found himself once again, in the official car, making his way into town. Paris by night had always struck him as particularly beautiful. As the evening light grew dim, the city came to life. As the car raced along the crowded streets, for a moment he wished he might stop and take a stroll. But that, of course, would be impossible. Eventually the car swung into the driveway of the Hotel Le Faubourg, just of the Champs-Elysées. The minister, it would appear, was choosing not to stay in the Embassy on this particular visit.

Wandering into the bar, his security personnel merging seamlessly with the evening guests, Joseph located Sig. Ferrario almost immediately,

"Ah, Gianluca, come stai?"

The Italian smiled, pleased to be recognised, pleased at the charm,

"Molto bene, your Majesty, and, if I may enquire, how is your Highness?"

Pleasantries were exchanged, the idle compliments of generations tiding them over until dinner was served. The meal was of a high standard and went a long way to lightening Joseph's mood. That and the knowledge that by this time tomorrow he would surely have seen Clarisse.

"And so, your Majesty, it would be a great honour if you would attend the ceremony, not only for my own country, but also for Genovia"

Joseph smiled, amused more by the man's gall and slick tongue, than by the suggestion itself. That said, he nodded politely and promised to attend the stupid fruit trade fair in Milan. Honestly, there was more to Genovia than pears…

The dinner ended, as was customary, with whisky and cigars. Sitting in a comfortable chair in the lobby, Joseph was tickled to notice that the Italian minister could not handle his drink. Not at all. They had only managed a bottle of wine between them, and he couldn't have had more than a shot of the whisky, but already his cheeks were ruddy, and, he noted with amusement, his words were becoming a little slurred.

After about ten minutes his wife, or, at least, the good-looking young lady he presumed to be his wife, sauntered down the main stairwell and deposited herself in Gianluca's lap. Initially he looked shocked, but then smiled broadly and leered quite openly at her low-cut top. Joseph merely smiled politely. He was well used to other people embarrassing themselves in front of him and, after years of experience, it was always better just to turn a blind eye.

As the woman, whose name, it would appear, was Kara, began to sample her 'husband's' drink, there seemed to be some kind of commotion in the main foyer. Turning instinctively, Joseph noticed what looked suspiciously like press trying to push their way into the building. Eyeing his security personnel, he nodded discreetly, and turned to make his apologies to Gianluca. As amusing as this evening might surely have become, he really didn't relish an unnecessary wrestle with the paparazzi, if he could possibly avoid it.

As he stood, though, the young woman also attempted to get to her feet. Whether it was the five-inch heels, or the large quantity of alcohol he could unmistakably smell on her breath that made her fall, he would never know, but, quickly lunging to catch her, Joseph suddenly found the strange woman in his arms. She was heavier than she looked and, as his knee twinged at the awkward angle, he felt himself falling, with 'Kara' coming to land on his chest.

The moment he fell, he knew they would be upon him in an instant and, as he opened his eyes he was not surprised to be met with the cruel flash of the bulbs. Sighing, he stood himself up, trying to laugh it off, and carefully depositing the clearly drunk woman back into a seat, grinned broadly at the cameras.

"Come on boys, there's nothing to see here…she just couldn't resist me."

There were several laughs from the crowd, and, feeling the firm hand of his bodyguard on his shoulder, Joseph was steered out of the lobby and into the car.

"I'm sorry, sir, that shouldn't have happened…we should have removed them sooner."

Joseph just shrugged and patting the big man on the back reassuringly, shook his head,

"No, Mark, you did the right thing…after all, the only weapons those guys have are their zoom lenses."

Sliding into the car, he chuckled again at the ridiculousness of the situation, and slipped out his cell phone. Noting the late hour, he wrote her a quick message and sat back to wait for the response. He didn't have to wait long. Within a few seconds, his phone buzzed, and he flipped open the case and brought it to his ear.

"Yes, darling, I am, but it is rather late…what have you been doing?"

Her voice was rich and warm and it soothed his frayed nerves immediately. For a moment he wondered whether he should go through the whole evening, tell her about the lecherous minister, how he'd won the drinking game hands down, but then changed his mind…he'd amuse her with that little tale when he got back.

"Nothing important…just meetings, dinner and then watching diplomats drink too much. I would have preferred to be with you, darling."

He could hear her smile on the other end of the line, and he wished, not for the first time that day, that he were by his side.

"I stole one of the horses today and rode down to the sea…you really should get some better security, you know, there was no-one around to stop me."

He laughed, pleased that she was enjoying herself, just a little curious as to what had prompted her sudden interest.

"Which horse did you take?"

She paused, clearly wondering how to answer, and he chuckled softly,

"It's ok, I don't mind…she's wonderful, isn't she?"

Clarisse smiled, pleased that he wasn't angry that she'd borrowed Amelia for the afternoon.

"I love her, she's so beautiful…and such a well-tempered horse. And she loved getting her feet wet."

For a moment, the horseman in him kicked in, and he was a little concerned for his mare, but he needn't have worried,

"And don't worry, I remembered to hose down her legs afterwards and checked for sand…"

He lay back against the cool leather seats, and the car swung round another corner,

"You really are wonderful, aren't you…"

"Something like that."

As the lights of the Embassy came into view, he knew it was time to hang up,

"Darling, I have to go now…sleep well?"

"Not as well as I could…but I will try."

He smiled, understanding entirely her sentiment,

"I love you, darling."

There was a pause, and he was just about to click the phone off, when she replied, her voice distinctly shaky, not uncertain, just nervous,

"I…I love you too."

And then she was gone. For a second he considered calling her back, but then changed his mind. Slipping the phone into his pocket, Joseph was surprised to find his eyes a little teary. She had said it…and in saying it she was beginning to show him something of herself she couldn't control. Finally, she was beginning to trust him.