Wow, I have to apologise for the horrific punctuation/grammar and vicious spelling in the previous chapter. I hade been out with the boyfriend and then hade returned home and written that at 1 in the morning, which is not an excuse just a reason for my lack of concentration! So, I'm sorry! None of this belongs to me, it belongs to Meg Cabot and Disney and their friends. Chanel's not mine either; I think it belongs to Coco Chanel.

The evening was considerably sultry, the heat seeping into her room even though the windows were closed and the air-conditioning was on. She felt flustered and dismissed her maids after a while because she could not bear to have anyone near her in such abysmal heat. She sat down for a moment and realised for the first time that day that Pierre had not called to wish her a Happy Birthday, which was entirely unlike him. He usually would call in the morning, before he had to lecture in the college in the Vatican.

She had not seen him since his brother's funeral, when she had little time for him anyway. She shook her head softly, sighing to herself. She decided, considering the situation and the coming evening which required her to be The Queen, she could not get emotional. It was not needed, it was unnecessary. So recalling strength which only she possessed, she closed down her feelings and banished her sons face from her mind.

She was ready quicker than she expected, wearing a simple black and white jacket with a sweet-heart neck line, a soft black skirt with white piping around the hem and new white and black shoes, she looked decidedly classy. She applied her make-up, fished her pearls from her extremely unorganised jewellery box and was ready to go. Of course, she had overlooked to check who was travelling with her, if Joseph had the night off or as she hoped, he would be accompanying her.

In her new shoes, which clicked on the marble of the halls with a staccato beat, she leisurely made her way to the foyer of the palace. It was near empty, spare the ever buzzing security desk at which sat behind Antoine and Shades, studying monitors while Joseph leaned over them, from the front, studying papers and giving her a deliciously voyeuristic view of his rear. Aware that no one was paying much attention to her, she paused for better admiration and found herself quite shocked at her own actions. Snapping out of the part of her that wanted to devour him, she started to walk to the desk and at the clicking of her heels, Shades and Antoine quickly stood up and Joseph turned, a smile on his face.

"Your Majesty", he clicked his heels and bowed.

"Joseph", she held out her hand which he kissed automatically, as was custom.

"I assume I am to travel with you this evening?" she questioned, straightening up her jacket and wrapping a large woollen shawl around her shoulders. For all it was warm, the night would soon grow cold.

"Indeed", he smiled, "Along of course with Shades and Antoine".

She smiled at the young men, standing behind the desk and then turned to him.

"Must they come, are they really necessary - perhaps they deserve the night off", she smiled at the two young men sweetly. They smiled back, with a thankful but wistful smile.

"You pay them for what they do", he answered, moving her towards the door with his hand at the small of her back, "And yes, they are very necessary".

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Did I tell you?" he questioned, whispering in her ear as the partition before them rose up, "You look lovely this evening?"

"No" she smiled, "Thank you, however".

"Yes, quite lovely".

"And you", she continued, resting her hand in his between them on the seat, "You look very, cool, is that what I say? Or I could be un-cool and say you look extremely handsome".

He looked down at his attire, true he looked more casual than usual. He was wearing a black shirt, no tie, an Armani suit and black shoes but nothing that could be commented on.

"And you smell quite lovely" she continued, looking out the window suddenly as she felt her face burning, what possessed her to mention the way he smelled! She would be perpetually embarrassed. She had been so engrossed in how he looked and smelled she sounded like she was an idiot but truly, he smelled wonderful.

He laughed slightly, amused by her embarrassment and moved toward her. He bent his face down to her neck, placing a soft kiss on her collar bone.

"You smell much better than I do" he whispered, "Or am I just insane, maybe you only smell that way because I love you".

"Impossible!" she laughed, swatting his knee, "its Chanel No. 5!"

"No", he smiled, "You smell like love".

"That's impossible". She protested, "Love cannot smell!"

"It does", he laughed, "It smells like you to me!"

"You're far too sentimental" she scolded lovingly, "You must not be so sentimental, you will make me that way!"

"And would that be so bad, Clarisse?" he questioned, his tone changing abruptly form mirth to seriousness.

"No", she whispered, "I suppose it would not."

He kissed her then and she fell back on the seat.

"I have something for you", he whispered, his lips floating enticingly over hers. He reached down to the floor of the limo and produced a gift bag.

"You shouldn't have".

"I wanted too", he smiled, handing her the little pink bag. Inside there was a velvety bag under crepe paper. She fished it out, with no more than a calm display of eagerness. Inside there was a watch, simple but stunning none the less. Silver, it glinted in the dull light of the limo as she studied it. It was a Rolex, expensive no doubt, but something he could afford none the less.

"It's beautiful", she whispered, "So pretty".

"It's nothing audacious", he smiled.

She studied it more carefully, noticing the engraving on the back of the watch face which was so small, it was barely readable.

"Everything has its time. Love, J."

She felt the tears spring to her eyes but she willed them back successfully. Oh! She clenched the fist of her free hand and refused herself to cry, these days she was becoming far too sentimental and it did not sit well with her.

"You really shouldn't -", she said weakly and them touched his face with her hands, "Too much time".

"Never enough".

She smiled and with a flourish he offered to put the watch on for her, she made a resolution that she would never take it off.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Grand Royal Hotel and Restaurant in the centre of Pyrus was one of the few hotels not owned by the Von Troken's. When she had to organise meetings and lunches and dinners, instead of the palace she often organised a private dining room here because the food was wonderful and the staff were extremely co-operative. Of course, she knew that outside - considering the general buzz the election caused and the traditional Royal dinner - the press would be there. She had not however, considered the numbers that might indeed be their and realised as soon as they pulled up it was much more than she had expected. Before she was even allowed to move out of the car with him, he had cleared Shades and the entourage to assemble before the hordes of press, preventing people storming them, or indeed, the photographers getting decent pictures of her.

"I did not expect this", she commented, looking out the tinted windows.

"Of course not", he smiled, "I had perhaps anticipated it but that is my job, I brought ten men with me in the other cars".

"That was decidedly very wise of you".

"Thank you", he smiled, "Ready to face the music, dancing is optional".

"Yes", she laughed and he climbed out, to open her door for her.

As she stepped out, the flash of bulbs -which she was quite used to blinding her- was unbelievable. He placed his hand on her back protectively, walking with his body slightly around her, almost going back wards. The shouts of the photographers for her to stop for a moment did not dissuade him from his goal of getting her safely into the hotel. He continued, with one hand to push the press back from her, now and then his jacket falling open so they got a flash of the metal in his holster. That was not intentional but the threat of a gun and the knowledge that he was terribly well trained in using it often scared them off.

Inside, when they eventually got through the crowd the hotel manager greeted them with a smile as he quickly took them through the lobby of the hotel and into the area of the hotel where Clarisse often booked a dining room. The restaurant, she had noticed was extremely busy and she felt extremely guilty using this place when her Michelin-starred chef was not exactly ran of his feet in the palace. However, that was being pedantic so she followed Joseph and George - she had learned his name from the conversation he was having with Joseph - to a suite, aptly named Francois the third after Rupert's' grandfather.

"I shall leave you here, your Majesty" he bowed slightly, "Joseph".

"Thank you, George".

The man turned and made his way down the short corridor and disappeared behind the door that led into the main body of the Hotel.

"Shall we", she questioned, pushing down the handle.

"Well why not?"

She did not have time to answer; a chorus of "Happy birthday" had filled her ears as she stepped into the room. Immediately, she was angry having assumed it was a huge amount of people but soon she realised that was not the case, that there was just a small, very selective group of people assembled in the room. She turned round swiftly, and slapped him playfully on the chest.

"Happy Birthday", he smiled.

Well, there you are. Was it obvious in the lead up or not that there was to be a party, I would greatly appreciate it if you told me.

Thanks!

Yours,

M

Xx