If the Slipper Fits. Elizabeth Harbison

expecting her and that, moreover, she had committed the one sin she’d so confidently told him she wouldn’t: she’d invaded his privacy.

      “I didn’t order this,” Conrad said, his voice tired, as if he’d expected just this kind of infraction from Lily.

      Lily might have felt stung except that he was absolutely correct, he hadn’t ordered it, his stepmother had. “I apologize for the interruption,” she said sincerely, “but your stepmother said you were waiting for this.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Brittany Oliver repositioning herself on the sofa so that she was more clearly in view. “She said I was to bring it to you right away.”

      “My late father’s wife says a great many things that are best ignored.” His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. “This is an excellent example of one.”

      “I’m sorry,” Lily said. “But it’s my job to not ignore the wishes of our patrons, so when she said—”

      “I told you I wished to have privacy.”

      “Yes, I realize that, but when your stepmother—”

      “My late father’s wife.”

      “—told me you wished to have dinner…. But since that is clearly incorrect, I’ll take it away.”

      For just a moment, Lily thought she saw a spark come into his eye. “If I refuse this now, you’ll have to return it to Drucille and Ann, is that right?”

      Lily kept her face impassive, even though she would rather have eaten wasps than return to Princess Drucille’s room tonight. “Yes.”

      He kept his eyes on her for another moment before taking the platter from her. His mouth curved into the slightest smile. “That will be all,” he said, setting it down on the foyer table. “Thank you.”

      Lily nodded and was turning to leave when the actress on the sofa spoke.

      “Um, excuse me? Waitress?”

      Lily turned to face the woman. “What can I do for you?”

      “I think there are photographers outside. Wanting to take my picture…?” She gestured airily toward the window.

      Lily stood in place. “Really?”

      The girl gave an exasperated sigh. “Can you look?” She gave a completely false laugh and looked at Prince Conrad. “You know how they are. Always looking for a story about me.”

      Lily went to the window and looked out. There was no one there. The occasional car drifting past served as the city equivalent to crickets chirping. “I don’t see anyone,” she said.

      Brittany scrambled to her feet. “You don’t?” She rushed in an unbecoming fashion to the window and looked out, her face falling when she saw no one. “But I told them…” She looked at Conrad. “I told my people to keep them away and I guess they did. That’s good.” She cleared her throat delicately and said, “Would you excuse me for a moment while I go…powder my nose?” She headed toward the bathroom, but Lily noticed she stopped for a moment to take her cell phone out of her purse.

      Lily watched her go, then turned to Conrad. “Will that be all?”

      He was looking in the direction of the window, and had obviously not seen Brittany take her phone. “Have there been photographers out there tonight?”

      “Not that I’m aware of.”

      “To your knowledge has anyone on the staff made it known that I arrived early?”

      “Not that I know of.”

      “Hmm.” Again he looked in the direction of the closed bathroom door, then back at Lily. “Please hold all of my calls this evening.”

      “Certainly. Is there anything else?”

      “No.”

      “All right. If you need anything, touch Zero on the telephone keypad and ask for the concierge.”

      “Would that be you?”

      “I’m one of them.”

      “Then shouldn’t I be able to ask for you by name?”

      “Well…sure…but I might not be here. If I’m not, anyone else will be able to help you.”

      “Conrad!” Brittany called and she stepped gingerly from the restroom.

      He glanced at her, then back at Lily and said, “Thank you.”

      Lily left thinking Prince Conrad looked like a man who would have better taste than to fall for a pretty but vacant starlet. On the other hand, maybe there weren’t a lot of men who would take substance over appearance.

      And if Prince Conrad’s reputation was even half true, he was not a man who was out for substance.

      She looked at her watch. It was a few minutes past midnight. She had to be back here in six hours. There was, once again, no point in going home. Especially with several staffers out with the flu.

      It was to be another night in the back office. She sighed. Fortunately, the office was as comfortable, if not more so, than the rooms at the Montclair. Gerard wanted only the best, and it didn’t matter if it was the best bed for a guest room, the best sofa for the office, or the best garbage can for the alley. He wanted the best, and that was what he got.

      Lily stopped at a supply cabinet and took out a light blanket, then went to the office and lay heavily on the sofa. It felt good to get off her feet. Really good.

      She didn’t know how long she’d laid there—it felt like seconds but it might have been an hour or two—when the telephone rang. She roused herself from the sofa and went to the desk. It was an in-house call, relayed by the switchboard to the front desk. She picked it up and tried to sound as if she were awake.

      “It seems there has been a security breach,” said a voice she recognized as Prince Conrad’s.

      Lily was on alert immediately. A security breach? Had someone broken into his room? Threatened him? Her mind raced from one horrible possibility to another. “What is it?” she asked, as calmly as she could. “Should I call the police?”

      “No. It’s reporters. They’re outside.”

      “Huh?” She quickly put on her professional voice. “I’ll have security get rid of them.”

      “I don’t care so much about that. What I really need is for you to find a way to get my guest out of your hotel undetected. As quickly as possible.”

      Lily tried to put the pieces together but was still too fuzzy-headed to manage. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

      “My guest, Ms. Oliver,” he said pointedly. “She needs to leave. And you need to make it happen without anyone seeing her go. Contrary to your previous assertion, there are photographers outside and I don’t want pictures of her leaving my hotel in the papers tomorrow.”

      Chapter Two

      “I’ll be right there.” Lily hung up the phone and muttered an oath. She was not in the mood for this, no matter how rich, famous, or powerful the guest was. She was not in the mood for it.

      Lack of sleep was really getting to her.

      She stalked to the front of the building, where a group of about five photographers with large cameras stood, looking bored or tired, smoking cigarettes and eating doughnuts.

      She braced herself, then went outside. “What are you doing here?”

      “We got a call that Brittany Oliver’s here with Prince Conrad of La-dee-dah Land,” one of them said, stubbing out his cigarette on the entry gate. “So, what’s the story, they an item?”

      “I have no idea who you’re even talking about,” Lily