Starr Valentine by Wende Dikec

Author:Wende Dikec
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YA Science Fiction Romance, Ugly Duckling, Royalty, Outer Space, Family Relationships
Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
Published: 2016-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“So tell me about this Vegonian boy who stole your heart,” Julian said as we ate dinner at the restaurant inside our hotel, the 114 Faubourg. We sat in a corner table on the lower level of the two-story restaurant. An elegant stairway curved its way up through the middle of the restaurant, leading to an additional dining area on the second floor. Bright paintings of flowers decorated the walls. Subtle lighting added a sense of intimacy to the space. Massive golden hued columns rose majestically to the ceiling. Waiters bustled about in white shirts, black vests, and bow ties.

I stared around in amazement. I’d thought Paris couldn’t have possibly matched my expectations, but it actually managed to surpass them in every way. I’d remember my time here for the rest of my life. And I had Julian to thank for it.

The first course, purple sea urchins with a fine egg mousse completely covered in butter and garlic, created a symphony of subtle tastes and textures in my mouth. I enjoyed it immensely, but as soon as I heard Julian’s words, I almost choked.

He sat across from me, dressed impeccably in his white military uniform, his gold medals and fringe sparkling in the candlelight. Every woman in the restaurant, whether eight or eighty, had noticed him, but he acted completely oblivious once again. He smiled and nodded in a very duke-like way, but had absolutely no idea we all either imagined him naked or thought about tearing his clothes off. Well, perhaps everyone except the eight year olds. They thought he looked exactly like Prince Charming, and were annoyed at me for looking an awful lot like Cinderella.

“Um, what do you want to know?” I touched the corners of my mouth with my napkin, trying to buy some time. I’d become a little fuzzy and lightheaded. We’d started our meal with a celebratory glass of champagne, and I felt the effects immediately. Apparently, there wasn’t a strict drinking age in France, and, if there was, it didn’t seem to apply to princesses.

Julian shrugged. “Why don’t we start with his name?”

“Adrian,” I said.

Julian raised one dark eyebrow at me. “And where is Adrian from?” he asked, taking another bite of sea urchin.

“Bergula,” I answered as concisely as possible.

“That is quite far from Celesta.” He took another sip of champagne and stared at me intently over the glass.

I didn’t know what he was getting at, but I could tell he enjoyed both the food and the drink. When our waiter brought our second course, ravioli stuffed with artichokes, we both sighed in pleasure after our first bite.

Each course of food came accompanied by a different glass of wine. I tried to sip, but felt rather buzzed by the time the waiter got to our third course, scallops with black truffle. We also had duck roasted with spiced honey served on a polenta with dried fruits, and then the waiter brought out a tray of seasonal cheeses.

“Each bite is better than the last,” I said with a sigh, and Julian agreed.

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