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Finding Grace in Monaco

by Cori Kirk

241 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1074; ISBN 1-55395-359-2; US$22.00, C$28.95, EUR18.90, £13.10

This book is my true story about becoming a "Princess" in the Kingdom of Monaco and how the Divine works in strange ways. In the midst of the Princes I struggled through adversity to create a life for myself, eventually shedding new light on my state of grace. The Prince and I were disgustingly happy together. A true life "Princess Story" stranger than fiction and it happened to me: Cori Kirk.

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about the book      about the author      excerpts and Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book Cori Kirk's FINDING GRACE IN MONACO is an authentic documentation of the author's extraordinary spiritual quest, and the unforseen turn of events that led to her becoming an unofficial "princess" in Monaco. Kirk shares with readers the intricate workings of royalty from a non-journalistic position in her first-hand account of living amongst the royal family of Monaco. Struggling with personal losses - financial ruin, divorce and raising her young child in Victoria, Kirk took a leap of faith and escaped to Monaco in search of work. Soon after her arrival in Monaco Kirk formed a personal bond with Prince Louis de Polignac, who was Prince Albert's godfather, Prince Rainier's counsin and Princess Grace's confidant during her reign in Monaco. "The day after my arrival, Price Louis de Polignac approached me in the Hotel de Paris spa, and then swiftly swept me behind the closed doors of his powerful world of aristocracy where Prince Rainier, Prince Albert, Princess Caroline and Princess Stephanie reign, and where Princess Grace's ghostly presence still lingers," explains Kirk. "Monaco is a tiny country where few become privy to the inner resources of the Grimaldi family, except by invitation." FINDING GRACE IN MONACO discloses how Price Louis de Polignac took Kirk into his confidence and became her guardian and fairy godfather while he imperially "groomed" her to be the bride for Prince Albert. "Prince Albert and I had an ongoing, private and intimate relationship and he strongly urged me to move to Monaco," says Kirk. "Arrangements were made for me to live there permanently but I chose not to make Monaco my permanent residence and returned to Victoria." Kirk's account of living a princess' lifestyle promises to leave readers with a unique perspective of the "happily-ever-after" fairytale. She shares a distinct point of view that is intriguing and informative. Above all, Kirk tells a story of courage and gratitude in the face of tragedy. She tells how she traveled her spiritual path with divine guidance under atypical circumstances to re-establish her state of grace in Monaco. Cori Kirk is an articulate and exuberant woman who currently resides in Victoria, B.C. Canada. She works as a nutritional consultant and is a former model and actress.

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About the Author     Cori Kirk now resides in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada where she works as a nutritional consultant and is currently working on a guide to nutrition. email her at: goldenbody16@yahoo.ca

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Sample Excerpts or Table of Contents

Chapter 1, pages 1-3

    There was something captivating about this place - a feeling of familiarity as if I'd been here before. This dazzling monument to material wealth gave rise to a passionate feeling that aroused my curiosity. Amidst the reverberation, the ringing of slot machines, flickering and shimmering lights, my feelings of depression vanished. My divorce, immense debt and thoughts of suicide quickly faded. In a flash, I felt reconnected to the higher power; a rebirth by surrender. My spirit was soaring like a phoenix rising out of the ashes, reminding me that life was worth living.
    The massive grand foyer of the Monte Carlo Casino engulfed my senses. I was in awe of the sophistication and opulence that surrounded me. The sight of guards in dark majestic uniforms, wearing white gloves and captain hats, standing alert while surveying the general pandemonium was highly intimidating. The fascination of the rich and famous that had patronized these ancient walls was understandable. The elegant room was draped in red velvety curtains. Rich, deep colored tapestry upholstered chairs and couches were arranged intimately in every corner of the room. The crowd of stylishly dressed patrons, dripping in gold, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, all in the size of large stones was breathtaking.
    This noble old world atmosphere, filled with the smell of fine tobacco and prosperity overflowed with the eloquence for which it stood. Magic and splendor filled this age-old establishment, where unimaginable fortunes had been won and lost by one toss of the dice. The magnificent exhibition of Salvador Dali's artwork enraptured me, inspiring my own artistic talent. The 17 th century chandeliers lit the mezzanine, sparkling like diamonds, floating in the sky. A large marble staircase with a circular banister trailed upwards. Hearing the clamor of laughter swept me away into a world of fantasy. In some strange way, it felt like home - I belonged here.
    Fate had directed me to Monaco. Unseen forces had awakened my spirit, igniting a tiny spark of energy and stimulating my deadened body to visit another continent. Yet amongst this turbulent, organized chaos, I stood silently, alone.
    Monte Carlo, Monaco, huh? Why was I moved to come all this way? To a place I'd never been before and knew virtually nothing about? This trip made no sense to me, except for a premonition that I was in the right place at the right time.
    "Can I get you a drink?" a male voice asked from behind me.
As I turned I almost fell over him. This man had caught my eye when I first entered the gambling arena. He was fiftyish, pleasant looking, wearing a well-tailored dark Armani tuxedo and an obviously expensive starched white shirt.
    He spoke with a New York accent. What a big disappointment! I was hoping for a more exotic one, Italian, or maybe Dutch, so I could simply be polite without being expected to understand, or participate in a conversation.
    "Yes, please, I'm dying of thirst," I replied, reeling from the spectacle I was now a part of.
    I tried not to notice his stare. I felt my cheeks glowing, probably blending with the color of my dress, a soft silky pink. The hot, humid summer night made me perspire while I fought off the fatigue from jet lag. With nothing personal that I wanted to share, I couldn't help but wonder if accepting a drink from this man was going to be worth my energy.
I had come to Monaco hoping for a change of heart. Lost within my thoughts, intimacy on any level was the last thing on my mind. Finally, after a long mental pause, his voice faintly drifted back into my consciousness.
    "Let me introduce myself. My name is John. I'm a movie producer from New York, filming just outside of Monaco and . . ." He carried on with pride and a hint of arrogance.
    "Where are you from, and what do you do?" he asked inquisitively. How lame is this guy? I thought. What a shallow and boring stereotypical opening for a man of his caliber. In a matter of seconds, I was bored and disappointed with his lack of style.
    I filed his title in my memory; secretly contemplating working for him. Maybe he'd offer me a small part in his film. I reminded myself to show him my portfolio, if I didn't get annoyed with him before I got a chance to ask for an audition. His stone cold eyes made me suspicious.
This was my first night out in Monte Carlo, so I wanted it to be lighthearted. Tired from traveling for two days, I decided not to ridicule John and kept my thoughts to myself. In my newly illuminated state of mind, the little voice reminded me that I was right where I was supposed to be, living in the present.     "I'm Cori Kirk . . . an actress from Los Angeles." I said, reaching out my hand to meet his.
    "Really. What have you done?" he asked pryingly.
    I shrugged, looked around the room, and then said, "Nothing worth talking about."
    "Will you stay and play blackjack to bring me luck?" he invited.
    "I'll stay and watch . . . but I don't gamble."
We moved to a nearby table and John threw some colored gambling chips in front of me. "Here, try your luck on me," he said generously.
I lost them in a flash of the cards and stood by while he played and won a large stack of chips. He gathered them into his hands, turned to me and smiled.
"Here, open your hands," he insisted.
    I wasn't thrilled about his tone of voice that seemed more like a demand than a request. I was wondering if this was his way of testing my trustworthiness, or a ploy to convince me that he was a nice guy. Perhaps, this is an act of payment in advance for my companionship. I didn't come all this way to have a man take control of my life, but I'll let him entertain me, nevertheless.
    Now I remembered why I chose Monaco. The newspaper article said that "Monaco is a secure haven for women where a large police force, plus eighty-four strategically placed cameras providing protection for everyone." Even if it turned out to be a media exaggeration, I needed to believe that this was a safe place to start a new life and regain my independence.
I stood there in the midst of the casino with my hands full of gambling chips - his chips.
    "I want you to go and cash these in." He pointed to an elevated cage across the room encased in bars. "Go over there, show your passport, sign the paper and then meet me in the bar." Again, his request seemed like an order.
"All right." I said reluctantly, turning to make my way to the change cage. Why does he want me to cash his chips?
    After exchanging the chips, I walked to the bar and silently stood next to him at the counter. When he turned and looked at me, I handed him a big wad of French notes. He counted out two piles and placed one stack in front of me, and then smiled arrogantly. "This is for you for bringing me good luck," he announced. His narrow, close-set eyes were watching me very closely.
    "Thanks, John. I was in need of some good luck too," I said jokingly. But the truth was, I really needed the money. My wardrobe consisted of blue jeans, a few pieces of casual attire, and one pink silk dress. With this I could shop for some clothing suitable for the French Riviera. I was grateful for his gift of cash.
    I was confined to the moment. My priorities were to rest, relax and eat healthily in this cozy, little, but highly populated Principality. For the first time in a long time, I felt free.
    The French notes amounted to twelve hundred dollars Canadian, which I added to the four hundred dollars in cash that my mother had given me before leaving Canada. My otherwise empty purse now had a slight bulge to it. Hmm, not a bad start for a girl's first night at the Monte Carlo Casino! After a while, he noticed my jet lag setting in.
    "I think it's time I escort you to your hotel, my dear."

Chapter 1, pages 8-12

    Taking a few moments to enjoy the attention of onlookers, I finally gathered my nerve and spoke to Prince Louis.
    "My name is Cori Kirk. I'm from Canada," I replied as I glanced down at my watch.
    "Hello, Mademoiselle Kirk," he responded kindly gently taking my hand in his. He bowed, placed his mouth near my hand, but did not kiss it.
"I'm meeting someone for lunch on the terrace, so I'm in a bit of a rush," I said anxiously.
    "What do you do in Canada?" he asked looking serious and matter of fact. My mind went into a tailspin. I wasn't prepared for this, but I wanted to leave a good impression in my thirty-second interview with the prince. Then I remembered I had brought my acting portfolio with me to show John. So, I spontaneously reached into my bag and handed him a small stack of eight by ten glossy photos. Looking somber, he glanced down at them. I sensed his curiosity while he scrutinized my photos. The strange expression on his face made me feel a bit nervous.
    I impatiently stood quietly beside him. After what seemed to be an eternally long time, I finally got up my nerve to break the silence. "I'm an actress from Canada. I was in Los Angeles, California, but now I'm on holiday." I said quickly, and then waited.
    "How long do you stay in Monaco? And where do you stay?" He asked sweetly in a friendly charming manner.
    "I'm in a little hotel very close to here called the Hotel Splendid," I announced, revealing my location just in case he might want to get in touch with me. "I'm sorry, but I must go now. I have someone waiting to have lunch with me on the terrace."
    With a nod, Prince Louis handed back my photos. "Thank you, my dear." Again, he took my hand in his, bowing, gesturing to kiss it, but not touching it with his lips. Without delay, he rushed off.
    I stood there thinking how much he reminded me of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. "I'm late, no time, hurry, hurry, got to go." His adieu, in French, was missing; he quickly vanished and didn't even say goodbye. How utterly strange for such a charming prince to forget his manners.
    I dismissed his interest in me and rushed off to meet John. I walked past the indoor pool and out across the terrace to the metal railing and casually leaned against it, peering out over the Mediterranean. My eyes were blinded by the intense reflection off the water, so I took out my rose-colored Serengeti*s and put them on. The picture perfect view of the massive yachts dotting the inner harbor caught my attention with lines that resembled strips of white ribbon. This was a magnificent sight, magnified by an unobstructed view of a grand castle; a giant fortress that towered above and behind the harbor like the castle in Cinderella.
    Just then, I thought about my lack of finances and couldn't help but chuckle. What were the chances that I'd end up here on the terrace having lunch with a movie producer, and a very important Prince would ask me who I am. Who would believe it? How simply amazing! It is true that God works in strange ways.
    "Cori!" I heard a male voice call out, rocketing me back to reality. I turned around and saw John sitting on a lawn chair. I walked over and sat down on the edge of his chair.
    "So Cori, how was your morning in the spa?" he inquired.
    "It was perfect. I did get a little exercise, but there wasn't enough time to do everything."
    "Well, after lunch you'll have all afternoon to spend in the spa. Don't worry, I'll make sure you have a great day," he said grinning.
John talked about his business while I covered my body with suntan lotion. My schedule for the afternoon would include a hair appointment, a facial, a manicure and a pedicure - but most important of all, an hour-and-a-half massage.
    Suddenly, I heard a pleasing male voice behind me. "Excuse et moi, Mademoiselle Cori Kirk?" He was speaking in French and the odd look on John's face was rather funny as he stared above my head. With immense curiosity, I turned around and looked up. The sunlight made it hard to focus as Prince Louis came into view. He was standing proudly in front of our lawn chair in a well-tailored, light gray suit, a blue pin stripped shirt and a blue tie.
    The breathless American woman, whose performance I had witnessed earlier in the spa was standing next to him. She was hanging tightly onto his right arm and her voice sounded like nails dragging down a chalkboard. "Oh, Prince. When are we going to have lunch?" she moaned. Prince Louis extended his left hand to me while lifting his right hand, signaling her to cease with a royal wave of his wrist. It really looked funny and I almost laughed out loud. He was waving his invisible magic wand. He didn't speak to her, but I knew his gesture was meant to silence her insistent drivel. It was the first time I saw the royal sign for dismissal; be quiet. I waited and watched as she chose to persevere, trying to entice the prince to make him forget about me, so she could have him all to herself. He ignored her and fixed his radiant blue eyes on me. God! She*s such a pain in the neck. Why is he with her? I assumed that if he was such an important prince, then he must be free to select whom he entertains.
    Prince Louis' hand lingered in the air and it felt as if time was standing still while he waited patiently for me to place my hand in his. This was all new to me, but it looked and felt so very magnificent. It was hard to comprehend and dreamlike. I felt like a spectator watching a princess movie, but this was not a movie and the prince wanted my hand. His steady focus made me feel so important. I was instantly hypnotized by his noble charm, his blue-blooded manners and his first class approach. My hand seemed to move of its own volition without any mental command. It moved slowly, floating in mid-air to meet his. His touch made me feel angelic.
    He gave a chivalrous bow - but not a kiss, just an action that looked that way. Our hands were entwined. A feeling of being one, alone with the prince in spite of our company, took control over my body and mind. I had a sensation of falling and almost fell off my chair. It was an instant of pure bliss and for a second I was immobilized. This unfamiliar feeling was pleasantly overwhelming. I trusted Prince Louis completely, realizing at that moment, we had made a strong connection. I desired to know him privately.
    The sun's warm radiance glowed brightly in my eyes. I sat there staring up at him completely mesmerized. Prince Louis looked as though he had a halo around his head. Mesmerized, I gazed into his warm eyes while his weathered worldly face spoke to me in French. I struggled to think of some basic words of conversation from my ninth-grade French class, wanting to form a sentence to respond. He waited patiently while he watched my blinking eyes and moving lips, but there was no sound. This was a Zen moment; it was the 'Eng'. The moment that the Japanese Buddhists refer to as the space between the beginning and the end of all actions: Cause and effect.
    Finally, I jumped in and bravely said, "Bonjour, monsieur, Comment ca va?"
    I smiled and waited, feeling like a silly schoolgirl. Prince Louis looked at me in amusement and started to chuckle in a soft and understanding sort of way. My desire to keep a conversation in French had failed, so I was forced to confess that French was not my best subject. "Please excuse me, but I do not speak French," I shyly admitted. The rush of blood to my cheeks made me feel slightly embarrassed, and then I giggled lightly.
    Bemused by my light-hearted honesty, his playful nature appeared as he threw his head back and laughed much louder. He paused, smiled, and then repeated his invitation in English. "Hello," he said, "I am the Prince Louis de Polignac. Would you care to join me for lunch?" His heavy charming French accent was so melodious that I didn't want him to stop talking. Then he added a word of advice, "My dear, please remember, you must never start to speak in French unless you can continue." His kindhearted grin eased my timidness and dispersed the awkward moment. My smile made my face hurt.
We laughed, just the prince and I. John and the American woman watched us nervously while others looked on with envy. Why are they so interested in our conversation? We're just talking! I wasn't about to let anyone get between us.
    "Now, will you join me for lunch?" Prince Louis grinned impishly. Me? But what about her? She must be joining us. How strange for him not to introduce her. I laughed to myself, wondering if his manners had failed once again. Why is she with the prince? What does she want from him, or does he want something from her? Never mind, it's all so very confusing and besides, why should I care what they're doing together? I knew that in time Prince Louis would reveal the nature of his relationship with her.
    "I would love to, but I'm here as John's guest." I turned and glanced at John. Prince Louis took a moment to review his position, and then he said as if it was of little consequence, "It is no problem." He spoke slowly with dignity in his voice. "If you like, you can invite your friend to join us. I will arrange a table." The prince clearly had an agenda.
All of this was going on while the American woman kept begging the prince to acknowledge her. "When will we be having lunch?" she whined. Prince Louis once again dismissed her with his royal wave. She was older than me and very attractive.
    I had my own situation to deal with when I noticed John was shaking like a leaf, stunned and pale. Since he had paid for me to use the spa, I wanted to be polite. "Would you like to have lunch with the prince?" I asked John. He nodded yes, too frozen to speak, just a terse movement of his head. I shrugged my shoulders, and then turned back to the prince.
"Yes. Thank you, Prince Louis," I announced, gushing with enthusiasm. "We'd love to be your guests and join you for lunch."
I had a big smile on my face and my heart was pounding. I was simply delighted to be the guest of such a dignified and highly respected man. Was this the beginning of my new life?
    We were immediately seated by four waiters at a table, near the edge of the terrace overlooking the magnificent inner harbor. I heard John introduce himself to the American woman, who said her name was Carol. As I glanced across the marina the panoramic view of the huge fortress perched high upon the cliff drew me like a magnet. The sun hitting the palace gave it a golden glow with a reddish hue. It looked majestic - dreamlike and surreal, reminding me again of the palace where Cinderella first met her prince.
A maitre'd quickly brought us our menus, bringing me back to the reality of my present company. I could feel everyone on the terrace whispering and watching. The prince arranged for a large bottle of Evian water and a bottle of red wine, which he approved with a nod. It all seemed to arrive at lightening speed. I relaxed and settled into the comfortable patio chair and opened my large brown, leather-covered menu. My morning workout in the spa had given me an appetite, plus I was dying of thirst. This was the moment I felt my soul settle with an awareness that being with Prince Louis was a good thing. A feeling of calmness permeated my body.
    My awareness of my position of privilege humbled me and I inwardly gave thanks in advance for the meal I was about to enjoy. Eating in restaurants had not been part of my budget for a very long time and this place was surely expensive. The waiter promptly placed our drinks on the table.
John ordered orange juice and when he reached for it, knocked over the glass. The orange stain expanded as it saturated the fresh white tablecloth. I lost my composure and quietly laughed at his ridiculous blunder, which relieved my tension. Prince Louis rolled his eyes to the heavens and summoned the waiter with his royal hand wave. As we stood by, the table was reset in a matter of seconds. Another full glass of juice was placed before John and once again he spilled the contents all over the second table setting. I couldn't believe it! Neither could anyone watching which by then, seemed like everyone in the restaurant. The crowds envy was so obvious you could hear a pin drop.
John's anxiety was out of control and I felt tense. God! He must feel so embarrassed. Prince Louis was annoyed by this constant interruption, which had delayed his anxious desire to start his dialogue with me. Plus, I was curious to know what had prompted Prince Louis to ask me to lunch.
John's big chance - perhaps his only chance - to impress Prince Louis and eventually to be introduced to the Royal Family was looking grim. This whole experience had accidentally fallen into his lap and he had completely blown it. How unprepared he must have felt. His desire to spend time with me had led us into a most unexpected encounter with royalty on the terrace.
When John spilled his orange juice a third time, it was clear that this rich movie producer couldn't calm down. Embarrassed, he apologized, got up and excused his quick departure. I gave him a see-you-later glance, knowing that he'd leave a message for me at the spa.
    Prince Louis and I sighed with relief when John made his humble exit. We could finally get on with our lunch, but the prince's expression told me that lunch was not the reason he had invited me. The American woman attempted to get the prince to talk to her, but he refused to allow his attention to be diverted. When I glanced up from my menu, Louis was opening a large brown briefcase. After he placed a stack of newspaper clippings on the table in front of me, he dropped his head, frowned with a far-away look in his eyes and sighed heavily. When I picked up the clippings to take a closer look, I read the headlines. "Princess Grace of Monaco, dead." What is this all about? And who is she? I had no idea of what he was trying to tell me, but he was deeply disturbed. I felt compelled to read what he had put in front of me. The article detailed Princess Grace's horrible car crash and how she had suffered multiple internal injuries, resulting in irreparable damage to her body.
    I couldn't bring myself to read any further. My bones began to ache and my heart felt like it was stuck in my throat. Shaken by what appeared to me to be a parallel experience, with a woman I had never known, made no sense to me whatsoever. Why do I suddenly feel so vulnerable; so weak? Prince Louis' presentation of Princess Grace's car crash made me think about my own car crash.
    Oh . . . my . . . God! Why has he given me this article? Looking up at the prince with compassion, I was hoping for a clue as to why he was pouring his heart out to me, a complete stranger. His unwavering gaze focused first on my blonde hair and then on my face. He looked deeply, almost longingly, into my eyes.

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Catalogue Information

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