The Royal Bastard

by Nicole Burnham

  “Given what he told me about his late mother, I’m worried about him.”

  Justine braced her hands on the windowsill and angled a look at the burly Croat. In the years she’d known Kos, she’d never once heard him utter the word worried. The closest he’d ever come was using the word concerned, but always in regard to security protocols or the villa itself, as in, “I’m concerned about wind damage to the roof tiles.” Not in a personal context.

  “You and me both,” she finally replied. “It’s taken a few days for it to sink in, and each day, Rocco gets quieter and quieter. I’m sure having to tell Lina and Enzo what he’s learned is making it all the more difficult.”

  Kos grunted his agreement, then turned his attention out the window, as if concerned he’d said too much. Justine put a hand on his tree trunk of an arm, drawing the man’s gaze back to her face. “Kos? You know you’re more than an employee to him. He wouldn’t have told you about his mother otherwise.”

  It’d been a tough decision, but Rocco explained to Justine that Kos would be better equipped to do his job if he understood the full scope of Rocco’s private concerns. Justine didn’t say as much to Rocco, but she thought his willingness to confide in Kos would help him come to grips with Teresa’s secrets.

  “I appreciate his trust.”

  “You’ve more than earned it.”

  A muscle leapt in his cheek as a bolt of lightning illuminated the front garden and gate, followed instantly by a thunderclap so powerful it shook the windows and the floor. “I’m glad you’re here, Mrs. Cornaro. I’m less worried about him when he has you.”

  For the first time all day, a grin lifted the edges of her lips. “I suspect he gets into more trouble when he’s with me.”

  “True, but you belong together.” She was about to accuse Kos of harboring a secret romantic side when he added, “It’s like Kirk and Spock on Star Trek. You’ve seen Star Trek?”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded as if that settled it. When he saw her waiting for further explanation, he elaborated, “Kirk and Spock are both ambitious, both innovative. Captain Kirk relies on his instincts, while Spock relies on observation and data. Their approaches differ when faced with a problem, but each functions best when they have the other to question their thinking. Since you met Mr. Cornaro, I’ve come to believe that you are Kirk to his Spock. You believe you’re getting him into trouble. I believe you’re challenging his thinking. He is not the same without you, and I suspect you are not the same without him.”

  Justine found the comparison amusing, but kept the thought to herself. Kos’s lengthy explanation and stern demeanor proved he’d given the analogy serious thought.

  “I apologize, Mrs. Cornaro.” He started to turn away. “I should keep such opinions to myself.”

  She stopped him with a gracious smile. “No, you shouldn’t. I was just thinking that it’s a good thing Rocco doesn’t look like Spock. Nothing against the actors who’ve portrayed Spock, but I find Rocco a hell of a lot sexier.”

  Kos paused a moment, then solemnly proclaimed, “Nor do you look like Kirk.”

  She caught a shockingly naughty glint in his eyes before he spun to face the door. “Sir.”

  Justine turned to see Rocco approach from the hallway with Lina and Enzo at his heels. She’d greeted the twins when they’d arrived at the villa earlier in the day, but hadn’t had time to chat with them before Rocco whisked the pair into the kitchen. When Justine had spotted Lina at the cemetery, she’d thought Rocco’s sister looked leaner than in the past. It had surprised her, given that Lina kept to a scrupulous exercise regimen and maintained a svelte figure. Now that Lina was entering the library, Justine modified her assessment. Rather than appearing fit, Lina looked gaunt, as if the weight of her mother’s long illness had worn her down. Her light brown eyes, much like Rocco’s—and Carlo’s, Justine realized—seemed larger than ever as she gave Justine and Kos a watery smile. However, her gorgeous dark blonde hair, which she’d inherited from her late mother, was artfully arranged around her shoulders in perfect beachy waves, and her chic beige moto-style pants and white lace top made it plain she’d taken care with her appearance. Justine’s heart broke for her sister-in-law. Though the mother and daughter hadn’t lived near each other these last few years, Lina and Teresa had been close, speaking on the phone several times a week.

  Enzo, on the other hand, appeared as robust as ever, as if he’d heard the information Rocco had to share and dismissed it as meaningless. He dropped onto the plush gray sofa and kicked out his long legs as if he owned the villa, rather than Rocco, and folded his hands behind his head. “This weather is atrocious,” he declared. “Croatia should inspire visits to the beach, not a nap. Makes me want to crash for the rest of the day.”

  “Not there,” Rocco said before taking his usual seat in the leather chair he’d inherited from Jack Cornaro. “And not now.”

  “Move.” Lina swiped at Enzo’s legs, her hand making a swapping sound as it connected with her twin brother’s jeans. Enzo rolled his eyes but did as she asked, making room for her on the sofa.

  “Can I bring you anything, sir?”

  “No, Kos, thanks. We’ve been picking at food in the kitchen.” He gestured toward the room’s other sofa, which faced the one Enzo and Lina occupied. “Have a seat. We’d like your input. Yours, too, Justine.”

  As Justine moved to sit by Kos, Rocco snagged her hand, keeping her at his side. “I told Enzo and Lina everything, starting with why we had to travel to Baltimore in the first place.”

  “The Russian mob, Justine?” Admiration filled Enzo’s voice. “And you got away. I’m impressed.”

  “It was Kos.”

  “Not when they tried to kidnap you from your apartment. Rocco said you fought like a beast then ran full bore through the streets at night in your pajamas. Good for you.”

  Rocco’s thumb ran over Justine’s. “We also read the letters. Lina’s and Enzo’s were similar to mine, though my mother had individual advice for us.”

  “Which is what caught my eye,” Lina said, her gaze taking in Justine, then Kos. “In Rocco’s letter, Mom mentioned that she’d discussed his accomplishments, including his work on diabetes pumps, with acquaintances. She specifically mentioned the man who installed the security system at her condo in New York.”

  Justine’s mind made the connection even as Rocco said, “I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together when I first read it, but it’s possible the person she mentioned is Viktor Radich or someone who worked for him. Fabrizia said that Radich installed custom-designed security systems in the United States before he came to Croatia. I want to find out if he was working in Manhattan and, if so, if he installed the system at my mother’s condo.”

  “She kept a lot of valuable art there,” Enzo said. “Jack’s entire collection. Knowing her, she’d have gotten the best security she could afford.”

  “It’d explain how Radich discovered where Rocco’s private lab is located,” Lina said. “Radich probably befriended Mom at her coffee shop. It wouldn’t take much from there to get hired to install her security system.”

  “Which would’ve given him entry to her apartment and more time to pump her for information about Rocco,” Enzo finished.

  “I can find out for you, sir,” Kos volunteered. “I may not be able to determine if Radich installed it himself, but the security firm’s contact information is in my files. If it’s his company, we’ll know it.”

  “That’ll be your first task when we finish.” He released Justine’s hand and levered himself out of the chair. “First, though, I think we should open this.” He rounded his desk and withdrew the cornflower blue velvet box that’d been in his backpack during the trip to the States. Justine had been curious about it when she’d searched his belongings for GPS devices in Rome, but she’d forgotten it in the chaos of their flight to Baltimore and the revelations of Teresa’s papers.

  “What is that?” Enzo asked as Rocco set th
e box on the desktop.

  “Fabrizia left this with her business card when she came to warn me about Radich and Karpovsky. All she said was that it belongs with our family, not hers, and that it was her excuse for the visit should Carlo ever discover she’d come.” Rocco ran his hand over the box. “I haven’t looked inside.”

  “You’re kidding me. Why the hell not?”

  Rocco glared at Enzo. “At the time I was focused on the potential threat to my wife.”

  “Let’s see what it is.” Lina rose from the sofa and took the box from Rocco. When she lifted the lid, her eyes went wide and she inhaled sharply. “Oh my gosh, Rocco. This belongs in a museum. Or on Queen Fabrizia herself.”

  Lina flipped the box around so everyone could see. Justine felt her jaw go slack at the same time Kos straightened and Enzo let lose a string of foul language. Pillowed on plush light blue velvet lay a necklace laden with sparkling diamonds and sapphires of the deepest blue. At the necklace’s center, a giant sapphire bearing a white, crosslike star sat framed by diamonds.

  “This must be worth millions,” Lina breathed. “And I don’t say that as an exaggeration.” She turned the box so she could study the piece up close. “These diamonds are as brilliant as any I’ve seen, and star sapphires are rare, especially this size. Look what happens when you move it under the light.” She tilted the case for Rocco. “The striations in the sapphire look like they move.”

  “Is that a Conti & Fancetti logo inside the lid?” Enzo asked. At Lina’s nod, he explained, “They’re high end jewelers based in Sarcaccia. Assuming those stones are the real deal, I’m sure it really is worth millions.”

  “They’re the real deal,” she assured him, running a finger around the circumference of the piece. “Up close there’s no doubt. Every setting looks like a work of art and there must be a hundred stones here.”

  “Why in the world would Fabrizia give it to us?” Rocco asked, beating Justine to the question that’d been on the tip of her tongue. “It couldn’t have belonged to our mother. Jack was well off, but not this well off. And before she met Jack—”

  “She was sleeping with a future king worth billions,” Enzo finished.

  “That doesn’t explain this,” Rocco argued. “Carlo couldn’t get much money to her without his parents knowing, remember? At least, that’s what she always told us. I doubt that part of her story was false. He would’ve been seventeen when I was conceived and only twenty-three when his father passed away and their relationship ended. He couldn’t have purchased a necklace like this during those years without it being noticed.”

  Everyone in the room quieted. Enzo crossed the room to study the necklace, then looked at Rocco. “This is all the more reason, you know.”

  At Rocco’s grim expression, Justine asked, “Reason for what?”

  “Lina and I want Rocco to arrange a meeting with Carlo. That’s what we wanted to discuss with you and Kos. Rocco doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “I think it’s an awful idea.” Rocco rested the heels of his palms against the desktop, his dark brows knit in warning as he scowled at Enzo. “It’s a miracle no one saw Fabrizia visit here. A second miracle no one tied the arrest in Rome to the royal family…or to us. Tempting fate a third time is foolhardy.”

  “I want the truth.” Lina raised her eyes to Justine’s, then glanced at Kos. “All we have is Mom’s side of the story. Her paperwork might back up what she wrote in our letters, but until one of us speaks to Carlo and hears his side of the story, we’ll always wonder. My whole life, I’ve believed something very different than what I learned today. And it wasn’t just us. Jack believed it, too.”

  Enzo raised the open jewelry box. “You can return this while you’re there. What the queen was thinking bringing it here, I don’t know, but we have no business—” He set down the box and ran his fingertips along the plush lining of the lid, where his thumb had rested while he held up the necklace. “Wait a minute.”

  Kos’s dark eyes narrowed. “You found something.”

  “There’s a bump in the fabric. The necklace isn’t all that’s in here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gently, Enzo lifted the edge of the lining, angled the box under the desk lamp, then shrugged. “Looks like a store security tag.”

  “May I?”

  Enzo handed it over. After a moment’s inspection, Kos set the box back on the desk. “It’s not a security tag, it’s a tracking device. I’ve seen this type used by American law enforcement.”

  Lina pursed her lips and stared at the box as if it contained poison. “Good thing the Russians were arrested in Italy.”

  “Not the Russians. Fabrizia.” Rocco shot a pointed look at Kos. “That’s how she knew Justine and I were in Rome, and exactly where to send her security team, you, and the police.”

  Justine wasn’t so sure. “I can’t imagine she gave you the necklace as a means of spying on you. She had no way of knowing you’d keep it with you. It was far more likely you’d stash it in your safe and leave it there.”

  “Agreed,” Enzo said, “which brings us right back to square one. Rocco, contact Queen Fabrizia. Tell her you’d like to arrange another visit. This time with her husband.”

  Instead of responding to Enzo, Rocco looked to Kos. “What’s your take?”

  “Given the value of the piece, the tracking device could’ve been inserted in the lining a long time ago as a means to recover it in case of theft. It may or may not have anything to do with you.”

  “What about seeing King Carlo?”

  Kos hesitated. “Sir, it’s not for me to say. If you wish, I can secure a location here in Croatia where you can meet without being seen or disturbed. However, the king’s security team would need to make the arrangements on his end.”

  The muscles of Rocco’s jaw worked before strode to the window. As if on cue, thunder rolled through the sky, followed by a flash of lightning so bright it illuminated the entire property, silhouetting Rocco against the glass.

  Justine longed to go to him, to run her hands across his broad shoulders, to massage away the concern that appeared to visibly weigh him down, but sensed now wasn’t the time.

  “It’s a huge risk,” Rocco said without turning around. “It takes only one person to see the wrong thing or ask the wrong question and our lives are changed forever.”

  “I’m willing to take that risk,” Enzo said.

  “If it was only the matter of King Carlo being our biological father, I’d be fine,” Lina rubbed her forehead and grimaced. “As to the rest, I admit I’d be horrified if it came out. I’d wonder if everyone I meet has read some tabloid article about us and is whispering behind our backs. On the other hand, I know I’d find a way to deal with that kind of scrutiny. What I can’t deal with is going through life not knowing what to believe about Mom.”

  Rocco kept his focus on the rain-soaked view. “To talk to Carlo Barrali after all these years…we’re damned if we do, damned if we don’t.”

  Another thunderbolt cracked, this time causing the lights to blink. Kos excused himself to locate flashlights and check the generator. Enzo followed close on his heels. Lina signaled Justine and mouthed, “I’ll leave you two alone,” then disappeared into the hallway before Justine could respond.

  “They want you to talk to me.” Rocco sounded simultaneously tired and amused.

  “You saw Lina’s reflection in the window, didn’t you?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Yes. Not that it wasn’t predictable.”

  Unable to stay away any longer, Justine covered the space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, then rested her chin on his shoulder. In the window, she saw him close his eyes as his hands and forearms came down to cover hers.

  “I’m afraid I have no wisdom to share, but I’ll do this as long as you’d like,” she promised.

  “They won’t leave us alone that long.”

  “You’re probably right.” She raised onto her toes to press a kiss in fr
ont of his ear, then said, “What’s your gut telling you to do?”

  “To have a stiff drink and get back to work.”

  She smiled at Rocco’s typical workaholic response. She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in the familiar, masculine scent of his skin and the crispness of his shirt. “You must’ve worked a lot while your mother was ill, given how much you accomplished in those months.”

  “When I wasn’t caring for her, it was all I did.” He turned in her embrace and his troubled gaze locked on hers. “As upset as I was by her illness, it was torture losing you.”

  “Work was a distraction.”

  He ran a hand over her hair, then palmed her shoulder. “Distraction, yes. Solution, no. I knew I needed to change the situation, but I didn’t know how. There aren’t manuals on how to deal with your wife leaving because you’ve kept a secret you believe is necessary to protect your mother and siblings. Given the information I had at the time, I felt I’d pursued the logical course.”

  His use of the word logical reminded her of Kos’s observation that he was Spock to her Kirk. She raised a brow. “Work won’t make this problem go away, either.”

  Another wave of rain lashed the windows as the wind intensified. “Work is always the path of least resistance for me. But taking my mother’s word was also the path of least resistance. It was convenient. Meeting Carlo face to face would be anything but.”

  “No argument from me on that point.”

  “On the other hand, it’s what they want and need,” he said, referring to his siblings. “So even if my gut’s telling me to ignore the situation and work, I need to handle things differently than I did when you walked out. I need to do what’s best for everyone involved, not what’s best—or what’s most convenient—for me.”