“What would you do in my shoes, Jack, knowing what I know now?” Rocco stared at the photo awhile longer, let out a long breath, then clicked his phone to pull up a list of e-mail contacts. With the right words to the right people, he could ensure Justine was far, far away from the coming fracas.
He owed her that.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fabrizia straightened her husband’s collar and tidied his hair, though both were already perfectly in place. They stood in a small antechamber off the palace’s famed green parlor. Because of its intimate atmosphere, the parlor was used for high level talks, press conferences, and even—rumor had it—clandestine romantic encounters during the palace’s early days.
“I’ll be fine,” Carlo assured her. He stood as straight and tall as ever, but she could feel trepidation rolling off him in waves. “Better to do it this way so we can control the story.”
She doubted the story could be controlled, but he was right. Should the paparazzi discover the Cornaros and reveal their connection to the Barrali family, the media would be vicious, playing the cover-up in a way that would make the entire family seem untrustworthy. That wouldn’t do if they were to continue to successfully lead the country.
Beside them, Fabrizia’s assistant, Daniela, peeked around the door that separated them from the parlor. “They’re all assembled. Ready when you are.”
Carlo nodded, then gave Fabrizia a soft kiss on the cheek. “No matter how this turns out, I love you.”
“I know you do.”
He turned to enter the parlor, where approximately a dozen reporters sat waiting for the impromptu press conference to start, but Fabrizia put a hand on his arm. “I’m coming in with you.”
He frowned, then pulled Fabrizia off to the side so Daniela and the other staff members couldn’t hear them. “No man wants to make the admission I’m about to make, let alone make it while knowing his wife is standing behind him being stared at and speculated about. They’ll wonder what you knew and when. They’ll wonder how you can stand me. They’ll believe I was a fool and a cad and will question my judgment.” He looked at the ceiling, getting his bearings, then back at her. “Fabrizia, it’ll be—”
“My honor.” She put her hands on her husband’s lapel and smiled up at him. He was her heart, her soul. Hearing the torrent of objections from him only solidified her resolve. He needed her for this. “We’ve been together a long time, Carlo. I know all the good and all the bad. I know you’re concerned about how you’ll be viewed after you walk into that room and say what you need to say. It’s a valid concern. But if I’m by your side, our countrymen will see in my eyes and my body language how I feel about you. It will give them confidence. If I’m not there, that also speaks volumes.”
He curled his hands around hers. “Fabrizia, I can’t ask that of you.”
“Then don’t. Simply allow it.”
He studied her for a long moment. Beneath her hands, his chest rose and fell, and she felt the slow, steady beat of his heart. His nod, when it finally came, was barely perceptible.
She smiled, gave his hands a final squeeze, then followed him into the green parlor, head held high and love filling her entire being.
She was married to the most resilient, wonderful man in the world. She wanted the world to know it.
After being introduced by his press secretary, Carlo strode to the podium. Fabrizia moved to his side, standing a pace behind his right shoulder. He offered the reporters his usual greetings, welcoming several by name and wishing one of the local television personalities a happy birthday. As always, he had the room in the palm of his hand, even those reporters whose job was to pick apart Carlo’s policies and endlessly second-guess his decisions.
“I appreciate all of you visiting with me today. I’m sure you had other priorities, like shopping for Marcello’s birthday.” A smattering of laughter echoed through the room. “However, I invited you here to discuss a personal matter. Given my position as a hereditary monarch, the line between my public life and my private life is often thin. On occasion, it’s a challenge to find the balance between what the public rightfully deserves to know so Sarcaccia’s citizens remain confident in my ability to govern, and in keeping personal matters to myself in order to protect my wife and children, who are” —he smiled at Fabrizia over his shoulder— “the loves of my life. Part of being a good steward of this country is keeping myself in good physical and mental health, and keeping my private life private helps me do that.”
Fabrizia sensed Carlo corralling his energy. Before he could say more, the door at the rear of the green parlor opened and Princess Sophia slipped through. Though she was silent as she entered, her hot pink dress made her hard to miss. She caught Fabrizia’s eye, then fingered the delicate gold chain around her throat. A small, golden rose dangled from the end. Carlo had given Sophia the necklace on her tenth birthday, then walked her out to the palace garden to show her a new variant of pink rose that had been named the Princess Sophia in her honor.
In that moment, as a smile blossomed on Sophia’s face, Fabrizia knew all would be well.
“As I said when I entered the room, today’s discussion revolves around a personal matter,” Carlo’s voice strengthened as he, too, noticed Sophia and realized that she was there to support him. “It is not a matter I wished to share. However, circumstances have changed in recent weeks.”
The parlor door opened once again, this time as Vittorio, Emily, and Alessandro entered. Several reporters turned around in surprise. One snapped a photo, apparently sensing the presence of three royal children at a press conference meant a momentous announcement was forthcoming.
“Many years ago, when I was a teenager, I was involved in an inappropriate relationship with one of my tutors. She recently passed away, which is why the time has come to bring this matter to light.”
As one, the reporters who’d turned toward the back of the room swiveled to face the front. Carlo continued, “Her name was Teresa Fedeli. I was seventeen and she was twelve years my senior. The relationship occurred unbeknownst to my parents. In fact, it went on unbeknownst to anyone until I told my wife shortly before our marriage.”
No one stirred in the room other than Carlo, who again looked over his shoulder at Fabrizia. She briefly put a hand to his arm and smiled, then stepped away to allow him to finish.
“It was not merely improper due to the age difference, which, I know—and knew at the time—was wrong. It was also improper because I saw Teresa on two separate occasions in the year following my marriage to Queen Fabrizia.” As eyes widened around the room, Carlo said, “I am the most fortunate man in the world in that my wife forgave me. Since then, the queen and I have built a strong, loving marriage, one that is founded upon trust. I have not broken that trust since.”
Fabrizia looked to the back of the parlor to gauge her children’s reaction and saw that Stefano, Megan, Massimo, and Kelly had joined the others. She gave them a smile at the same time the door opened once more to admit Bruno. A camera flashed in the front row, capturing what she knew had to be an expression of profound gratitude and surprise on her face as she saw that her youngest child had flown home to back his father. Then dozens of cameras flashed, memorializing Carlo’s reaction as he gazed at his children. At that moment, two figures entered from the antechamber and remained on the opposite side of the room from the royal siblings. Fabrizia’s breath seized as she recognized that Umberto had brought in Rocco Cornaro. Though the reporters paid Rocco no attention, Fabrizia knew that would change. Judging from the lopsided grin on Rocco’s face as he moved further from the room’s main entrance, ensuring he was well out of the view of the photographers’ lenses, Rocco knew it, too.
Despite the surprise entrance of his eldest son, Carlo’s voice remained firm. “With Teresa Fedeli’s passing, I now have the opportunity to address what has been the great challenge of my personal life. That challenge involves the three children Teresa bore during our relationship.”
&nb
sp; Whispers throughout the room grew to outright gasps and murmurs of, “did he say three children?” and one whispered into his phone, “find all you can on Teresa Fedeli, a former tutor for the royal family,” as Carlo paused to take a sip of water from a glass hidden behind the podium. Discussion ceased when the king adjusted the microphone to continue.
“Several reporters noted my three a.m. arrival at the airport a few days ago. I can now tell you that I was visiting the eldest of those children, a brilliant man named Rocco Cornaro. Rocco has known about his paternity since he was young, as have Rocco’s siblings, Lina and Enzo, who are fraternal twins. In answer your questions, yes, my wife has also known about Rocco, Lina, and Enzo throughout our marriage. Our children are also aware of their half-siblings. Long ago, Teresa Fedeli and I decided to keep their existence quiet. Though doing so kept my personal failings from the public eye, it was not done for that purpose, but to protect their upbringing. They are private citizens, raised outside Sarcaccia by their mother, and wish to remain private citizens. However, it is my desire to get to know them now in a way I could not during Teresa’s lifetime. I hope that you will honor my wishes and respect their need for privacy. They each have vibrant careers and personal relationships that I do not wish to see harmed because of their connection to me. That being said, I will now take five minutes of questions.”
Fabrizia nodded to the reporters, then skirted the room to join her children as Carlo patiently listened to the barrage of questions and gave to-the-point answers. Most of the inquiries centered on Teresa—did he know this was a crime? Yes. Was this the reason Queen Fabrizia dedicated herself to so many charities for victims of abuse? No, the issue transcends my own experience. Had the two sets of children met? No. Where did they live? Outside Sarcaccia.
“Thank you.” Fabrizia said the words in a voice intended for Sophia’s ears only, though Vittorio, who stood on Sophia’s other side, also heard.
“We weren’t going to let him face the firing squad alone,” Sophia responded. “We didn’t know you planned to join him.”
Fabrizia fought to keep from smiling, given how the press might interpret it in light of the serious nature of the press conference. “I couldn’t leave him up there alone, either.”
Vittorio leaned closer to Fabrizia and Sophia. “Don’t look across the room…but that’s him, isn’t it? With Umberto.”
“Also a surprise. I had no idea.”
Vittorio’s eyes widened fractionally. “Good for him.”
Sophia allowed herself a subtle perusal of the room, keeping her features calm as she got her first glimpse of Rocco. When she met Fabrizia’s gaze again, she said, “He’s handsome.”
“He looks like me,” Vittorio said under his breath.
“I’m going to leave before your father finishes,” Fabrizia told them. “I’ll be in the library if you care to join me. No more talk here.”
Both Sophia and Vittorio signaled with their eyes that they’d be there. Within ten minutes, all the Barrali siblings had found seats in the palace’s secluded library. Fabrizia chose her favorite chair. Its back was to the windows that overlooked the entirety of the palace gardens, instead affording her a view of the colorful Impressionist paintings that filled the spaces between the room’s floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. One in particular, depicting a mother and child reading on the seashore, always imbued her with a sense of peace.
Footsteps at the far end of the library caught her attention. She tore her gaze from the painting to see Carlo entering from the main hallway.
“You did wonderfully, dear,” she told him as he strode to the seat beside her.
He took in the sight of the six children scattered about the room. “I don’t know about how I did, but I know how I feel. Thank you.”
“Tell me that was Rocco Cornaro who came in near the end with Umberto,” Alessandro said. “If not, I want a DNA test run on that guy.”
“He looks like you two,” Bruno said to Alessandro and Vittorio. “It’s eerie.”
“That was Rocco,” Carlo confirmed. “He must’ve called Umberto after I told him I planned to hold a press conference today. I never expected to see him here.”
“You invited him?” Sophia asked.
The king shook his head, then looked at Fabrizia. She held one hand palm out. “I didn’t, either.”
“Grandma! I have a surprise for you!”
Anna, Stefano and Megan’s daughter, entered the library carrying a large tray. The dark-haired girl beamed from ear-to-ear as she tilted the tray far enough for Fabrizia to see a batch of brightly decorated cookies. Shaped like hearts, each had a unique design crafted from pink, white, red, and silver frosting.
“You made these?”
“Made them and decorated them. The new chef gave me all the ingredients and an entire countertop to work on.” Anna set the tray on a nearby table and pointed to one of the cookies, which was edged in silver punctuated by pink rosettes. “See the pink? Chef Fournier bought this frosting tip last week and let me test it. Doesn’t it make beautiful roses?”
“I’d say you make beautiful roses. Anna, I’m truly impressed. These cookies look professionally done.”
“I hope the fact you brought them here means they’re for us,” Stefano said as he leaned over his daughter’s shoulder to take a look. Anna spent a great deal of her free time in the palace kitchen, often making desserts as surprise gifts for the staff or to share with the neighbors at her parents’ apartment near the marina.
“They are,” Anna told him. “But I wanted Grandma to see them before you took a bunch.”
A knock at the library’s secret door caused everyone to turn. Hidden behind a curtain between two bookshelves at the far end of the room, the door led to a service hallway and was used by only select members of the staff. A beat later, Umberto appeared from behind the curtain and addressed Carlo. “Your Highness? I apologize for the interruption, but I have a guest in my office. I thought I should check with you before he departed.”
“Thank you, Umberto.” Carlo’s gaze swept his family before he said, “Please invite him to join us.”
A moment later, Rocco entered the room from behind the curtain. Umberto dipped his head in regard to the king and queen, then left, closing the secret door behind him.
Fabrizia rose from her chair to greet Rocco, but to Vittorio’s credit, he spoke before Fabrizia could. He introduced himself, then said, “I imagine it’s rather awkward being introduced to one’s half-siblings. I’ll get the most annoying out of the way first.” He gestured to his left. “My twin brother, Alessandro.”
Rocco shook Alessandro’s hand. The introspective biomedical engineer might be out of his element in the busy palace, but Fabrizia doubted any outsider witnessing the scene in the library would know it. Rocco stood tall and looked every bit as confident as Carlo had at the same age as he circled the room, meeting each of the Barrali children and their significant others.
“You must be Anna,” Rocco said to Stefano and Megan’s daughter. “Umberto tells me you’re a talented cook. He claims you made spinach and salmon appetizers last week that were good enough to be served at a palace party.”
“Chef Fournier helped me with them,” she admitted. “But I’m learning. I think I could make them on my own next time.”
“That’s impressive. I’m afraid my cooking is limited to a few pasta dishes my mother taught me to make.”
“Pasta’s my favorite,” Anna said, grinning up at Rocco. “Well, pasta and pizza. My mom says that you’re my half-uncle. Is that true?”
Rocco didn’t miss a beat. His eyes crinkled into a smile. “Well, your father is my half-brother. I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a half-uncle, but if there is, then yes, I suppose I am.”
“So do I call you Uncle Rocco?”
He leaned forward. In a conspiratorial whisper meant to be heard by Stefano and Megan, who stood nearby, he said, “It’s fine with me. In fact, I’d really like it. You and your brother Dario a
re my only niece and nephew. But let’s go with whatever your parents think is best, all right? You can ask them about it later.”
Anna’s responding grin stole Fabrizia’s breath. Rocco couldn’t have given a more perfect answer.
Sophia approached and took Rocco’s hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss. My father told us that Teresa was a wonderful mother to you. I’m sure you miss her very much.”
Emotion swirled in Rocco’s eyes at the unexpected sentiment, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Thank you, Princess Sophia.”
“Oh, please. Call me Sophia. It’s nicer than what they often call me.” She let go of Rocco’s hand and shot fiery looks at each of her five brothers. “I’m desperately hoping to discover that you’re better mannered than they are.”
“I do my best.”
“I understand you’re married to Justine Flyte,” Massimo interjected. “She’s amazing. My father—our father—is a big fan. He watches a lot of alpine skiing.”
Fabrizia didn’t miss the uneasiness that flitted across Rocco’s face before he responded to Massimo with a grin. Whether it was at the mention of his wife’s name or at hearing Massimo refer to Carlo as “our father,” she wasn’t certain, though if she had to bet on the source of discomfort, she’d choose the wife.
“He and Justine met a few days ago when he visited Croatia. I believe Justine is just as big a fan of your father’s.”
“We’re planning a family dinner in our private apartment tonight,” Carlo said, stepping into the knot surrounding Rocco. “If you’re available, we’d love to have you join us. In the meantime, I’m happy to give you a tour of the less-seen areas of the palace and its grounds.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“We get the hint,” Stefano said to his father as he pulled his wife’s arm through his. He turned to Rocco. “It’s good to meet you. We’ll try not to overwhelm you tonight, though if you confuse those two” —he inclined his head toward Vittorio and Alessandro— “we won’t hold it against you. In fact, the rest of us consider it good for their egos when they’re mistaken for each other.”
The Royal Bastard Page 22
