The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One)

by Lyla Payne

  The propellers were silent and still, and lights glowed on the lower floor of the house even though it was late—long after midnight at this point. There was no doubt in Magdalena’s mind that the helicopter belonged to the Piacere family, and still her heart hammered in her chest as she stepped through the front door to find Salvadore seated on the couch, sipping a glass of bourbon with her father.

  Well, to be fair, her father’s glass was on the table between them, but it was half-empty. Juliet puttered about, her hands fluttering and nervous, while Amalia looked on from the edge of a recliner, her expression bemused.

  Salvadore shot to his feet at the sight of her, and she knew that she must look a mess. She’d driven with the windows cracked to help her breathe and pieces of her carefully done hair had escaped. Maggie realized now that she hadn’t even looked in the gas station bathroom mirror, but the crying she’d done as she left the palace had likely turned her into a wannabe raccoon.

  There was nothing but joy on Salvadore’s face, though, as he took her hand and guided her toward the couch. Maggie was too stunned to protest. Once Juliet’s couch sagged under her, a million questions and protests crashed over her all at once.

  “What are you doing here? What about the ball? You promised your father, Salvy, you can’t…” Magdalena trailed off in the face of his growing smile, blue eyes gentle as they waited for her to finish. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because the man came here to talk to you and you’re not letting him get a damn word in past your nervous babbling,” Juliet suggested, bluntly. “Shut up and listen. Sometimes it’s okay to not be in control of every situation.”

  “Juliet, be nice,” Maggie’s father reproved his oldest friend. “This is not our business.”

  “Well, it’s my house,” the older woman grumbled, sitting on the arm of Gabriel’s chair and resting a hand on his shoulder.

  “The King spoke to Luca, and he won’t be breathing a word about any of the actions he alleged against you,” Salvy said, pulling her focus back where it belonged. “So you don’t have to worry about that.”

  Relief made her limbs feel like limp noodles. Gratitude toward King Alfonso flowed thick through her blood—as a child, he’d always been kind to her, and he’d been loyal to her father as well, but to have him stand up for her now, after everything, was going above and beyond.

  “Tell him thank you.” Maggie frowned. “But you could have sent word. You’re supposed to be with your guests.”

  “My guests are confused, but there is nothing I can do about that at the moment.”

  “What do you mean?” All of this was too much after the emotional upheaval of the past day. She needed a drink, or perhaps a nap, to properly process all of it.

  “I mean that I need to talk to you before I can talk to them.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We’re going to leave the two of you alone,” Amalia said, getting up quickly and dragging her aunt to her feet. They both helped Maggie’s father up, and he pressed a hand to her head on his way past the couch.

  Once they were in the kitchen—out of sight, but certainly not out of earshot—Prince Salvadore reached out and took her hands. Maggie looked into his beautiful face and her heart broke all over again—with love, with pride, with loss.

  “I spoke to my father tonight, after he dealt quite neatly with my horrible cousin.”

  “Is he angry with you about Matrigna? About going against his wishes, I mean?”

  “No, love. He said that he can see in that action the proof that I’m ready to take my place at his left hand.” Salvadore’s smile turned rueful. “His left hand, not his right. Five years ago, that would have sent me running. Bristled. But now, it’s easier for me to see that a king who has two working hands is better off than a king who has only one. You helped me see that, Magdalena. Helped me believe in the possibilities and in the difference I can make if I want to. And I do want to.”

  She couldn’t think. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs she feared that he would be able to see it. Maggie prayed he wouldn’t declare his love again, or try to convince her that giving up everything for her was the right thing to do.

  She didn’t know if she would have the strength to walk away a third time.

  “I love you, Magdalena. The King sees what is between us, how much better you make me, and he has granted me permission to marry a woman of my choosing.” He paused, a nervous smile on his generous lips. “As long as it’s you, that is.”

  The Prince of Cielo slid off the couch and onto one knee, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ring so big Maggie thought it must be fake. The gem at the center was a sapphire of the deepest blue, and the band was wrapped in sparkling diamonds.

  Maggie couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t look away from his eyes as he swallowed, and held the ring between them.

  “I’ve spoken to your father as well, and he gives us his blessing. I’ve loved you my whole life, Magdalena. As a best friend, a cohort, a confidante, then in the back of my mind as I wandered, this idea of what love and perfections felt like.” He curled his free hand around her left, his fingers warm and steady. “You’re the only woman I can imagine spending the rest of my life with. You’re the only woman who dares to challenge me, who excites me, who keeps my head focused on what is important. If you say that you’ll marry me, I promise to make you happy, in every way.”

  She didn’t know what to say. It was happening so fast—she’d spent the better part of the past week figuring out how to disentangle her sense of self from her feelings and friendship with Salvadore. She’d thought she’d managed it ten years ago, but the past few weeks had proven the opposite.

  Maggie had loved him, always, and it seemed impossible that this moment was real. That she could say yes, reach out and pull his lips to hers as he slid a ring on her finger. That the King would approve such a match, which would be viewed unfavorably by the people of his kingdom.

  But it was happening. She wasn’t dreaming. Perhaps she’d died.

  “Answer the man, for heaven’s sake!” Juliet yelled from the kitchen. “What are you, into torture all of a sudden?”

  Magdalena stared at Salvy, memorizing his face. The expectation and love in his eyes, the worry wrinkled around the edges. The lust and adoration smashed together in her body.

  Then, she nodded. “I have never, in my entire life, dreamed of marrying anyone but you. So, yes. If this is truly what you want, and truly will not upset your family, then I accept.”

  He came toward her, pulling her face to his and kissing her so well that she wanted to rip off both of their clothes and consummate their agreement right here on Juliet’s couch. They were both breathless when he eased back, picking up her hand and slipping the ring onto her fourth finger.

  Maggie suspected it would take a long time to stop staring at it, to believe this had happened. That he loved her, that he wanted to tell the world, and that she would stand at his side through the years and never have to say goodbye to him again.

  “I love you, Magdalena Rossi. Thank you for never giving up on me.”

  “Oh, Salvy.” She leaned her forehead against his, drinking in the smell of him. The nearness. “Thank you for trusting me with your heart. I’ll take good care of it.”

  “Do you think that you’d like to come with me in the helicopter?” he whispered, a playful sparkle back in his eye. “I would really, really like to have a modicum of privacy with you tonight, and this house is awfully small.”

  Her body lit on fire at the suggestion of how they would celebrate their engagement together, but she felt trepidation about returning to the palace as well. What would be expected of her, and how soon? Was the King really okay with this, and would he accept her as she was or prod her to change?

  “Stop worrying. We’re going to be together, and the people will fall in love with you in a matter of days. They will see your beautiful soul, because it is impossible to hide, my love.”

  �
��You’re a born salesman, Your Highness.”

  Salvy laughed and rose to his feet, pulling her up at his side. She looked down at the ring sparkling on her finger and swayed, unsure a person could live with so much joy oozing out of them.

  He led her into the kitchen, where Maggie kissed her father’s paper-thin cheek. “This is your destiny, bella mia, and you deserve all of the happiness he has promised to give you. I believe him.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” Magdalena replied, tears shining in her eyes.

  Salvadore’s hand was on her shoulder. “Gabriel, I’ll send some men to get you moved back home first thing in the morning, so you just sit tight and don’t lift a finger.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Maggie’s father said, a sense of relief and contentment about him that hadn’t been there for weeks. “You take good care of my daughter, now.”

  Salvy nodded and shook the old man’s hand. “We’ll take good care of each other, I expect.”

  Amalia grinned at the two of them and Juliet shooed them out the door with handfuls of sandwiches for the trip back to Arcobaleno—only twenty minutes by helicopter, Salvy insisted, but they took the provisions anyway.

  Maggie found that she was quite hungry, and struggled to remember the last time she’d eaten, but once Salvy had lifted her into the helicopter, buckled her in, and the pilot had taken to the sky, she forgot all about food.

  For the twenty-minute trip back to the country’s capital, she thought of nothing but the feel of Prince Salvadore’s lips moving against hers, the taste of his tongue as he stoked the fire in her blood to boiling, and the warmth of his strong arms holding her body against his—and the novel, unbelievable truth that she never had to say goodbye to any of it again.

  Everything happened quickly once they returned to the palace. They had fifteen minutes alone in Salvadore’s house on the grounds before the guards, then Salvy’s handler, Etzio, came knocking. He’d seemed unfazed by the fact that they were naked in bed, but had seemed shocked when Salvadore ordered him out until they’d had time to get dressed.

  They had spoken to King Alfonso and to Prince Niccolo, both of whom gave their blessing to announce their engagement to the crowd still gathered on the grounds and planning to stay for two more days. It had been Salvy’s idea to spend a little more time planning the wedding. Now that he would marry a woman he loved, he thought the ceremony should be more than perfunctory, and even though Maggie would have married him that very night, she also liked the idea of tailoring it to the two of them.

  “How long do you need to design yourself a dress?”

  “I think I’ll ask my father to do it, but a couple of weeks should be plenty of time, if we keep some of the staff that was here for the ball.”

  “Two weeks from today it is, then.” Salvy beamed down at her, then kissed the tip of her nose. The hungry look in his eyes said that he wanted more, but Nico had already told them twice to cool it, in a rather exasperated tone.

  In his defense, he’d lost track of his daughter sometime during the night and had found her in the kitchen with some of the staff’s children, covered in flour and honey that had been set aside for a mountain of cakes.

  An announcement had gone out to the guests, asking them to gather at sunrise in the large courtyard below the front balcony—the same spot where Alfonso and his bride had stood for a photo op many years ago, and Nico and his deceased wife had kissed for the cameras more recently.

  Nerves thrummed through Magdalena’s limbs at the idea of putting herself, and her relationship with Prince Salvadore, on display for the entire country. Gossip shows would parse it out, wonder how long it had been going on. They would speculate as to whether she was pregnant, since that seemed to be a thing with Salvy, and conclude that must be the only reason the King would allow such a match.

  But when his hand curled around hers, strong and constant, his strength and his smile chased away all of her doubts.

  The crowd waited as a royal page stepped onto the balcony with his microphone and cleared his throat. Maggie could almost feel them holding their collective breath, but neither King Alfonso or Prince Niccolo looked the least bit hesitant about what was about to be said. Maggie tried to take her cue from them—if they were confident in how well this would all turn out, then she would find a way to be, too.

  If Salvadore said that her belief in him had made it easier for him to see it himself, then his certainty that her birth did not matter, that she was deserving of his love because of the person she was inside, would help her believe the same thing.

  “Announcing the royal engagement of Prince Salvadore Piacere to Miss Magdalena Rossi, daughter of Gabriel Rossi, tailor to the royal family. The wedding will be postponed for two weeks, but everyone at the ball is invited to attend, and to extend their stay on the castle grounds until then, if they so desire.”

  The page stepped back and cast a glance back through the open French doors. Through them, Magdalena could see the pink and purple hues announcing the arrival of a new day—a new life—the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon, and the ornate edge of the balcony, but not the people waiting expectantly below for a glimpse of Prince Salvy.

  Of her, at his side.

  “Ready?” Salvy looked down, the picture of joyous calm, and surety flowed between them. The peace that came from knowing they’d found their match.

  She nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I am.”

  He smiled and then led her out onto the balcony at his side, the crowd below erupting in enthusiastic cheers. They stepped to the edge, the waist-high barrier protecting them from the brisk morning breeze, and cameras began to flash. Magdalena began to get a sense of vertigo, but as Salvy turned her toward him and dropped her hand to raise both palms to her cheeks, she felt dizzy for a different reason. Drunk on her own life, it would seem.

  Prince Salvadore Piacere looked deep into her eyes, and he didn’t have to say that he loved her—she could see it, and she would be shocked could not everyone see the bare adoration between them. Then he lowered his lips to hers, gentle and searching, a proper kiss as the crowd roared what sounded like, in her dim awareness of a world outside the kiss of her prince, approval of her permanent spot beside him.

  Epilogue

  Salvadore

  It had been a week since the ball, but he still couldn’t get used to waking up beside Magdalena. Couldn’t stare at her enough like this, with the sunlight streaming over her gorgeous face, lighting her skin and making the gems on her ring finger sparkle.

  He didn’t want to get used to it, he just wanted to live inside of it. The fact that his father had agreed to let him marry her still felt impossible to Magdalena, but to him, it had started to seem as if these moments had always been their inevitable end.

  Magdalena stirred in her sleep, her lips curling into a smile. She looked like a happy cat in a sunbeam and Salvadore moved closer, pressing his torso against hers and reveling in the softness of her skin. Her brown eyes opened when his knuckles grazed her ribcage, desire already burning in them.

  “Good morning,” he said, leaning down to catch her lips with his.

  “Mmm, good morning.” Magdalena stretched, arching her back so that her full breasts pushed out from under the sheet. A teasing glint shone in her gaze as her hair fell over one shoulder, probably at the knowledge that, with her naked body on full display from the waist up, his interest was…piqued. “What are you doing awake before me? Are you ill? Backing out?”

  Salvy shook his head, trying his best to keep his eyes on her face. Which held its own charms, to be sure. “Never. To the last question, not the others. I was thinking about our honeymoon, actually.”

  “You’re the expert on travel. I’ve barely been out of the country.”

  There was so much he wanted to show her. So many places he’d barely taken the time to see, but with Magdalena at his side, they would be full of wonders. The urge to sightsee, to point out the world’s treasures, surprised him. He had figur
ed they wouldn’t spend much time outside their room.

  “You’re going to love it all. Just wait.”

  “I just want nice weather so we can sleep with the windows and doors open to the water, and a big bed that someone else will change once a day,” she purred, leaning into him.

  Salvy rested a hand on her hip, luxuriating in the slowness of a morning seduction. In the blissful knowledge that they didn’t have to leave each other’s presence for the remainder of the day. Her vision of their honeymoon quickly became his. There was plenty of time for sightseeing. “Tahiti, maybe,” he told her, leaning down to kiss her neck.

  Maggie threw her head back on the pillow, giving him access to her neck, and toyed with his hair. Her fingers sent shocks down his back and he stood at full attention, aching to be inside her now. He couldn’t believe that he’d almost been the idiot chicken-shit who lost her.

  He stopped kissing her neck and laid her on her back, stripping the sheet so that he could see all of her at once. It left him exposed as well, and the hungriness in her dark eyes as they raked him, head to toe, made him harder than seemed possible.

  Magdalena spread her legs for him, beckoning him on top of her with a come-hither gaze, and he wasted no time complying. He held off giving her what she wanted, though, and hovered above her, taking one firm nipple between his lips. His tongue scraped over the erect nub, sucking until she moaned.

  “Salvy,” she whispered. “I want you.”

  “And I you, beauty,” he teased, switching his attention to her other tit and dropping one hand between her legs to explore how wet she’d gotten.

  His fingers slipped easily inside her, and he bit back a groan in response. She was so ready for him, every time. As eager as he was to bring their bodies together again and again, as if neither of them wanted to let go for too long and find the other gone in a puff of smoke.