His Sword

by Holly Hart

  Basically, Carlo is reminding me that I live by a set of rules that don’t apply to normal people. Reinforcing the fact that I live at arms’ length from the rest of the human race.

  I sigh. That’s not news; why am I treating it like it is? Yet another bizarre twist in a life that’s been full of them, and I’m not even thirty yet. I need to accept it and move on. There isn’t time for anything else.

  “So,” I say with a sardonic grin. “Anything else I need to know before I go out and find my princess bride in the next two weeks and try to pass her off as a legitimate love interest?”

  Carlo looks down at his folded hands and clears his throat. Shit. That can’t be good.

  “Carlo?”

  “There is one more stipulation, sir,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “And I’m afraid it’s a bit of a, shall we say… unique challenge.”

  “What could possibly be more of a challenge than finding a wife in two weeks?” I ask, goggling at him.

  “Sir… she, uh. She has to be a…”

  “A what? Blonde? Catholic? Taylor Swift fan? Spit it out, man.”

  He lowers his voice to a whisper.

  “She has to be a virgin, sir.”

  I’m sure every single person in the entire 100,000-square-foot castle hears the words I say next, loud and clear.

  Chapter Two

  2. AMANDA

  “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

  “Gah!”

  Every nerve in my body ignites at the same time as the shout rings out from the prince’s office. It makes me drop my tea, dumping Orange Pekoe all over the blue satin blouse I bought specifically for meeting with him. Meanwhile, the cup and saucer tumble to the stone floor and shatter into a thousand jagged shards.

  Awesome, I groan inwardly. Just fucking perfect. Way to make that first impression, Amanda.

  I can’t believe this is happening – any of this, not just spilling my tea and making a fool of myself.

  A month ago I was on a sabbatical in Malta, poring over old documents in a dusty library vault to research my dissertation. Now I’m in a palace on Isola D’ora, the most beautiful place on the face of the planet, and standing outside the office of Prince Dante of Morova, the hottest royal bachelor on the face of the planet.

  And my new boss. Sort of, anyway.

  Now, here I am soaked to the skin with tea and standing over two obliterated pieces of bone china that have probably been in the prince’s family since before the Renaissance. Thank God the tea went tepid while I was talking to my new friend Maria, or I’d have blisters forming on my chest right now, as well.

  I must look a sight because Maria rushes over to see if I’m okay. She grabs a napkin off the silver service tray and starts dabbing at my blouse.

  “Are you hurt?” she asks, looking me over like a protective mother. Not surprising, given her years as a de facto nanny to the prince’s niece and nephew, Oriana and Vito.

  “Just what little pride I had when I came in,” I say with a half-grin. “I hope the prince wasn’t directing that at me.”

  She takes my arms and looks me in the eye. Maria is a stunning woman, the epitome of Northern Italian beauty: burnished oak hair, honey skin, sea-blue eyes. Me, on the other hand? My mom’s Irish roots might as well be a neon sign on my head: red hair, a complexion like coconut milk, and pale blue eyes that look more like faded jeans than Maria’s startling sapphire ones.

  “Dante can be a real ass sometimes,” she grumbles. “But trust me, he wasn’t talking to you.”

  She calls the prince by his first name. I wonder if maybe they’re involved? Maria has been his secretary for years, although the title doesn’t do her job justice. She’s a hell of a lot more than a receptionist. I can’t help but wonder if she’s more than just a family friend, too.

  I’m not going to ask her, though. That would be incredibly rude, especially since Maria is the one who plucked me out of obscurity and gave me a job that’s going to establish my career and probably guarantee my PhD. Not to mention pay me enough to give Dad some substantial help with the ranch’s finances.

  Assuming I survive this meeting, of course.

  “Although I am curious about what set him off,” she continues, trying to erase the tea with some seltzer, and soaking me even more in the process. “He can be volatile at times, but he rarely forgets his manners like that. He’s had a lifetime of programming on how to act, after all.”

  I wish I had training on how to act. Talking to my professors is difficult enough for me, let alone someone like Prince Dante. He’s the full-meal deal: tall, rich, charming, a reputation as a bad boy. Sorry, but as far as I’m concerned, Harry is a distant second in the hot royal bachelor department.

  Yeah, as if I have a shot with either one of them. How could Dante resist a charming compliment like “the full-meal deal”? Every last bit of my Montana cattle ranch upbringing shines through in that one.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not you,” says Maria. Her efforts have left me sopping, but at least the stain is gone.

  “Thank you so much,” I say, but my relief is short-lived: looking down, I see that my breasts are on full display against the satin. I might as well be in a wet tee-shirt contest.

  What else could go wrong?

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” says a male voice from behind me.

  My heart hammers in my chest as I turn reflexively to see a gorgeous man enter the room through the arched doorway. It’s Dante’s cousin, Emilio – I recognize him from my studies, and, of course, the rolling news coverage of Dante’s social life. Emilio is usually somewhere in the background, all blond curls and dimples and Michael Phelps bod. He’s no Dante, but I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed for eating crackers.

  Really sophisticated, Amanda. Witty lines like that will get you a managerial position at Chicken Shack in no time!

  And how would I know what it’s like to kick a man out of my bed? I’ve never even had a man in my bed.

  His dreamy eyes meet mine, then drop to my soaked chest, and I feel hot blood coursing into my cheeks. To his credit, he immediately looks over at Maria, giving me time to cross my arms. Thank God.

  “Maria,” he says warmly, taking her hand. “Sounds like he’s in a mood?”

  “Yes, we’re not sure what the problem is,” she says with a thin smile. I’m horrified when I realize that she’s going to introduce me to him, when all I really want to do is turn invisible and press myself against the wall until everyone leaves.

  Maria waves a hand in my direction, obviously embarrassed by my situation but bound by protocol and good manners to go through with it. If anyone understands that, it’s me, unfortunately.

  “Prince Emilio Steiger, this is Amanda Sparks, from America. I’ve hired her to oversee Dante’s 30th birthday celebration.”

  My eyes go wide as I contemplate taking my arms away from my chest to shake his hand. Instead, he saves me the shame and gallantly bows from the waist in my direction.

  “A great pleasure, Ms. Sparks,” he says with a radiant smile. “I’m sure you’re doing an excellent job. Maria has quite a reputation for discovering talent.”

  “You’re only saying that because it’s true,” says Maria. “I actually came upon Amanda quite by accident – she was working with another graduate student who needed to meet with Carlo for some reason. Amanda and I got to talking, and it turns out she’s an expert in European royal protocol.”

  I never did find out what was so important that my friend Peter had to talk to Prince Dante’s chief counsel. All I know is he was studying the Trentini family’s ceremonial sword, and suddenly he was wild-eyed, phoning around like crazy, trying to set up a meeting.

  Of course, once Maria offered me the job of planning the prince’s royal birthday gala, I kind of stopped caring about Peter. In fact, I haven’t seen him since. Granted, the past several days have been a bit of a whirlwind.

  Things have had to move quickly; Maria told me she didn’t know until last week
whether Dante would even be in Morova for his birthday. She finally had to read him the riot act – well, as much as a chief of staff can with a prince – and tell him his adoring public expected him to be there.

  “That sounds perfect,” Emilio says to me, making sure to keep his eyes on mine. “I’m sure you’re aware of how much Morovans love their protocol and traditions. Typical bankers, I suppose. And the Swiss influence, of course – precision is everything.”

  I am aware of all that. I’ve read that Dante is actually seen by many of the principality’s citizens as being a bit too… Italian for their tastes. Passionate and intense, as opposed to reserved and polite, like his cousin. Emilio’s mother, Duchess Isabella, is the sister of Dante’s mother. She’s half-Swiss, and Isabella’s husband was full-Swiss, so Emilio ended up looking more Nordic than Mediterranean.

  This is the kind of thing you learn in my field of study. It’s a party a minute, I tell ya. But hey, it got me this job – assuming my meeting with the prince goes well and I don’t do anything to blow it. My blouse drying up would be a step in the right direction at this point.

  Of course, that doesn’t happen, because the very next moment, the office door comes flying open and Prince Dante crashes right into me, wet tits and all.

  Chapter Three

  3. DANTE

  That’s what I get for losing my temper – I run headlong into some poor woman who happens to be standing in my way. I should have been looking where I was going, not glaring back at Carlo, as I walked through the door.

  “Oh!” she yelps as we make contact. She’s solid enough that I don’t knock her straight to the floor, but I’m a pretty big guy, so I send her reeling backwards. But before she goes, my pecs get a very personal, very wet introduction to her breasts through the thin silk of my shirt.

  As she recovers her footing, my eyes can’t help but wander over those breasts, perfectly delineated under the wet satin. But those blue globes quickly give way to the pale clarity of her sky-blue eyes. I’ve never seen such a shade, like the lagoon of a white sand beach under a blazing tropical sun.

  Suddenly her face goes nearly as red as her stunning hair, and her arms quickly cross over her chest. I’ve embarrassed her.

  Good work, Your Highness. How very princely of you.

  “Amanda!”

  Maria rushes to the woman – obviously named Amanda – and lays a concerned hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” Maria asks.

  “Yes,” says Amanda. “I’m so sorry, that was very clumsy of me.”

  My stomach sinks as Maria’s fiery eyes turn to me.

  “Don’t be silly,” she says with a glare. “It was entirely the prince’s fault. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”

  My manners finally kick in and I rush to fill the gap between us. I take Amanda’s hand, careful not to pull her folded arm away from her breasts. The breasts I suddenly want very much to see again…

  Stop it! You’re a prince, for God’s sake!

  “Of course it is,” I say, pressing my lips against the back of her hand. “Please forgive me. Are you all right? Should I call someone to attend to you?”

  Amanda’s cheeks glow even redder in contrast to her porcelain skin.

  “I’m fine,” she says with a forced smile. “They grow us tough down in Montana.”

  Her eyes widen as if she’s shocked by her own words.

  “Well,” I say, locking my eyes on her ethereal blue ones. “If there are more like you there, I very much look forward to visiting Montana one day.”

  Smooth. The funny thing is, I didn’t even think about it before I said it. Either I’m so well trained at this that I do it automatically, or I actually meant it.

  What does it say about my lifestyle that I don’t even know the difference between the two anymore? In any case, Maria seems to approve, so that much is all right with the world.

  “Well, since you’ve already met, I suppose I should introduce you,” Maria says with a chuckle. “Prince Dante, this is Amanda Sparks. She’s the protocol expert in charge of planning your birthday celebration. We discussed her hiring last week.”

  We did?

  “Of course,” I say. “How could I possibly forget? I’m very pleased to have you at the helm of such an important event. Maria told me you’re extremely talented.”

  I assume she did, anyway. I can’t be expected to remember every single thing Maria tells me. I do recall her saying I had to be there; if I wasn’t, she’d make sure they never found my body.

  Of course, if I’d met with Amanda in person, the memory would be etched in my mind…

  Her eyes continue to avoid mine, though. I’ve really spooked her. Dammit, sometimes I forget how intimidating it can be when people meet me. Especially Americans, for some reason. I guess because they’re unfamiliar with the idea of royalty. If they only knew how lucky they are.

  “It’s an amazing opportunity,” Amanda says quietly. “I’m very grateful that Maria has so much confidence in me.”

  “It’s well deserved, I’m sure.”

  “Very much so,” says Maria. “And I’ll take that as your agreement that Ms. Sparks has the final say on the project. So much easier than going back and forth on every detail with you, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The last thing I want is to be mired in the details of my birthday party. Especially since it’s about to turn into a royal wedding. I hope. If it doesn’t, I might as well kiss this castle good-bye.

  Would that really be so bad?

  “Can we assume you’re over your, ah, difficulties in there?” Emilio asks from the corner of the room. I didn’t even see him until now.

  Now it’s my turn to go red. That outburst was beneath my dignity.

  Actually, now that I think about it, screw that. If I hadn’t screamed the way I did, I might have dropped dead from sheer frustration. I mean, come on! What normal person has ever had to deal with shit like that in their life? Marry a virgin – publicly – or lose everything. Oh, and by the way, you have two weeks to take care of this.

  Aaand I’m back in my black mood again. But, consummate actor that I am, I don’t let it show on my face.

  “I’m absolutely mortified by my behavior,” I lie.

  “I’ve apologized to Carlo.” Another lie.

  “And I hope you will forgive me as well.” The truth. As far as Amanda is concerned, anyway. Maria and Emilio can suck it up – they live off my money.

  Amanda smiles, and it’s like someone lit a lamp in a dark room.

  “Nothing to forgive,” she says. “I’ve heard a lot worse from my dad at branding time.”

  I look at her curiously, as do Maria and Emilio. Amanda returns our looks with a nervous one of her own.

  “We, uh, own a cattle ranch,” she says, obviously self-conscious. “In Montana. We have to brand the cattle. With a branding iron.”

  She pantomimes holding something in her hand and shoving it forwards.

  “You know,” she says. “Pssssshhhh.”

  She’s utterly adorable, but unfortunately, I’ve got other things on my mind.

  “That sounds like something I’d like to see someday,” I say. “Now, I’m afraid my cousin and I have an urgent matter to attend to, so if you ladies will excuse us, we’ll leave you to your business.”

  I turn to Maria, who’s giving me a look that says we’re going to talk about all this later. That’s fine with me – I need to talk with her. But not right now.

  “Please give the children my best,” I say.

  I’m sure that sounds cold to Amanda, but Maria knows it’s my code. I’m telling her to tuck in Oriana and Vito for me, kiss them goodnight and go through our nightly ritual with them. I try not to spend more nights away from them than I absolutely have to, but sometimes I just don’t have a choice. Like now.

  “Of course,” Maria nods, but then halts me with a raised palm. “One thing before you go. You’re giving Ms. Sparks full auth
ority over the celebration, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “All right, then, on your way.”

  I chew my tongue. If it was just the two of us, and if I didn’t love her like family, I’d be giving Maria a piece of my mind over that. As it is, we have to maintain our dignity. Plus, I don’t really give a fuck about the party and I really do want to get out of here.

  Amanda looks unsure of what to do, so I reach for her hand again. This time she forgets all about her blouse and gives me another much-appreciated glance at her breasts.

  “A great pleasure, Ms. Sparks,” I say, kissing her hand. “I hope to see you again very soon.”

  She blushes and – I’m not kidding – curtsies. Her pale eyes are practically glowing.

  “Thank you, Your Highness. The pleasure was all mine.”

  I smile one more time and stride for the door, grabbing Emilio by the arm as I do. He turns and bids the women a quick goodbye as we disappear into the hallway beyond,

  “What’s so urgent?” he asks as he double-times to keep up with me. “And what was that outburst all about?”

  “We’re going to Monte Carlo,” I growl. “I’ll tell you the rest on the plane.”

  Chapter Four

  4. AMANDA

  “I really appreciate your confidence in me,” I say.

  Maria smiles as she places a glass of Orvieto on the glass table beside my exquisite wingback chair.

  “It’s well placed,” she says, taking a similar chair opposite me. She crosses her dancer’s legs at the knee, exactly where the hem of her Versace skirt falls.

  We’re in her apartment in the staff wing of the palace. It’s at least two thousand square feet, with twenty-foot ceilings and latticed windows that overlook Lake Orta and the splendor of Morova’s shoreline. If this were a VRBO, it would rent for a thousand dollars a night, easy.