by Holly Hart
Almost.
Chapter Forty-Three
42. INTERLUDE
“What can I do for you today, Your Grace?” Huber asks, propping his elbows on his desk. “My assistant said this meeting was of the highest importance.”
“It’s actually what we can do for each other,” Isabella says with a smile. “As I told him, I agree fully with your take on the situation between Dante and his new wife.”
“So he said. My question is why you came to me. If you have a problem with your nephew, why not talk to him?”
She looks around the room. “Are there any recording devices in here?”
“No,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”
“You’ll understand in a moment. My question to you, Chancellor, is how badly do you want to end the monarchy?”
“I don’t have a problem with the monarchy,” he says. “I have a problem with the monarch. Prince Dante is irresponsible, which he proved with his wedding the other day, and I don’t believe he should be in charge of the Trentini fortune.”
Isabella nods. “On that, we agree. The question is, do you plan to press the councils to call for a referendum?”
“I’ve made no secret of that. It’s an ongoing process. That’s why I chose not to attend the wedding. It would be unseemly to oppose the prince and then smile and shake his hand at his wedding.”
“Of course,” she says. “I have no choice, however. I have to live with him.”
“Now let me ask you the same question,” he says. “Are you in favor of a referendum? Or am I misunderstanding you? It seems unlikely that a member of the royal family would want to abolish the royal family.”
“That’s what I came here to discuss,” she says. “I absolutely agree that Dante and his wife are the wrong people to be guiding the ship of state for Morova. But I am, and always will be, a staunch believer in the monarchy. It’s an integral part of Morovan culture.”
“As you say. Which is why I’ve held off for so long on pushing for the referendum. It we bring this matter to the people for a vote, and it fails, the constitution says the option is null and void for as long as the current monarch is in power.”
“So it’s all or nothing. You need to be sure of victory.”
“Exactly.”
“What if I could guarantee that you would win?”
Huber leans forward on his desk, brows knit.
“You would obviously want something in return,” he says. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”
“I like you, Chancellor,” Isabella says. “You understand the game. It’s all about give and take.”
“You’ve talked about giving. Now let’s discuss the taking. What is it you want?”
“Quite simple, actually. The referendum would be worded such that the government would have expanded powers in controlling the Trentini fortune, while keeping the monarchy in place.”
“But you’ve already said you want Dante gone. What are you proposing?”
She smiles. “My son, Emilio, has proven himself to be an excellent example to the people of Morova. He’s been Dante’s companion and conscience for many years. If it hadn’t been for his steadying influence, who knows what kind of ruin Dante might have brought down on Morova?”
Huber sits back in his chair, lacing his fingers across his large belly.
“Trade Dante for Emilio,” he muses. “And keep the monarchy.”
“The government has more control, and a prince that’s more agreeable. The people of Morova keep their beloved monarchy.”
“And your son takes the throne,” he finishes.
“It’s a necessary sacrifice,” she grins.
“I’m sure. Let’s say I agreed to this – what insurance are you offering that the referendum will pass?”
Isabella retrieves her bag from the floor, withdraws a manila envelope and lays it on the chancellor’s desk.
“That’s the unpleasant part,” she says. “But you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.”
Huber opens the flap and slides out a series of photos. His beady eyes widen as he examines them closely for a full thirty seconds.
“When were these taken?” he asks. “How do I know it’s not just something from his past?”
“I have the original digital files,” she says. “The time and date can be verified. They were taken four days before the wedding, at Dante’s bachelor party.”
He sits in thought for several moments.
“This will be explosive if it’s true,” he says. “How did you get them?”
“Unfortunately, Emilio was with Dante that night and saw everything,” she says. “Which is why I’ve come to you. Betraying his cousin will break his heart, but he realizes that Dante simply isn’t fit for the role of monarch.”
Huber leans back and contemplates some more.
“Where do we go from here?” he asks. “I agree with you completely, but I can’t be tied to a scandal.”
“Leave that to me,” Isabella says. “Just be prepared to move when the time is right.”
Chapter Forty-Four
43. AMANDA
I think Dante got the better part of the in-law deal. He got my dad.
I got Isabella.
“How’s your fish, darling?” she asks, pointing her fork at my plate.
“It’s amazing,” I say. “Chef Carina is a genius.”
“Mm,” she grunts. “Mine is dry. I told Maria not to hire her, but she doesn’t listen to me.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just smile and nod. I wish Dante were here.
We’re on the main terrace that overlooks the lagoon and the beach. It’s a beautiful piece of architecture, but to be honest, I’d much rather be down at the lake with the children.
“Have you and Dante given any thought to children?” she asks
A moment of panic stabs through me – can she read my mind?
“I think we’re just going to focus on the twins for now,” I say. “It’s important that we have a solid relationship with them before we think about adding to the family.”
“Well, you don’t want to wait too long,” she says. “Looks don’t last forever, believe me. Best to take care of things when you’re young.”
“I don’t understand.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile.
“Darling, I know you have grand dreams for the future. And who knows? Maybe they’ll come true. But it never hurts to have insurance.”
“Insurance?”
“Children, Amanda. It’s how women who marry into royal families ensure their status. That way, when – I mean if – they get divorced, they still have those blood ties to the monarchy.”
What is she talking about?
“That’s a bit cynical, Auntie, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps you’re right,” she says. “I’ve always been a realist. Comes from losing my husband so young, I suppose. I can only judge by what I saw with my sister and Nero.”
“But… they had a storybook romance,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, if you believe the breathless coverage by the newspapers.”
“You’re saying that wasn’t a true portrait?”
“Darling, I know you’re not that naïve. Royal marriages aren’t like commoner marriages. Even when they marry for love, as I’m sure you and Dante did, the responsibilities that come with the title can drag you down. Not to mention the constant glaring eye of the media.”
Now that I think about it, three of Queen Elizabeth’s four children ended up divorced. It’s not an encouraging statistic.
“Lia and Nero were far from a perfect couple. It wasn’t uncommon for me to pass by their quarters and hear the sound of vases being smashed against the wall.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“My dear, if the walls of this old palace could talk. I’m amazed none of the staff ever wrote a tell-all book.”
“Does Dante know about this?”
“No,” s
he says, looking alarmed. “And you shouldn’t tell him. Poor child was only ten when they died, he shouldn’t be burdened with the knowledge that they weren’t happy. I don’t know what kind of ideas he has about marriage – he’s never really been around a proper one.”
“What about his sister and brother-in-law?” I ask. “Adriana and Albert looked after him for almost a decade.”
“Yes, and they sacrificed their own family because of it. Adriana didn’t become pregnant with the twins until she’d been married for over ten years.”
Isabella leans in and lowers her voice. “She never told me in so many words, but I’m almost positive they were unplanned.”
I feel like I’ve been kicked by a bull. Does Dante know all this? How could he not, when he grew up around all of it?
“I’m sure that’s why poor Dante grew into his playboy lifestyle,” she says, sipping her wine. “Without a strong male role model, he simply didn’t know how to treat a woman. I think it’s a curse we’ve seen many times among royals.”
She’s right. Tabloid covers have been plastered for decades with stories of royal men who’ve cheated on their princesses.
But Dante’s not like that. His image was crafted to protect the kids. Maria told me as much.
“I think he’s more resilient than you give him credit for,” I say. “He’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman with me, and I plan to be with him for a very long time.”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m sure Diana felt the same way about Charles. But good for you, darling. I admire your optimism.”
She talks more about something, but I don’t hear it. All I can focus on is Diana’s face. That sweet smile always seemed to be masking the hurt behind her eyes.
Is that what the future has in store for me?
“This cake is dreadful,” Isabella mumbles. “I really need to speak with Maria about the kitchen.”
“I’m sorry, Auntie, will you excuse me? I’m afraid I have to run.”
“Of course, darling. What’s so urgent, if I might ask?”
“Dante and I are taking my father and the children to Rome,” I smile. “We’re going to show them the ruins. My dad’s idea of historic is something that’s a hundred years old; I can’t wait to show him what a few thousand looks like.”
Isabella smiles. “He’s a unique man, your father. I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“Funny,” I say. “Dad said the same thing about you.” But not in a good way.
“Don’t let me keep you, then,” she says. “But do think about what we’ve discussed here. I don’t want to frighten you, not at all. But I want you to go into this with your eyes open. The life you lead now is not like life on the ranch back in Missouri.”
“Montana,” I say absently.
“Yes, of course. Arrivederci, darling.”
As she walks away, my eyes wander to the enormous diamond on my ring finger. He wouldn’t have given me his mother’s ring if he weren’t serious about our marriage. Right?
Or is that just another Trentini tradition that’s been drilled into him?
I hear a ding from my purse and take out my phone to see a text from Dante: Getting ready to leave. Hope you survived lunch. RU on UR way?
Just leaving I text back.
As I drop my phone back in my purse and head back towards the palace, I can’t help wondering how many other women have the number I just texted to.
Chapter Forty-Five
44. DANTE
“So this guy I know gets a call from his feed supplier one day,” Ike says. “They appreciate his business so much that they’re sendin’ him to one o’ them all-inclusive places in Mexico for a week.”
“Right,” I say.
“So he gets there and this place is top notch, I’m talkin’ five-star all the way. He’s there for a week, and he comes back home and he’s tellin’ us all about it. The food, the tequila, the resort, it’s all incredible. And he’s lordin’ it over us because he buys so much feed that this company sends him all the way to Mexico.”
“Sure,” I say.
“I can’t wait to get back home and tell him my son-in-law is the prince of friggin’ Morova,” he says with a grin so wide it threatens to cut his face in half. “And that I flew in a private jet to the family villa in Rome. He’ll bust.”
I chuckle and shake my head.
“I’m sure he’s heard already, Dad,” Amanda says from her spot on the larger of the living room’s sofas. “It was kind of all over the news.”
“What’s friggin’ Morova?” Vito asks. “Is that a district?”
Amanda flashes her father a sour look.
“Ike was just making up words, honey,” she says. “He thinks it’s funny.”
The villa is nestled in the hills of Rome, only a few blocks from the Coliseum. The family has owned it since the sixteenth century, but it goes back to ancient times. Legend has it the home once belonged to Brutus, of Caesar back-stabbing fame, but I think that’s just a tall tale.
Now that we’re down south and the mercury is above 100 degrees, Ike has finally replaced his blue jeans and boots with golf shorts and sandals.
We’ll make a native out of him yet,” I say to Amanda as Ike and the children head outside to the pool.
“Maybe,” she says.
She’s been giving me one- and two-word answers all afternoon. I wonder if she’s angry because we’ve brought her father and the children with us on our honeymoon.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, sitting next to her on the sofa.
“No,” she says in a voice that means anything but.
“Are you thinking we should have just come on our own?”
“What?” she asks. “No, not at all. I’m glad Dad and the kids are here.”
“So what is bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
I don’t pretend to understand women, but I do know that the word “nothing” rarely means nothing.
Then it dawns on me.
“You had lunch with Isabella. What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Amanda, I know neither of us were prepared for it, but we’re married now. We need to talk to each other.”
She sighs and looks at me. Finally.
“You’re right,” she says. “And yes, it was Isabella. She was talking about royal marriages.”
“What about them?”
“She pointed out that a lot of them can’t survive the constant scrutiny. And the weird lifestyle that royals lead.”
“Weird?” I ask. “It’s different, to be sure. But as your father pointed out, not many people can fly to Rome on a private jet.”
“You’re right,” she says. “Besides, it’s not like either of us knows where this thing is going, anyway.”
I shake my head. “Bloody Isabella,” I say. “I don’t understand why she feels the need to talk about things like that.”
“Don’t blame her,” Amanda says. “She didn’t invent the situation; she was just telling me the facts.”
“What other ‘facts’ did she tell you?”
“That your mother and father weren’t the perfect couple.”
“Who is?”
“Did you know that your mother had her virginity tested, too?”
Whoa.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s true, Dr. Sabine told me about it when she was testing me. Which, just for the record, wasn’t a hell of a lot of fun.”
“So what are you saying?”
“How do you know your parents’ marriage wasn’t arranged?” she asks. “Your dad obviously knew he needed to marry a virgin. Maybe your mom was the only one available. Just like me.”
This is starting to careen towards a cliff. I don’t want to get into a fight, but now I’m agitated.
“We don’t know that,” I say. “Besides, just because a marriage is arranged doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
“It sure seems like the odds are higher, though, wouldn’
t you say? I mean, do you know of any that lasted?”
“Why are you so concerned?” I say. “You just told me neither of us knows where this is going. What difference does it make whether it lasts? You’re free in a year to get on with your life.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Why did I say that?
Amanda’s eyes fill with tears.
“Amanda, I didn’t mean…”
She turns and stalks off to the master suite. I wait a few beats. What should I do? In the past, whenever I’ve argued with a woman, I’ve just broken up with her. I rarely ever got to that stage in a relationship anyway.
But Amanda is different. I don’t care about being right with her, I only care about her being happy. I can’t just sit here and let this stew.
I knock on the door.
“Come in.”
I walk into the expansive suite. The walls are done in a historic fresco that a dozen universities have begged to study, but I’ve always said no. This villa is a private place that’s just for me.
Correction: for us.
Amanda is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I lie down beside her and take her hand.
“You were right,” I say.
“About what?”
“That neither of us knows where this is going.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I want us to work. I want us to have the happily ever after that the fairytales promise.”
As she rolls over to look at me, I see tears shimmering just behind her eyes.
“You do?” she says in a small voice.
“More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”
I clasp her hands in mine and kiss them.
“I want you to know something: ever since we ran into each other outside my office, you’re all I can think about. The moment I saw your eyes, I knew, deep down, that I was your puppet.”
Her eyes go wide. “You’re just saying that.”
I raise my hand. “Swear to God. With each passing moment I spent with you, I was hooked deeper. That time in the gardens – it was never like that with anyone else. And our wedding night was magic.”
