The Playboy Prince and the Nanny

by Donna Alward

  “You value our relationship? That is seriously what you’re going to say to me, when you didn’t even value it enough to say goodbye?”

  “I know I left in a rush, but you’d been up late, out walking . . . I wanted to let you sleep. You looked so lovely in the morning. I explained it all in the letter I left. I know it’s not the same as in person—”

  “Letter? What letter? The last words you said to me were in my bed, after the ball. Yes, I went out walking, and yes, I bumped into Raoul and we talked and I helped him back inside because he was drunk. You were asleep when I got back, and when I woke up in the morning, you were gone. Full stop. Not one single communication since then, Diego. Not one.”

  The unease in his chest grew. “I swear to you, Rose, that I left you a letter. Camila was to look after everything, and deliver it to you later that day.”

  “Hmph,” she scoffed again. “I haven’t spoken two words to your assistant since you left. The one time I stopped by her office, she was on the phone and I went to see Stephani instead.”

  Camila hadn’t given her the letter. Goddamn it all.

  “Rose,” he said carefully, “I swear on my mother’s grave that I wrote you a letter. It wasn’t long, but I did explain why I was leaving, and that our night meant everything to me . . . and that I love you.”

  A flash of vulnerability crumpled her face, but only for a split second. “Please don’t,” she said, turning away. “It’s not fair, Diego. I can’t do this anymore.”

  * * *

  Rose couldn’t look him in the eyes; it made her too vulnerable. Too needy. He’d knocked on her door and she hadn’t had any time to prepare. Just boom, Diego—and all the emotions that went with his sudden appearance.

  The sad, horrible truth was that she wanted to believe him.

  “Don’t say that,” he said, coming to her side and reaching for her hand.

  She pulled it away, trying desperately to be strong. “It’s already done,” she replied, hating the quaver in her voice. “I handed in my notice yesterday.” She’d remain for another two weeks, and then she’d be gone. Off somewhere . . . certainly not another nanny job. No one would hire her now, and the agency would be sure to cut her loose.

  “What do you mean? This is ridiculous!” Diego’s voice lifted. “You belong here! The children need you.”

  She stared at him now, a hole opening up in her chest. “Did you see the latest story, Diego? It had my name. Accused me of coming between two brothers. I don’t know why you had to leave the morning after the ball. It should have been me. Without me, there was no scandal. No story! I should have been the one to go!”

  “I went because for the first time my family needed me, and I could do something to help beyond looking after some ponies or playing in the garden with my niece and nephew. Don’t you get that? This was finally my chance to prove myself. To have some value.”

  Silence fell over the room.

  “Well,” she finally said, her voice clear and quiet, “your need to be needed came at a cost. I could have resigned, found another position, and kept this all under wraps. But you had to play the family savior, and now I’m without a job, without a reputation, and . . .” She tried to swallow against the lump in her throat to keep her tears away, but she didn’t quite succeed. “And I don’t know how I’m going to face my family. Maybe you needed to prove yourself, but I’ve always been the one who held our family together. Who fixed things. Kept the peace. Never made trouble. Now I’m an embarrassment.”

  “That’s not true! None of it’s true.”

  “It doesn’t have to be true,” she replied. “I’ve learned very painfully that it just has to appear to be true.”

  “I left you a letter,” he pleaded, coming closer. “Rose . . .”

  “I can’t, Diego. This has cost me too much already.” Her lip wobbled. She did love him, she did. More than she’d ever thought possible. She even understood his need to prove himself to his family. It was one of the things she admired about him most. But it had also made her a casualty. From the first time he’d kissed her, she’d known she was over her head. Now she had to pick up what pieces remained and find a way to start over.

  “If you could go, please, I need to compose myself before seeing Max and Emilia. They don’t know anything about this yet.”

  “They’re going to be crushed,” Diego said, shaking his head. “Don’t do this to them.”

  The children were her weak spot. She would do anything for them, but she also knew that to stay would mean it being more difficult in the long run. This wouldn’t be forgotten, and they were too innocent to be caught in the middle.

  “I’m sorry, Diego.” She went to the door and opened it, then waited for him to leave.

  “I’ll go—for now. But we’ll talk later, Rose. This isn’t over. I’ve waited too long for you to let you go now.”

  She closed the door behind him, then rested her head on it briefly.

  She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to resign and go home with her tail between her legs. What she wanted, deep down, was the fairy tale. She wanted what had been just within her grasp the night of the ball. A future with Diego. To be a part of his family, and see the children every day, and perhaps . . . oh, perhaps, to have a few of her own someday. For approximately an hour and a half, she’d allowed herself the luxury of dreams. And perhaps that was what no one understood. She had never been a dreamer, and this was why. The inevitable, horrible thud when the dream came crashing down.

  But for now, for this moment, there was a boy and a girl next door, waiting to play, and read, and have messy snacks and faces washed and all the regular routine they were used to. Ceci would want her to shield them from all of this. And so she would. The only way she knew how. By doing her job.

  * * *

  Diego marched into Raoul’s office, not even pausing to say hello to Stephani. Raoul looked up, startled, as Diego shut the door and strode forward to the desk.

  “What in the hell?”

  Raoul’s eyebrow instantly shot up into the air. “Calm down and tell me what the problem is. And welcome home.”

  Diego sat on the edge of the chair and fidgeted, his knee bouncing up and down at a rapid pace. “I went to see Rose this morning. She resigned? And you let her?”

  “The second news story affected her deeply. It also allowed us to figure out who was feeding the press. We called you back from Africa because we thought you’d like to deal with it personally.”

  Diego heard the last part but pushed it aside for a moment. “Are you saying you used Rose as bait? That you used her to set a trap, and the hell with the consequences?” The very idea made him feel sick to his stomach.

  “The person had to have known her identity. Though there weren’t any guarantees, we suspected whoever took the photo would send another, or leak other information. The second time she was a bit careless, and we got her.”

  Diego’s knee had been bouncing nervously, but he halted its movement and stared at Raoul. “She?”

  “It was Camila, Diego.”

  His assistant. His damn assistant, who had access to all his files, to his personal information . . . his own staff that he trusted implicitly. He’d given her the letter for Rose the morning he’d left for Tanzania. He pushed past the stinging betrayal. “Oh, that explains so much,” he growled. “You haven’t confronted her yet?”

  Raoul shook his head. “We’ve kept everything very discreet here. Stephani is the only other one who knows, besides me and father. Camila took the photo and sent it that first night. After you left, we started going through the event staff, looking for a leak. Then we had to look at household staff. Stephani was the first one to suspect. She called a friend of a friend, who knew how to, shall we say, access certain things. Between a lovely deposit in Camila’s bank account and phone records . . .

  His own assistant. Camila had been here for three years now. Quiet, good worker, reliable. Why would she do such a thing? If it were just
for the money . . . but to hurt the family in such a manner . . .

  “Is she in yet?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t fly off the handle, Diego.”

  “Don’t fly off the handle? Are you serious?” He got up from the chair and paced for a moment. “I just left Rose. She said she resigned and that it’s over between us. Do you know why? Because I left a damn letter explaining everything with Camila, and it never got delivered. Now I find out that you basically . . . what is the saying Ryan uses? threw her under the bus? And you accepted her resignation? What were you thinking?”

  Raoul showed no sign of being upset. He merely met Diego’s gaze evenly. “I was thinking we’d better call you back here so you could have the honor of firing your assistant and start winning back your girl. Nothing’s been done that can’t be fixed.”

  Diego stopped pacing and stared at his brother. “What?”

  “You and Rose have done nothing wrong, except maybe fall in love, and that’s not wrong, it’s just troublesome. And you didn’t hesitate before coming up with your diversion plan, which, let’s face it, took the spotlight off of what was happening here. It also took your efforts to legitimize yourself and flushed them down the proverbial toilet. You took one for the family, Diego. For me. The least I could do was give you the pleasure of taking out the trash and winning back the girl.”

  The speech was so unexpected that Diego realized his mouth was hanging open. Then a smile began to blossom on his face. “You think I can win her back?”

  “Are you kidding? She was heartbroken while you were gone. Oh, she tried to hide it, but it was easy to see. You explain what happened, and find that letter? She’ll come around. If you want her to,” he added.

  “Of course I want her to. I want to marry her.”

  Raoul’s face split with the breadth of his grin. “That’s wonderful news. We all love her. And she’s very good for you.”

  Diego sat again, feeling like the wind had been sucked from his sails. “I want to marry her,” he murmured, and wondered why he was suddenly so shaky.

  Raoul came over and put his hand on Diego’s shoulder. “It’s a big thing, isn’t it? When you find the woman you want to spend your life with?”

  Diego didn’t answer, but put his hand over top of his brother’s. They were both thinking of Ceci.

  “I’ll come find you when it’s done,” Diego said, standing again.

  “Please do. And if you manage to smooth things over with Rose, we’ll have a champagne toast in the library.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Rose sat in the garden, deep among the roses, trying to sort out her feelings. Raoul had taken the children off to some festival event in town for an hour or two, with Marco and his private security in tow. He’d suggested, in that quiet but firm way of his, that she take a few hours off for herself.

  She rather suspected he thought she and Diego would take advantage of the privacy. But she wasn’t ready to speak to him yet. Trying to separate logic from her emotions was proving too much of a challenge today.

  So it was rather unfortunate when he came down the stone path, whistling lightly through his teeth, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Maybe he wouldn’t see her among the bushes.

  “I was told I could find you here,” he said easily, coming to sit with her on the iron bench.

  “I’m sure you were,” she replied, folding her hands in her lap. “Diego, this morning . . .”

  “This morning neither of us were in possession of all the facts,” he interrupted as he reached into his back pocket and took out a folded envelope.

  “What’s that?”

  “The letter I wrote you the morning I left for Dar es Salaam. I gave it to Camila. She never gave it to you. Instead she betrayed me, you, my family . . .”

  Rose gaped at him. “Camila? She’s the one?”

  He nodded, and Rose could see he was upset. “I trusted her. But I shouldn’t have, I guess. When you and I . . . well, jealousy is a powerful motivator. And when opportunities can pad a bank balance nicely, apparently it’s easy to be persuaded.”

  Rose didn’t know what to say. “But she hardly ever spoke to me.”

  “Nor will she. She’s gone. Been gone for a few hours now.” He reached into his pocket and took out a tiny electronic card. “Minus the SIM card for her phone. Security is going to go through it to scrub all the photos or anything else she might have on there. Her computer, too.”

  “So much for the confidentiality agreement we all had to sign,” Rose muttered, but in her heart she was glad. Glad that whoever had betrayed the family had been discovered. Glad Camila was gone. “Are you going to take any legal action?”

  “As long as she keeps her silence, there’s no issue. We can repair the damage done. At least I hope we can.”

  Except Rose had been compromised so unfairly. She wasn’t sure it was fixable.

  “Read the letter, Rose.”

  “Diego . . .”

  “Please. I have things to say, but I want you to read it first.”

  She tore open the envelope and took out the single sheaf of paper, then skimmed the words. Halfway down the page her eyes blurred with tears, and she had to blink them away in order to keep reading. For Diego to say he loved her was one thing. But for him to put his feelings into a letter, with ink and paper . . . there was something intimate and special about it.

  “Rose, everything’s changed for me these past few months. When I went into the kitchen and saw you sitting at that table, with your china cup of tea and slice of cake, the world shifted. Everything started falling into place. Being with you, and Emilia and Max, and focusing on the family, and my projects . . . it seemed as if I finally knew where I was supposed to be. Who I was supposed to be.”

  He turned on the bench and put his hand on her knee. It was warm and reassuring and she wanted so badly to turn into his arms. But this was too big, too important to not sort out everything, so she let him go on.

  “When I was away . . .” He frowned, then started over. “In the past, sometimes I’d deflect attention from the palace by acting out. Not that I needed much encouragement, but it’s not an isolated strategy. And I held it over Raoul’s head more than once. This time, though . . . he’s been through too much. He’s still grieving, for God’s sake. And the children . . . it angered me to think of anyone using them as pawns in whatever game they were playing. The headline wasn’t just that about the grieving widower. It was a mother for the children and it was just so . . . low.”

  “Children are not pawns. Not . . . leverage.” She nodded at him. They could definitely agree on that.

  “No,” he replied soberly, “they are not. And so I came up with the idea of going to Tanzania and pulling my party act one last time. I was going to have to go there anyway, to sort out the school situation, so I bumped up the trip, got Ryan and Brenna to meet me there, and made sure I was seen. Every night.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said ruefully.

  “Camila didn’t just want to create a scandal, she wanted to be rid of you,” Diego admitted. “She said so when I told her to get her things and she’d be escorted off the grounds. She was jealous. Turns out my brilliant strategy actually made things worse. I’m so sorry for that.”

  Rose couldn’t help but smile a little bit. “Of course she was jealous. You are the most eligible bachelor in the country.”

  “She didn’t count on me going away. She thought we’d send you away instead, and she’d have her chance.” He smiled and shook his head. “She didn’t count on getting caught, either.”

  Rose shook her head. “People will do some crazy things in the name of love.”

  He laughed a little. “It’s not the first time. But I’m not going to tell you those stories today. Today I’m trying to convince you to stay. Stay with the children. Stay with me. Marry me. We’ll hire a new nanny for Max and Emilia—I’m sure you can recommend someone lovely.” He squeezed her knee and gazed into her eye
s. “I love you, Rose. That’s all that matters. I told you once that I wasn’t about to let the press dictate my life anymore. Two weeks ago we decided to control the story. Today I want to start writing a new one.”

  And oh, she wanted to. So badly. But she was still afraid. “But what will they say about me?” she asked, looking down at her lap. “That I’m the gold digger who took advantage of her position in the royal household? I don’t want to be the cause of more gossip.”

  “So we give them an exclusive, and the story we want to tell.” He took her hand. “We give them the truth. We give them the love story.”

  She looked into his eyes. From the very beginning, the reality of this man defied his persona in the press. He was kind, generous, focused on family, funny, warm, loving. He was willing to sacrifice for those he loved . . . and stand up to them when he needed to.

  And right now he was standing up for her.

  She’d been wrong. Misled, certainly, by Camila’s manipulations. But wrong not to believe in him when he’d always told her the truth. Wrong to put more weight on her own insecurities than the truth before her eyes.

  “You really want to marry me?”

  “I do. My world makes sense when you’re in it.”

  “And your family? They really don’t disapprove?”

  He smiled. “Raoul brought me back because he said I’d earned the right to deal with Camila and also to win back the girl. We all love you, Rose. And our family, for all its old-world traditions, is good at one thing. Following our hearts.”

  The dread in the pit of her stomach had disappeared, replaced instead by a delicious swirl of nervous anticipation. He loved her. She loved him. More than that, she trusted him.

  “Then my answer is yes,” she replied, letting the smile that was filling her heart be revealed on her lips. “Yes, Diego, el principe, mi amor . . . I will marry you.”

  He gathered her into an embrace, holding her close against his chest, and she let out a happy, contented breath as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Did she say yes?” came the call from the corner of the garden.