Wrong Number, Right Guy

by Tara Wylde

  “Ahem…” Maria clears her throat loudly.

  Oh shit. Oriana.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” I say. “Grownups aren’t supposed to use words like that, especially royals. It’s unseemly.”

  “It’s okay,” Oriana says absently. “Uncle uses that word all the time. Well, he used to until you got here.”

  He stopped swearing because of me? Maybe he was embarrassed after his little outburst right before we met.

  Andreas pokes his head back into the room. “Everyone decent again?”

  “As decent as we’re going to get,” I say. “Especially with a potty mouth like mine.”

  He strides through the door, then stops in his tracks as he sees me. His eyes widen and his mouth rounds into an O.

  “I’ve outdone myself,” he whispers. “It’s a masterpiece.”

  The face in my reflection blushes, but the rest of me still looks the same: the dress accentuates my cleavage, hugs my hips and makes me look much taller. Andreas somehow found the perfect shade of ivory so that my ghostly pale skin doesn’t get lost in the dress.

  For the first time in my life, the word “beautiful” comes to mind as I look at myself. Most of the time I brush off compliments – Dad tells me I’m beautiful all the time – but right here, right now, I am a princess.

  And here come the waterworks again.

  “Thank you so much, Andreas,” I say, sniffling. “This is beyond my wildest dreams.”

  “Darling, when the artist has a canvas such as you, the work is easy.” He takes my hands. “If you’re Andreas Fortuna, of course.”

  Maria and I both giggle. She takes a handkerchief from her purse and dabs at my eyes for me.

  “Another item we can check off the list,” she says, making a swooping motion with her hand. “One perfect royal wedding gown.”

  “The flowers are ready, too,” Oriana says proudly. “The florist sent me an email with photos of the flowers we chose and I said they looked perfect.”

  Maria gives her an indulgent smile and makes another swoop.

  “Flowers: check!” she says.

  I take one last, longing look in the mirror and sigh before I head back behind the screen and shrug out of my dress.

  “Do we have an update on the RSVPs?” I call as I pull my skirt back on.

  “Staff reports this morning indicate we managed to get most of the Crown Council and some National Council executive members,” Maria says. “ Although several of them made sure to gripe about the fact they had to change plans to do so. We expected that, of course.

  “A few heads of state will be there: Italy and Switzerland, obviously, a few from the Middle East, the Canadian prime minister.”

  “Ooooh,” I say. “I’d like to shake his hand.”

  “Among other things,” she says evenly, never taking her eyes from her clipboard. “Various cousins will be here, of course. All of European nobility is related somewhere down the line; they’re really quite an incestuous group.”

  “What’s ‘incestuous’?” Oriana asks.

  Maria doesn’t miss a beat. “It means not inviting other people to your party.”

  “That’s not nice.”

  “No,” I say, hugging her shoulder. “It’s not. But we’re nice, aren’t we? We’re going to invite everyone to our parties.”

  She smiles. “It’s more fun that way! Vito and I hardly ever get to meet new people.”

  Maria glances at her watch. “Amanda and I have many things to do,” she says. “Andreas, we truly cannot thank you enough.”

  He bows at the waist, showing us the top of his bald head.

  “The pleasure was all mine, ladies. Now I must prepare for the flood of phone calls I will receive the day after the wedding.”

  “Oriana, will you please escort Signore Fortuna down to the east entrance? There’s a car waiting for him.”

  She takes him by the arm. “Can you make me a dress?” she asks as they head for the door.

  “You see?” he says, looking back over his shoulder. “The offers are coming in already.” He drops a wink. “Ciao, bella.”

  Maria motions towards the antique settee in the room and we take a seat. I still can’t get used to how many rooms there are in the palace, and how much furniture. There are huge sections of the building I still haven’t seen.

  This dressing room alone is probably three-quarters of the size of the house I grew up in.

  “The staff is handling the details according to your instructions,” she says. “The forecast for Saturday looks perfect, there have been no problems with supplies, the Morovan media are working to get a film crew ready to broadcast the ceremony live… I think we may actually be ahead of the game.”

  My wedding, broadcast live around the world. No big deal.

  “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Of course,” she says. “Anything, you know that.”

  “If you see me sprinting for the front door, can you tackle me and wrestle me back into the palace?”

  Maria has one of the kindest smiles of anyone I know. She puts her clipboard on the coffee table and takes my hands in hers.

  “I’m quite certain it won’t come to that,” she says. “It’s just pre-wedding jitters. Of course, in your case, I can only imagine that they’re heightened to an insane degree.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m actually pretty okay with the wedding itself. I’m confident in my plans, and in your staff’s ability to pull it all off.”

  “You’re saying it’s the marriage, not the wedding, that has you concerned?”

  I sigh. So many things have been swirling in my head for the last two weeks: the proposal, the wedding plans, my dad. Dante. The children.

  The future.

  “What happens after a year?” I ask. “What if this whole thing is just a way for Dante to hold onto the monarchy? Do I have to walk away?”

  She grips my hands tighter. “There’s never certainty in any marriage. And you really should give Dante more credit. Remember what he did with your ‘bride price.’”

  How could I ever forget? He offered my dad five times what I’d asked for. I couldn’t believe it, but Dante acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. Dad was over the moon to know he’d be out from under the bank’s thumb by our wedding day.

  “If it was just me, I’d be okay with taking the risk,” I say, even though I wouldn’t be. Not really. “But it’s not just me. Oriana and Vito are innocent bystanders in all this. How hard would it be on them if I were to just walk out after being an integral part of their lives for a year? How hard would it be on me? No amount of money is worth that kind of pain.”

  Hot tears stream down my cheeks. I’ve been holding this in for days now.

  Maria pulls my head onto her shoulder.

  “As I said, no marriage is ever guaranteed to work. And I think the fact that you even asked that question means you’re ready to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t go down that road.”

  “But when royal marriages go wrong, they really go wrong,” I say. “Look at Charles and Diana.”

  “Dante is not Charles,” she soothes. “And you’re not Diana.”

  “Yeah, and he didn’t buy her virginity at the last minute to fulfill some insane decree, either.”

  That came out meaner than I wanted it to. But the truth is the truth.

  We sit there in silence for a few moments, Maria stroking my hair, me snuffling back the last of my tears.

  “If it’s any consolation,” she says, “I’ve never seen Dante act around a woman the way he acts around you.”

  “Really? Even skinny-legs Giselle?”

  Maria rolls her eyes. “Especially her. The less said about her, the better. She was little more than window dressing for the tabloids.”

  “Too bad she didn’t figure that out before she came over to our table.”

  “Giselle Ranette is an ignorant, entitled sow who deserved what she got and more.”

  “And yet sh
e was his girlfriend,” I point out.

  “Yes,” she says. “You have to understand the circles that Dante moves in. These people all have wealth, status and privilege, and they’re surrounded by people who never tell them ‘no.’ It doesn’t excuse their behavior, but perhaps it explains it.”

  “I guess you’re right. I saw enough of it on the farm. Once we had a beaver wander up from the river near our place and right into a herd of heifers.”

  “I’m sorry,” Maria says. “What’s a heifer?”

  “It’s a female that hasn’t been bred yet.” I know what that’s like. “Anyway, the cows followed it everywhere, sniffing it and pestering it. Dozens of them, all following the leader. It’s just their nature.”

  I look up at her and she cocks an eyebrow.

  “Are you comparing Giselle to a heifer?” she asks.

  “Hey, if the moo fits…”

  She chuckles, which helps lift the mood of the moment.

  “Neither of us has time for this kind of nonsense,” she says, giving me a peck on the forehead. “There’s a royal wedding happening in a couple of days, in case you haven’t heard.”

  We both get up and gather our things to leave.

  “Thank you, Maria,” I say. “I would literally be insane if I didn’t have you to get me through this stuff.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness,” she says with a curtsy. “But any more episodes like this and I’m going to demand Dante give me a raise.”

  “You never know,” I say with an evil grin. “Maybe I’ll be your boss after the wedding.”

  She rolls her eyes. “What is it you Americans say? Shoot me now?”

  Our giggles echo through the huge granite hallway as we join arms and head out into the palace.

  Chapter Two Hundred Ten

  33. DANTE

  “The first payment has been arranged, sir,” Carlo says. “The annuity will be deposited in Mr. Sparks’ account in the morning.”

  The sun is warm on my face as I smell the herbs that grow in a special box channel near the main courtyard of the south garden. It’s one of the rare occasions when Carlo’s ever joined me outside of the palace. Our relationship over the past twenty years has taken place almost entirely in offices.

  “What does it work out to with exchange?” I ask.

  “Approximately $2.4 million US at today’s rate, though it’s expected to rise slightly by wedding day.”

  Amanda wasn’t specific as to how much her father’s operation was in debt, but I’m sure a lump sum payment of this magnitude should go a long way to easing her and Ike’s minds.

  Carlo sidles up to me, leaning his tall frame forward to get a whiff of the herbs himself. Basil, rosemary, sage, lavender: it all combines into a heady scent that I’ve loved since I was a child.

  I wanted to get some private time in the gardens before they’re overrun with people tomorrow.

  “What do you think of Amanda’s idea for the gardens tomorrow?” I ask. “Are we risking too much? Is it better just to play it safe?”

  “I think your father would be very proud of you, sir,” Carlo says. “And he would have loved the idea. He valued people over possessions, more than any nobleman I’ve ever met before or since. Except for you.”

  “Thank you, Carlo. Coming from you, that means a great deal.”

  “If that’s all, sir, I’ll retire to my office. I’ve tarried in the gardens long enough.”

  “You really need to get out of your office more, my friend.”

  “Some day,” he says with a smile. “But not today. Ciao.”

  He strides off down the path from the courtyard to the entrance to the palace. As I watch him go, it occurs to me yet again that Carlo has sacrificed a family of his own to help keep mine from flying off the rails. In many ways, he’s more my family than Isabella ever was.

  “He’s got us! Help, he’s got us!”

  I turn to see Ike ambling towards me, carrying a twin under each beefy arm. He’s back in his usual clothes today: a short-sleeved blue plaid shirt and jeans.

  “You should keep better track of your calves,” he says, plopping the giggling duo on the grass next to us. “I caught these two tryin’ to jump the fence.”

  Vito jumps into my lap. “Uncle! Mr. Sparks says he’s going to take us to his ranch in Montana! Can we go?”

  Ike shades his eyes and scans the gardens. “Where’s that Mr. Sparks?” he says. “I don’t see ‘im anywhere.”

  “We’re supposed to call him Ike,” says Oriana. “Pay attention, Vito.”

  Vito sticks his tongue out at her, so, of course, she sticks hers out at him.

  Ike looks down at them. “You two need a salt lick?”

  “What’s a salt lick?” asks Vito.

  Ike sighs. “You got a lot to learn if you’re gonna be cowboys.” He tilts his head towards Oriana. “Pardon me, ma’am, I meant cowpersons.”

  I smile down at the twins. “And what are you going to see when you’re there?”

  Oriana starts ticking off items on her fingers.

  “Disneyland, the Statue of Liberty, the Grand Canyon, the Rocky Mountains…”

  Ike holds up his hands in surrender.

  “Whoa, there, girl, that’s a lot to see. America’s a big country.”

  “How big?” asks Vito.

  “California alone is over 100,000 times bigger than Morova,” I say.

  Vito’s eyes pop. I never really gave much thought to how isolated they’ve been here. They’ve traveled on the continent a few times, but most of their lives have been spent right here on this island.

  I always thought it was good enough for me, so it was good enough for them. Now I’m beginning to discover a whole new world.

  “Heck, my ranch is almost as big as Morova,” Ike says.

  “Speaking of Montana,” I say, “I wanted you to know the first annuity will be deposited in the account you provided us in the morning. Approximately midnight tonight Montana time, I believe.”

  Ike’s reaction is more emotional than I expected. I see a shimmer of tears in his eyes as he reaches out a hand to shake mine.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Ike says, his voice cracking.

  “Think nothing of it,” I say. “It’s just a formality.”

  “It’s no formality to me, son. It’s life-changin’ is what it is. This whole thing – ” He waves a hand at the gardens, the palace, the children. “It’s like I walked into a storybook. A tiny brain like mine just can’t take it all in, y’know?”

  Tiny brain, my ass. Ike Sparks is one of the smartest men I’ve ever met.

  “Ike, I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a cattle ranch,” I say. “If you dropped me into the middle of yours all by myself, the cows would probably be dead from my incompetence within a week.”

  Ike claps a hand on Vito’s shoulder, all but covering it with his palm.

  “Best get these kids trained on ranch life soon, just in case that ever happens,” he says.

  “Yesss!” Vito shouts, pumping his little fist.

  “Well then,” I say. “I suppose we’d better arrange a visit to Montana after the wedding.”

  “Really?” Oriana asks, eyes wide.

  “Of course.”

  “YAYYYY!” they cry. Ike joins in with a “Ya-HOO!”

  The children head to a spot on the grass to discuss their impending voyage to America. As they do, Ike leans close to me.

  “By the way,” he says with a chuckle. “You finally shake that bachelor party hangover?”

  Ugh. I barely remember anything that happened after Ike and I talked that night. We got to our hotel suite and I passed out. Woke up still woozy and with the worst headache of my life. I vaguely remember someone coming into my room.

  “I did,” I say. “But it took a couple of days. I swear I’m not normally that bad after I drink.”

  “If I hadn’t seen you partyin’ on the cover of all those supermarket papers, I woulda worried t
hat you were a lightweight, the way you were the next mornin.’” He grins. “’Course, I don’t get hangovers. Stick to beer, never fear.”

  More sage advice from the Buddhist master.

  Suddenly Ike snaps his fingers and reaches into the front pocket of his jeans.

  “Almost forgot,” he says, rummaging around before emerging with a small box. “I got somethin’ for you.”

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Aw, it’s nothin,’ really. Just somethin’ I thought you might be able to use.”

  He opens the box to reveal a pair of cufflinks. They’re sterling silver, engraved with a series of six intersecting lines that form a star-like shape.

  “That’s our brand there,” he says, running his finger over the star. “It’s supposed to look like a spark, since we’re Sparks Land and Cattle, though there’s not as much land now as there was.”

  He runs his thumb along the jewelry, as if lost in his memories.

  “My grandpa had ‘em made up for his wedding back in 1935, and then my dad wore ‘em when he married my ma. I wore ‘em when I married Amanda’s mom. If I’d had a son, I woulda passed ‘em on to him, but I didn’t, so…”

  I stare down at them, avoiding his eyes for fear that I might not be able to keep myself in check. People rarely give me things without expecting something in return.

  “I understand if you don’t want ‘em,” he says. “They’re not worth anythin.’ I saw the rock you gave Amanda for her engagement ring, and I know these don’t come close to measurin’ up to that.”

  “On the contrary,” I say, grinning stoically. “That ring was my mother’s before she died. It’s only fitting that I wear your father’s cufflinks for the ceremony. I’m sure Amanda has told you about the importance of tradition in the Trentini family. This and her ring are symbols of our two families joining together.”

  “Well, all right, then,” he says with a wide grin. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Thank you, Ike.”

  “You’re welcome, Your Highness,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’m glad to finally have a son to carry on the tradition.”

  The twins choose that moment to come running back to us.

  “I don’t suppose there are any children around here who would like to go to the lagoon?” I say, trying to head off any uncomfortable questions.