by Tara Wylde
“I want to talk about this man right here. The one you’ve been throwing insults at for the past forty minutes. And for three weeks before that, thanks to Mr. Ricci here.”
Lorenzo’s white face has started to turn green.
“You were right about a few things, Chancellor,” she says. “Those photos did come from Dante’s bachelor party. But they were taken by someone who had drugged his drink, specifically to give your office fodder for this referendum.”
“That’s a scandalous accusation!” he sputters, prompting more feedback from his lapel mike.
“But even that doesn’t matter,” she says, ignoring him. “If I remember right, you asked the Morovan people if they were foolish enough to believe that two people could fall in love in just a few weeks.”
Now it’s Huber’s turn to go white. The way his mouth is working, you’d think he was a fish on dry land. A big, ugly bass, to be specific.
“Apparently, I have a lot more faith in love than you do, sir, because I do believe that people can fall in love in a few weeks. Even quicker, really.”
She slides an arm around mine. “I’ll admit it wasn’t love at first sight for Dante and me. Lust, sure – I mean, look at him. But attraction alone isn’t love.
“That came later, after I saw him with his niece and nephew. How gentle he was, and understanding and protective.”
She turns to Huber. “If you really knew the prince the way you claim to, Chancellor, you’d know that Oriana and Vito are his heart and soul. Ask any member of the palace staff, they’ll tell you the same. I’m surprised Duchess Isabella didn’t mention it during any of your long meetings with her.”
I have to bite down on my lips to keep from horse-laughing as Isabella’s face twists into a mask of pure outrage. The council members all avoid eye contact with her as the cameras turn in her direction.
“I’ve met a lot of people with money and status over the last little while,” Amanda says. “Some of them, like Giselle Ranette – I’m sure you remember her, Chancellor – weren’t what I would call nice people.
“But this guy,” she says, squeezing my arm. “What you see is what you get. He treats everyone the same, from other royals to the people who empty the trash at the palace.
“I should point out that you were right about one thing, Chancellor – Dante did give my father money. Do you know why? Because my father needed it, and because Dante is the most generous man I’ve ever known.”
Now she’s looking directly into the camera’s red light.
“I guess if you believe those qualities are character flaws, you should vote to get rid of him,” she says. “I personally fell head-over-heels in love with those character flaws, but hey, that’s just me.”
With that, she puts down the microphone and wraps her arms around my neck.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she grins. “Somebody had to say it. Now get over here. We’ve got some catching up to do.”
My pulse quickens as her lips touch mine. She’s right – it’s been far too long since we touched.
If there was any justice in the world, there would be some kind of sweeping movie theme playing in the background. As it is, there’s only silence, and the shocked gasps of the council members.
After several long, delicious moments, I hear Ike clear his throat loudly.
“Father in the room,” he says.
Next to him, Maria and Carlo start to chuckle. The chuckles turn into full-blown belly laughs as Ike joins in.
Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Three
56. AMANDA
Lorenzo Ricci finally gets enough composure back to retrieve his microphone and find a camera.
“Obviously, this has not followed proper procedure,” he says. “But such is the nature of live television.”
He glares at Dante and me.
“And given that the prince and princess have broken the rules of the debate, I shall offer Chancellor Huber another opportunity for rebuttal.”
Huber clears his throat.
“I’ll need a few minutes to organize my thoughts,” he says.
Ricci touches his earpiece and nods.
“Our producers are going to a live analysis of the debate with our panel of experts,” he says. “We will return with the chancellor in just a few minutes.”
The red lights on the cameras all go out at once. The camera operators sling off their headphones and group together on the stage, no doubt talking about what’s happening in the next segment.
Ricci drops his microphone on the table and storms off, muttering something in Italian. Huber heads behind the large black curtain that’s been serving as the backdrop to the stage.
I feel Dante’s arm wrap around my waist and I lean into him.
“My father always says, if I can’t fix it, I’ll bugger it up so that nobody else can,” I say. “Looks like we took that to a whole new level.”
He smiles. “It’s over now. Whatever the outcome, at least we know we were honest with ourselves. And each other.”
“What about the children?” I ask.
“I think your shot at Isabella over colluding with Huber will hurt her in the eyes of the people. We can only hope she’s smart enough to realize she should leave well enough alone.”
I scan the foyer and catch Maria, Carlo and Dad looking at an iPad and talking with their hands.
“Something interesting’s going on over there,” I say, nodding in their direction. “I wonder what they’re watching.”
Suddenly from behind the curtain we hear Isabella’s voice, sharp and hissing: “Emilio, that’s enough! You’re drunk!”
We glance at each other and duck through the slit in the curtain to the back of the stage. There in front of us is Emilio, unshaven with his hair standing up. I’m pretty sure he slept in his clothes.
“Emilio!” Dante calls as we hurry towards him. “Good lord, man, are you all right?”
“Leave him be!” Isabella snaps. “This is none of your concern.”
“He’s my friend and my cousin,” Dante says, brushing past her to put an arm around Emilio.
“’I’m so sorry, Dante,” Emilio slurs. “S’all my fault.”
“What’s your fault?” I ask. “Emilio, where have you been? We’ve been worried about you!”
Isabella’s eyes flash and she levels a warning finger at her son.
“Don’t say a word,” she says coldly.
Meanwhile, Huber looks like he’s swallowed a bug.
“This – this is government business,” he stammers. “Private business between me and the duchess.”
Dante ignores them. “We’ll get you some help,” he says to Emilio.
“I don’t deserve it,” Emilio moans. “It was me. I set you up.”
Oh my God. Dante and I exchange a look – that explains it. It explains everything.
“But why, Emilio?” I ask.
“Not one word!” Isabella cries, panic written across her face.
“She made me,” he mumbles.
Dante rounds on his aunt. Her eyes go wide.
“He’s drunk, obviously – ”
“Shut up,” Dante growls. “I should have known it was you.”
“How did she make you?” I ask. “Did she threaten you?”
“So sorry,” he says. “I screwed up so bad…”
“It’s nothing we can’t get past,” I say. “We’ll figure it out.”
“S’all gone…”
Dante puts a hand on his shoulder. “What’s all gone?”
“Steiger money… pissed it all away…”
Tears are streaming down Emilio’s grubby face, leaving streaks in his skin. Isabella’s eyes are wide with horror – not at the state he’s in, but the fact he’s confessing. What kind of a monster is she?
“This, uh, obviously, uh, comes as a shock,” Huber says.
“Cut the shit, Julian!” Dante barks. “I know you were the one who leaked the photos to Lorenzo. It had to be you, Isabella doesn’t know
anyone in the media.”
Dante turns to Isabella. “I’ve wondered for years whether there was anything left of your money. Emilio’s always been a high roller, but I never knew it was that bad.”
“This is sick,” I say. “Instead of getting him help, you blackmail him into hatching a scheme to replace Dante as monarch? And steal the Trentini fortune for yourself?”
Isabella’s face turns to stone, but her eyes are still blazing.
“I’m not saying another word,” she says.
“What about you?” I say to Huber. “Got anything else to say?”
He doesn’t. His eyes dart around the room as if looking for an exit.
“Darling,” I say.
“Yes, my love?”
“Where I come from in America, conspiring to overthrow the government is considered treason. What’s the deal here in Morova?”
“Mmm,” he says. “Unfortunately, I’m not the government. But I don’t imagine the good people of my homeland would take kindly to learning Julian here colluded with Isabella to replace the rightful heir.”
That gets a rise out of the old bastard. He steels his fleshy jowls and looks us in the eye.
“You can’t prove anything,” he says. “And the referendum starts in an hour.”
I look over to see Isabella grinning smugly. Emilio is weeping openly now.
“We need to get Emilio to a hospital,” Dante says. “But as soon as he’s taken care of, I swear I’ll do everything in my power to see you two in court over this. I don’t care if it takes every penny of my personal fortune, you’re not going to get away with this.”
“We’ll see,” says Huber. “I’ll be sure to discuss it with the chief justice while he’s at my home for dinner on Sunday.”
Dante gives them one last round of dirty looks before picking Emilio up under the arm and helping him back to the opening in the curtain.
“This is why we need to fight,” he says as we emerge onto the stage. “I won’t leave my homeland in the hands of these parasites.”
“Uh, Dante,” I say.
“We can’t allow corruption like this to drag down Morova!” he says, more to Emilio than me.
“Dante.” I say again.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, darling, what is it?”
I point towards the edge of the stage. He turns his head to see what I see: dozens of people, staring at us with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open.
At the front of the pack is Lorenzo Ricci, now a whole new shade of green.
“What’s going on?” I ask, looking for our friends.
“Ho-lee sheep shit!” my father hoots as he bounds up the stairs and onto the stage. Maria is close behind, with Carlo bringing up the rear a bit more slowly. Their eyes are dancing.
“What’s going on?” Dante asks, eyes darting around the room.
Dad looks over to Ricci.
“Why don’t you tell ‘em, you little peckerhead?”
“The, uh. The lapel microphones,” Ricci says, staring blankly ahead. “They were. Uh. They were. Live.”
Dante and I look at each other, eyes wide, as it sinks in.
“We heard every word,” Maria says through a triumphant smile. “So did viewers all around the world. Every. Single. Word.”
“That’s what you all were looking at before we went backstage!” I say.
Carlo nods. “The talking heads were doing their analysis – you two were on the receiving end of some very unflattering words, I must say – but the audio kept cutting to your microphones.”
Dante looks at Emilio, then back to Carlo.
“You heard… everything, then?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
Dante helps Emilio into a chair. His cousin is almost on the verge of passing out.
“Maria – ”
“I’ll have an ambulance here as soon as possible.”
Dante smiles. “What would I do without you?”
“Let’s hope you never have to find out.”
There are dozens of people milling around now, trying to make sense of what’s going on. As they do, Dad emerges from behind the stage curtain.
“I was gonna go pay my respects to Isabella,” he says. “By which I mean laugh in her face. But she’s gone. So’s Huber.”
“I doubt they’ll get far,” I say.
“It’s like you’re psychic,” Maria says, turning her iPad screen towards me. On it is an image of the duchess and the chancellor, ambushed by media in the alley behind the building.
Dante looks at me and smiles.
“Remember how not that long ago, all we could talk about was how crazy our lives were?” he asks.
“Yup,” I say. “Apparently the universe took that as a sign to roll up its sleeves and say ‘here, hold my beer while I screw with them a little more.’”
I feel a weight on my shoulders as Dad wraps an arm around each of us.
“You two really need to start bein’ normal,” he says.
“We were just talking about that,” says Dante. “But before we do, we’re going to have to sit around for a few hours while the entire population decides what it’s going to do about us.”
Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Four
57. AMANDA
“Careful,” Dante says to Carlo. “I’ve told you before that it’s within my powers to have your head chopped off.”
“I swear on my honor, sir,” Carlo replies, hand raised as if taking an oath. “I am not fucking with you.”
It seems like a dream, especially considering the nightmare of the past few weeks.
“That has to be a first,” I say, looking at the iPad Carlo brought into Maria’s office. He has a direct pipeline to the Office of the Elector, and got the results hot off the press.
“I mean, have any of you ever heard of a referendum getting one hundred percent agreement on anything? It’s hard enough to get a dozen jurors to agree unanimously, let alone 30,000 Morovans.”
“Social media exploded after the hot microphone incident,” says Maria, pointing to the screen on the wall. “Hashtag ‘hubergate’ started trending within seconds of him and Isabella being ambushed in the alley.”
“And my sources inside the council say many of them have been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of the chancellor and his cronies,” says Carlo.
I look at Dante. “Apparently, being honest was the right thing to do.”
“Who would have imagined?” he says with a grin. “A royal being rewarded for being straightforward with his people. It boggles the mind.”
Dad finishes his bottle of Budweiser and puts the empty on the table beside him.
“So what the hell is a hashtag, anyway?” he asks. “Where I come from, hash is somethin’ you eat with your eggs, and a tag goes in a cow’s ear.”
As Maria attempts to explain social media to Ike, I take Dante’s hand and lead him out into the hallway. He pulls me close until our foreheads touch.
“This has been quite a day,” he says. “I keep expecting to wake up and discover it was all a dream.”
“So do I.”
He kisses me, prompting a flutter of butterflies in my belly.
“That felt pretty real to me,” he says.
I tilt my head so my lips are at his ear.
“If that felt real, imagine how real this will feel.”
I reach out and squeeze his cock through his pants, and it jumps at my touch.
“Don’t tease me,” he breathes. “It’s been too long.”
“So who’s teasing?” I whisper back.
One of the many, many benefits of living in a palace is that there’s always a room around when you need one.
My back is against the stone wall of a sitting room a couple of hallways away from Maria’s office. The furniture is mid-seventeenth century, with a mirror motif on the walls. That means I can see us making out from half a dozen different angles. And it’s making me horny as hell.
Dante’s hands explore unde
r my blouse as his lips probe my neck. My hand manages to free his cock through his zipper, putting it on display in all the different mirrors. There’s something incredibly hot about seeing your husband’s throbbing shaft from so many different angles at once.
“I missed you so much,” I breathe in his ear. “All those nights in separate beds.”
“It was torture,” he says. “Being so close but not able to touch you.”
His hands tug my blouse free and open the buttons. I use my own hand to unhook my bra and slide out of it. Suddenly two dozen tits are on display in the mirrors.
Dante’s mouth closes over my nipple instantly, licking and sucking greedily. My heart rate seems to double as I feel the familiar pooling of sensations between my legs. God, how could I have gone so long without knowing this pure joy? I have so much time to make up for.
His steel shaft throbs in time with each stroke of my hand, his skin hot to the touch. With each tug, he moans more loudly against my breasts. His tongue seems to gain urgency from his cock, because soon I’m holding onto his neck as my first orgasm sweeps over me.
“How can you do that so easily?” I pant as the aftershocks finally subside. “You didn’t even touch me down there…”
“I’ll take that as an invitation,” he says, grabbing my ass and lifting me onto a flat settee that probably dates to the time of Louis XXIV. With another swift move, he’s pulled off my skirt and panties, leaving my slick opening exposed to him.
“Oh, Dante,” I breathe. “My prince.”
He’s just as deft with his own clothes; a few quick moves and he’s naked. I admire his chiseled body from every angle in the mirrors. It’s like looking at a photographic study of an ancient Roman statue.
It also drives my desire to the point of no return.
“Hurry,” I whisper urgently, pulling him down to me. “I need you inside me now.”
He obliges, dropping to his knees on top of me. I grab his cock once more and guide it towards my opening. I slide the tip back and forth inside my lips, getting us both ready for the plunge.
“I can’t wait anymore,” he moans as he pushes all the way inside.
