To Kiss a King (Royal Scandals: San Rimini Book 6)

by Nicole Burnham

  “Convincing four influential members of parliament to support a program takes time, particularly when they don’t know me. I wanted to get the ball rolling.”

  “You chose wisely. I imagine that, of the four, Franco Galli will be the least difficult to convince.”

  “But not easy.”

  Eduardo acknowledged that with a tip of the head. “No, not easy.”

  “So if you aren’t here to call off our deal…?”

  Eduardo felt his smile falter. Even when caught unaware by press questions, he never felt this off kilter. “Have you seen La Traviata?”

  “No, though I noticed it on the marquee at the Royal Theater.”

  “The final performance is next Saturday night. It’s a fundraiser for the Royal Foundation of San Rimini, which supports a number of charities. I attend every year. Usually Princess Isabella accompanies me, but now that she’s married, I’ve encouraged her to spend more time with her husband, rather than serving as my pity escort.”

  Claire’s laugh was so sudden it seemed to surprise even her, since she quickly turned her face to the side.

  “What?”

  “Your Highness, I can’t imagine anyone would consider themselves your ‘pity escort,’ even your daughter.”

  “I’m glad you think so, because that’s the reason I came here. I’d like you to accompany me.” He gestured in Miroslav’s direction. “I didn’t intend to make it a cloak and dagger invitation, but there are a number of obstacles to communicating with you directly.”

  “You want me to go to the opera with you?”

  “Yes.”

  Her lips parted, but for a long moment, she said nothing. Her eyes swept over the console between the front seats, where his usual driver kept mints and bottles of chilled water within the king’s reach. Then she met his gaze.

  “Your Highness, is this—are you asking me—”

  “I’m asking you for a date, Madam Ambassador, which is why I wasn’t keen on going through both the palace and the embassy switchboards in order to reach you.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes were full of questions, but she didn’t ask any of them.

  He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected, but an oh wasn’t it.

  He tried again. “I know that this could be viewed as a conflict of interest for you. Given that you’re establishing yourself at the embassy, a date with me could be even more problematic. If you decline, I will understand. I won’t take it personally.” He felt one side of his mouth twist at the lie. “Well, I’ll take it a little bit personally, but it won’t affect our working relationship or our deal on your education program.”

  It took everything in him not to fidget as he waited for her response.

  “Do you, ah, do you do this very often, Your Highness?”

  “Have Miroslav stand guard while I ask an ambassador for a date? No. This is a first.”

  She made a face at his dodge. “I mean date. Do you date often? Because I’m wondering, given your position, how a date with you would work.”

  “Well, the basics probably work the same as for any other man. Small talk, dinner, some flirtation. But no, I don’t date often. In fact, I haven’t gone on a date in nearly a decade and that was with my wife. A date with me comes with public opinion attached. And possibly paparazzi. That’s not an easy thing.” He released a long breath. “If this all feels as uncomfortable for you as it does for me, please chalk it up to the fact that I’m out of practice. What about you?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Miroslav. Seeing that he hadn’t moved, she repositioned herself in the seat so she faced him fully. “Being an ambassador makes dating a challenge, but probably not the challenge it is for you. I’ve managed a few. Mostly first dates, though, and none of those since I arrived in San Rimini.”

  “So we’re both out of practice.”

  She arched a brow as if to say, speak for yourself. “Isn’t La Traviata about a doomed relationship between a courtesan and a clueless nobleman?”

  He made a show of looking suspicious. “I thought you hadn’t seen it.”

  “I haven’t, but I’ve seen Moulin Rouge! and it’s my understanding that the movie followed the plot of the opera. Should I read anything into that?”

  “Absolutely not. I’m inviting you to an event that happens to be at the opera. It’s a fundraiser for a wonderful cause, one that’s near and dear to my heart.”

  “Yes, I guessed you might have something to do with the royal part of the Royal Foundation.” Her eyes narrowed, but there was a teasing quality to her expression. “I’ve never been to the opera before. Any opera.”

  “The Royal Theater is the perfect place to attend your first.”

  She smiled. “I like you, Your Highness. I’ll go on one condition.”

  “Dates have conditions?”

  “This one does.”

  He rolled his hand in a let’s hear it motion, though hearing the two words I’ll go tempted him to agree to anything she asked.

  “Assuming we still like each other at the end of the evening, we make plans to see Out of Africa.”

  He wondered if Miroslav could sense his smile through the bulletproof glass. “It’s a deal.”

  “Sergio Ribisi won’t like it any more than he liked your education deal.”

  “Probably not, but he’ll have to live with it. Speaking of which, what did your staff say about the education deal?”

  “They’re supportive of my desire to involve San Rimini in the program and understand its importance to the President. Having a path to accomplish that goal that is good.”

  He angled his head at the odd note in her voice. “But?”

  “I’m not sure they know what to make of the fact that I proposed the deal over a private dinner at the palace. It’s not something my predecessor would have done.”

  Eduardo looked past Claire, toward the ambassador’s residence. When he caught her gaze again, he said, “I imagine there are a lot of changes from one ambassador to the next. A good staff will adapt.”

  “I’m sure they will.” Her lips curved. “Did you ever take Richard Cartwright to the opera?”

  “Richard would have fallen asleep.”

  “I may, too. You never know.”

  “I do know.” He wanted to touch her but resisted the urge. “Considering the hoops I needed to jump through to come here tonight without being seen, I should probably get your phone number.”

  She gave it and he added it to his phone, then grimaced. “Would it be a bad start to our date to ask you to meet me at the theater? I could send a car for you. It’d be less likely to draw attention than if I were to pick you up.”

  “I’d be happy to meet you there.”

  “I’ll have my personal assistant greet you at the door and escort you to the royal box.”

  “The royal box? That sounds fancy, even for the opera. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “No hiding whiskey in your handbag.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Her smile sent a thrill racing through him. “I’ll see you there.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  She twisted to reach for the door handle, but slid on the leather seat and knocked her knee hard against his. On reflex, her hand went to his thigh, as if she could soften the blow. “Oh, I’m sorry, I—”

  A flush rose from her neck to her cheeks and she yanked her hand away as if she’d accidentally reached into a snake pit. “Your Highness, I’m so—”

  He caught her retreating hand. “Don’t be sorry. For bumping into me or for this. I’m human, you know. Same as you. You won’t catch fire if you touch me.”

  He rested both their hands against his knee.

  They looked at each other for one beat, then two, and he realized that he was the one who could catch fire.

  He leaned closer, then hesitated to gauge her reaction. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away. He closed the gap and kissed her. Slow, soft, easy. Her thumb moved over the back of his hand, then
she kissed him back.

  In that instant, it was as if his entire body exhaled. He moved his hand to cup her cheek, but didn’t deepen the kiss. Much as he wanted to, the timing was wrong. This needed to be gentle. Romantic. And it was.

  Even so, he felt her fighting to hold herself back as much as he was.

  Eventually she eased away, but their foreheads remained close.

  “I realize the windows are tinted, but Miroslav is going to wonder,” she whispered.

  “Miroslav is paid not to wonder. He does an excellent job of it.”

  “Don’t be so sure. He strikes me as a man who sees and absorbs everything.”

  The observation made him smile. He gave her a final, quick kiss, then released her. “Before you go…what does ‘put a fork in it’ mean? When Miroslav went to the gate, I cracked the window so I could hear. I’ve never heard that phrase.”

  Amusement lit her face, though whether at the question or his attempt to lighten the mood, he wasn’t sure. “What do you think?”

  He considered. English wasn’t his first language, but he’d spent enough time speaking it that he’d picked up a number of idioms. “I know ‘put a sock in it’ but not ‘put a fork in it.’ Do they mean the same thing?”

  “Not quite. ‘Put a sock in it’ is a way of telling someone to stop talking.”

  “In a not-so-polite manner?”

  “Correct. But when you’re cooking meat, you might put a fork in it to see if it’s done.”

  “So…you told Miroslav that he was done?”

  “I thought I was telling Mark Rosenburg. It was a joke that related to something he’d said over dinner about forks. It just happened to be Miroslav at the intercom instead of Mark.”

  “I see. I assume you don’t regularly tell callers to put a fork in it?”

  “I don’t tell anyone to put a fork in it.”

  “That would be poor diplomacy,” he said, feigning seriousness.

  “Extremely poor.” One side of her mouth curved. “Speaking of diplomacy, I now have a beautiful symbol of friendship planted in a sunny spot at the back of the house. Thank you again for the olive tree.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you found a place for it.” He directed a look at Miroslav’s back. “Have a good night, Madam Ambassador. I’ll see you next Saturday.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, Your Highness.”

  He wanted to tell her to call him Eduardo when they were alone, but before he could say it, she was out of the car. This time, without slipping on the leather seat.

  It wasn’t until she disappeared through the gate that the word friendship registered in his brain. Was she making a point by referring to the tree was a symbol of friendship?

  He didn’t want to be her friend. If the kiss they’d shared was one of friendship, then he was woefully out of practice.

  Miroslav buckled his seat belt and put the car in gear, then checked the mirrors for oncoming cars. His gaze snagged Eduardo’s and he raised a brow.

  “Are we returning to the palace, Your Highness, or do you need to stop elsewhere?”

  “La Rocca, please.”

  Miroslav nodded, then pulled into the street. Eduardo shifted to look out the window, but not before he caught sight of the big man’s lower lip twitch into a smile.

  Chapter 11

  Claire thanked her driver, Fabiano, who offered her a hand as she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the Royal Theater.

  “You’ll call afterward, Ma’am?”

  “I will, thank you.” She had checked with the theater the previous day to see what time the performance would end, but wasn’t certain when she’d want to leave. Would King Eduardo have events to attend afterward? Would he need to network with Royal Foundation staffers, or meet the cast after the show? It wouldn’t be uncommon for him to do so and she wasn’t sure whether she should accompany him or not.

  Fabiano was a friendly, squat, and heavily-muscled man in his fifties who’d grown up only a few blocks from the ambassador’s residence, and had worked on the embassy’s transportation staff for nearly thirty years. He’d been the one to drive Claire and Karen to the palace the night of her credentials ceremony, and he assured Claire that he was used to uncertain timing. “There’s a café two streets away where I go whenever I’m on call in this area,” he’d told her during their drive. “The owner is a cousin who allows me to park in his service alley on the condition I stay long enough for dinner. This qualifies.”

  Unfortunately, scheduling Fabiano meant involving Karen. Claire had waited until she and Karen were the last two people in the office on Thursday night before mentioning that she had an invitation to the final performance of La Traviata and needed to arrive twenty minutes prior to the curtain.

  “Why twenty? Are you meeting someone? Should I arrange any security?”

  “I’ll be seated in the royal box. I’m arriving at the twenty-minute mark to meet an escort for security purposes.”

  They’d been partway to the elevator. Karen had stopped walking in the middle of the hall. “You’re going to the opera. In the royal box.”

  “Yes.”

  It must not have come out in as offhand a manner as she’d hoped, because Karen had slow-blinked her disbelief. “Nothing came across my desk. Was I away when the call came through?”

  “I received an invitation at the residence.”

  It was the closest Claire could come to making it sound official.

  “That’s odd. Did it come from the palace? Or from King Eduardo?”

  Claire had gestured toward the elevator and started walking again, keeping a few steps ahead so that Karen couldn’t read her expression. “The performance is a fundraiser for the Royal Foundation. Apparently Princess Isabella usually accompanies the king. Since she wasn’t planning to attend this year, he asked if I would.”

  Everything she said was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. Karen seemed to sense it. As they’d stood waiting for the elevator, Karen had changed her line of questioning to ask whether Claire had an appropriate dress unpacked.

  “I have the green gown I wore to the Kennedy Center Honors a few years ago. That should work.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen photos of that. It will be perfect.” They’d fallen silent until they were in the elevator, then Karen had asked, “I assume you haven’t shared this with others on the staff?”

  Claire had made a dismissive gesture, as if to say she saw no need.

  “I’ll call tonight and arrange transportation.”

  “Tomorrow will be fine. It’s only from the residence to the Royal Theater and back.”

  The next morning, Karen told Claire what time to expect Fabiano at the residence. She didn’t mention the opera date otherwise, and to Claire’s knowledge, Karen hadn’t breathed a word to the rest of the staff.

  Not that Karen knew it was a date date. But given that Karen: a) was intelligent; and b) apparently hadn’t informed the embassy’s media specialists, it meant she harbored suspicions.

  Typically, an ambassador accompanying a king to a public event constituted catnip for the embassy’s public affairs staff, who’d want photos for the embassy website and press releases. But Claire hadn’t heard a peep from them, which meant that, by default, Karen left the decision to inform public affairs to Claire.

  Claire waited for Fabiano to leave the curb before she turned to take in the sight of the Royal Theater. She’d spent a few minutes that afternoon reading about its history. Built in 1800, it had taken the place of a much older theater and was designed to rival the performance halls that had recently opened in Vienna.

  Judging from the exterior, the architect had accomplished the task.

  Claire was halfway up the front steps when she heard a feminine voice say, “Madam Ambassador?” It took her a few seconds to find the source. A petite woman in an understated black strapless gown approached. Jet black hair swirled into a knot at her nape. She wore no necklace, but small diamond studs sparkled in her ears.

/>   “I am Luisa Borelli, King Eduardo’s personal assistant.”

  Claire shook the woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luisa. The king mentioned that you’d escort me to the box. Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome. This way, Ma’am.”

  Inside, the decor was every bit as sumptuous as the theater’s exterior promised. Stunning chandeliers glittered overhead, marble framed the entry doors, and rich red carpet covered the floor. Bartenders in immaculate suits manned bars at either end of the space while waitstaff circulated discreetly, trays at the ready to collect empty glasses. Though the doors to the theater stood open, most guests remained in the lobby with glasses of wine and champagne in hand as they socialized. Hundreds of voices swirled around her, their happiness turning the sound into a melody.

  Luisa gestured toward one of the bars. “Would you care for a drink before we go upstairs? There are beverages in the box, but if you’d prefer to circulate first, you have a few minutes. I can wait for you by the staircase.”

  “No, thank you. I can go directly to the box.”

  They took the stairs to one of the upper levels. Luisa greeted a security guard, who signaled the ticket taker that the women could proceed. They followed a carpeted hall past several curtained archways, then approached a woman in a dark suit.

  Luisa said, “Madam Ambassador, this is Chiara Ascardi. She is the head of palace security and will be on duty here in the hall during tonight’s performance should you need anything.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you,” the woman said, shaking Claire’s hand.

  Claire gave Chiara a warm smile, then thanked both women for working on a weekend.

  Chiara gave Luisa an amused look, then said, “It’s not typical for either of us. But I love the opera, so this is a detail I don’t mind coordinating.” She indicated a closed door a few steps behind her, near the end of the hall. “This restroom is for the royal box. During the performance, I would prefer you come here rather than utilize the lobby facilities. Otherwise, please make yourself comfortable. His Highness should arrive shortly.”