“As a matter of courtesy to you, I told them I would find you. I’m sure you don’t want to be embarrassed by having them come on board for an interrogation.”
“No, of course not—but the plane’s about ready to take off.”
“They said this shouldn’t take long.”
“I see. Thank you.”
With growing trepidation she got up from the seat, grabbed her bag and followed the flight attendant into the terminal. Sure enough two Italian policemen in uniform were waiting for her at the exit.
“Signorina Lassiter?” The one with the moustache spoke first.
“Yes?”
“Signorina Ann Lassiter?” the other one questioned.
“No,” she answered honestly. “My name is Callie. Ann is my sister.”
“Your passport, please.”
Once again she found herself opening her shoulder bag to get it out. The policeman took it from her and studied the picture.
“Thank you very much.” He put it in his pocket. “If you’ll come with us please.”
“What do you mean? I have a plane to catch!”
The two officers smiled at each other before the one with the moustache said, “His royal highness learned that his beautiful American fiancée has prewedding nerves, a problem he finds extremely charming. He hopes that by now you have gotten over them enough to let us take you to him.”
“No—” she cried out. “I mean, you don’t understand—I’m not his fiancée! I can prove it if you’ll just let me make one phone call!”
They broke into laughter. “He warned us you would put up a struggle. Come, signorina. No one keeps the prince waiting. However for his bride-to-be, he has made an exception this one time. We will take you to him.”
Callie sensed that if she continued to fight them, it would no longer be a joking matter. So much for her sister’s belief that ten thousand dollars would settle everything.
I promise he’s a sweetheart. All the other finalists thought he was a darling and wished they’d been chosen. There won’t be any problem with him.
She’d known there’d been a catch somewhere. Now she thought she’d figured out what it was. Prince Enzo held a title and nothing else! That’s why no royal contingent had been sent to greet her when she got off the plane and that’s why he needed to buy a bride.
It was probably the reason he’d used his celebrity status to be the focus of a huge Hollywood benefit. No doubt he needed a wife to support him! Where else in the world but America would people pay big money for charity to rub shoulders with a European prince?
What better woman for him to pick than a shallow Hollywood actress with stars in her eyes for a brain, and a bank account that could feed all the homeless at once?
His choice of bride-to-be was beginning to make a lot of sense. Everyone knew a film idol was worth millions. Enough to keep him in the manner to which he’d been accustomed before his fortune had run out or he’d squandered it.
Apparently the prince’s mouthpiece Nicco had wasted no time informing him that Signorina Lassiter had tried to back out of that damnable contract by insisting she was the wrong woman. He’d probably advised the prince to extort as much money from her as he could.
It looked as if Callie had no choice now but to meet his royal wretchedness himself, and set him straight about the farcical situation he’d brought on due to his own greed.
Once she could prove he was a has-been with nothing to show for it but an empty title, no court of law on either side of the Atlantic would require Callie’s sister to hold up her end of that absurd contract. Talk about flawed…
In order not to make a scene, Callie allowed herself to be escorted by the two policemen. They entered a nearby elevator and descended to the next floor.
To her chagrin, thoughts of the prince’s black-haired, slick-tongued envoy prevented her from concentrating fully over the impending confrontation. Undoubtedly Nicco had orchestrated the entire plot for the prince with the latter’s promise of a healthy cut of Ann’s film profits down the road.
Callie had been right all along. Nicco had Machiavellian blood running through his veins. Little did he know she had the fierce blood of her Norse ancestry running through hers…
When the elevator reached ground level, Callie’s clover-green eyes narrowed as she prepared to do battle.
The police directed her to a door down the corridor which they unlocked. It opened onto the tarmac where their police van awaited. They helped her into the back where she sat on a bench. There were no windows to see out.
After being shut in, she had to endure a twenty-minute drive without knowing where on earth they were taking her. Finally she felt the van slow down and come to a stop.
When they opened the doors to let her out, she discovered they’d driven to the rear of a medium-size apartment building somewhere in the heart of Torino.
In one of the nearby covered parking stalls she caught sight of a helmeted man getting off a motorcycle. Her eyes widened to discover it was a brand-new Danelli! That wasn’t possible unless…
But when had the company started manufacturing them again?
To her shock, one of the police officers walked over to the driver of the fire-engine-red racing bike and handed him her passport. After a short conversation, he returned to the van. It backed out of the alley, leaving her standing there in a daze.
So this was the prince.
It appeared he had a little more money than she’d thought. Unless he was in debt up to his eyeballs and hoping his benefit bride would bail him out. To own such a fabulous machine would have set him back at least a hundred thousand dollars, maybe much more.
The man removed his helmet without bothering to smooth his black hair which had become disheveled.
“Buongiorno, signorina.”
At the sound of the deep, seductive male voice she’d heard before, she let out a shocked gasp.
Nicco!
She hated it that he looked even more attractive than ever.
“Don’t tell me—” she spoke first, anxious to quell the frantic beating of her heart. “I presume this is where the prince lives because he lost all his land and properties a long time ago.”
“How very astute of you.”
Callie ignored his sarcasm. “I thought so. Thank you for being honest with me about that anyway. It’s too bad my sister’s not a famous, fabulously wealthy Hollywood actress yet. This whole thing might have had a different ending if she’d been ready to turn her back on the limelight and devote herself to a down-and-out prince.”
He gave a careless, elegant shrug of his broad shoulders. “You can’t blame a man for trying.”
“I suppose not. Unfortunately he risked everything on the wrong woman. But as she’s my sister, I can vouch for her. Ann may be a little foolish at times, but she’s a totally nice person who wants to make up to the prince for what has happened.
“After having met him, it’s her belief he’s a charming, civilized man who will understand the circumstances and be willing to work out any further financial arrangements with her attorney. I hope that’s true so this thing can be cleared up right away. I have to fly home to the States tonight.”
“Let’s go inside and find out, shall we?”
He led her through a back entrance and up a half flight of stairs to the second floor. Two doors down on the left he stopped and put a key in the lock. She heard barking.
“Basta, Valentino!”
The second the door opened, a gorgeous fawn-colored male boxer dog greeted him with such joy, it warmed Callie’s heart. The first real smile she’d seen lit Nicco’s eyes as he put his helmet on the foyer table and played around with the dog.
He spoke to it in Italian. She could just make out the words Signorina Lassiter before he turned his head toward Callie. “The dog will give you five if you’ll put out your hand.”
“Give you five” was slang for two people slapping their palms together. Nicco’s command of English was excell
ent. Obviously the prince had hired a modern-day Renaissance man to act for him at times like this.
She lifted her palm in the air. Valentino raised his paw and slapped hers with the right degree of strength so he didn’t knock her down. Enchanted, she bent over and hugged him around the neck, scratching the sensitive spot behind his pointed ears.
“Oh, you’re beautiful!” she cried softly.
For a reward he licked her mouth.
Callie burst into laughter. “I love you, too.” She kissed his face. “Yes I do, you magnificent creature.” Unable to help herself, she got down on her knees to inspect his white stocking feet. He had perfect coloring.
“You have the markings and bearing of a true champion.” She kissed the top of his head one more time before standing up.
“For a dog and a human who don’t understand each other’s language, the two of you have managed to cross that boundary without problem,” her host muttered in a dry tone.
The boxer walked around her, sniffing and licking her legs and hands. He could detect the scent of the vet hospital where she lived and worked.
“That’s because I’m crazy about animals. How long has the prince had him?”
“Eight years now.”
“The lucky man. Does he let you take Valentino for walks?”
“All the time.”
“If I worked for him, that would be my favorite perk.”
He flashed her a glance she couldn’t decipher. “Come into the other room.”
Anxious to meet the prince and get this over with, she followed Nicco’s tall, rock-hard physique through a doorway to the living room of the apartment.
It was modestly furnished in what appeared to be secondhand furniture, exactly like the decor of her one bedroom apartment behind the clinic.
“Prince Enzo really has fallen on hard times. I feel right at home.”
“He’ll be glad to hear it,” Nicco replied with a hint of mockery. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
She sat down on one of the chairs. Valentino curled up at her feet. A few minutes of silence passed before she was prompted to ask, “What’s taking the prince so long?”
“He’s out for the moment.”
When the meaning of his words sank in, her head reared. “What’s going on here?”
Nicco sat down on the couch opposite her. “With his wedding day tomorrow, the prince is a busy man. He’ll be along shortly.”
“The prince better hurry if he expects the runner-up to arrive here in time.”
He lounged back against the cushion, extending his long, powerful legs in front of him. “Come now, signorina. Surely you’re not still maintaining that fictitious nonsense about a twin?”
Callie was on her feet in an instant. Her action disturbed the dog who instinctively tried to herd her so she wouldn’t move from the room. Under normal circumstances she would have laughed at the endearing trait, but this situation was not amusing.
“Where’s the phone? I’ll get Ann on the line and she’ll explain everything.”
“I’m afraid the prince only uses a cell phone.”
She took a struggling breath. “Then I assume you have one, too. May I use yours, please?”
“I would offer mine, but it needs to be recharged.”
“How convenient.”
As if proclaiming his innocence, he lifted those broad masculine shoulders still covered by his black Italian leather jacket. Her sarcasm had been utterly wasted on him.
“Before Prince Enzo arrives, we might as well begin a discussion of tomorrow’s schedule. It’s my job to prepare you for your nuptials. Why don’t you sit down again and relax. Too much anxiety before the wedding ceremony will carry over into the bridal chamber.
“Ever since he saw your photograph last month, the prince has been anticipating your wedding night. He expects to find his new consort as eager as he is to begin your life together as husband and wife. It’s up to me to make certain he isn’t disappointed.”
By now Callie’s face was on fire. “And of course I don’t have any say in the situation.”
“None. Of your own freewill—in front of the attorney for the benefit as well Prince Enzo’s personal attorney—you signed a contract I drew up for the prince myself. It is airtight, signorina. No power on earth, not even the Pope himself, can break it.”
“I didn’t sign it,” she said calmly. “My sister did.”
His gaze captured hers. She fought not to look away.
“Supposing that’s true…” His voice trailed. “And you really do have an identical twin named Ann…it still won’t stop the wedding from taking place tomorrow.”
Something menacing in his tone sent a spiral of fear snaking through her body.
“If your sister had looked carefully at the profile given her on Prince Enzo by the benefit committee, she would have seen that the blood of the Borgia’s as well as the Tescotti’s runs through his veins.
“It’s an historical fact that it was Cesare Borgia whom Machiavelli used as the model for his book about the prince who ruled without moral consideration for his terrified subjects.”
He leaned forward. “If I were you, I’d start thinking very hard how you’re going to influence your new husband not to have your sister arrested for sending you in her place. Prison is no place for the fiancée of Prince Enzo.”
Callie refused to be intimidated. “Ann’s not here to arrest.”
“That’s true. But you are…” His eyes had narrowed to black slits, like the kind you saw hollowed out in a castle turret where the bowmen shot their arrows.
“I thought Prince Enzo wanted me for his bride.”
“Naturalmente you’ll become his princess. When you’ve served your purpose, then you’ll be placed under house arrest.”
She felt her escape route closing fast, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“So now we get down to the real reason for this absurd farce. My sister has already written him a check for ten thousand dollars which is all of her savings.
“With this next film, I’m sure she’ll be able to give him five times that amount. What’s his price? If she can’t meet it all the way, I’ll go to my bank and see how much of a loan I can take out.” At this rate Callie would be in debt for the rest of her life.
“Your loyalty to your sister is nothing short of astounding, signorina. That is if you have a sister,” he drawled unnervingly. “It’s a pity money is not the consideration here.”
He reached in his pocket and threw the check down on the coffee table for her to take back.
“Then what is?” she blurted in exasperation. “Why has he gone to all the trouble of choosing an American bride? Unless—”
She darted him a wicked smile. “Unless, of course, he has some genetic defect handed down from the Borgias that every Italian woman of royal blood already knows about and has avoided like the bubonic plague.”
With the stealth of a panther, Nicco rose to his full height, bigger than life. “You’re not as empty-headed as I had supposed, so I’m not going to ruin the surprise. Tomorrow morning you’ll find out for yourself just exactly what you, or your sister, agreed to marry.”
“That’s barbaric!”
The moment she shouted the words, the boxer growled deep in his throat and went into his guard dog stance.
A taunting smile broke the corner of Nicco’s hard mouth. “Valentino likes you very much, which is surprising when you consider his passionate devotion to the prince. Keep your voice well modulated and he won’t treat you as an intruder. It’s the last thing he wants to do. As you can see, his short tail is wagging.”
Valentino she could handle. The dog was wonderful. As for Nicco, he’d backed her into a corner.
Letting go of the breath she’d been holding she said, “You had me brought to this apartment under false pretenses. I won’t be seeing the prince until the wedding, will I.”
“Now you’re catching on, as you Americans are fond of saying.�
�
He must have spent a lot of time around someone from the States. How she’d love to wipe that triumphant expression from his good-looking face.
There was no way she would be a victim if she could help it. An idea for escape had just come to her. If it didn’t work, then she’d try something else.
“Since you leave me with no choice but to surrender, how about granting this condemned prisoner one last favor before her execution tomorrow?”
His white smile was so unexpected and electrifying, her heart almost jumped out of her body. “Short of asking for a reprieve, your wish is my command, signorina.”
“You mean that?” She infused a little trembling into her question to reveal a deceptive combination of fear and humility.
“Try me and find out.”
“Could we go on that ride around the city you promised me earlier?”
“Of course. I’ll arrange for the limousine.”
“No—I mean on your motorcycle.”
A strange quiet filled the room. It pleased her that her request was the last thing he’d expected to be asked.
“In a movie I once rented, this American woman rode on the back of this guy’s motorcycle while they toured Naples. It looked so fun the way he maneuvered them through the narrow streets and alleys. They were able to go exciting places a car wouldn’t fit.”
He rubbed his jaw absently. “Torino’s a northern city of long parkways, gardens, promenades and right angles, signorina.”
Before she averted her eyes, she purposely let out a deep sigh he couldn’t help hearing.
“It’s all right, Nicco. I understand. Really I do,” she said in the way she might speak to a small child.
After a suspicious pause, “What is it you think you understand?”
Good. She’d piqued his curiosity, just as she’d hoped.
“That your responsibility is to protect me until tomorrow.”
“And?” he bit out impatiently. When she looked at him again, his eyes glittered with an unfathomable light.
“I should have realized you don’t feel confident enough to show me the sights on your bike without having an accident. You could have just told me the truth, but I forgot your pride. I understand the Italian male’s is more inflated than that of the other men of the world.”
Bride Fit for a Prince (Harlequin Romance) Page 3
