And here, Violet got really nasty, turning on a dime.
“Who are you to tell me?” she hissed. “You scheming slut! You spread your legs for anyone and look at my two boys now. Right back where I started, in this good-for-nothing cesspool.”
And before anyone could add anything else, she turned and screamed at all of us.
“Stop ganging up on me, I know what you’re up to! This is why I left St. Venetia in the first place, I feel so trapped, like everything was set up so that I’d fail. And now look what’s happened … I’ve lost three sons!” she screeched, her voice going higher with each word, literally finishing an octave above her starting pitch.
And here, the room fell deathly silent. After a pause, the Crown Prince spoke.
“I think you mean two sons,” he said smoothly. “Karl and Kato, the twins, that’s two,” he reminded gently, holding up two fingers.
And the woman just looked at him, a crazed expression in her eyes before bursting into peals of laughter, high-pitched, demented, the sound echoing off the walls, ringing so hard it hurt my eardrums.
“No, Highness,” she said sarcastically. “I didn’t miscount. Because I’m including you. You’re my firstborn.”
And with that, Kristian stepped back, tall, imposing, a harsh look in his eyes, face dark and stormy.
“Guards!” he called as troopers stormed into the room. “Arrest this woman for treason,” he ordered coldly, and turned his back on the hag as they dragged her out of the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tina
My head spun. I could hardly believe what had happened, the conversation in the past ten minutes dizzying, switching tacks on the drop of a dime, accusations and epithets hurled every few seconds. What was going on?
But there was one part I’d caught. That Georg at one point had acknowledged his sons, acknowledged Karl and Kato and tried to be a part of their lives, but he’d been barred from legitimizing them because he needed to marry for money.
And that’s what got me now. It was like some sick, twisted nightmare that keeps coming back, rearing its ugly head no matter what you do. Because I’d been shipped off to Miss Carroll’s for the same reason. My parents could no longer afford their lifestyle, our family fortune squandered over the years, and I’d been the last hope, launched into the world with a directive to find a rich husband to save our flagging estate.
And it seems that once upon a time, King Georg had been in these very same shoes. The King himself, with the world at his fingertips, had had to sacrifice and give up a woman he was entranced with, who’d borne him three children, in order to marry a woman with a hefty inheritance.
“Where is Queen Agatha?” I asked, my voice trembling.
But no one answered. Suddenly this woman who I’d only seen from afar, observed from a distance, was a key linchpin in the events of the day.
But Kristian spoke for his mother.
“The Queen is indisposed,” he said coldly. “Agatha is still my mother no matter what that tramp says.”
And all of us knew that the “tramp” he was referring to was Violet. Karl and Kato immediately turned on him, growling, hackles raised.
“Shut the fuck up,” ground out Karl.
“Fuck you,” spat Kato.
Clearly, no one was going to insult their mother, even if she was bat-shit crazy. But after glowering at each other for a few more seconds, all three males turned away, faces shuttered, giving nothing away. Maybe it was because the sight of each other was a jolt to reality – the realization that their physical resemblance wasn’t just chance, it was biology.
So with a dark look, Kato turned to the King.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he growled. “He’s our older brother, isn’t he?”
Georg looked defeated at this point.
“I’m ashamed boys,” he said quietly. “That things have gotten to this point because yes, he is.”
And there was a stunned silence.
“What the fuck?” growled Karl. “How the fuck did this happen?”
Georg just looked sad more than anything else, a faraway look in his eyes before he began.
“A long time ago when I was a young man,” he began slowly, “I met an American student at a ski lodge,” he said wryly. “Life then was different then. We were young, carefree, and she was beautiful, smart, lively, and even a little nuts back then,” he said with the first hint of humor we’d seen since this turn of events. “Violet was irresistible and what can I say? We got pregnant accidentally,” he said, looking at Kristian. “You were born the next year.”
The Crown Prince was dead silent, his face expressionless, giving nothing away.
“I explained to her who I was, what I was up against,” continued Georg slowly. “I wasn’t my own man, after all. Sure, I was royalty, I had titles galore, and my family was reputed to be worth billions with holdings in Switzerland, Dubai, the Cayman Islands, anywhere there was a place to safely stash wealth. But the truth is,” he said, taking a deep breath, “We had very little. Everything that we ‘owned’ actually belonged to the people of St. Venetia. This castle, these furnishings, the crowns, the jewels, none of it is ours. We’d been living off a small nest egg that was getting smaller every year, until we were barely scraping by,” he said wryly.
“So when Kristian was born, it was hushed up because I was already engaged to Agatha. Or more accurately,” he corrected, “our families ‘brokered’ the marriage, trading royal titles and prestige for an infusion of cash. Agatha and I were just pawns, son. Whatever happens, don’t blame your mother. Agatha and I,” he repeated, looking at Kristian sorrowfully, “we never had any choice.”
“But the Rothschilds are no fools,” he continued slowly. “Agatha, as you know, is a descendant of the German Rothschilds, Baron Goebbel von Rothschild’s only surviving great-granddaughter. And her family would only continue with the marriage provided that we passed off Kristian as Agatha’s biological son.”
My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets now, my mouth hanging open in shock. It was like opening a dark closet and discovering not one skeleton, but a skeleton within a skeleton within a skeleton. The royal family was messed up, that was for sure.
But Georg wasn’t finished, not even halfway through.
“And so we were married,” he said simply. “Agatha and I tied the knot and the first of our family’s deep, devastating secrets hatched. It was like a snowball rolling faster than you can imagine, turning into a crushing avalanche within seconds. Because within a year,” he said, “I had a new wife, a new son, and Violet … well, she left the minute I told her I was engaged to someone else. Who would blame her?” he said, the look on his face pained, bitter even, thinking back to these events from long ago.
But he wanted to offer some salvation.
“Your mother wanted to take you with her,” he said to Kristian quickly, “she cried and screamed, even threatened to kill herself, but the Palace didn’t care, ignoring her entreaties, turning a blind eye. They kept you under lock and key, never letting you out of sight, because there was no way a poor student from America was going to make off with St. Venetia’s heir to the throne.”
“So life continued,” he said. “Violet disappeared and here I was with a completely new life. Was I happy? Was I sad? I can’t really say, just that the days passed in a blur, my mind on autopilot. I probably was too numb to feel anything,” he added reflectively.
“But life took another unexpected turn. I was on a flight to Jerusalem a couple years later, and who was on board as the first class flight attendant but the beautiful Violet? It was a shocker to say the least,” he said, light flickering in his eyes. “I want to say we were cordial, we were civil, but it didn’t happen like that,” he said wryly. “And I guess you know this part. You two,” he said nodding at Karl and Kato, “were conceived on that flight. When we parted ways, I figured it’d been a lucky break, that I got to sample the irresistible Violet one last ti
me, unexpectedly, out of the blue.”
“So when she told me that she was pregnant, I was astounded,” he said. “I mean, what are the chances? Two accidental pregnancies with the same woman who wasn’t my wife? But now things were different. I was a married man with obligations, a role model for the country and its citizens. What were the people going to think if I announced two bastard children?”
“So the Palace hatched another plan,” he continued slowly, reflectively. “They told me to let Violet keep the kids, and I’d be able to communicate long-distance with you. Little did we know that your mom would go crazy, home-schooling you guys, isolating you on that farm in the middle of nowhere.”
“But that’s what happened. I tried to get in touch at first, kept phoning, kept writing letters, but never got through, never heard back. And after a while, I gave up. I figured you’d live your lives and we’d live ours, separated by an ocean, never to cross paths. But evidently that’s not the case anymore,” he said painfully.
I was astounded, as was everyone else. This monologue had blown us away, the fact that King Georg had a secret life, his children the product of deception, painful manipulation, and heart-rending choices. How difficult it must have been to live in this web of lies, my head was spinning just trying to keep it straight. But there were still questions hovering in the air like fireballs waiting to explode.
Kato launched.
“So what?” he demanded. “This was all a fucking farce, but why didn’t you come and see us? Even if Mom screened all your calls, tore up all your letters, it’s not like there aren’t planes. You could have flown in and driven to our farm and showed up. She couldn’t stop you from doing that.”
And Georg sighed again.
“I get why you’d think that,” he said slowly. “After all I’m the King and have been for years now, the ruler of our small principality. But let me ask you, son – how much money do you think I have?” he asked.
Karl and Kato just shook their head.
“Who cares?” tossed off Karl, shaking his head, disgusted.
“A hundred million,” ground out his twin.
But their older brother was bolder, more matter-of-fact.
“I know for a fact that the Crown is worth billions,” Kristian said bluntly, “even that part which isn’t entailed to the estate.” I’d read enough Pride and Prejudice to understand that it meant that a good chunk of money was tied to the throne itself, yes, but that they also had a nice income apart from the Crown.
“That’s true,” nodded Georg, “but how much do you think I personally control? Say I wanted to go out and buy a pack of gum, where would that money come from?”
Kristian paused for a moment.
“I’m sure you have your own accounts, maybe with five, ten million in them?” he guessed. “Something around that ballpark?”
And Georg laughed then, the harsh sound ringing off the stone walls.
“Son, you give me too much credit, because the truth is,” he said, taking a deep breath, “the truth is I have almost nothing,” he said, holding out his hands, opening empty palms. “I get a small allowance from the Crown each year, maybe a few hundred a month. It’s enough to buy a couple lunches, maybe a cup of coffee now and then. But I have nothing actually, and I couldn’t, and still can’t, afford a plane ticket to visit the States.”
Shocked silence. The King was a pauper? Who would have guessed? He certainly didn’t live like one judging from our lavish surroundings, the gala that was still going on downstairs.
“Who’s been funding your lifestyle then?” demanded Karl. “Who’s been paying for all your shit? Don’t tell me …”
But Georg was already nodding.
“Yes, Agatha. Ah, beautiful Agatha, still supporting me thirty years after our wedding. You didn’t think the Rothschilds were just going to give me free rein with their money, did you? Oh hell no. When they married off their dear daughter, they knew what they were getting into. I was a man with a broken heart and illegitimate son, no way were they taking any chances. So all the money was tied up, wrapped with a thousand legal documents, placed in multiple trusts, secured so that no Venetian could ever touch it. It was all worked out so that we got small allotments of course, enough to meet our personal needs, but everything else was off limits.”
He continued with a small smile.
“So my family was saved from utter financial ruin, yes, but in return, I gave up my freedom in every way possible. The woman I loved, an independent life, and even my sons. I gave up my children for the Crown. Everything that meant anything to me. I was a puppet now, half-alive, controlled by the purse strings of a powerful banking family.”
And I was shocked, hearing this confession. How painful it must have been, to be manipulated to this extent, a broken man at best, living with no purpose, the dark secrets inside gnawing away. And was it true? Were the Rothschilds still controlling the Venetians, even to this day? Georg nodded slowly, as if reading my mind.
“Look around you,” he said, spreading his arms, gesturing to the objects d’art in the room. “Everything you see, nothing is as it seems. These tapestries, this antique furniture, that silverware over there, priceless,” he said. “And it all belongs to someone else,” he finished sadly.
“So what are you saying?” asked Kristian slowly. “That this stuff is mortgaged? That someone’s going to repossess it?”
“Worse than that, son,” he said. “This stuff … it doesn’t belong to you. It’s never belonged to you. You’re a prince in name only, you’re not going to be running the kingdom. Haven’t you noticed? All your duties are ceremonial, it’s a courtesy title only, the ribbon-cutting, the smiling babies, the pointless meetings that go nowhere. You and your position exist only at the mercy of a group of faceless bankers.”
And I looked at Kristian, then at Kato and Karl, our expressions startled. Was it true? Was the St. Venetian royal house merely a farce at this point, a shell corporation controlled by anonymous powers, with no real heft, no weight, no sway of its own? It seemed too far-fetched to be true, more like the ravings of a delirious madman. But the sinking feeling in my heart told me differently, and I knew our lives, and our ménage in particular, had reached a breaking point.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Tina
“We’ll make it work,” I said encouragingly from my seat on the bed. We were back at the apartment, Kristian, Karl, Kato and I, huddled after the events of the day. Because the revelations had been mind-blowing. Not only were they full brothers, but their very existence was upended, their positions in life. Evidently Kristian was nothing more than a straw prince, a puppet, and where did that leave Karl and Kato? The loyal soldiers of a straw prince?
I shook my head again stubbornly.
“We’ll make it work,” I said. “There’s more to life than this.”
But Kristian just shook his head slowly.
“No, baby, I appreciate your optimism, but it’s not true,” he said. “Money makes the world go round, and we’re seeing how brutal that fact can be. I know you had your hopes pinned on me, that somehow my fortune could save your family, but now,” he said with a wry smile, “it seems that I’m a pauper too.”
“You’re not poor,” I said stubbornly, shaking my head. “Because paupers are people with nothing, and we’re not that. We’re rich in love.”
The cliché was lame but I meant it. I loved these men, these brothers, the way that they were committed to their work, Kato and Karl as soldiers of fortune, Kristian as a political force, an economic guru with expertise in everything from foreign affairs to microfinance.
“We can make it work,” I said forcefully. “Even if you lost your positions tomorrow, I still have my job at the non-profit and Kato and Karl can always find work on a boat again.”
That made the men laugh.
“Baby, there aren’t that many navy-class destroyers sailing the high seas,” said Kato gently. “We gave up our American citizenship to sign on as Legi
onnaires, so we can’t re-enlist at the drop of a hat. It would take some time for us to find new jobs.”
And Karl chimed in too.
“We appreciate your offer to support us, of course,” he said with a wry smile, “but honey, how much do you make from the non-profit? Thirty thousand? Thirty-five? It’s probably not even enough to pay for food for three grown men,” he said.
I colored because I actually made twenty-five. Without a college degree, I couldn’t exactly command a high starting salary, especially at the entry level.
“Well, we’ll make it work somehow,” I said slowly. “I know we can do it.”
Kristian sighed again.
“Honey, it’s not that we’re going to break up right now, go our separate ways or anything like that. It’s just … maybe it’s good we never told the world about our ménage. Because we’ve come upon some serious stumbling blocks, it was never going to be easy, but with the shit that’s hit the fan, it’s going to be about ten times harder to reveal our foursome.”
But I still wasn’t having it.
“No,” I stated firmly. “Nothing’s hit the fan. Tell me what’s changed.”
And the men looked at me, taking in my flush, my determination.
“Baby, if you haven’t noticed, I may not be prince much longer,” said Kristian gently. “And even if I were, you know I have no money.”
“I don’t care about that,” I reiterated again fervently. “I never cared about your money or the title. I would take you as is.”
The men shared a glance.
“That’s sweet baby, but not realistic. The truth is that all three of us may be out on welfare soon, picking up unemployment checks. So let’s keep our relationship on the downlow, okay? Just for a little while longer,” said Kato persuasively.
And my heart ached, not breaking precisely but the first few cracks making their way through my chest. Because I could feel our quartet disintegrating, each man trying to plan for the future, plot a path that might or might not include me. And without me? I knew they wouldn’t stay together, they’d disperse to pursue their fortunes to the four corners of the world. So even though I smiled bravely, holding back my tears, the beating in my chest was painful, tight, like my heart was physically tearing itself apart with each pound. Was this the end of our foursome? Were my men going to leave me high and dry, with nothing more than I’d started?
Falling for My Dad's Best Friend Page 27
