"Perhaps that's what he wants." Renee released her hand and picked up her coffee mug. "If he wanted to marry some stuffy princess type he had the chance. Instead he asked you."
Her friend sipped. Kristin drank her orange juice in one gulp and spoke quickly, "Look, I like kissing him, but the idea that he's a prince is seriously sending me crazy mixed-up thoughts. I wish he was normal."
Renee peered into her mostly empty coffee mug. "No you don't. If you wanted normal, you'd have chosen Greg."
Again with Greg. Kristin glanced at her friend. "You mentioned him last night, too."
Renee’s cheeks turned red. "I did."
"Did you like Greg, Renee?"
With a loud sigh, she nodded. "But he never noticed me and in the end I want someone who loves me because I'm awesome."
Kristin stood and then offered her hand to help her friend stand. Once Renee was up, she whispered, "Who knows? Maybe there’s a hot guy in Avce that you're supposed to meet."
Renee laughed. "Shh, your boyfriend will hear you."
Antonio joined them. Kristin's heart soared. He was so handsome this morning, this time in a navy blue suit tailored for him and a crisp white shirt. "Boyfriend, huh?"
Her own face felt hot and she wished she’d had a chance to brush her hair, or wash up, so that he’d think her attractive too. "Renee gets ahead of herself sometimes."
Antonio looked spotless and perfect as he fixed his cufflinks. "Are you both ready?"
"Give us five minutes," she said. She needed to change and clean herself up. She’d look a wreck if she walked beside him in her jeans. At least she’d packed a dress.
“Paparazzi will be outside, ready to snap your picture.” He kissed her fingers. "I thought I should warn you—I’ll meet you near the door."
Her lips tingled with anticipation of a kiss but he left.
Kristin grabbed her carry-on bag for a change of clothes. A photo meant she’d lose her insurance job for good—proof that she wasn’t sick at home with a cold. She buried the panic of not earning a paycheck and shook out her blue Calvin Klein dress with a tiny flower print. Renee had chosen capris and a knit top, with leather flats.
A few minutes later, she and Renee rushed to the front where Antonio sat with a coffee and his iPad. He put it down instantly, and walked over to her. "Take my arm, Kristin."
His muscles flexed the moment she wrapped her hands around his arm. She also felt lighter. How in the world had he found her? Now she was in his country and would see everything she could. The moment they stepped outside, people cheered and lights flashed in her face.
She turned into his shoulder to block the bright lights. "What's all this?"
He winked and led her through the crowd toward a waiting limo. "I'm returning home. This is a small crowd, but once they see that I’m with you, and they tell their friends, the crowd at the palace will grow."
Renee followed her like a rock star in over-sized sunglasses, her form fitting capris and top. Kristin wished she channeled that instead of the Easter Sunday look that gave her no sense of confidence. Kristin returned her attention to Antonio. "What am I supposed to do?"
They neared the limo and he turned around. He waved and she glued herself to his side. He whispered, "Wave." She did as he instructed while Renee hopped inside the limo. Antonio wrapped his arm around her waist. "They want to get a good look at you."
"Oh goodness." Antonio kissed her cheek. Instinct took over and she hugged him.
The cheers grew louder which broke the spell. Had he kissed her for publicity? She sucked in her breath but didn’t ask here.
He motioned for her to go inside and then he was last in the limo. A few seconds later, the driver took off.
Kristin settled herself next to Antonio and felt calm and collected with his arm snug around her shoulder. He smiled that sexy grin of his and he smelled like almonds. Love might not exist, but whatever she felt with Antonio was too good to ignore.
Once they were driving, he pointed out the window. "You'll notice the green hills. Our country has had every ancient empire try to depose our royal family for almost two thousand years, but we're the oldest original family monarchy. Many of my ancestors have all managed to return from abroad, just as my parents did. My grandparents were deposed with communism. My ancestors left Rome to settle here, guided by the Virgin Mary—or so the legend goes."
History was always interesting, but a hobby for the rich, according to her father. She envied Antonio’s lineage. "I didn't know my grandparents. Mom raised me after Dad died. So when she died, I was by myself. I wish I knew more about my past and where my mom was even from."
His hand brushed against hers and she felt a spark banish her sadness. "I can run a DNA sample for you so you can at least read about your genetic ethnicity."
"That sounds nice, actually. I’ve always been so alone in the world." The limo reached the top of a hill and suddenly in the distance a huge white palace with a blue roof appeared, along with four towers. As they grew closer, adrenaline raced faster through her veins. "Is that where you live?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She continued to stare out the window. If she accepted his proposal, she'd live there too. Her biggest apartment ever had been 750 square feet and never enough closet space. "No wonder your ancestors all wanted to come home. It's beautiful."
He came beside her and her body tingled as he pointed. "My favorite part is the river that the east wing overlooks. In the morning sun, the white tower has a golden glow."
His cheek brushed against her face. She sighed and wished he'd kiss her, but she knew better. "This could all be my new home because I applied to be your secretary."
He turned and stared into her eyes. "I'd also be your husband."
It almost sounded like he wanted that for himself, and not to save his future inheritance. If he cared about her, then her life would be fabulous. The limo drove through the gates, guards on both sides. She kept his hand in hers. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake from it.
Part of her wanted to say yes, right now, and not care about anything else, but her heart whispered she didn't want to be like her mother. Her mother had bitterly cried years ago that she had married for love and should’ve listened to her own parents’ advice that she’d made the wrong choice. She had said love was an illusion—yet Kristin still wanted to be loved.
Once the limo parked and a footman opened the door, Renee hopped out first. Kristin held Antonio’s hand and whispered, "Wait. I like you. It's your title that makes me hesitate. I'm not made to be a princess, and I don’t want to end up like my mother."
“What happened with your mother?”
“She was a very unhappy woman.”
“That’s not you.” He brushed her hair away from her face. "If something happens to my father, my bride becomes the queen. I'm hoping that woman will be you."
She couldn't move. She lowered her lashes and listened to her heartbeat. She tried to imagine a crown on her head, but in her imagination it fell right off. She squeezed his hand. "Yeah, I'm normally the girl who fades into the wallpaper."
Antonio gently lifted her chin. "My mother can teach you the ways of the palace. She learned and so can you."
His mother, the queen. She likely had been born into the royal life too. She wasn't a girl from Kansas who ran from the farm and migrated to Miami for jobs that she ultimately quit, because she was never happy in any of them. She narrowed her gaze and asked, "What was your mother before your father married her?"
He winked and then slid out of the car. "His secretary actually."
"Oh, so it’s a family tradition," she quipped and laughed as she followed him through massive royal blue doors that were double the size of her. Renee waited for them, nervously quiet.
He walked her through a small lobby area that rivaled a theater and then they went into a grand ballroom. Gold and gilt decorated the walls. Was it real? She stayed on his arm, but then a nice-looking man with a similar version of
Antonio’s face and about Antonio's age rushed over to them. "I apologize for interrupting, but my brother needs to come with me, now."
Antonio's eyes widened and he squeezed her hand a little though she could see in his gaze that he was worried. With a glance over his shoulder he nodded at someone and then returned his gaze fully to her. "Kristin, Walter here will show you to your rooms. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"All right." He kissed her hand, but she saw the pained flecks in his brownish-green hues that told her he was scared.
She joined Renee and the man charged with taking them to their rooms, but she watched as Antonio raced out of the room with his brother. Her heart thumped and she prayed everything was okay with his family.
Chapter 6
Was it his father? Was this the end? The questions swirled in his mind, but Marco didn’t slow and never said a word. He hadn't even asked for an introduction to Kristin, though the glint in his eyes gave away his interest.
They arrived at the medical ward and his heart nearly stopped. His father. He had so much to say and he wasn't ready to lose him yet. Marco opened the door and instantly his mother, Queen Anna Camilla, stood from her chair while she wiped her eyes with a tissue. The sick bed was behind the white partition, just out of view.
This must be bad news. Why hadn’t they called him? His mother opened her arms. "Antonio, there you are at last."
Not even his mother's arms around him made the hole in his heart lessen. He massaged her shoulder and asked, "Mother, what happened?"
She pointed toward the sheet and the corner of the bed that peeked from behind the white curtain. "It's your father!"
No. He felt like a lost ten-year-old who called for his parents to find him in an open market. He stood stiff, not ready for this. To be king. To lead his country. To lose his father. He choked on his words. "Did he..."
"Son?" His father's raspy voice made Antonio’s hair stand on end. Alive? He was alive!
His heart soared as he walked forward, pulled the curtain, and stepped closer to the bed and looked into his father’s warm amber eyes. King Leopoldo looked weak and fragile, when in Antonio's memory he was larger than life. He slumped into the seat beside the bed, took his hand, and tried not to cry. "Father."
Leopoldo tapped his hand and asked in a weak tone, "Is it true you brought an American here to be your bride?"
His father coughed and the boom took over the room.
Antonio stood abruptly. "Save your voice. Yes, I did."
His mother's words echoed from behind them. "Politically, are you sure she's the best choice, son?"
According to his team of experts, yes. Politics had been part of the calculations he put into play. "Mother, our people are choosing between communism and capitalism. In marrying an American, I'm proving my capitalist leanings."
With less than sixty days in which to find a miracle, he had made a logical choice. Their gray-haired mother leaned on Marco’s arm, her blue eyes wise. "Half of the country doesn't have the same value."
“Less than half, Mother.” Antonio was the Crown Prince of Aussa and understood his responsibilities. "It's my job along with the rest of our family to ensure our people win the votes this fall.”
“We’re in trouble if the communist agenda becomes the reality again,” Marco said.
True. King Leopoldo had pledged their personal bank accounts to rebuild Avce. Antonio was now guardian and he didn’t take the burden lightly.
“We’d go into exile without a penny." His mother straightened.
His younger brother shrugged. "I liked England."
"Marco, this is our home." Their mother scolded her youngest son and came closer to the bed. Antonio backed away to let his mother have his spot.
His brother stayed near the door, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world as he leaned on the frame. "I saw your Kristin. I must say she's quite pretty. Was that one of your factors after all?"
His search had included looks as well as brains, but nothing prepared him for actually meeting Kristin Wells. He hadn't told her about his bride-finding software, not that he was sure she’d care. But he’d hate to hurt her feelings when they were just getting to know each other. "I wasn't going to marry just anyone. She had to be nice enough to look at."
Marco patted his back. "Well, I can't wait to have a conversation with her, at dinner."
“Take care what you say.” Their parents spoke quietly at his father's bedside. Antonio glanced at his brother. "I still have to convince her to marry me."
"She hasn't agreed?" Marco asked with surprise. “So why is she here?”
If his father survived, he could go a few weeks and give her time to adjust. At least until his birthday. He still had no choice to marry, but it wasn't a minute-by-minute scare and he could now offer her an actual ceremony.
Plus a few days to convince Kristin would be very pleasurable. He looked out the window to the maze in the green garden. "No, not yet. I’m giving her time to get the tour first before the ring goes on her finger for life. Now that Dad is awake, we can get married in the church where Mary had it snow."
Their mother turned from their dad’s bedside, intending to join them. Marco had no care for decorum as he said, "So you figure one trip around the rose garden and a dinner in the east wing tower and she's yours."
Antonio rubbed his chin. "Dinner in the tower, alone. Thanks for the tip!"
Marco's lips wouldn't quite close. He stood there with his head tilted as he stared at him. "Wait. The playboy prince is actually trying to seduce this woman?"
His father's weak voice carried across to them. "She must be pretty then."
Antonio felt like a twelve-year-old. His face was probably crimson. "Father, we should not be having this conversation at all. You need your rest."
His mother made a tsk sound and guided both of them to the door. "Your father is still in danger but the doctors agree that it's much more likely he'll have a full recovery so long as nothing upsets him, or causes him undue stress."
Antonio called out, "Father, I'd prefer to remain the Crown Prince for a while and not King—rest, please."
His father yawned. "Bring the American to meet me."
"Yes, sir." Antonio followed his mother and Marco out of the room.
Once the door clicked closed, he stared at the empty walls that once had held family portraits. The communist regime had smashed them or sold them. Now the long hall was clean, well maintained with powder blue walls, but he always felt this place was missing something. His father restored order, but he’d like to replace or find a few stolen pieces of their art. And if he hung Kristin’s beautiful portrait in the hall near the grandfather clock, he’d see her just as she was right now. He shook his head. He'd not think about that. "Mother, I should go check on Kristin and her best friend, Renee."
His mother snapped her fingers. "Yes, please have them prepare for dinner. I'll ensure a variety of dresses are sent to their rooms."
Kristin had packed herself, one suitcase only. Would she be offended if suddenly his mother sent her a wardrobe, with instructions? "How did you know they'd need dresses?"
His mother shook her head. "I've never met an American with one travel bag that brought the right clothes to meet a Queen. Americans tend to either overdress for the occasion or even worse, underdress. If she is to be your bride, then I want the world to see her as perfect. I will offer my assistance."
Staff must have told his mother what Kristin carried, and if she’d unpacked any clothing worthy of note. Perhaps it was best to talk to Kristin about his mother's plans for a dress? If he made the rules, she could wear jeans because she had the perfect shape that showed off her curves in the ones she wore last night, but for now, they were talking a family state dinner. He nodded. "Thank you, Mother. I will talk to her."
His mother returned to his father's room. Antonio walked down the hall, intending to knock on Kristin's door. He made it ten feet down the blue hall when his brother called out, "Antonio!"
"Marco." He stopped and waited for his brother to catch up.
"The other one you brought with her. What's her deal?"
He hadn't researched Renee other than the fact Kristin wasn't friends with known criminals. "Renee Brown, Kristin’s best friend. She's a teacher out for her summer break."
Marco crossed his arms. "Well, I'll be sure to keep her busy so you can win over your computer date."
Computer. He'd have to find a way to tell Kristin, but he wasn't sure how. "About that..." Perhaps his brother might hold his tongue. "Please do not mention the search I ran to find Kristin."
They walked down the hall together. Marco asked, "Does that mean you didn't tell her?"
"No." It shouldn't be a big deal. Lots of people used Internet searches to find what they needed and he’d needed a wife. Everything he did had been logical.
At the door to the grand hall, where ancestors threw elegant galas and the paint had specks of gold embedded, Marco asked, "Then why does she think you flew across the globe and asked her to marry you?"
Marco used to be the better brother. Lucio was the one he'd never completely trust because he suspected a trick. However, Marco currently acted more like Lucio. "Because she applied for a job. Secretary. She knows I actually required a wife."
He blinked and didn’t move for a second. Finally he nodded. "I'll keep your secret, but you must tell her the truth."
There was the helpful Marco he remembered. Antonio took a deep breath. "I will, when the time is right. When I'm alone with her..." She made him forget the rest of the world. He pressed his lips together and refused to say anything like that to his baby brother. He wasn't soft and never had been so that would have been out of his normal. "Never mind."
Marco's gaze narrowed. "Never mind what?"
Now he had to say something and it wasn't going to be to tell Marco that Kristin made him forget because her lips tasted sweeter than any chocolate. He crossed his arms and chose his words. "She's nice. I like her."
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