The Prince's Scandalous Baby

by Holly Rayner

  She could hear the clamor of the crowd, now that they were standing right next to the balcony door. If he opened the door, the sound would be overwhelming.

  “I understand it, now… why you were pretending to be someone else in public. It makes sense to me. I’m sorry I didn’t before.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t drop the act when we went to the palace and were alone.”

  “You’ve apologized before. You don’t have to apologize again.”

  He leaned down and planted a short, sweet peck on her lips. “I do until you say you’ve forgiven me.”

  She smiled. “Of course, I’ve forgiven you.”

  They stood there for a moment, looking down at the crowd reflected in the glass front of the building across the street. They barely looked like reporters with the way the reflection distorted them; they looked more like an angry mob.

  “So, what do you do?” Juliette asked, as she watched the mob grow.

  “I’ve never really mastered the art of it. Always just run and hide, after a fashion. The same way I’ve been dealing with my father’s actions. He’s the King. He determines what we do. He always has.”

  “And he tells you how to deal with the press?”

  There was a long, labored sigh, and then Giancarlo replied. “He did. But not anymore.”

  Gently, Giancarlo released Juliette’s hand and stepped forward, raising his hand to the handle on the balcony door. As soon as he opened it, a sea of voices greeted him. They were all talking over each other in Italian. Some were asking questions of the Prince, some sounded like they were giving newscasts into cameras.

  Juliette was reminded of images of princes that lived a long time ago, back when kings and princes held more power than the press that reported on them. Here he was, greeting his people from a high vantage point. He was looking down on them, and to the casual observer, he seemed completely calm and collected. He seemed as though this were a normal thing that he did all the time.

  He raised his arms, and all the talking stopped. Juliette stepped forward to the window beside the balcony so that she could look down at the scene below. Every eye was on the Prince, with some newscasters holding microphones uselessly near their lips. It was perfectly silent except for the distant sounds of the city. Juliette couldn’t believe how far away all those sounds seemed.

  When Giancarlo spoke, the words flowed out of him like water. His Italian was at its most musical, and Juliette would have been captivated even had he not been talking about her.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he began. “I won’t ask you why you have all come to my home. I think I may have a pretty good guess why that might be.”

  A nervous laugh filtered through the crowd, as though they weren’t sure if they were being censured or not.

  “Earlier today, I made an unfortunate mistake,” Giancarlo continued. “A conversation that should have been private was broadcast throughout a room full of reporters covering an awards ceremony for my reading program. This was, of course, an accident. Things were said about my father, and his actions, and the situation in front of me. Many of you, no doubt, have recordings of this slip.”

  Juliette could swear that no one in the crowd was breathing.

  “It is a good story, I admit. It will get you people to buy your newspapers and click on your links. And that was why you all became journalists, was it? So that you could give people the dirt? So that you could tear down people who have lived their entire lives trying to be someone to look up to?”

  He paused for a moment to let his words sink in, and Juliette scanned the faces in the crowd, trying to get a sense of what they were thinking.

  “But I have another option for you. I have a different soundbite. A better story. Not a more sensational one. Not one that will have your readers feeling superior. But one that might leave them feeling happy for someone else, for a change.”

  He turned his head and reached out his arm, beckoning Juliette to come and join him. She did, stepping out uncertainly in front of the crowd. From the spotlight, it felt much more intense than it did from sitting by the sidelines, but she preferred it up here, looking out across the people, to the crush of the crowd when she and Giancarlo were escaping the auditorium.

  She watched as the news anchors signaled to their cameramen to get a good shot of the balcony, and the photographers brought up their cameras. Those with recording devices lifted them, and those with paper put the tips of their pens on the page.

  When Giancarlo spoke again, his voice rang out loud and clear, so that every word would be easily discernible from several stories below.

  “I’d like to introduce you all to Juliette. She is an American. She is not the sort of woman many have speculated I would end up with. She’s certainly not the kind of woman that my father imagined for me. She’s not from another European royal family. She’s not from old money. She’s not a famous actress or model, the way some of you keep assuming I must want.

  “No, she’s something much better than that. She’s herself. And I love her for that.”

  Silence. Juliette couldn’t help but feel that she was being carefully examined, standing as she was on the balcony, in front of the gathered crowd. But with every word the Prince spoke, she felt more and more confident in what he was doing.

  “I can see some of you out there already writing your headlines, saying things like that I love her ‘in spite’ of her being an American, or being a commoner. And I want you to know that you’re wrong; I don’t love Juliette ‘in spite’ of anything. I love her for who she is. She’s bright, and adventurous. She’s brave, and spontaneous. And, as you can see for yourself, she’s absolutely stunning.”

  This time the laugh that went through the crowd wasn’t hesitant or scared. Juliette could see that Giancarlo’s words were resonating. But they hadn’t hit the jackpot yet, and everyone knew it. She could see them, already on edge, focusing intently on the Prince and the words coming out of his mouth.

  “And, I am very pleased to announce that today is the happiest day of my life. Today, I found out that me and this incredible, beautiful woman, will be welcoming a child into the world together.”

  Juliette heard an audible gasp in the crowd, and smiled despite herself. All this attention on something as yet so small! It was amazing how much power Giancarlo suddenly seemed to hold over all the people gathered below.

  “I have nothing further to say at this time, and I kindly request that you respect our privacy as we celebrate this good news together. Good evening.”

  With that, he turned, and walked back into the apartment, hand in hand with Juliette. Shouted questions from the reporters below followed them, but were completely ignored.

  SEVENTEEN

  Giancarlo shut the doors against the flood of questions still floating up from below.

  “That was incredible,” Juliette said. Her hands were still shaking. She had never had that many eyes on her at one time; she felt like she’d been under a microscope.

  But if Giancarlo felt even a little bit shaken, he didn’t show it. He seemed happy and calm. He had a wide smile on his face, and his arms were completely steady as he took her into them. His lips were warm against hers as he kissed her, again and again.

  Juliette’s head was spinning. She’d just seen him declare his love for her in front of everyone. In front of his father, and his people and…in front of the press.

  Juliette froze, mid-kiss.

  “What is it?” Giancarlo asked, concern on his face.

  “My parents!” she said. She was already pulling back and looking around the room for her purse.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” he said. “Have you not told them?”

  She got out her phone, ready to make the call, then hesitated. “I hadn’t,” she said. “I wasn’t sure how they’d react. I wasn’t sure how they’d feel about me not having told you, to be honest.”

  “And now you have. And I’m overjoyed, and they will be, too.”r />
  She nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  She paused looking at the phone. “You know, they probably won’t find out about it. They’re not much for reading the news—not international royal news, anyway.”

  Giancarlo nodded. “If you say so. I tend to imagine that everyone everywhere wants to hear about my family, the way the cameras follow us around. But I can imagine how people back in…” He paused, then, as though it suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “Where are you actually from?”

  Juliette laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The absurdity of the situation had revealed itself to her, and now that her heart was out of danger, she could see the funny side.

  Luckily, Giancarlo did too, and he laughed right along with her.

  When they’d both exhausted themselves laughing, they sat back down on the sofa together, the way they had been before.

  “Wisconsin,” Juliette said finally. “I’m from Wisconsin. I came here for a study-abroad semester in the beginning of sophomore year and found that I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. I’ve just graduated, actually.”

  “And what did you study?”

  Juliette smiled to herself. The absurdity had faded, but it was still odd; they were having first date questions after they had just announced to the world that they were in love and would be having a child together. It was better this way, she thought. All those little questions and the basic facts of the other person’s life were so much better knowing that there was love and acceptance to greet them, whatever the answers were.

  “Italian Translation. I love the culture, and the language—I have since I got here. And I was thinking, as an American, it might be the best way to get to find a job and stay on in the country after I graduated.”

  “But no luck?”

  He was playing with her hair again, the way he had earlier. Pulling it back from her face so that he could see her better.

  She shook her head. “None.”

  Giancarlo laughed to himself. “Well, you found another way of staying in Italy. Not sure that was what you were going for, though…”

  Juliette smiled, but a cloud of reality was passing over the perfect sunshine of the moment.

  “Is that what you want? To stay in Italy?”

  In the moment before he answered, she knew what she wanted him to say. The idea of staying in Italy, though it had been all she’d thought about in the months leading up to her graduation, seemed less appealing to her now. Not with Giancarlo’s father always there, hovering. Not with the press analyzing everything she said or did. Elsewhere, there might be some anonymity. People wouldn’t be so interested if it weren’t their prince, she suspected.

  When Giancarlo answered that he wasn’t really interested in staying in Italy, she was relieved.

  “After all, I don’t think my father’s going to be very happy with me—not after the conversation we had today. But if you want to stay, we can stay. I’m happy to share my country with you, now and always.”

  Juliette shook her head slowly and saw the smile bloom across his face. She loved that she could give him smiles like that.

  “And where do you want to go?” she asked. “The States?” She caught a hold of his hand as it was playing with her hair and kissed it. “If you really want to go to Wisconsin. My parents are there. It’s a good place, I suppose, for when the baby comes.”

  “Wisconsin,” Giancarlo said to himself, looking up at the ceiling. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of the place. It’s a state, I gather.”

  Juliette smiled. “Yes, it’s a state. Famous for cheese.”

  Giancarlo donned a look of mock surprise. “Well, what do you know? I’m also from a place famous for cheese.”

  Juliette laughed, and watched as his hand went down to her belly and rested there.

  “I think we’re doomed to have a very cheesy baby.”

  Juliette lay her hand on top of his. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  He leaned down and kissed her gently on the very tip of her nose. “Oh no,” he said. “I couldn’t think anything about our child was a bad thing.”

  They talked long into the night. The phone rang again, but Giancarlo only gave it a cursory glance before ignoring it and turning it off completely.

  “What if it’s something important?” Juliette asked, but he only replied that everything that was important to him was already in this room.

  They talked about where they would go. Juliette had a few ideas, but Giancarlo was full of them. It was like he had had a whole lifetime of travel plans built up inside of him that he was never able to act on, and now was the time he would actually get to go.

  But more interesting than the “wheres” they discussed were the “whys”. The conversation of where the desires had come from was a gateway into their pasts. They talked about what they’d wanted as children, and the silly things they’d thought about the world. They talked about the little things they most liked, and the people they most admired.

  It was as though the conversation they’d had when they met the first time had been through a filter. They’d both talked about themselves, but everything had been sort of disguised. It was refreshing, Juliette thought, to sort it all out for herself, and see the real past and desires that had been underpinning their original conversation.

  They decided to begin with Morocco. She watched Giancarlo book the tickets from his laptop, working around a flood of emails that looked to be from his assistant, his father’s assistant, and the various news outlets that had managed to get his email address.

  “When will we deal with those?” Juliette asked, the phrase unable to worry her as much as she thought, deep down, it really should.

  “When we’re far away,” Giancarlo answered softly.

  She smiled, and soon she was answering all the questions Giancarlo had about her pregnancy. He had so many of them, Juliette was almost at a loss. He seemed to have no experience with it all, but wasn’t letting it dampen his enthusiasm in the slightest.

  Finally, Juliette fell asleep. For all she could tell, it happened in the middle of the sentence. All she knew was that she was safe, and happy, and with the man she loved. And whatever the future held for them, they would be ready for it.

  EIGHTEEN

  For the first time in weeks, Juliette woke gradually, without feeling sick. She was, however, very confused. The apartment around her was all so grand and unfamiliar. She way lying in the softest bed she’d ever felt, staring and beautiful walls with what had to be the most impressive reproductions of fine art that she’d ever seen.

  And then Giancarlo came into view, with an empty suitcase in his hand, and everything made sense.

  He set the suitcase down on the bed and opened it so that he could fill it. He leaned over her, planting a kiss firmly on her forehead.

  “Good morning, gorgeous. How did you sleep?”

  “Well, I think. I had no idea where I was when I woke up, so I must have slept pretty well.”

  He looked at her, concerned. “I’m sorry, I carried you in here because I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t mind. Wherever I am, if I’m with you, that’s good enough for me.”

  “Good,” he said, moving to start packing. “Because there are lots of places I want to take you.”

  “Morocco!” Juliette remembered, from the hazy conversation the night before. “When do we leave?”

  Giancarlo looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows. “Soon enough that I should get a move on packing. There’s breakfast in the kitchen, if you’d like it. I don’t really cook, but I gave it a try.”

  She looked towards the doorway, one eyebrow raised.

  “Is it toast?” she asked, and he grinned.

  “It might be toast.”

  She was hungry—she always was, these days—but made no effort to move. She liked watching him. Yesterday had been so sudden and such a whirlwind. But
here, waking up with him like this, it all felt so much more real.

  “Don’t you usually have someone to do this for you?”

  “What, pack?” he asked, and she nodded.

  “Sometimes,” he said. “When I travel in Italy there’s a schedule, and an entourage and all that. But we’re not taking a trip around Italy. And, anyway, I’m kind of avoiding messages from the staff, at the moment. I said I’d deal with it all when we were far away, and we’re not exactly far away yet, are we?”

  He was smiling, but Juliette couldn’t help but feel a kernel of worry at the words. She pushed it down, and went for a shower in the luxurious bathroom. She was excited to start a new, exciting life with the Prince. Saying that, looking at his bathroom, she wouldn’t have minded one or two more days in the apartment. She wanted to have time to discover fully what all of those nobs and settings did.