Keeping Her

by Holly Hart

  “Ohhh!” I say, beaming at Leo. “And did he smell funny, too?”

  “Yup,” Leo says, barely able to contain his boredom. I set him down and he trots over to his MathMat and starts solving the equations it electronically dictates.

  Carson heads to the antique bar that takes up a good chunk of the wall by the stairs.

  “What can I get you guys?”

  “Mojito,” says Tricia. “By which I mean a bottle of rum and a lime.”

  “What about the mint?” I ask.

  “Okay, throw in a stick of gum.”

  I smile sympathetically.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” I say, sitting down beside her on the sofa. “All we have to do tomorrow is get you dressed and get you to the church. Sophia is taking care of everything else.”

  “What about you, Maks?” Carson calls from the bar.

  “Nothing, thanks.”

  He’s looking a little green. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was hung over, but his bachelor party was weeks ago. Carson took him and the rest of the groomsmen to the Boom Boom Room.

  “Everything all right, buddy?” Carson asks.

  “He’s worried about his family tomorrow,” says Tricia. “I keep telling him they can’t be worse than my clan. My cousins make the guys from Jersey Shore look like Mensa members. I’m pretty sure Leo could beat their SAT scores.”

  “What’s SAT?” Leo says from his MathMat.

  “Nothing you have to worry about for a few years,” I say.

  Although, judging by his progress, not much more than a few years. He’s already figuring out how to read by watching the phonetics skits on Sesame Street. He may have inherited my red hair, but he got his father’s gray eyes and gifted intellect.

  Too bad he also inherited my own father’s overly serious disposition. But we’re working on that.

  Maks smiles, but it seems a bit forced.

  “Maybe I am overthinking,” he says. “I just don’t want it to be – awkward?”

  He looks at Tricia. “Is that the right word?”

  She gives him the thumbs up.

  “Perfect, babe,” she says, taking a sip of the mojito Carson hands her. “We’ll have you saying those vows right yet. Although I still have nightmares about you telling the priest that ‘I am taking this woman to be awfully wet and wife.’”

  Carson takes a seat next to Maks and chucks him on the shoulder.

  “It’s one day of your life,” he says. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

  “Easy for you to be saying,” Maks says glumly. “You eloped.”

  I smile at the memory. It was just the two of us, in a little church in Siena. Our folks weren’t overjoyed, but we had a big party when we got home and that helped smooth things over with them. Well, with our moms, anyway. Dad was put out. Of course.

  But he’s coming around. It’s pretty hard to argue with a billionaire son-in-law who once offered to give up his entire fortune for your daughter.

  Of course, he probably wouldn’t agree with what we’re about to do. But it’s not his decision to make. It’s ours.

  “Don’t worry,” says Tricia. “If anything goes wrong, we’ll just blame Cassie and Carson. They’re the ones who paid for everyone to fly here first class and stay at the resort.”

  She lays her head on my shoulder and snuggles in. I put my cheek on top of her head and we both stretch our legs onto the priceless eighteenth century coffee table. When Leo sees this, he ambles over and crawls up, stretching out across both our laps.

  “I want your life,” Tricia sighs, stroking Leo’s head.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  Carson and Maks sit down in the armchairs across from us.

  “I know this might not be the right time,” Carson says. “But have you given any thought about what you’re going to do when we go public?”

  Tricialicious is on the verge of launching its initial public offering of shares in a few months. It’s been a lot of work over the past few years, but we managed to exceed our every goal. And I’m proud to say we did it without a single penny of Carson’s fortune.

  Our best estimates predict Tricia, Maksim and I will be able to sell our one-third shares for $29.3 million each, or $88 million total. That’s about eight times our initial investment. I’ll be honest – sometimes the thought that I was able to do it all myself makes me so proud I want to cry.

  Or at the very least phone up my dad and lord it over him.

  “Oh, we’re cashing in,” says Tricia.

  “Yes,” says Maksim. “No ifs, ands or asses.”

  Carson snorts a laugh. Tricia and I manage to keep ours under wraps.

  Maks sighs. “What this time?”

  “It’s ‘buts,’” Carson says with a sympathetic look.

  “Butts, asses,” Maks grouses. “What is the difference?”

  I give him a reassuring smile. “It’s perfectly fine, Maks,” I say. “So you’re ready to walk away with sixty million bucks?”

  “It is more than enough for us,” he says. “Even now that I have no trust fund.”

  Maks lost that money last year when the feds finally cracked down on his family. His father managed to avoid jail, but they were left virtually penniless after all the fines were paid and the illegal assets were confiscated.

  Now they all come to him for money, which I know makes him as proud as my situation makes me.

  Of course, he didn’t have to spend any of his own money for years. Carson always picked up the tab. Maybe that was a good thing – Maks never learned how to be greedy.

  “I still can’t comprehend any of it,” says Tricia. “My whole life I couldn’t afford anything, then I meet you people and suddenly I’m living this ridiculous lifestyle. It’s crazy. Like my grandpa used to say, I don’t know whether to shit or go blind.”

  “Don’t say shit,” Leo murmurs sleepily in our laps, prompting the two of us to clamp our lips between our teeth to keep from bellowing laughter.

  “Besides,” Tricia says after we calm down. “Our best friends are still obscenely rich.”

  Carson and I exchange a glance.

  “Actually,” I say, “we were wondering if we could talk to you two about that.”

  “Trish, if you don’t close your mouth soon, a bug is going to crawl in.”

  Her jaw has been hanging open for a full minute, since before I took Leo to his bed for his nap. Maksim’s mouth is closed, but his eyes look like they’re trying to bid adieu to his skull and float off into orbit.

  Carson squeezes my hand as I sit next to him.

  “Say something,” he urges them. “Even if it’s telling us to go pound sand up our asses. I mean butts.”

  “You’re not serious,” Tricia breathes. “This is a joke.”

  “No joke,” I say. “If you two are up for the trade, we’ll make it happen.”

  “But – but it’s not making sense,” says Maks. “Nobody trades $3 billion for $90 million. That is like giving someone your precious Ferrari and taking their Smart Car.”

  Carson and I look at each other.

  “Never thought of it that way,” he says with a grin.

  Tricia leans forward on the sofa and takes my hands in hers.

  “Why?” she asks. “Why give it away? And to us, of all people?”

  I squeeze her hands and smile. Sometimes I love her so much, it hurts. If God had asked me to design the perfect sister, it would have been her.

  “Simple,” I say. “Because we do want to give it away, and you two are the best people to do that for us. We want you to oversee a charitable foundation that distributes the majority of the fortune. How much you decide to give is up to you.

  “After all,” I smile, “one of us has to still be obscenely rich.”

  Carson claps Maks on the back.

  “That means the penthouse is yours,” he says. “But you still can’t smoke cigars in the study. Sorry.”

  Maks smiles absently. He looks like som
eone waiting for the alarm buzzer to go off and wake them up.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” says Tricia. “Why us? Why not someone else who would be better at it? Neither of us has even been to college.”

  I glance at Carson. It’s his money, and it was his idea. He should be the one to explain it.

  “Well,” he says. “As to why we chose you, it’s simple. It’s not because we consider you family – you already know that much. It’s because you two are the kindest people we know.”

  He looks at Maks. “I’ve never met someone like you, man. You never judge, ever. You’re kind and accepting to everyone. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. Sometimes you remind me of Leo that way.”

  I see tears shimmer in Maksim’s eyes, and next thing I know, I’m fighting my own.

  “Thank you, brat,” he breathes, using the Russian word for brother. “That is greatest compliment I ever have.”

  “And you,” I say, looking Tricia in the eyes. “You have a way of looking at things that cuts straight through the bullshit and gets right to the heart of the matter. I wouldn’t be where I am today without you.”

  Carson and I exchange a glance.

  “We wouldn’t be where we are without you,” he says. “If you can help others the way you helped us? We couldn’t ask any better use for the money.”

  The two of them look at each other and link their hands. Tears are flowing freely everywhere now.

  Tricia wipes at her eyes with the heels of her palms.

  “Good thing you got this out of the way tonight, bitch,” she rasps. “It’d be just like you to ruin my make-up on my wedding day.”

  Carson and I simultaneously position ourselves on either side of them on the sofa, wrapping our arms around their shoulders. We were prepared for this.

  “So,” I say. “Is that a yes?”

  They look at each other and back at us.

  “Yes,” says Maksim. “I mean yes, it is yes.”

  “And you know I’ll be calling you every five minutes asking you what to do,” Tricia snuffles.

  I smile. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “But wait,” she says, finally rummaging a tissue out of her purse. “What are you guys going to do? With the $90 million, I mean?”

  She looks at Carson. “You’re already retired, you lazy ass. What are you going to do, just downsize?”

  We exchange another glance.

  “Well,” I say. “Therein lies a tale.”

  “Your mouth is hanging open again,” I tell Tricia. “It’s getting a little old.”

  “You’re the one who keeps kicking my feet out from under me,” she breathes. “Are you serious?”

  “Very,” says Carson.

  “But why?” Maks asks, clearly baffled.

  “I was blessed for a long time,” says Carson. “And when I found Cassie, I finally understood what the term ‘embarrassment of riches’ meant.”

  Maks opens his mouth and Tricia holds up a hand.

  “It means he has more than he deserves. Go on.”

  “I realized when we got together that I had wasted a good portion of my time, abilities and fortune,” says Carson. “I don’t know if I believe in a god, but I do know that if there is one, he really put me at the front of the line.”

  He looks at me.

  “And when I learned more about Cassie’s life, I realized what a selfish shit I’d been. There are so many people in the world with real problems.”

  “That’s where the idea to give away his fortune came from,” I say.

  Tricia nods. “Okay, I get that. But what about this other crazy scheme?”

  Carson smiles and shakes his head.

  “Maybe it is crazy,” he says. “But we have to try. There are a lot of women – and girls – in this world who are being bought and sold as possessions. That’s wrong. And I, of all people, have a lot to atone for in that department.”

  I take his hand. We’ve had a lot of long talks about this. We’re both ashamed of ever getting involved in the Chase – each for different reasons, of course, but both for lowering ourselves. Me for money and Carson for thrills.

  But what we saw that day in Brighton Beach, with Bogdan and Anna… no one should ever have to deal with people like that. But thousands of women and girls around the world have to, every single day of the year.

  “We’ve got a unique combination of resources,” I say. “We have an obligation to use them to help those who can’t help themselves.”

  “It’s a tall order,” says Maksim.

  The rest of us gape at him.

  “Maks!” Tricia cries. “You got it right!”

  He beams at us like a kid who brings home an A+ test to his parents.

  “You’re right, buddy,” says Carson. “But we have to start somewhere.”

  Tricia’s tears are flowing freely again now, and I’m barely keeping mine in check. This might just be the most emotional moment of my life outside of Leo’s birth.

  “You guys are my heroes,” she sobs.

  That’s it; the dam’s breaking again.

  “What do you mean?” I say. “You saved both our lives that day! And Maks risked his life to try to save mine!”

  Jesus, now we’re all blubbering. We sit there like that for a while, laughing, crying, hugging.

  Finally, we get ourselves under control, outside of the occasional snuffle.

  “All right,” she says. “Now that the fucking love-in is over, let’s eat.”

  We lose it all over again, and laugh so long and hard that we wake Leo from his nap, and he starts to wail from his bedroom at the noise.

  The sun has begun to go down in a ball of fire by the time they come around to collect the dishes from the banquet. Leo is squirming in my lap at the head table; he’s normally an easy kid to keep entertained, but a wedding where he’s surrounded by Russian women constantly pinching his cheeks has pushed his patience to its limit.

  I sneak into my purse and pull out a small Rubik’s cube, which he snags greedily and takes with him under the tablecloth. It should keep him occupied for an hour at least – or until he solves it, whichever comes first.

  Out in the courtyard across from us, the string quartet is warming up for the dance to follow. I get the feeling Maksim’s family will enjoy it, but Tricia’s will be calling for a DJ within an hour.

  Carson reaches over and takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. His kiss is warm and familiar and still sends a tingle through me after all these years.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” I say.

  He frowns. “I don’t think we can afford that anymore.”

  I slap his arm with my free hand and roll my eyes.

  “Are you ready for all this?” he asks softly. “It’s not going to be easy.”

  “Neither of us has ever done anything the easy way, my love.”

  He sighs. “I suppose you’re right. The curse of being blessed with an embarrassment of riches.”

  I squeeze his hand in mine, feeling the warmth there, the familiarity. I imagine I can feel the beat of his heart in time with mine.

  “Hey,” I say. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I’m still so happy it was you.”

  Tricia comes trotting over, radiant in her dress and rimmed with the blazing colors of the sunset against the rich green of the courtyard behind her. She yanks up the tablecloth, startling a shriek out of Leo. She picks him up and hauls him off, giggling with him like a loon, onto the dance floor, where she does her best to keep him moving to the delicate strains of the chamber music.

  Carson leans in and kisses my cheek.

  “I’m still so happy it was us,” he says. “All of us.”

  We sit there in silence a long time, drinking in the beauty and reveling in the utter contentment of this perfect moment.

  Part III

  His Sword

  Here comes the bride?

  Yeah, right.

  I might be a Princ
e, but I’m not the Royal Wedding type.

  Not until some grad student finds a centuries-old Treaty.

  Now I’ve got two weeks to find a virgin wife!

  The clock is ticking. I’m about to lose my fortune, my titles, my kingdom, my everything.

  And I don’t even care.

  There’s only one thing on my mind: Amanda Sparks.

  Sweet, innocent, pure.

  And the girl I’m about to make my wife.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  Her father’s business is about to go bankrupt, but I can save it.

  $25 million dollars, tax free.

  All I ask for is a year.

  And a night to be her first…

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five

  1. DANTE

  “You realize it’s technically within my rights as monarch to have your head chopped off for fucking with me like this?”

  Carlo looks at me gravely with those basset-hound eyes, and my stomach drops to the floor. He can’t be serious. He has to be joking. Granted, he’s never done it before, but there’s a first time for everything.

  Jesus Christ, he has got to be fucking with me.

  “Your Highness,” he says. “In the twenty-nine years you’ve known me, have I ever – ahem – fucked with you?”

  It’s just the two of us in my office, a spectacularly cavernous space in a castle on an island in Lake Orta in Northern Italy. It’s straight out of Game of Thrones. Just like my life.

  And with the news he’s just brought, I feel even more isolated from the rest of humanity than I usually do. The least he can do is talk to me like I’m a normal human being.

  “For the millionth time, Carlo, you can call me Dante when we’re alone.”

  He flashes me a strained grin that highlights the deep creases in his aging face. Carlo Ferrare has been my chief counsel and lawyer since my sister died ten years ago, and he served my parents for twenty years before that. He’s as smart and as loyal as they come.

  “And for the millionth time, no,” he says. “My family has served yours for five generations. I’m not about to be the one who gets familiar with my royal charges.”