by Holly Hart
Of course, if I’d met with Amanda in person, the memory would be etched in my mind…
Her eyes continue to avoid mine, though. I’ve really spooked her. Dammit, sometimes I forget how intimidating it can be when people meet me. Especially Americans, for some reason. I guess because they’re unfamiliar with the idea of royalty. If they only knew how lucky they are.
“It’s an amazing opportunity,” Amanda says quietly. “I’m very grateful that Maria has so much confidence in me.”
“It’s well deserved, I’m sure.”
“Very much so,” says Maria. “And I’ll take that as your agreement that Ms. Sparks has the final say on the project. So much easier than going back and forth on every detail with you, wouldn’t you say?”
“Absolutely.”
The last thing I want is to be mired in the details of my birthday party. Especially since it’s about to turn into a royal wedding. I hope. If it doesn’t, I might as well kiss this castle good-bye.
Would that really be so bad?
“Can we assume you’re over your, ah, difficulties in there?” Emilio asks from the corner of the room. I didn’t even see him until now.
Now it’s my turn to go red. That outburst was beneath my dignity.
Actually, now that I think about it, screw that. If I hadn’t screamed the way I did, I might have dropped dead from sheer frustration. I mean, come on! What normal person has ever had to deal with shit like that in their life? Marry a virgin – publicly – or lose everything. Oh, and by the way, you have two weeks to take care of this.
Aaand I’m back in my black mood again. But, consummate actor that I am, I don’t let it show on my face.
“I’m absolutely mortified by my behavior,” I lie.
“I’ve apologized to Carlo.” Another lie.
“And I hope you will forgive me as well.” The truth. As far as Amanda is concerned, anyway. Maria and Emilio can suck it up – they live off my money.
Amanda smiles, and it’s like someone lit a lamp in a dark room.
“Nothing to forgive,” she says. “I’ve heard a lot worse from my dad at branding time.”
I look at her curiously, as do Maria and Emilio. Amanda returns our looks with a nervous one of her own.
“We, uh, own a cattle ranch,” she says, obviously self-conscious. “In Montana. We have to brand the cattle. With a branding iron.”
She pantomimes holding something in her hand and shoving it forwards.
“You know,” she says. “Pssssshhhh.”
She’s utterly adorable, but unfortunately, I’ve got other things on my mind.
“That sounds like something I’d like to see someday,” I say. “Now, I’m afraid my cousin and I have an urgent matter to attend to, so if you ladies will excuse us, we’ll leave you to your business.”
I turn to Maria, who’s giving me a look that says we’re going to talk about all this later. That’s fine with me – I need to talk with her. But not right now.
“Please give the children my best,” I say.
I’m sure that sounds cold to Amanda, but Maria knows it’s my code. I’m telling her to tuck in Oriana and Vito for me, kiss them goodnight and go through our nightly ritual with them. I try not to spend more nights away from them than I absolutely have to, but sometimes I just don’t have a choice. Like now.
“Of course,” Maria nods, but then halts me with a raised palm. “One thing before you go. You’re giving Ms. Sparks full authority over the celebration, yes?”
“Of course.”
“All right, then, on your way.”
I chew my tongue. If it was just the two of us, and if I didn’t love her like family, I’d be giving Maria a piece of my mind over that. As it is, we have to maintain our dignity. Plus, I don’t really give a fuck about the party and I really do want to get out of here.
Amanda looks unsure of what to do, so I reach for her hand again. This time she forgets all about her blouse and gives me another much-appreciated glance at her breasts.
“A great pleasure, Ms. Sparks,” I say, kissing her hand. “I hope to see you again very soon.”
She blushes and – I’m not kidding – curtsies. Her pale eyes are practically glowing.
“Thank you, Your Highness. The pleasure was all mine.”
I smile one more time and stride for the door, grabbing Emilio by the arm as I do. He turns and bids the women a quick goodbye as we disappear into the hallway beyond,
“What’s so urgent?” he asks as he double-times to keep up with me. “And what was that outburst all about?”
“We’re going to Monte Carlo,” I growl. “I’ll tell you the rest on the plane.”
Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight
4. AMANDA
“I really appreciate your confidence in me,” I say.
Maria smiles as she places a glass of Orvieto on the glass table beside my exquisite wingback chair.
“It’s well placed,” she says, taking a similar chair opposite me. She crosses her dancer’s legs at the knee, exactly where the hem of her Versace skirt falls.
We’re in her apartment in the staff wing of the palace. It’s at least two thousand square feet, with twenty-foot ceilings and latticed windows that overlook Lake Orta and the splendor of Morova’s shoreline. If this were a VRBO, it would rent for a thousand dollars a night, easy.
“Do you mind if I make an observation?” she asks.
Uh-oh.
“Not at all,” I say, managing to smile somehow. I can’t imagine what she might have to say about me, especially after what happened earlier.
“You have a tendency to undersell yourself,” she says. “You shouldn’t.”
Okay, that’s not what I expected at all.
“Thank you,” I say, toasting her.
She returns the toast as I take a deep breath.
“And now can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” she says, sipping her wine. She makes even the simplest movement look effortlessly elegant.
Here I go. Time to pull off the Band-aid.
“Did I make a complete and total ass of myself with the prince?”
Okay, there it is, I’m admitting it. I acted like a fool. I came face to face with the hottest man in the universe, and I blew it. But God, how was I supposed to help myself? He’s literally the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Photos don’t do him justice. Those grey eyes were like magnets that were pulling my soul right out of my body.
He moved like an animal on the prowl. And those perfect royal manners… it was like my childhood fantasy walked through the door and ran right into me. Literally.
So what did I do? I showed off my wet tits at him and acted like a hick.
Maria smiles and shakes her head. “Not at all, Amanda. In fact, Dante and I both owe you an apology. Him for startling you with his outburst, and me for soaking you to the skin with my effort to save your blouse. I should have found you something to wear over it instead.”
“Well, sure, I wish I hadn’t accidentally flashed two Morovan princes,” I say sheepishly. “But I mean with the way I acted. Did I seem like as much of a hayseed to you as I did to myself?”
“I’m not familiar with the term ‘hayseed.’”
“Unsophisticated, I mean.”
My mind flashes back to miming how to brand cattle and I cringe inwardly. It clunked like a skit in the last half-hour of a Saturday Night Live episode.
Maria gives me an appraising look. I can’t help but feel like I’m always under a microscope here in Morova. I know it’s all in my head, but it’s a real feeling nonetheless. It’s about as far from Montana as you can be and still be on the same planet.
“Further to my previous point,” she says. “Don’t undersell yourself, Amanda. Sophistication isn’t some sort of achievement, at least in most cases. It’s the byproduct of a certain lifestyle. Just because you grew up around cattle instead of in a royal court doesn’t make you less of a person. It just makes you di
fferent from the people with whom you currently find yourself. That can be daunting for anyone.
“For example, picture me standing in a field on your family ranch. How do you think that would turn out?”
I do picture it, and it’s a pretty funny image.
“Well,” I say with a grin. “You’d definitely have to change your shoes.”
A wide smile blooms across her face and she sweeps a hand in my direction.
“My point exactly,” she chuckles. “Believe me, Amanda, if I was put in the situation where I had to brand a calf, I’m sure I’d be reduced to a blubbering mess. I doubt I’d even be able to walk into the pen without breaking down.”
I laugh out loud.
“Somehow I think you’d make out okay,” I say. “You’d probably charm the cow into branding itself. But I get your point: your circumstances don’t define your character.”
“Especially when it comes to wealth and privilege,” she says with a stern look. “Some of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever met are chauffeured around in Bentleys and have never prepared a meal in their lives. I would take your company over theirs any day.”
“The kind of people who think food comes from the kitchen instead of a farm?”
“Darling, they don’t even know what a kitchen is, let alone where it is. They think their food magically appears under the silver cloche on their plate when it’s set in front of them.”
We giggle together for a few moments and finish our wine. Thank God for Maria. If not for her, I would have just ran to the airport the minute the princes left the room earlier and bought a ticket on the next flight back to the States. Assuming it didn’t push my credit card over the limit.
“I can’t thank you enough for all your help,” I say. “And I don’t just mean giving me the job of planning the prince’s celebration. You’ve done so much to make me feel welcome, and like I actually belong here.”
“You do belong here. You know as much or more about royal protocol as any of the palace staff, myself included. The plain and simple fact, Amanda, is that we need you.”
Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words from anyone other than my dad in my entire life. It feels really good.
“As you know, the 30th birthday of a male Morovan heir is an important milestone,” she continues. “It signals the time when they become an active member of the principality’s government, as opposed to just a wealthy figurehead who controls the banking interests. And given Dante’s unique circumstances, this birthday will be one of the most important in our history.”
Unique circumstances is an understatement. Dante’s parents were famously killed in a plane crash when he was only ten. His older sister, Princess Adriana, took over the royal duties as regent until Dante came of age at 21. But she and her husband, Albert, died in an avalanche in Switzerland the year before that. Not only did it leave the prince without family guidance, it also made him the guardian of Adriana and Albert’s twins, who were just a year old at the time.
It was also a year of turmoil for the government, because technically, the prince was too young to assume the throne. Dante’s aunt Isabella – Emilio’s mother – offered to fill in as regent until he came of age.
I can sort of empathize with him – my mom died when I was young, too. But geez, his life has been like Game of Thrones. It’s enough to make me tear up just thinking about it, especially now that I’ve met him in person.
I clear my throat and manage to swallow my emotions as Maria continues with her thought.
“That’s why I could kill him for fooling around so long and forcing me to rush the process,” she says with a scowl. “Thank God fate put you in my path when it did, Amanda. I can’t imagine doing this on my own.”
She’s right. We need to focus on the task at hand here, not the tragic prince. The tall, chiseled tragic prince with the black curls and the smoky eyes, who seemed to appreciate my wet breasts when he saw them…
What was I saying about focus? Oh yeah, the task at hand.
“Everyone on staff has been very accommodating so far,” I say. “They’ve helped me find what I need, put people in place. And I have to say, having an unlimited budget really helps things go smoothly.”
Maria smiles. “I thought you’d enjoy that part of it. And now that we have Dante’s sign-off, I want you to go ahead and implement everything. Don’t second guess yourself, just do what you need to do.”
I return her smile and nod.
“All right,” I say. “I’ve got my orders. My main priority right now is to get the family sword from Signore Ferrare. Apparently he’s had it since my friend Peter went to talk with him about whatever it was that got him so excited.”
“You really should ask him about it when you see him,” says Maria. “I’m curious to know myself what the big secret is.”
She leans forward in her chair and lowers her voice.
“Speaking of Peter and secrets,” she says with a lecherous grin. “Is there anything going on between you two? You were working very close to him in that small vault, and he’s quite handsome.”
Me and Peter? Uh, no. Should I tell her he’s gay? It’s not like he keeps it a secret or anything. But then again, it’s not my place to talk about someone else’s business. That was one of the lessons Dad drilled into me at a young age.
Besides, even if Peter wasn’t gay, I doubt he’d go for me.
“There’s nothing going on between me and anyone,” I sigh.
“Oh, I find that difficult to believe. A beautiful girl like you must have suitors around every corner.”
Beautiful? Me?
“That’s very kind of you,” I say quietly. “But bookworms usually aren’t on a guy’s list of turn-ons. I dated in high school, sure, but I haven’t seen anyone socially since I started university.”
Maria arches a delicately curved eyebrow.
“You’ve got your master’s degree,” she says. “You mean you haven’t been with a man for over six years?”
“I haven’t been with a man ever,” I hear someone mutter.
Wait, was that me?
Jesus, did I just tell my biggest secret to the most sophisticated person I’ve ever met? I never even told that to my friends in school! Now I’m outing myself to this wonderful woman who I’m trying so hard to impress!
Maria must see the color in my cheeks because she reaches out and puts a hand on top of mine.
“I honestly don’t know why I never have,” I blurt.
Why did I say that? Why didn’t I just let it go? God, why am I oversharing so much?
“I guess I’ve been too busy. And I try to be a good Catholic, you know. And my dad, he… well, he’s kind of intimidating, he’s really big and he’s a cowboy and he’s got this collection of shotguns…”
I’m rambling now, careening towards the edge of a cliff. Thank God Maria senses it and pulls me back from the brink.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she soothes. “You haven’t found the right man. I understand. In fact, I think it’s admirable.”
Every time she opens her mouth, she makes me feel better. If I could custom order an older sister, it would be her. I smile wanly and squeeze her hand.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I can’t shut myself up when I get nervous.”
She smiles. “I’ve noticed. But there’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m so glad we met that day. I honestly don’t want to think about where I’d be if we hadn’t. Still holed up in that vault, reading dusty old parchments, probably. Living in an old convent room and eating wedding soup for supper every night.”
At that moment, as if to save me from the situation, the door to her suite swings open, and Maria’s face lights up as two children in school uniforms charge into the room.
“Ciao, piccoli terrori,” she says as Oriana and Vito throw themselves down on the 19th century Chesterfield sofa. Hello, you little terrors.
Oriana pulls out an iPhone and starts thumbing key
s like mad. Vito throws his raven-haired head back and huffs at the ceiling.
“Quel teste era brutale – ” he begins before Maria cuts him off.
“English,” she says, pointing politely in my direction. “We have a guest.”
They both stop what they’re doing and stand. It’s so quick it’s like they’re being controlled remotely.
“Children, this is Ms. Amanda Sparks from America. She’s planning your uncle’s celebration.”
“A pleasure,” they say in unison. Vito takes my hand and pumps it twice, followed by Oriana. I can tell their response is automatic, the result of years of training.
“The pleasure is mine, Your Highnesses,” I reply, rising from my chair.
They’re both stunningly beautiful, with black hair and grey eyes, just like their uncle. It’s a Trentini family trait that goes back generations.
“I’m very sorry to hear your test was brutal,” I say primly. “However, I’m sure you both rose to the challenge.”
Vito seems surprised that I speak Italian. No doubt he’s now wondering why he has to speak English if that’s the case. But, being a prince, he says nothing, just smiles.
“I think we passed,” he says, turning to Oriana. “At least I did. I don’t know about my sister.”
She glares at him. “I was the one you were copying off of, remember?”
He sticks out his tongue at her. So does the same to him.
I wish I had a brother or sister.
“All right, you two,” says Maria. “Go change and Cook will make you a snack.”
“Will Uncle be at dinner?” Oriana asks, eyes hopeful.
“I’m sorry, bella. He has royal business to attend to.”
The girl sighs. Poor kid. From what I’ve read, the prince is a bit of an absentee parent. You always see him in the headlines, but you never see these two. It’s almost as if the media has forgotten they exist.
“All right,” she says, turning to me. “I hope we’ll see you again, Ms. Sparks.”
“I look forward to it, ma’am,” I say. “And please call me Amanda.”
Vito takes my hand again. “Good day to you, Amanda,” he says with a polite nod.
