by Holly Hart
Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Four
49. AMANDA
“Ricci’s grin is so smug I just want to slap it right off his face,” I say as the show begins.
Maria, Carlo, Isabella and I are in Maria’s office to watch the broadcast. It didn’t take much to convince the show’s producers to run a live interview with Dante this morning. Now I have every finger and toe crossed that he can resolve this mess.
Somehow, though, I doubt it.
“Renaldo coached Dante about how to approach the interview,” Maria says from her desk. “He’s the best in the business. I’m sure Dante is ready for Ricci.”
I’m still in turmoil over this whole thing. The twins took the news fairly well, all things considered. I guess they’re used to seeing their uncle’s face in the headlines and having less-than-flattering things said about him.
We put up a good front for them, acting like nothing had changed between us. Nothing could be further from the truth, but I won’t let them see that.
“Dante has the moral high ground,” says Isabella, sipping her cappuccino. “I’m sure he has nothing to worry about. Assuming he’s telling us the truth, of course.”
Sometimes I wish she would get a permanent case of laryngitis. But she’s not wrong. I wish with everything in me that I could trust Dante. And for the sake of the kids, I have to at least act like I do. I have to do everything in my power to keep them from being hurt by any of this.
But deep down – I just don’t know.
The show comes back from the morning news anchor and the camera lands on Ricci.
“Welcome back,” he says through the screen. “Our guest this morning needs no introduction, of course. Prince Dante Trentini has been the monarch of our great nation for the past nine years, ever since taking the mantle at the age of twenty-one, following the deaths of both his parents and his sister, Princess Adriana, and her husband Albert, Duke of Stresa. He is also the guardian of Adriana and Albert’s twin children.”
He turns to face Dante. “Your Highness,” he says. “Good morning.”
Dante nods. “Lorenzo.”
“He looks angry,” I say, alarmed. “Should he be doing that?”
“It’s Renaldo’s idea,” says Carlo. “He said the prince shouldn’t try to put on an act this time. His genuine anger and outrage should be on display in order to get the Morovan people on his side. It’s risky, in my opinion, but it’s the path the prince has chosen.”
Ricci continues the interview.
“You’ve asked to be here to tell your side of the story,” he says. “And in the interests of journalistic fairness, here you are.”
“It’s interesting that you use the word ‘fairness,’” Dante says. His voice is ice. I’ve never seen him like this before.
“Why do you say that, sir?”
“No one on your staff bothered to get in touch with the palace to discuss these allegations before you went live with them yesterday.”
“You’re saying you would have denied your involvement with the woman in the photos during your bachelor party?” he asks. It’s more a statement than a question.
Dante’s lips curls.
“I would have told you the truth: I have no memory of anyone taking those photos, which means someone slipped a drug into my drink that night and set up the photos to blackmail me.”
Ricci looks at the camera, eyebrows raised. Smug little shit…
“You don’t think that’s a bit much for the Morovan people to believe?”
“I think it’s the truth, and I trust the people to believe the truth. And I can’t help but wonder why you haven’t named the person who gave you those photos.”
“A good reporter doesn’t name his sources,” Ricci says, tapping the legal pad in his lap with his pen. “Let’s talk more about the truth, since you bring it up. You want the public to believe that you and Amanda Sparks – an American commoner – met, fell in love and absolutely couldn’t wait to get married. All in the space of two weeks.”
What did Maria call this guy? Bastardo? I like that word. It suits him to a T.
“Again, I trust the people to believe the truth,” Dante says.
“And it’s not a ploy to fool the people into believing that you’ve changed your ways? An attempt, perhaps, to quell the many rumors that swirl around you? The ones that form the basis for Chancellor Huber’s campaign to call for a referendum on the monarchy?”
“Those rumors are exactly that: rumors. Amanda and I are in love, and we’re very happy. Or we were until this nonsense hit the airwaves yesterday.”
“And your marriage was totally spontaneous?”
Uh-oh. My stomach drops. Tread carefully, Dante.
“It was… unexpected, yes. I never thought I could fall in love with anyone, let alone someone I just met. But fate had other plans for me. I can’t help but believe there was divine intervention of some sort.”
Ricci’s fingers are tented under his chin in thought.
“Divine intervention,” he says. “Tell me, Your Highness: does this divine intervention extend to other members of the family? Say, to your new father-in-law?”
Oh, shit. No. Please, no.
Dante’s eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about a money transfer in the sum of more than two million euros to the bank account of Isaac Sparks, Amanda’s father, the morning of the wedding.”
“Why, you little cocksucker,” Carlo mutters.
We all stop and gape at him, shocked.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbles. “I’m angry.”
“It was a gift,” Dante says hesitantly. “From my personal fortune.”
“And you just gave it to him out of the goodness of your heart?”
Dante leans forward in his chair and levels a finger at Ricci’s nose.
“I have every right to give my money to whomever I choose, for whatever reason I choose,” he says in a warning tone. “That money is to help my father-in-law with expenses and to enable him to live a lifestyle that more closely aligns with his daughter’s new life in Morova.”
“What is this about a payout?” Isabella asks. “That sounds awfully suspicious to me. No wonder they’re looking into him.”
“Your Highness, was Mr. Sparks in attendance at your bachelor party, the night these photos were taken?” Ricci asks.
“Renaldo, you dumb ass,” Maria breathes. “It’s starting to turn into a trial. This was a bad idea…”
“Yes,” Dante says. “Why?”
“According to my sources, you arranged to give him a cash payout – ten, in fact, over ten years, totaling more than twenty million euros – during that party.”
Dante is silent for several moments. “Yes,” he says finally.
“And it didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Sparks perhaps witnessing something he shouldn’t have during that party? A tryst with the woman in the photos, maybe?”
I put my face in my hands. This is a nightmare.
“That can’t possibly be good,” says Isabella.
Dante’s eyes are flashing with anger now.
“Listen to me, Lorenzo,” he says. “Ike Sparks has more integrity in his little finger than you do in your entire body. To suggest that he would accept money to stay quiet while his soon-to-be son-in-law cheats on his daughter is despicable.”
Ricci sits back in his chair with a smug grin.
“I’m just saying it’s very convenient, in light of these photographs.”
“And I’m saying that I’ve had enough of you drawing conclusions about my personal life based on scandalous rumors.”
“I just want answers for your subjects,” Ricci shrugs.
“No, you don’t,” Dante seethes. “You want ratings for your show. But I’ll give you the answer you’ve been looking for right now.”
Don’t do it, Dante. Please don’t do it.
He does it: he flips his middle finger to the host, yanks off his microphone and storms off
the stage.
Ricci’s grin gets even wider. Meanwhile, gasps from the stage crew can be heard in the background.
“There you have it, Morova,” Ricci says to the camera. “Is this the man we want at the helm of our monarchy? The man we want in charge of the Trentini billions?”
He leans closer, as if confiding a secret to his viewers.
“I think we all know the answer to that, don’t you?”
Maria clicks off the television and pitches the remote into a corner, where it smashes against the stone wall.
Isabella glowers at us.
“I must say, this all looks very bad,” she says. “I don’t know what Dante is trying to hide, but acting like that was certainly not the way to deal with it. I wish he’d listened to Emilio more when he was growing up, I really do.”
None of us knows what to say. When Dante and I talked yesterday, I honestly didn’t know how things could get any worse. And yet here we are, exponentially farther into shit creek than we were twenty-four hours ago.
“This could be the fodder Chancellor Huber has been looking for to trigger a referendum.” Carlo says. “It’s hard to see the public reacting well to that display. Justified or not, the prince came off as irresponsible at best, and irrational at worst.”
Isabella gets up and straightens her outfit before heading to the door.
“I just hope you all can help Dante deal with this,” she says. “Before the rest of us pay the consequences for his actions.”
As she disappears into the hallway, Carlo turns to Maria and me.
“As much as I hate to agree with the duchess, I’m afraid I must. We have to prepare for the very real possibility of a referendum. If that happens, this entire plan may have been for nothing.”
Right now, I can’t even bring myself to think about that part of it. Right now, I’m trying to figure out why Dante seemed so defensive on the show. Could any of it be true? Could he be trying to hide something? He never did give me a proper answer about upping my father’s payment.
No. I can’t believe Dad would be involved in something like that. But does that mean something else is going on?
Carlo excuses himself to return to his office, leaving me alone with Maria.
“I need you to be completely honest with me,” I say to her.
“Of course.”
“Do you think Dante is telling the truth? That it’s all a frame-up to trigger the referendum?”
“It’s the only logical explanation,” she says.
“No,” I point out. “It’s not the only explanation. There’s one more.”
She looks down at the floor. “That he’s lying.”
“Yes,” I say.
“I don’t believe he is. After all these years, I believe I know his character. He’s not capable of hurting someone like that.”
“But you can’t prove it.”
“No, I can’t,” she says. “But I choose to believe him. The question is: do you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t known him as long as you have.”
“But you do know him,” she says. “You know his heart. I think all he’s asking from you right now is for some faith.”
She’s right.
But I just don’t know if I have any to give.
Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Five
50. DANTE
“All right, you have to be fucking with me,” I say. At least I don’t yell it this time. “There’s no other explanation.”
“If only that were the case, sir,” Carlo says. “It would make more sense.”
“I don’t understand how this could happen,” Amanda says. “How can they possibly have a referendum in three weeks?”
“It’s actually fairly easy,” says Maria. “Since the population is so small and centrally located – Morova is essentially just a city, after all – it’s easy to have everyone come out to vote. Our elections are incredibly smooth.”
“I thought they would argue about the question for months,” I say. “They’re proposing a historic, fundamental change in the country’s government.”
“That’s just it, sir,” says Carlo. “It’s not that significant a change.”
“Dismantling the monarchy and stealing my fortune isn’t a significant change?”
“They will be asking the people to leave the monarchy in place,” he says. “I’ve had a chance to look at the question they’ve agreed upon.”
Amanda and I look at each other.
“That doesn’t make sense,” she says. “What’s the point of the referendum if not to abolish the monarchy?”
“The question is not about whether to have a monarch,” Carlo says. “But rather who that monarch should be.”
Wait a minute. I think I’m starting to see where this is going. And if I’m right, I may be sick to my stomach.
“They’re trying to replace me with someone else,” I say. “Someone they can control.”
Carlo nods. “So it would seem, sir.”
“But who would that be?” Amanda asks.
Maria’s eyes widen. “You’re not talking about…”
“Of course he is,” says a familiar voice from the doorway. “Emilio’s name will be the one on the referendum.”
We turn to see Isabella standing there, hands on her hips.
“I’ve had a discussion with the chancellor,” she says. “Neither of us wants to see the monarchy fall as a result of your mistakes, Dante. So he suggested that the people be allowed to choose their leader based on merit – so much more civilized than having to put up with someone who simply inherited the title.”
She’s had a discussion with Huber? She’s making suggestions about how to word a referendum designed to take my title and my family fortune away from me?
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I roar. “The monarchy is mine by right, Isabella. Not Emilio’s. Certainly not yours. I haven’t even seen Emilio in over a week!”
“He left to distance himself from your scandal,” she says with a cold glare. “He told me about the virgin decree, Dante. I know your marriage is nothing more than an arrangement so you can hold onto power.”
That bastard. I thought I could trust Emilio! He’s been like a brother to me!
“Although I really should have figured it out myself,” Isabella says. “Falling overnight for an American farm girl. I mean, really. The signs were all there. She was obviously the first virgin you could find.”
Amanda looks totally flummoxed. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“You’re insane,” I say. “There’s no such thing as a virgin decree. And leave Amanda out of this. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Isabella shakes her head. “The Americans do have one wise saying, Dante: don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Now that I know about the virgin decree, I realize It’s the reason your father married my sister. It explains so much about their relationship.”
So my parents did know about the decree. But – that means they were an arranged marriage? I never knew. God, does any royal ever marry for love?
“It’s all just so sordid,” she says. “And ridiculous. It’s time the people of this principality took control over their destiny, instead of leaving it to the whims of spoiled people who don’t understand the burden of power.”
I open my mouth to speak, but this time it’s Amanda who cuts me off.
“About time they took control of the Trentini money, you mean. That’s what this is about – it has nothing to do with what Dante has or hasn’t done.”
“Darling, please don’t talk,” Isabella sighs. “We don’t need to hear the opinions of some ignorant American. This is Morovan business.”
That’s it. No more of this.
“You will not speak to the princess that way,” I growl. “And I want you out of the palace in twenty minutes, or I’ll have Marco and his staff arrest you for trespassing.”
Her eyes flash with cold fury.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses.<
br />
I lean forward and grin. “Try me, bitch.”
That’s enough to send her storming out of the room.
The adrenaline ebbs out of me now that the confrontation is over, but the anger remains.
“I can’t believe she’s done this,” I say. “It’s an outrage.”
“Yes,” says Carlo, who, along with Maria, has remained silent. “But it’s also a brilliant play. It takes full advantage of the Morovan people’s reluctance to abolish the monarchy, while allowing her to gain a foothold on power.”
Amanda folds her arms over her chest, frowning. “Not that long ago, they would have called this a coup. And Isabella’s head would have been in a guillotine.”
“Unfortunately,” Maria says, “we don’t have that option. The referendum is going to happen. All we can do is pray that the people believe in Dante enough to keep him. If not, we’re all going to have a lot of change to deal with. Carlo and I will be looking for jobs –”
“And Dante and I will be looking for new lives,” Amanda finishes.
We all stand silent for several moments as it sinks in. This could be a turning point in all our lives. What if they vote against me? What would it mean for me? For Amanda?
For the children?
Carlo says: “On the bright side, we have three weeks to try and win the popular vote. All is not lost.”
“Right,” says Maria. “You can count on us to pull out every trick we know, call in every favor to make this work.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I know that if there’s anyone who can pull it off, it’s you two. Don’t let it go to your heads, but you’re the smartest people I know.”
They say their goodbyes and head back to their respective offices.
“I guess I should go, too,” Amanda says.
“Wait, please,” I say, taking her hand. “Can we talk first?”
“What’s left to talk about?” she asks. “Seems like things are pretty much out of our hands now. Our future is in the hands of the voters.”
“No,” I say. “The future of the monarchy is in the hands of the voters. Our fate is entirely up to us.”
