by Tara Wylde
“And your son takes the throne,” he finishes.
“It’s a necessary sacrifice,” she grins.
“I’m sure. Let’s say I agreed to this – what insurance are you offering that the referendum will pass?”
Isabella retrieves her bag from the floor, withdraws a manila envelope and lays it on the chancellor’s desk.
“That’s the unpleasant part,” she says. “But you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.”
Huber opens the flap and slides out a series of photos. His beady eyes widen as he examines them closely for a full thirty seconds.
“When were these taken?” he asks. “How do I know it’s not just something from his past?”
“I have the original digital files,” she says. “The time and date can be verified. They were taken four days before the wedding, at Dante’s bachelor party.”
He sits in thought for several moments.
“This will be explosive if it’s true,” he says. “How did you get them?”
“Unfortunately, Emilio was with Dante that night and saw everything,” she says. “Which is why I’ve come to you. Betraying his cousin will break his heart, but he realizes that Dante simply isn’t fit for the role of monarch.”
Huber leans back and contemplates some more.
“Where do we go from here?” he asks. “I agree with you completely, but I can’t be tied to a scandal.”
“Leave that to me,” Isabella says. “Just be prepared to move when the time is right.”
Chapter 88
43. AMANDA
I think Dante got the better part of the in-law deal. He got my dad.
I got Isabella.
“How’s your fish, darling?” she asks, pointing her fork at my plate.
“It’s amazing,” I say. “Chef Carina is a genius.”
“Mm,” she grunts. “Mine is dry. I told Maria not to hire her, but she doesn’t listen to me.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just smile and nod. I wish Dante were here.
We’re on the main terrace that overlooks the lagoon and the beach. It’s a beautiful piece of architecture, but to be honest, I’d much rather be down at the lake with the children.
“Have you and Dante given any thought to children?” she asks
A moment of panic stabs through me – can she read my mind?
“I think we’re just going to focus on the twins for now,” I say. “It’s important that we have a solid relationship with them before we think about adding to the family.”
“Well, you don’t want to wait too long,” she says. “Looks don’t last forever, believe me. Best to take care of things when you’re young.”
“I don’t understand.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile.
“Darling, I know you have grand dreams for the future. And who knows? Maybe they’ll come true. But it never hurts to have insurance.”
“Insurance?”
“Children, Amanda. It’s how women who marry into royal families ensure their status. That way, when – I mean if – they get divorced, they still have those blood ties to the monarchy.”
What is she talking about?
“That’s a bit cynical, Auntie, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps you’re right,” she says. “I’ve always been a realist. Comes from losing my husband so young, I suppose. I can only judge by what I saw with my sister and Nero.”
“But… they had a storybook romance,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, if you believe the breathless coverage by the newspapers.”
“You’re saying that wasn’t a true portrait?”
“Darling, I know you’re not that naïve. Royal marriages aren’t like commoner marriages. Even when they marry for love, as I’m sure you and Dante did, the responsibilities that come with the title can drag you down. Not to mention the constant glaring eye of the media.”
Now that I think about it, three of Queen Elizabeth’s four children ended up divorced. It’s not an encouraging statistic.
“Lia and Nero were far from a perfect couple. It wasn’t uncommon for me to pass by their quarters and hear the sound of vases being smashed against the wall.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“My dear, if the walls of this old palace could talk. I’m amazed none of the staff ever wrote a tell-all book.”
“Does Dante know about this?”
“No,” she says, looking alarmed. “And you shouldn’t tell him. Poor child was only ten when they died, he shouldn’t be burdened with the knowledge that they weren’t happy. I don’t know what kind of ideas he has about marriage – he’s never really been around a proper one.”
“What about his sister and brother-in-law?” I ask. “Adriana and Albert looked after him for almost a decade.”
“Yes, and they sacrificed their own family because of it. Adriana didn’t become pregnant with the twins until she’d been married for over ten years.”
Isabella leans in and lowers her voice. “She never told me in so many words, but I’m almost positive they were unplanned.”
I feel like I’ve been kicked by a bull. Does Dante know all this? How could he not, when he grew up around all of it?
“I’m sure that’s why poor Dante grew into his playboy lifestyle,” she says, sipping her wine. “Without a strong male role model, he simply didn’t know how to treat a woman. I think it’s a curse we’ve seen many times among royals.”
She’s right. Tabloid covers have been plastered for decades with stories of royal men who’ve cheated on their princesses.
But Dante’s not like that. His image was crafted to protect the kids. Maria told me as much.
“I think he’s more resilient than you give him credit for,” I say. “He’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman with me, and I plan to be with him for a very long time.”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m sure Diana felt the same way about Charles. But good for you, darling. I admire your optimism.”
She talks more about something, but I don’t hear it. All I can focus on is Diana’s face. That sweet smile always seemed to be masking the hurt behind her eyes.
Is that what the future has in store for me?
“This cake is dreadful,” Isabella mumbles. “I really need to speak with Maria about the kitchen.”
“I’m sorry, Auntie, will you excuse me? I’m afraid I have to run.”
“Of course, darling. What’s so urgent, if I might ask?”
“Dante and I are taking my father and the children to Rome,” I smile. “We’re going to show them the ruins. My dad’s idea of historic is something that’s a hundred years old; I can’t wait to show him what a few thousand looks like.”
Isabella smiles. “He’s a unique man, your father. I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“Funny,” I say. “Dad said the same thing about you.” But not in a good way.
“Don’t let me keep you, then,” she says. “But do think about what we’ve discussed here. I don’t want to frighten you, not at all. But I want you to go into this with your eyes open. The life you lead now is not like life on the ranch back in Missouri.”
“Montana,” I say absently.
“Yes, of course. Arrivederci, darling.”
As she walks away, my eyes wander to the enormous diamond on my ring finger. He wouldn’t have given me his mother’s ring if he weren’t serious about our marriage. Right?
Or is that just another Trentini tradition that’s been drilled into him?
I hear a ding from my purse and take out my phone to see a text from Dante: Getting ready to leave. Hope you survived lunch. RU on UR way?
Just leaving I text back.
As I drop my phone back in my purse and head back towards the palace, I can’t help wondering how many other women have the number I just texted to.
Chapter 89
44. DANTE
“So this guy I know gets a call from his feed supplier one day,”
Ike says. “They appreciate his business so much that they’re sendin’ him to one o’ them all-inclusive places in Mexico for a week.”
“Right,” I say.
“So he gets there and this place is top notch, I’m talkin’ five-star all the way. He’s there for a week, and he comes back home and he’s tellin’ us all about it. The food, the tequila, the resort, it’s all incredible. And he’s lordin’ it over us because he buys so much feed that this company sends him all the way to Mexico.”
“Sure,” I say.
“I can’t wait to get back home and tell him my son-in-law is the prince of friggin’ Morova,” he says with a grin so wide it threatens to cut his face in half. “And that I flew in a private jet to the family villa in Rome. He’ll bust.”
I chuckle and shake my head.
“I’m sure he’s heard already, Dad,” Amanda says from her spot on the larger of the living room’s sofas. “It was kind of all over the news.”
“What’s friggin’ Morova?” Vito asks. “Is that a district?”
Amanda flashes her father a sour look.
“Ike was just making up words, honey,” she says. “He thinks it’s funny.”
The villa is nestled in the hills of Rome, only a few blocks from the Coliseum. The family has owned it since the sixteenth century, but it goes back to ancient times. Legend has it the home once belonged to Brutus, of Caesar back-stabbing fame, but I think that’s just a tall tale.
Now that we’re down south and the mercury is above 100 degrees, Ike has finally replaced his blue jeans and boots with golf shorts and sandals.
We’ll make a native out of him yet,” I say to Amanda as Ike and the children head outside to the pool.
“Maybe,” she says.
She’s been giving me one- and two-word answers all afternoon. I wonder if she’s angry because we’ve brought her father and the children with us on our honeymoon.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, sitting next to her on the sofa.
“No,” she says in a voice that means anything but.
“Are you thinking we should have just come on our own?”
“What?” she asks. “No, not at all. I’m glad Dad and the kids are here.”
“So what is bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
I don’t pretend to understand women, but I do know that the word “nothing” rarely means nothing.
Then it dawns on me.
“You had lunch with Isabella. What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Amanda, I know neither of us were prepared for it, but we’re married now. We need to talk to each other.”
She sighs and looks at me. Finally.
“You’re right,” she says. “And yes, it was Isabella. She was talking about royal marriages.”
“What about them?”
“She pointed out that a lot of them can’t survive the constant scrutiny. And the weird lifestyle that royals lead.”
“Weird?” I ask. “It’s different, to be sure. But as your father pointed out, not many people can fly to Rome on a private jet.”
“You’re right,” she says. “Besides, it’s not like either of us knows where this thing is going, anyway.”
I shake my head. “Bloody Isabella,” I say. “I don’t understand why she feels the need to talk about things like that.”
“Don’t blame her,” Amanda says. “She didn’t invent the situation; she was just telling me the facts.”
“What other ‘facts’ did she tell you?”
“That your mother and father weren’t the perfect couple.”
“Who is?”
“Did you know that your mother had her virginity tested, too?”
Whoa.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s true, Dr. Sabine told me about it when she was testing me. Which, just for the record, wasn’t a hell of a lot of fun.”
“So what are you saying?”
“How do you know your parents’ marriage wasn’t arranged?” she asks. “Your dad obviously knew he needed to marry a virgin. Maybe your mom was the only one available. Just like me.”
This is starting to careen towards a cliff. I don’t want to get into a fight, but now I’m agitated.
“We don’t know that,” I say. “Besides, just because a marriage is arranged doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
“It sure seems like the odds are higher, though, wouldn’t you say? I mean, do you know of any that lasted?”
“Why are you so concerned?” I say. “You just told me neither of us knows where this is going. What difference does it make whether it lasts? You’re free in a year to get on with your life.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Why did I say that?
Amanda’s eyes fill with tears.
“Amanda, I didn’t mean…”
She turns and stalks off to the master suite. I wait a few beats. What should I do? In the past, whenever I’ve argued with a woman, I’ve just broken up with her. I rarely ever got to that stage in a relationship anyway.
But Amanda is different. I don’t care about being right with her, I only care about her being happy. I can’t just sit here and let this stew.
I knock on the door.
“Come in.”
I walk into the expansive suite. The walls are done in a historic fresco that a dozen universities have begged to study, but I’ve always said no. This villa is a private place that’s just for me.
Correction: for us.
Amanda is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I lie down beside her and take her hand.
“You were right,” I say.
“About what?”
“That neither of us knows where this is going.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I want us to work. I want us to have the happily ever after that the fairytales promise.”
As she rolls over to look at me, I see tears shimmering just behind her eyes.
“You do?” she says in a small voice.
“More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”
I clasp her hands in mine and kiss them.
“I want you to know something: ever since we ran into each other outside my office, you’re all I can think about. The moment I saw your eyes, I knew, deep down, that I was your puppet.”
Her eyes go wide. “You’re just saying that.”
I raise my hand. “Swear to God. With each passing moment I spent with you, I was hooked deeper. That time in the gardens – it was never like that with anyone else. And our wedding night was magic.”
She leans in and kisses me desperately. I grab her hair and press her even more tightly to me.
“I felt the same way,” she says when we finally part. “That’s why I acted like such a goof outside your office. I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of you.”
“Then do we agree that we both want this to work?”
“Yes,” she says. “Absolutely.”
“Good,” I say. “And as much as I want to pull off your clothes and have my way with you on this bed, your father and the children are right outside.”
We both rise and walk out of the bedroom hand in hand.
“Did you really experience all that just from looking in my eyes when we first met?” she asks, laying her head on my shoulder.
“Well,” I say. “Your wet tits had something to do with it, too.”
She giggles and punches my arm. “Good luck getting any for the rest of this trip.”
“Oh, please,” I say. “You won’t be able to make it to the end of the night, let alone the end of the trip.”
She sighs. “You’re right. I’m already thinking of a way to get Dad and the kids out of here so you can fuck me in that pool.”
“Ike! Children!” I call, my eyes lighting up. “How would you three like to go into town and get us some gelato?”
Chapter 90
“So what else did you talk about with my aunt?” Dante asks as his hands glide down my naked back on a slick coating of sunscreen.
“Nothing, really. She totally buys your playboy image, by the way.”
My mind isn’t really on the conversation. It’s on Dante’s powerful fingers, and all the places they’re going. He starts at my shoulders, kneading gently, then down my back, and finally to my ass. He lingers there, sliding his thumbs up and down, dangerously close to my slit.
“That figures,” he says. “She never spent any real time with me, even that year when she was regent before I turned twenty-one. All conversations with her are one-way.”
“I’ve noticed that,” I sigh as his hands head back up to my shoulders.
The feel of him against my skin is intoxicating, and the fact I’m lying naked outside on a lounger is making me wet already. My patience is wearing thin.
“She’s right about one thing, though,” he says.
“Yeah?” I say. “What’s that?”
“I have what you Americans call ‘mad skills’ in the playboy department.”
“We Americans also like to say ‘talk is cheap.’”
He stands up – I pout a bit as he takes his hands off me – and drops his swim shorts to the concrete pool deck. I turn my head to see his cock standing at full attention.
“I guess I’d better show you, then,” he says, kneeling beside me.
As he does, I raise myself up on all fours so that I’m eye-level with his manhood.
“Get to work,” I say.
He groans as I grab his shaft and draw it into my mouth. I do the same when his fingers finally find my pussy.
We’ve been working on this a lot over the past few days, and I’ve always been a quick learner. I work his sensitive head with my tongue as my free hand tugs at the base of his cock. He moans in appreciation.
Dante knows what I like, too: everything. He works his fingers in and out, stroking my clit while putting pressure on my G-spot with his thumb. I never knew I had one until he found it on our wedding night. Now, I want him to spend the rest of my life exploring it.
The ripples start building, getting stronger with each wave, as his fingers probe deeper inside me. Dante is such a generous lover – he wants me to get off as many times as possible before we get to the main event. He knows I’m trying to make up for lost time.
