by Holly Rayner
“I have a few things planned over the next few weeks.”
“Keep to your schedule. It’s better if the news of your deployment doesn’t get out until after it actually happens. Of course, you may talk about your upcoming service in general terms—we want the people to know that you are committed to completing it. But keep any details vague.”
“Of course.” Raffaele was already thinking of what he would be able to tell Maggie. “I did have a trip planned to New Orleans.”
“Let’s see what happens over the next week or so. Once we know more, it may be possible for you to travel.”
His uncle stood and Raffaele quickly followed his action. “Thank you, Uncle.”
King Filippo gave him a benevolent smile. “Thank you, Raffaele. I appreciate the fact that you’re taking your military service seriously.”
The first thing Raffaele wanted to do after he talked with his uncle was call Maggie, but he waited another couple of hours so that it wouldn’t be too early for her.
When she answered the phone, she sounded like she was in a bad mood.
“Chef Bechet, have you had your coffee yet?” Raffaele asked.
He heard her laugh, a bit reluctantly it sounded like.
“I have, but it hasn’t helped much. Sorry, Raffa. Late night last night, and early morning today.”
“What happened?” Raffaele settled into a chair to listen.
“One of our ovens gave up the ghost last night—in the middle of service, no less—and I had two servers and one line cook call in sick. Plus, I got beets instead of apples in the produce delivery, and don’t ask me how that even happens.”
“Well, they are both red.”
“Ha. Not helping,” Maggie groaned, but Raffaele could tell she was smiling. “How has your morning been?”
“Ah, my meeting with my uncle wasn’t quite as enlightening as I’d hoped.”
“No word on when you’ll be deployed yet?”
“The most definite answer I could get from him was ‘the near future,’ though it’s unclear what that means exactly. I did mention that I have a trip planned to New Orleans.”
“Raffa, if you can’t make it—”
He didn’t want to even think about not being able to visit her.
“I’ll be there. Seeing you is important to me. I don’t want to miss a chance to spend time with you, especially since I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“Good. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me, too. Now, tell me what you’re planning on doing with those beets.”
Maggie laughed. “Beet salad, beet pasta, beet cake.”
“Beet cake?”
“Oh, yes. Beets and cocoa pair well in cake.”
“That sounds…healthy.”
She laughed again.
“Well, I guess it balances out the chocolate and butter. And trust me, it’s not the most unusual thing I’ve ever put in a cake. Although, technically, it’s not unusual for this part of the country.”
“And that would be?”
“Mmm, chocolate cake made with mayonnaise?”
“With…with what?” Raffaele was sure she was teasing him.
“I know, it sounds weird, but mayonnaise is just eggs and oil. Makes perfect sense to put in a cake.” When Raffaele was silent, Maggie added, “It’s a Southern thing.”
“I thought I’d done my research when I read up on Cajun and Creole food.”
“Oh, you have so much to learn. Just wait until I take you to my favorite place for a meat and three. Best fluffy rolls you’ll ever eat.”
Raffaele wanted to be there, with her. He wanted was to erase the thousands of miles between them, and it was so tempting to ignore all the responsibilities he had and just go.
“Raffa?” Maggie asked quietly.
“Sorry, I got distracted by talk of rolls.”
His attempt at a joke fell flat.
“Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”
Raffaele sighed. “I feel like I just found you and now we’re talking about being separated for a long time. It’s not fair.”
He heard her huff a small laugh, not unkindly.
“Welcome to how the world works for the rest of us, Your Highness. Life isn’t always fair.”
Raffaele grudgingly acknowledged the point. “True.”
“But it’s still tough, I know. I’m not looking forward to being separated from you, but even if you weren’t being deployed, there’s still the tiny matter of the whole ocean between us.”
“You know, I do have a private jet. Makes it easy to get back and forth.”
“Bit of a long commute, though, to do every day.” Maggie paused. “We’ve got time to work things out, though, and I’m sure of one thing. Whatever happens, I want to be with you.”
Raffaele did as he’d promised his uncle, and stayed close to home for the next few days. He spent time with his mother, talked with his father about business matters, and lived for his calls with Maggie.
They talked at least once a day, and texted throughout the day. Maggie would send him a text when she woke up, and he’d send her one as he went to bed. They’d talk before she went into the restaurant, and she kept him entertained with stories from her kitchen.
But as each day passed, Raffaele got more restless. He wasn’t used to being home for this long. He went to eat at Clarissa and Stefano’s several times, feeling like he could relax there. He spent hours at the gym and running the grounds around the palace; it burned off stress and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to be even more in shape for the months to come.
He tried to stay cheerful for his phone calls with Maggie, but he knew she could tell he was apprehensive about when and where he would be deployed.
Two weeks after Maggie’s return to New Orleans, Raffaele was even more on edge. His uncle had asked him to sit in on another briefing, and afterward had clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Stay ready, Raffaele. It likely won’t be long now.”
After the meeting, he rushed back to his apartment at the palace so he could call Maggie. He was late, and when she answered the phone, he rushed to say, “I’m sorry, Maggie. I got held up in a meeting with my uncle.”
“It’s okay, Raffa.”
He could hear clanking in the background and guessed she was already at BienVille.
“You want to give me a call later, after dinner?”
“Give me a second.” The background noises got quieter and Raffaele heard a door shut. “I’ve got a few minutes. Tonight may be a late night. Let’s talk now so I don’t wake you up later on.”
Raffaele shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “I really don’t mind if you wake me up. In fact, I find it rather pleasant.”
He was hoping to make her laugh with his lightly suggestive tone, and she did. “No disagreement from me.”
Just the sound of her voice made him less tense. “Tell me what’s happening at the restaurant,” he said.
Maggie snorted. “We’re still busy. Booked every night. Anna’s decided that you are our lucky charm. She’s thinking of building a shrine to you.”
Raffaele laughed. “I told you people would flock there.”
“You did, and I’m grateful. It’s a lot of fun having a full house all the time, even if I’m still struggling to find enough good staff to handle it.”
Raffaele heard a knock on the door and a sigh from Maggie.
“You have to go?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” she murmured.
“Don’t be. Go and be brilliant. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Can’t wait.”
Raffaele almost said ‘I love you’ but thought better of it. He didn’t want to push Maggie, and he’d see her soon enough. He wanted to say it person and not over the phone.
So, instead, he said, “I miss you.”
He loved that he could hear her smile in her voice.
“I miss you, too. Good night, Raffaele.”
A few days later, Raffaele was pa
cing through his apartment, thinking. His uncle hadn’t given him any more detailed information, but Raffaele didn’t think that meant his deployment was being delayed. He hadn’t brought up his plan to go to New Orleans, but given his uncle’s comment to be ready, he was certain that if he asked for permission to go, the answer would be no.
He didn’t want to upset his father or his uncle; they were right that he needed to be serious about his service. He had a responsibility to his country and his family, and so staying close and being ready was the right thing to do.
He also didn’t want to put Maggie in a bad position by showing up only to have to leave abruptly. That would almost be worse than not showing up at all.
Raffaele picked up his phone to call Maggie. He knew she’d understand if he postponed his visit while he worked things out. Once he knew exactly when he’d be leaving, he could plan a short visit before he was deployed. Or, failing that, he’d plan a visit as soon as he was given some leave.
Making up his mind, he started to dial, but just then there was a sharp knock on the outer door of his apartment and then the inner door opened.
One of Spiaggi’s highest-ranking officers stormed in. The uniformed man saw Raffaele, but before Raffaele could say anything, the officer reached out and grabbed his cellphone.
“My apologies, Your Highness. You can’t make any phone calls.”
Raffaele tried to be reasonable. “I’m not under your command yet, so I’d like my phone back.”
The officer shook his head. “Again, with apologies, as of now, you are under my command. Your service beings immediately, and for your safety, I cannot allow you to contact anyone.”
Raffaele tried to argue. “I told my uncle I’d need a week or so to wrap things up.” He looked at his phone. “I need to let someone know that I’ll be away for a while.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you can’t do that. We can’t risk revealing any information about your deployment.”
Raffaele was getting frustrated. “I understand that, and I don’t intend to let anyone know my whereabouts, but I do need to let at least one person know that I’ll be out of touch.”
“It’s not just your location. If word gets out that you are being deployed now, enemy forces can use that information as part of their intelligence operations.” The man hesitated. “It’s not just you that would be at risk, but everyone that is part of your unit. You’re a valuable target for the enemy; if they were able to kidnap you, it could endanger our presence there as well as our partnership with our allies.”
Raffaele hadn’t thought about his presence being a danger for the people he would serve with, but then, he’d expected his “service” to be training on one of Spiaggi’s local bases.
“Can you at least tell me where I’m going?”
“I can’t give you the exact location now, but I can tell you that you’ll be traveling to the Middle East to one of our joint operation bases.”
Raffaele’s mind whirled as he tried to think of a way to get a message to Maggie.
“At least let me talk to my parents before I leave. I’d like to say goodbye to them.”
The man shook his head regretfully.
“Your parents are aware of procedure. Your father will be given a message after we’re gone. You need to pack now, Your Highness. One small bag. We’ll give you everything else you need once we get to the base.”
Raffaele nodded sharply and grabbed a bag out of his closet. He hurriedly packed a few things, not even really seeing what he picked up and placed in the bag. He wasn’t prepared for this, and he’d promised Maggie he would see her before he left. He didn’t even know what he was going to be doing as a soldier, and he wasn’t prepared for this kind of active duty.
If Raffaele could talk to his father, he could convince him to send a message to Maggie, but that might not be for weeks. If at all. If he couldn’t get word to her, would she wait for him?
Forty minutes later, Raffaele stared at the solid wall of a military aircraft as it lifted into the sky, heading towards the Middle East and away from everything he’d even known.
Chapter 18
Maggie
Maggie leaned against the bathroom vanity, unsure of what to do next. She turned the box over in her hands, reading the text like it might hold insight into her future and not just instructions. She’d never been late. Ever. And now, almost three weeks after one of the best nights of her life, she was.
There had to be another reason. She knew that lots of women had irregular periods during stressful times; work had been so crazy over the past couple of weeks that she hadn’t been sleeping much. It could absolutely be the stress.
Plus, even though every phone call with her handsome prince compounded her conviction that she was head over heels in love with Raffaele, it wasn’t easy being so far apart. And she knew that at some point in the near future, she was going to have to make some tough decisions if she wanted to be with him.
If he wanted to be with her.
She glanced at her phone. He still hadn’t called, but she wasn’t worried yet. Sometimes he got held up, and she knew he’d rather take care of any potential interruptions so they could talk undisturbed, instead of dealing with things while they were on the phone. Raffaele was trying so hard to be more of what his parents wanted him to be, and Maggie knew she was part of that. He wanted to show them that she was more than just a fling.
She glanced at her phone again. She could take a pregnancy test before he called, and that way, she would know for sure. They could talk the result through together.
Hands trembling, she opened the box and followed the instructions. Just to be sure, she did the same with two other boxes.
A few minutes later, Maggie had her answer. A very clear answer, since all three of the tests agreed.
Although she was very stressed, Maggie was also very pregnant, and there was no doubt in her mind that Raffaele was the father.
She splashed some cold water on her face, then checked her phone again. She had to get out of the tiny bathroom, so she paced through her apartment, thinking and trying not to worry. Even though she thought Raffaele would be happy, she didn’t quite know how to tell him. They’d only been dating for a few weeks—most of them long distance—and there was so much they still had to work out.
After an agonizing half hour of going back and forth in her head, she decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She nervously dialed Raffaele and waited for the phone to ring. She frowned when she heard a harsh beep and a voice saying, “This number has been disconnected” in Italian.
She hung up and tried again, with the same result. She tried one more time just to be sure, but the reality slowly dawned on her as she hung up again. He must have been sent to fulfill his military service much sooner than they’d expected. But why had it happened so suddenly, and why hadn’t he called her?
She stumbled to her computer, and started looking for any news involving Spiaggi. There was no breaking news, no statements from the royal family. She tried to email Raffaele, but immediately got a message saying that her email had bounced.
She could only hope that Raffaele would call when he got settled. She knew that he was expecting to be at one of the country’s bases, probably doing training of some kind. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to call her until he’d completed some kind of orientation. Maggie could understand that he wouldn’t want to be given special privileges—if the rest of his unit wasn’t allowed to call home for a certain length of time, he wouldn’t either.
Maggie respected that, even though she wished she’d had some warning. But that wasn’t Raffaele’s fault, and it didn’t do either of them any good for her to mope around.
So, she put her shoulders back and her chin up and went to run her restaurant.
Maggie made it through dinner service that evening, but she left the cleaning up to Joshua and Elise. She asked them to start prep for the next day without her, and they both agreed readily, even as they gave her worried lo
oks.
Maggie tossed and turned that night. When she slept, it was fitful and filled with strange dreams. Crawling out of bed the next morning, she felt terrible.
She started to make coffee and then remembered. Sighing, she switched to a cup of herbal tea, then made a mental note that she needed to schedule a doctor’s appointment.
Maggie had emailed Luis the night before, hoping the royal chef could help her out. She didn’t tell him everything, just that she was trying to reach Raffaele. He wrote back quickly; his response was sympathetic, but he didn’t know where the Prince had gone. The rumor was that Raffaele had started his military service, though his parents weren’t at the palace, so Luis didn’t know for certain.
Sitting down at her small kitchen table, Maggie did another look through the news, checking again to see if Spiaggi was mentioned. She finally pulled up the contact information to Spiaggi’s embassy, and called the main number.
When they brushed her off, she dug a little deeper and found a number for one of the royal family’s aides. Maggie then tried the media contact listed on an older statement from the royal family.
Nothing. Either they told her they didn’t have the ability to connect her call to the palace, or that they weren’t able to tell her anything about Prince Raffaele’s whereabouts. Maggie asked to be connected to his mother, but was told she wasn’t taking calls.
Maggie crossed her fingers. One more time, she thought. It’s been two days, and he should be settled into wherever he is. Whoever I talk to will be able to give me more information.
The phone rang twice and when a voice on the other end answered, the words tumbled out of Maggie’s mouth.
“Hi. My name is Maggie Bechet and I’m trying to reach Prince Raffaele. His phone has been disconnected and I know I probably can’t talk to him right now, but I need to get a message to him.”
“My apologies, miss, but I’m not able to connect you directly to His Highness.”
“No, I know. And I know he’s not at the palace right now. He’s, well, I don’t know where he is, but I know he’s…”
