Taming the Royal Beast (Royal House of Leone Book 6)

by Jennifer Lewis

  They climbed out of the car and approached the green-painted door. Rigo knocked with impressive royal confidence, while Bella gritted her teeth and hoped they weren’t about to face both barrels of a farmer’s shotgun.

  A petite woman with bright green eyes opened the door, and her hand flew to her reddish hair at the sight of Rigo. “It’s been a long time.”

  If this was Francine she was quite a bit younger than Bella had imagined, and she reacted to Rigo almost as if he was the one she’d had the affair with, rather than his father. The mysterious Other Woman wore black-and-white-checked pencil pants and a fitted sweater that showed off her neat figure. Bella watched with growing curiosity as Rigo coolly asked if they could come in.

  Francine glanced doubtfully behind her, then glanced down the drive behind Rigo. “Who’s in that black car?”

  “Palace security. They’re here to protect us. All of us, including you. I know you’re scared, and that’s why you’re hiding here.”

  “Okay.” Her pretty face looked pale and tense. “Come in.”

  Inside the cottage was less grim, painted a sunny yellow and decorated with pretty antiques and a collection of rooster-themed items. Francine must have noticed Bella staring because she said, “In feng shui roosters protect you from being gossiped about. I figured I needed as many as I could get.”

  Bella smiled. She really didn’t know what was going on here. Why did she and Rigo know each other?

  Francine seated them on a too-soft sofa, then sat in a chair opposite and lifted her chin. “I suppose you’re going to ask if I murdered your father.”

  “Actually I was going to work backward toward that question,” said Rigo drily. “I know you weren’t investigated because no one—including my mother—knew of your existence.”

  “Except you.”

  “And I valued my mother’s happiness too much to tell anyone about you.”

  “I saw in the papers that she just married again.”

  “Yes, and I hope she experiences the happiness you cheated her of.”

  “Your father wouldn’t have been susceptible to my charms if he was fully satisfied.”

  Rigo snorted. “You told me you were going to seduce him because I didn’t want you.”

  “I admit I didn’t realize it would turn into something. I did want the satisfaction of having one Leone man admire me.”

  Bella blinked. She felt like an intruder, yet they both seemed to have forgotten she was there.

  “And it turned into a multiyear affair. Though I suppose the main attraction was the house he rented for you and all the expensive gifts he gave you.”

  “How did you know about those?”

  “The numbers. It was all skillfully hidden, but I have a talent for forensic accounting. What I can’t figure out is why you would kill your cash cow.”

  “I wouldn’t.” She shrugged and looked rueful. “My whole income flow ran dry the moment he was murdered. I left town because I was afraid someone would come after me because they thought I knew too much. I’ve been selling off his gifts and hiding away here for the last year since your brother Darias became king.”

  “Do you know who did it?”

  “I have my suspicions. I warned your father in a letter.”

  Rigo’s brows lowered. “I found it in his desk drawer. You didn’t sign it, but it was pretty obviously from someone he was…intimate with. No one knew who it was from until I arrived.”

  “I’m flattered that you remembered me.”

  “Don’t be.” He frowned. “In the letter you tell him to beware the Cross of Blood. Why?”

  “He told me his mother—the queen—wanted to disband the society. She said she was too old for the kind of out-there sexual practices they were supposedly founded to provide, and that she thought their financial activities were outdated and elitist. She wanted the ancient funds to go to the people.”

  Bella glanced at Rigo, whose eyes narrowed. “And how did my father feel about this?”

  “You know your father well enough to know that unless you could shoot it or eat it, he wasn’t all that interested in it. And I can tell you firsthand that his sexual tastes were plain vanilla.”

  Rigo’s expression didn’t waver. “The finances. What do you know about them?”

  “No more than you do, I’m sure. I don’t think your father was privy to the details either, shocking as that is. I always thought that the remaining members seemed to have a lot of funds at their disposal, and I wondered if there was a fund they all dipped into.”

  Now Rigo glanced at Bella. “Bella and I have been looking for evidence of the same thing. I haven’t been able to subpoena the Cross of Blood accounts because they’re held in Switzerland. Darias followed royal tradition and joined the society, but they’ve kept him in the dark.”

  “I wrote the letter because I didn’t think he saw the threat from them. It was too easy for him to ignore my fears when I said something so I wanted to put it on paper. He felt invincible—untouchable—as a royal, but I know enough about some of those men to know they’re dangerous. Tears sprang to her bright eyes. “I loved Emil. I really did. I know he would never have left Carolina for me, but he meant the world to me. I want you to catch his killers.”

  A muscle twitched in Rigo’s jaw. “Do you have any idea which members are responsible, or are they all in it together?”

  “I never met any of them, but I did overhear a heated conversation with someone he called Maurice or Bernice or something.”

  Bella’s blood chilled. Her father.

  She felt Rigo’s eyes dart toward her, and she steeled herself not to show any emotion. “What were they talking about?” she asked as calmly as she could manage.

  “Emil was saying that nothing stays the same forever, that even traditions need to change with the times. He said something about having a free ride since the Crusades and how it was time to put the people of Altaleone first.” She pushed a tear away from her eye. “It was his mother’s idea to change things, and he went along with her. I warned him they might be dangerous. Money can make people do crazy things.”

  “I intend to bring the murderers to justice. I will need you to testify about my father’s intentions, since none of the rest of us was privy to his and my grandmother’s plans for the Cross of Blood funds. So far we haven’t had enough solid evidence to subpoena the members’ individual financial records. All we have is their tax returns, which are suggestive but don’t prove anything.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “I can’t. They’ll kill me. I don’t dare show my face in Altaleone. They don’t know how little I really know.”

  “Palace security will protect you.”

  “The way they protected Emma from getting kidnapped and Sandro from getting shot?”

  Rigo frowned. “My father would have wanted you to help capture his killer.”

  Another tear rolled down her cheek. “I know. I was so angry when I heard the rumors of how they were found. Your father was never into…any of that S&M stuff.”

  Rigo’s eyes flashed with suspicion. “How did you hear about the circumstances of the murders? That information was never released.”

  Was Francine herself involved in the murders? Bella’s gut tightened. The security staff at the end of the driveway couldn’t do a whole lot for them if she suddenly pulled a gun.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Francine’s laugh chilled Bella’s blood. “You think I was involved?”

  “How else would you know about the kink angle?”

  Francine waved a manicured hand. “You know how word gets around. Probably leaks from the palace staff. Wasn’t one of them later found to be an enemy? At least the salacious details didn’t find their way into the press.” She hesitated and picked a piece of fluff from her sleeve. “Yet.”

  “Is that a threat?” Rigo’s brow lifted.

  “Not even slightly. Until you find that killer, my life is in danger. They know I was your father’s confidante. He talked about
the trouble he was having with the secret society. His mother was growing older and wanted to set things right before she died. She said that they should expose the society’s doings to the people of Altaleone if they didn’t agree to disband the society and give the funds to the public. Your father was just trying to implement her wishes.”

  “I need you to repeat this to the police.”

  Francine swallowed, clearly nervous. “I’m scared, I can’t deny it, but I’ll do it.”

  Darias nodded slowly. “I’ll be in touch again soon. And I’m going to leave a security detail here to protect you. I intend to blow the lid off this conspiracy and see what’s left when the dust settles.

  Bella’s gut churned as they walked back to the car. Francine Petrie had mentioned her father by name. Rigo didn’t speak. He seemed deep in thought.

  He gave the guards instructions to stay and guard the farmhouse and said he was heading back to Altaleone immediately.

  Once they climbed into the car and closed the doors, he started the engine. “I want you to call the television station. Tell them I have an announcement about the murders and I’d like to be on air as soon as possible.”

  Bella pulled out her phone, pulse thudding. “Who should I call? Do you have a contact there?” She couldn’t stop her voice from shaking.

  “Ask for the news producer.” He pulled out onto the road, his face taut.

  Are you going to accuse my father? The words hovered on her lips as she searched for the station number and dialed it. With Rigo’s name it didn’t take more than a minute before she was talking to the news producer and calculating how long it would take them to drive to the station in Casteleone.

  “What are you going to say?” She tried to sound calm, like she didn’t really care either way.

  “Since we have no way of knowing for sure if this car is bugged, I’m going to reserve my words for the television studio.”

  “Oh. Okay.” His words chilled her. Did he no longer trust her? Maybe he’d never trusted her. Maybe all along he’d been playing her, trying to extract information about her father. He’d drawn her closer, pulling her into his arms, into his house, into his bed—all so he’d be perfectly positioned to point the finger at her dad.

  Rigo was uncomfortably silent on the drive. She could almost hear his legal mind whirring. Luckily, she wasn’t foolish enough to expect sweet nothings from Rigo at the best of times, but she wondered what he intended to do with her once he’d made his accusations.

  Did he maybe even see her as some kind of accessory after the fact? He knew her father had arranged to pay her to kiss him in public.

  Her nerves were getting the best of her by the time they pulled into the TV station parking lot. “Do you want me to stay in the car?”

  “No.” He spoke gruffly, but she told herself it was because he was distracted and preoccupied. “Come with me.”

  “I won’t have to go on TV, will I?” The idea terrified her. She’d never been good at thinking on her feet. What if she unwittingly said something that incriminated her dad? Or even herself?”

  “No. I just want you in here out of harm’s way.”

  The TV station was quite small, like the entire country, so there was only one studio and a magazine program was underway when they were ushered in. A glamorous familiar-looking blonde hostess was laughing over a fluff story with the chiseled male anchor when the producer spoke through their headsets to tell them “Prince Rigo is ready. In three, two, one….”

  Immediately their faces grew solemn, and the female hostess announced that Prince Rigo had news about the murders. Bella hugged herself as Rigo marched out onto the set, squinting against the bright lights, and took a seat next to them.

  Rigo explained that he’d been personally investigating the circumstances behind the murders and had determined that they were carried out by a member or members of the ancient society called Cross of Blood, which ostensibly existed to protect the monarchy, but actually functioned as a means of perpetuating tax-free wealth among an elite cadre of aristocrats. He said that some or possibly all of the members were likely involved in both murders, and that he wouldn’t quit until all of the perpetrators were brought to justice.

  He spoke with such force that Bella felt a thrill at the idea that justice would finally be served—until she remembered that her father was one of the accused. No wonder Rigo had a reputation for victory in the courtroom.

  The hosts pressed for details, but Rigo simply said that arrests were imminent and he was confident all the details would come out during the trial process.

  In less than ten minutes they were heading out the door again, Rigo’s face as hard and grim as ever.

  “Where to now?” She could barely speak.

  “Back to the palace.”

  Relief at the promise of relative safety at the palace warred with the realization that she was still essentially a traitor in their midst. Her father had planted here there as an unwitting mole, and Rigo had turned her into a double agent.

  She couldn’t even “go home” as her home was now Rigo’s house. “I should get back to my animals.”

  “It’s not safe to go alone. Someone at the palace can drive you.”

  She felt increasingly trapped. Maybe that was the point. Rigo ignored her. He had other things on his mind.

  She followed him out to the car feeling like a prisoner. He had her right where he wanted her—until he didn’t want her.

  They climbed into the car, and Rigo started the engine. Bella’s emotions rose as they pulled out of the parking lot onto the village streets. What would happen to her now? Would she even be allowed to go see her animals or had someone already arranged for a team of hired experts to take care of them while she was dragged into police headquarters and forced to testify against her father.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Rigo.

  She realized her breathing must be audible. “What’s going to happen to my dad?”

  “I suppose that depends on how well he cooperates with police.” Rigo was cool as if he was talking about a stranger in a foreign country.

  People always said you should never trust a lawyer. They were too skilled at playing the angles. She was just another angle. “You don’t think of people’s feelings at all, do you?” Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the town’s ancient streets.

  Suddenly the car window blew out and sprayed her with shattered glass. She screamed and turned to Rigo. “Are you okay?” Tiny pieces of glass bit into her skin.

  The car kept going, but she realized Rigo wasn’t driving. His hands fell from the wheel as the vehicle mounted a curb and rammed into a parked car. The airbag inflated in her face, blowing more glass fragments at her.

  Panic shot through her as she saw Rigo slumped, lifeless, in the seat next to her.

  “Help!” She wrestled with her seat belt. Had he been shot? She couldn’t see any blood. She struggled to get out of the car. “Help!” Where was her phone? Already a crowd of strangers had started to gather. The alarm of the car they’d hit was wailing. “Call an ambulance! He’s hurt.”

  She rushed around to Rigo’s side in a panic and struggled with the door, still screaming for help. There was blood on her hands and arms and on Rigo’s face.

  “Don’t move him!” called a man’s deep voice. She wheeled around half expecting to meet an armed assailant, but it was a uniformed policeman. “Help is on the way.”

  “It’s Prince Rigo,” she pleaded, hoping his royal status would get him help faster.

  The policeman reached into the car and took Rigo’s pulse with his hand. He hesitated for a moment, listening.

  “Is he alive?”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know! He was driving and then the window exploded.” It had all happened so fast, and the sound of the window breaking had blotted out anything else.

  “I think it was a bullet,” said someone in the crowd behind her. “From a gun with a silencer.”

  �
�Everyone take cover!” boomed the policeman. “There’s an active shooter.” He pulled out his radio and spoke some unintelligible code into it, then drew his gun and scanned the streets and buildings.

  “Get down!”

  Bella hesitated. She didn’t want to leave the car and Rigo’s side. “Is he breathing? Will he be okay?”

  “If help gets here fast enough.”

  Police cars screeched into the intersection and more uniformed officers dove out into the street. Bella worried that there wouldn’t be room for the ambulance to get through, but soon it arrived and Rigo was carefully loaded onto a board and bundled in—still not moving.

  “Can I come too?”

  “Who are you?” asked a gruff, strange policeman.

  “I’m…I’m his assistant. I was in the car with him.”

  They grudgingly let her into the ambulance, and she watched with increasing panic as they took his vitals and started IVs and talked in confusing medical jargon.

  “Will he be okay?”

  “We don’t know what’s wrong with him,” said a sympathetic woman at last. “There’s no gunshot wound. He’s not losing blood, but he’s unconscious. We don’t know what hit him or where.”

  One of them cleaned up her wounds, superficial scratches from the glass that stung from the antiseptic. She was too stunned to cry, which was fine because crying wouldn’t help.

  At the hospital she was led into a painfully bright lobby waiting area and Rigo disappeared through some double doors. She realized she’d left her bag and her phone behind her so she couldn’t even call the palace to tell them what happened.

  She went up to the receptionist. “Is there a phone I can use?” But before she could answer the glass door flung open and Sandro and Darias charged in. “Where is he?”

  “Inside,” she stammered. “He might be in surgery. No one’s told me anything.” Finally the tears came and she cursed them. She needed to be strong for the family.