The Princess's Scandalous Affair (Royal House of Leone Book 4)

by Jennifer Lewis

  “We may have to look into a new area for a challenge.” Rafi pulled his gloves on as the lift rose high up over the steep mountainside, with its white ribbons of ski runs diving and dodging through the pine forest below. “Still no dice on the Lake Sarn project? I flew over it again last week when I took my new plane up for a spin. Gorgeous lake and great access from north and south, and you already own the land on the far side. Could be the next Lake Como. And that looks like a good ski mountain to the north of the lake. Cut some runs and build a lift and you’ll be making money all year ’round.”

  “I had two firm nos from Darias—or his office—last summer, but then I learned the oldest daughter inherited it.”

  “The hot redhead? I heard she’s a scientist working in Paris these days. Something to do with genetics.”

  “Not her. That’s Callista. Beatriz is the eldest.”

  “Beatriz?” Rafi peered at the scenery. “I don’t remember that one.”

  “She’s a brunette. Quiet. Still lives at home.”

  “Sounds dull.” He glanced up. “Shame or you could marry into the property.”

  His friend laughed, and Lorenzo laughed with him. “I don’t think I need to take it that far.”

  “You’ll just seduce her into leasing it to you?”

  It was annoying that his friend could see right through him. “I’d settle for a lease but I’d prefer to buy it. No one in the family has lived in it for decades. She claims she has plans to turn it into a hotel, but there’s been no progress there since the summer. I’ve been keeping an eye on it, and not a single tree has been trimmed. It would need a new road bulldozed through the mountains for decent access on the Altaleone side of the lake.”

  “When you rule your own country a little bulldozing is not a big problem.” Rafi winked.

  They were drawing near the peak, so Lorenzo pulled his skiing goggles down over his eyes. “I don’t believe she intends to do anything with it. She was just brushing me off like a fly.”

  “You?” Rafi lifted a brow. “I don’t imagine you’d take that lying down.”

  “I don’t intend to.” He stared ahead at the horizon, where jagged white peaks poked up into the harsh blue sky. “I plan to warm her up to me, no matter how many layers of ice I have to chisel through.”

  “Ha! I remember that time you lost a crampon down the gorge near Mt. Althorn. She has no idea how adept you are on sheer, slick ice.”

  “Right? I’ll make it worth her while. I already have a vision for the buildings. The old house was built with stone from a quarry right near the site. We could mine it ourselves. It’s likely cheaper than bringing stone in down these mountain roads.”

  “I can’t imagine the Leone family would be too thrilled with you mining their precious countryside.”

  “They won’t have a say if I own it. Besides, I can dig the quarry on the land we already own, so it’s not even in Altaleone but in Italy.”

  “Shame you only own a sliver of frontage on the lake.”

  “Damn shame. Blame my ancestor Wilfredo Aldobrando and his gambling addiction for that. We probably would have been able to buy and sell Altaleone by now if it wasn’t for him decimating the family estates.”

  Rafi cracked up. “You aristos sure hold a grudge! When was that, five hundred years ago?”

  “More like eight hundred.” Lorenzo sighed. “But it is a beautiful piece of land.”

  “But is the girl beautiful?”

  They’d reached the top of the lift, and Lorenzo put a pole in each hand ready to jump off onto an almost sheer drop. He could see the ice gleaming from here, and it sent a spike of adrenaline through him. “Yes. She is.”

  “Beatriz, darling, could you do me a favor and find Papa’s old business cards?” Beatriz heard her mom call her from outside the library. “I can’t remember what font he used. I want to get some made for Darias.”

  “No problem, Mama.” She put her book back on the shelf. She had no idea what her mom would say if she’d replied that sorry, she was busy. But, since that never happened, it was hardly a worry.

  She walked down the few doors to her father’s old study. The soft, sweet smell of his pipe tobacco lingered in the carpet and curtains and hit her like a punch to the gut. She couldn’t believe she’d never see him again. His death had been so sudden and unexpected that it still felt like a bad dream.

  She pulled open the top drawer of his desk, feeling like an intruder. He’d never have let her do this if he were alive. His study was his private realm where even the most trusted staff had to tread lightly and ask permission to touch anything. The drawer was cluttered and disorganized, perhaps from being gone through by Gibran’s security forces looking for any clues as to who might have killed him.

  She knew they’d found something odd. There was a lot of hushed whispering, but no one had told her about it and her mom claimed to be in the dark too. She closed the drawer, half afraid to even look through the mysterious crumpled papers, and opened a silver box on top of the desk. Cigars. Her phone rang, and she glanced at it. Unknown number.

  She didn’t usually answer calls from mystery numbers. It was family policy. Too many journalists out there looking for a story by asking leading questions. But after the mad rush of Christmas and an onslaught of houseguests, the house was empty and she felt bored and reckless. “Hello?”

  “Beatriz, it’s Lorenzo.” His deep voice shot through her like a bullet.

  She stood straight up. “What do you want?” The suspicion in her voice embarrassed her. She’d wondered if he would call—for a week, maybe a full month. As the weeks and months dragged on she’d grown bitter that he hadn’t ever bothered.

  Now all of a sudden he was calling her out of nowhere?

  “I was hoping things have settled down enough at the palace for you to have lunch with me.”

  “Settled down? You mean since the coronation?” She laughed. “It’s been more than six months.”

  “I know you were busy.”

  Everyone knows I’m never busy. “You know how it is.” Her two closest friends had both moved away from Altaleone in the last year. One to marry a banker in Zurich and the other for a job as a translator at the United Nations. Her mom and Emma, Darias’s new wife, were the only people she’d even been out for lunch with in ages.

  “Is there a day this week that would work? I’m in Altaleone right now.”

  Was he at the hotel in the village? She hated the idea of running into him. “Oh.” And there was absolutely no way she’d consider having lunch with him after he’d flirted with her shamelessly, then blown her off for six solid months. “Actually I have a lot going on this week.” She was going to reorganize her underwear drawer, for one thing. And she had these business cards to find…

  She spotted the cards in a tortoiseshell holder half hidden behind a big paperweight.

  “I could come by and pick you up today.”

  “Today?” It was almost lunchtime right now. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Lunch or me picking you up? I know our families are ancient enemies, but I think we could put all that behind us.”

  “I wasn’t even thinking—”

  “Beatriz!” Her mom’s voice jerked her attention to the open doorway. “Did you find them yet? I’m putting together a list of items for the engraver.”

  She sighed. Her life really was one boring chore after another. At least if she had lunch with this entitled jerk it would be a break from the monotony. “I’ll meet you in the village at twelve-thirty,” she said with sudden resolve. “Do you know where Rialto, the stationary store, is?”

  “Of course. I’ll see you there.” She could already hear the satisfaction in his voice. Perhaps he thought she’d be eating out of his hand by twelve forty-five. At least no one from the palace would see her on this fool’s errand, and the store was down a quiet side street, away from prying eyes.

  She picked up a business card and wiped off a thin layer of dust t
hat had already formed on it. Then she carried it out into the hallway, where her mom was rushing around in the middle of something. “Mom, I found it. It’s too old-fashioned for Darias, though.” She showed her the old-fashioned script. Her dad was marvelously Old World. She used to tease him that he was born in the wrong century and he wholeheartedly agreed. “I’m sure Darias would prefer something clean and modern.”

  “I suppose you’re right, darling. Perhaps you could nip over to the castle and ask him.”

  I’m sorry, I’m far too busy. I’m having lunch with Lorenzo Aldobrando. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of a reaction that announcement would get. “Sure, I’ll do it today.” She took the card and put it in her pocket. She could kill two birds with one stone and visit Darias after her lunch date in town.

  Wait. It wasn’t a date. It was simply a lunch. Lorenzo would probably ask her all kinds of questions about the Sarn Lake property—how her hotel was coming along and other nonsense—then try to lease it or buy it. She wasn’t deluded enough to think for even one minute that he was interested in her.

  Beatriz decided to walk into the village so no one would notice her car parked somewhere for a long period of time. She took her dad’s old business card and walked to the castle first. It was right in the town center, up on a hill, and she greeted the guards as she entered. Her brother was in a meeting with one of the business managers but came out as soon as she was announced.

  “Beatriz, hey, what’s up?” Still not exactly king material. But she couldn’t fault Darias for that. He wasn’t supposed to be king for many decades. “If you’re looking for Emma, she went to drop some books off at the hospital library. She should be back soon.”

  “I can’t come here just to see you?” Even though her brother was home now, and not in New York, they might as well still have the Atlantic between them. Then he was too busy being a famous artist; now he was preoccupied with being king. “Actually don’t worry, I’m here on family business, as usual.” She pulled out the card. “I know you’ve been up all night worrying about what your business cards should look like, so Mom wanted you to take a look at Dad’s.”

  Darias explained that no one used cards anymore since they could just text each other their information, and she told him to pick a font anyway to make their mom happy. The entire exchange took less than five minutes, then she was on her way again.

  After she left the castle she took a slight detour to kill a few minutes and in case anyone was watching, then turned down the side street where she’d arranged to meet Lorenzo.

  She spotted him as he climbed out of his midnight blue Audi. His dark hair looked windswept, as if he’d driven straight from the ski slopes. She cursed the way her heart thumped when he saw her and waved.

  She waved back, then regretted it. She needed to play it cool. She wasn’t going to give him the idea that he could wrap her around his little finger and then take advantage of her.

  “Hi, Beatriz. I’m so glad you could make it. I made reservations at Andante.”

  “That sounds fine.” At least Andante was very private. There were only a handful of tables so hardly anyone would see her there with him.

  They walked together down the street, past the town’s quaint houses. “I’m sorry it took me so long to call.” He looked genuinely contrite. “To be honest I could tell you were trying to get away from me. I decided to give you time to wait until you forgot about me so we could start over.”

  His quirky smile made her laugh. “You’re quite perceptive. I was overwhelmed by the crowds at the coronation and still very much on the ropes after my father’s death. I just wanted to be alone with my grief.”

  Lorenzo had been the only one to observe that being the older twin of the man being crowned king must have hurt too. It had taken her a while to put that behind her.

  “It seems like I picked the right time.”

  “We’ll see.” She lifted a brow.

  His smile told her that he didn’t mind her arch candor. Maybe he liked it. Like herself he was rich and entitled and probably sick of people fawning all over him.

  He stood aside so she could enter the restaurant, and the maître d’ greeted her with perfect formal politeness and her correct title and showed them to a table way in the back, with high-backed benches. It was unlikely anyone could see them or overhear their conversation here. She wondered if he’d requested that when he made the reservation.

  She sat down on plush cushions and sipped her water. If anything, Lorenzo was even better-looking than she remembered. His eyes were a lighter gray than she recalled—almost blue.

  He ordered champagne for the table without asking whether she wanted any. Things took another turn for the worse when he talked about the weather and skiing conditions, and Beatriz had to admit that she hadn’t been skiing once all winter. It was yet another activity she had shared with her dad. A pang of sorrow was about to turn into a violent urge to be alone when Lorenzo changed the subject.

  “I just got back from Milan. My sister Steffi bought a boutique in Zurich and needed to visit the designers to choose some stock. She talked me into accompanying her.”

  Beatriz eyes widened. “Which designers?”

  “We visited Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, Armani…all the usual suspects, and some young designers just out of fashion school. I think she’s secretly hoping to discover the next big name.”

  “How exciting. I love Giovanna Batti’s new collection with rose-shaped buckles.”

  His eyes widened. “She bought several pieces from that one. You follow fashion?”

  “Yes, I’ve always been interested in it. I mostly follow it in magazines, but every now and then I go to Milan to see the shows.”

  She hadn’t done that in ages. Not since her sister Mari had left for college. They used to go together.

  “I’m surprised. You don’t seem like someone who’d follow trends.” He had the decency not to glance at her rather frumpy outfit. Today she wore a black cashmere sweater and black pants. “Your style is more classic.”

  She laughed. “Occupational hazard.”

  “Not really. Other European royals sometimes seize on the latest trends. Maybe you should give your passions free rein and wear something daring and different.”

  She recoiled at the idea of giving her passions free rein. Right now she was having enough trouble staying calm. Her fingers accidentally brushed Lorenzo’s as he handed her a glass of champagne, and the resulting frisson of sensation almost made her jump.

  She sipped her champagne, trying to cover her confusion. “I’m actually not that interested in wearing the latest styles.” Wow, that made her sound really dull. Could she try to be slightly less of a bore? “I’m more intrigued by the design aspect. I like to draw a collection and then stack it up against what actually comes out that season.”

  “What?” Lorenzo looked and sounded so stunned that she instantly regretted her confession. “You’re a closet designer? I must see your designs.”

  “Oh, goodness, no. They’re just a hobby. Something to keep me busy in between handing out trophies at school events.”

  “I’m absolutely riveted.” He stared at her, disbelief in his eyes, champagne glass in midair. “But I shouldn’t be so surprised. I had a feeling there was something different about you. Do you ever get your designs made into a wearable sample?”

  “Oh, no. That would be silly when there are already so many great designers. Mine are just for my own entertainment.”

  “But wouldn’t you love to see your creation on someone?”

  She shrugged, wishing she could think of a way to change the subject. “I suppose, but who’d want to wear them?”

  He laughed. “You’re a princess. Half of Europe would want to wear them.” He sipped his champagne. “I’m beginning to wonder if your naiveté is an act. I don’t think anyone could actually be as unselfconscious as you seem to be.

  “Unfortunately I’m just as unexciting as I seem.” She sipped h
er champagne again, then decided she’d better carefully monitor her intake. It wouldn’t be a good idea to get tipsy around this guy. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  He leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. A sly smile crept across his lips. “I have a strange feeling that you’re a fantastic butterfly—with colorful, patterned wings like no one has ever seen before—but you’re stuck deep in your royal chrysalis and can’t figure out how to get out.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Beatriz tried to think of a witty comeback but failed. Another sign that she wasn’t the woman he anticipated. Though sometimes she did wonder if being royal had limited her options rather than expanded them. What would she be doing now if she’d been able to try and fail and find her way in the world like a regular person?

  The waiter rattled off that day’s specials, and she chose a roasted pork loin with a beetroot compote. Lorenzo selected veal medallions and ordered a truffle ravioli appetizer for them to share. She could resent him ordering for her. However, since it sounded so good she didn’t mind.

  “Did you go to fashion college?” he asked, after the waiter had left. “Milan has one of the best in the world, but I know most of your siblings went to school in the U.S.”

  “No.” She tried to smile. “I thought about it but never got around to it.” She didn’t want to blame her father aloud. He didn’t want to see her fail. Or didn’t want to lose his hunting buddy. She could forgive him for both. “I just do my designs for fun.”

  “I’d really like to see them. Do you have any on your phone?”

  She blinked. Why was he so interested? No one ever wanted to see her drawings. Even her mom just smiled at them and said, “That’s nice, dear.”

  “I have a couple, I guess. I sometimes send them to my sister Mari. She likes fashion too.” She pulled out her phone, heart thumping. She wasn’t sure if it was anxiety over how he’d react to her designs or if she was unsettled by that intense stare of his.