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

by Jennifer Lewis

  Beatriz spent her spare time sketching and growing increasingly frustrated by her lack of practical skills. She knew some designers worked directly on the model, draping and pinning and cutting in a free-form manner that made each garment uniquely suited to both fabric and model.

  For the first time in years, she found herself perusing the course catalog for the Instituto Marangoni. It was one of the finest fashion schools in the world, nearby in Milan. She imagined what it would be like to learn how to sew something herself, to experiment with stitches and seams and make alterations like a sculptor molding clay.

  By day four she had a thick sheaf of sketches, and she was burning to show them to someone. She texted a few to Mari, who simply texted back Cool! She contemplated telling Mari about her planned show, but that seemed risky. What if Signora Pazzi turned up her very experienced nose at the designs? Or if, once fabricated, they looked terrible? Or, even worse, if Lorenzo simply lost interest and she was left on her own to plan and execute the show? She knew she’d never have the nerve to pull it off.

  Much better to keep the whole plan secret. And she had no intention of mentioning Lorenzo to Mari. Her sister would want more details than she intended to divulge.

  So she had to show the designs to Lorenzo.

  He wanted to meet in town and suggested their usual rendezvous street—with her guard in tow. Beatriz didn’t want to be out in public with the shooting still in the news, and she didn’t want to go back to the Orangerie so soon.

  So she suggested a visit to the lake house.

  On a practical note, the house was her responsibility and she needed to see how much damage needed fixing. She knew a window had been broken during the altercation and boarded up, and Darias had warned her that the window had individual lead panes and would have to be handcrafted.

  She also wanted to get a sense of whether she would want to do anything with the place. She barely remembered what it looked like, and since Lorenzo seemed so excited about it, he’d be the perfect person to visit with so she could see its advantages.

  And she wanted to test him.

  Would he disparage the place as a money pit that would cause her no end of trouble? Or would he launch into a litany of reasons why she should sell it to him? There was only one way to find out.

  The gate to the lake property was chained shut, and Lorenzo’s car was already at the side of the road outside the closed gate when she drove up, with Nina following close behind her. She waved to him and unlocked it, and he jumped out and pulled the heavy iron gates open. He looked striking as usual in dark pants and a wool coat, dark hair tossing in the breeze, and she had to fight an urge to kiss him in front of Nina.

  The house itself looked grim. Even though there was no industrial pollution to blacken the stone and the roof and windows on the facade were intact, it had a dismal air of neglect. The style was odd to her eye—the simple lines and steep peaked roof of a mountain retreat, coupled with the grandeur and extravagant detail of a royal palace.

  She pulled the big, old-fashioned key out of her pocket and unlocked the front door, which creaked open to reveal a large, dusty space that led into several other rooms.

  “It’s got wonderful light,” exclaimed Lorenzo.

  Beatriz laughed. “All the better to illuminate the dust mites.” She closed the door behind them. Nina had stayed outside in the car. “Though it does have large windows.”

  Lorenzo took hold of her, pulled her close and kissed her until her belly quivered. “Much better,” he said with a sigh when they finally pulled apart. “I’ve been aching for you.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” she admitted. “I would have gotten away sooner if I could.” And there was one thing she’d thought about almost as much as kissing Lorenzo. “Let me show you the drawings.”

  Lorenzo looked surprised, like he’d forgotten about the drawings, then he smiled. “I’d love to see them.”

  She had her folio in a satchel over her shoulder, and she walked through the empty house—which had very little furniture, only pieces too heavy to move easily—until she found the flat surface of a sun-faded billiard table. Heart pounding, she pulled out the drawings and spread them on the dull green surface. There were twenty in all, a mix of casual wear, outerwear and evening, but to her eye they had a distinct theme and really worked together.

  She held her breath while Lorenzo contemplated them. “I like what you’ve done with the belted waist. It really pulls them all together.” He looked up at her, grinning.

  “Witty. But seriously, does it look passé?”

  “I love it. There’s no sexier silhouette.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief. “And I want to use a lot of leather. And feathers.”

  “Elegant.” He picked up her jacket/coat picture and peered at it. “They look very wearable.”

  “They do, don’t they?” She bit her lip. “Is that bad? At a lot of the shows I’ve been to the clothes are more conceptual and don’t seem like something a real person would wear.”

  “Sometimes the designers do that just to get press. You won’t need to do that.”

  “Why?”

  He laughed. “Because you’re you. A princess.”

  Her heart constricted. “I don’t want that to be a selling point. If anything it will make people quick to dismiss me.”

  “But no one can ignore you, and if the clothes are good—and from what I can see the clothes will be great—you’ll have a hit on your hands.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “You should. You’re very talented.”

  She shrugged, wishing she believed him. Maybe if the show went well she would have confidence in her abilities. “I do wish I could take some real classes and study design and sewing.”

  “You’d be surprised how many top designers didn’t have a formal education.”

  “I suppose.” She looked at all her drawings, most of them at least the tenth attempt, spread out on the old billiard table. She’d worked hard and was proud of her efforts but still felt like she was a baby attempting to run before she could walk. “But I was thinking…maybe I could do the degree at the fashion institute and then put together a show.”

  “What?” Lorenzo looked stunned again. “No way. Most people need to do that because they don’t have the resources to simply create a collection. You do have those resources, and you’d be wasting your time to take a long series of courses. Signora Pazzi is the most accomplished seamstress in Milan. She has decades of accumulated wisdom, and I bet she never studied formally anywhere, either.”

  “I don’t know.” She rearranged a couple of the drawings. “It’s a very short time to pull together twenty different looks. What if they’re not done fast enough?”

  “They will be. One of my favorite sayings in business is ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’ If you’re going to live your dreams you have to be bold enough to take that first step.”

  As if to demonstrate, he stepped forward and kissed her again. Her lips parted to welcome his and soon she’d melted into his arms again. Kissing Lorenzo made her feel invincible. With his strong body wrapped around hers she felt like she could take on the world—and win.

  “Go for it,” he whispered into her ear.

  His hot breath further stimulated her senses. “I will.” Chest filled with fresh confidence, she was ready to go shopping for fabrics right now.

  “Excellent.” Lorenzo pulled back. She felt his steamy gray gaze drift over her face, making her feel desirable as well as competent. “Now let’s tour this old place.”

  Beatriz stiffened, and some of her suspicions crept back in. “Why are you so interested in this property?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve only seen it from the outside before. You have to admit it’s unusual.”

  “I suppose so. It was just built to be a summer house. It’s never been lived in year round.”

  Lorenzo was already striding across the stone floor, into a
n adjacent room with the walls painted to look like inlaid marble. The paint was flaking off in some places.

  She peered up at the high ceiling, where some paint hung like partially shed skin. “I should scrape back to the bare plaster and just repaint.”

  “I disagree. I love the worn aspect of the place. I feel like I’m in an ancient Roman temple in this room.”

  Beatriz squinted and tried to see the room from that perspective. She couldn’t get past the peeling paint—probably filled with lead and who knows what else. “The floor is pretty.” Made of actual inlaid marble, it was in great shape—hardly surprising since it was rarely walked on.

  She strode ahead, walking through another two large rooms until she reached the big, empty gallery at the back of the building where the broken window had been boarded over with a bright yellow sheet of fresh plywood. She turned to Lorenzo. “I bet you enjoy the avant-garde aspect of this juxtaposition.”

  He laughed. “You already know me too well.”

  The windows were enormous and composed of individual panes held in lead frames. “Well, tough luck because I’m going to restore the window to its former glory.”

  The room was beautifully proportioned and the walls in relatively good condition, perhaps because it was on the north side of the house and suffered less from daily temperature changes.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He looked around. “Think how this room would look with sleek modern furniture in it.”

  “It would be a stunning backdrop. The fireplace is so dramatic.” Almost two stories high and made of carved pale stone, it grabbed her attention.

  Soon she was striding through the house, noticing details from wooden doors intricately carved with country scenes to the magnificent dining room, with its unusual made-in-place table still in residence. “I wonder what pictures hung here.”

  “The palace archives might have files of notes on it somewhere. But do you want to restore it to its former glory or reinvent it for the twenty-first century?”

  “More yellow plywood?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of Le Corbusier.”

  “That’s twentieth century.” Why was he even thinking about what chairs would look good in her house? She decided to call his bluff and see how he reacted. She drew in a deep breath and screwed up her courage. His response could determine everything. “If you love the house so much and have such strong opinions about it, maybe I should rent it to you?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lorenzo stared at her. Her heart now thudded so hard she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.

  “Oh, no.” His gaze held hers. “You must live here. This is an artist’s house. It should be your canvas, your sanctuary. I’ll count myself lucky if I’m invited to visit.”

  Beatriz swallowed as relief rolled through her in a hot wave.

  “I’m not so sure, but I’ll think about it.” She looked around at the tall windows, lofty ceilings and the expansive view toward the nearby mountains. “It all seems so grand.”

  He laughed. “You live in what is arguably the grandest palace in Europe.”

  “I know. But I feel like I’m just one of the crowd there. It’s not mine.”

  “And this house is. You could design and renovate it so that it’s perfect for you. It’s the ideal way to claim your independence. Lets go upstairs.”

  He led the way in his usual bold fashion and soon they were peering into the large, empty bedrooms. One was on a corner with a view over the lake from several large windows. The water shimmered like glass, perfectly reflecting the snowy mountains.

  Beatriz wondered what it would be like to wake up to that view every morning. “This is a beautiful room.”

  “And it has an attached dressing room. Ideal for a fashion designer to store her personal collection.”

  Beatriz eyes widened. “I’m not going to wear them myself.”

  “Why not? You’re the perfect advertisement for your unique style.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” She felt color rising to her cheeks. Lorenzo’s gaze roved down over her physique. She wore a black turtleneck and black jeans, both more fitted than her usual attire because he’d given her confidence in her body.

  Her nipples tightened, and she felt sensation ripple in her belly.

  “It’s a shame there’s no bed in here.” Lorenzo’s low voice stirred something inside her.

  “True. I think I’ll have to fix that. I saw a stunning bed in white punched leather in Milan when we were walking around.”

  “I’m not a superstitious man, but I would take that as a sign.” A smile tugged at his sensual mouth.

  Beatriz had every intention of keeping her fashion work secret until the show, but there was no way she could keep her renovation project secret, so she quietly announced it to the family at dinner one night the next week. Sandro and Serena were still staying at the palace, waiting for his arm to improve enough for them to visit her family in Virginia, and Emma and Darias had come for dinner, as they often did.

  “The lake house?” Her mom looked appalled. “But it’s so remote. And dangerous.”

  “Just because bad things have happened there doesn’t make it dangerous. It’s time to reclaim it. Grandma wanted me to have the house, or she wouldn’t have left it to me. I suspect she hoped I’d want to live there.”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart.” Her mom had put down her knife and fork. “What if you’re all alone out there and something happens?”

  “Maybe she won’t be alone?” Liesel was still in residence at the palace, a circumstance Beatriz now deeply regretted bringing about. “Perhaps there are some other new developments you need to tell us about?”

  “Nothing like that, no,” she said too quickly. “But I am an adult and since there’s no sign of me getting married and moving off to live with someone, I think it’s time I struck out on my own.”

  “Oh, nonsense.” Her mom stared at her. “Who told you such a thing? You’re welcome to live here as long as you like. I love your company.”

  “And I love yours, but don’t you think it’s odd that I’m the oldest and I’m the only one who still lives at home?”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” said Sandro. “Beatriz has an eye for art and design. Remember how she helped Dad plan the renovations for the Orangerie? That place was a hovel before she stepped in.”

  “I don’t know why he ever bothered with that place,” said her mom.

  Beatriz was silent. Maybe they suspected him of using it to hide an affair, but no one would ever say it aloud. They loved their dad, and their mom, too much for that. “I did enjoy decorating the Orangerie, and the lake house has so much more potential. The views are unbelievable because it’s so close to the mountains.”

  “Does Lorenzo Aldobrando have anything to do with this sudden interest in the lake house?” Darias had a suspicious expression on his face.

  Beatriz was tempted to lie but why? If things kept going as well as they had been she’d surely go public with her relationship sooner or later. “I think his interest in it rather awakened my own. I never really thought about it before. But now that I’ve taken the time to look around the house and grounds, I can see that it would be a beautiful place to live.”

  “To live full time?” Their mom looked horrified. “But it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Hardly,” said Sandro with a laugh. “Yes, it was a long horse-and-carriage ride when it was first built in the eighteen hundreds, but it’s barely twenty minutes now.”

  “But there was an avalanche on the road!”

  “Only because someone set dynamite there. Beatriz can arrange to have the snow load checked regularly and controlled with dynamite if needed.”

  Lina drew in a breath, looking very tense. “Gosh, I don’t know. I suppose it makes sense on some levels but…”

  “But you don’t want to be left alone in your empty nest,” said Liesel, coolly.

  Lina blinked. “I suppose you’r
e right. That sounds so selfish that I almost hate myself.”

  “You need to start dating, Mom.” Sandro sipped his wine. “You’re young and vibrant and have a lot of decades left to enjoy.”

  “Perish the thought.” Lina grew pale. “I’ll cherish the memory of your father until the day I die.”

  “Mom, that’s just silly.” Beatriz didn’t like the idea of her mom being alone for decades any more than she wanted it for herself. “Even if you’re not ready right now, you shouldn’t rule the idea out altogether.”

  “I don’t want to hear any mention of it again.” Lina looked quite firm. “Let’s change the subject. Will you build a riding arena at the lake house?”

  “I don’t know…” Beatriz hadn’t really thought about actually living there and what that might entail. “I think I’ll start with the inside and take things one step at a time.”

  The next two months were a flurry of activity. Beatriz hired tradesmen to fix up the lake house, which was well built and in surprisingly good condition considering its age. The bathrooms were outdated to the point of not being functional—no showers and toilets with tanks up near the ceiling—so Lorenzo helped her choose new fixtures befitting the dramatic and elegant setting.

  The vast kitchen was not very user-friendly but was so cool-looking that they managed to sneak in a few useful modern appliances without changing the overall appearance of the room too much.

  Beatriz ended up using colors from the view—the ice caps on the mountains, the reflection of pine trees in the lake, the afternoon sun dancing on the water—to inspire paint colors for the rooms. Soon the house was a freshly restored blank canvas ready for decorating.

  Lorenzo had furnished numerous upscale residences as part of his real estate business, so he took her to showrooms and helped arrange delivery of a variety of sleek and dramatic pieces that perfectly offset their ornate setting. In less than eight weeks it was ready for her to move in.