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

by Jennifer Lewis

  “Looks like they succeeded.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her forehead. She let out a sigh and sank into him.

  “Not really, I’m more angry than anything.” She hugged him close. “I think that now I’m finally stepping outside my comfort zone and taking chances I don’t feel as powerless as I used to. I actually wish the person would come forward instead of skulking around.”

  “Did you report it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Lorenzo kissed her softly, then harder, which made her knees weaken. “Because we have more important things to deal with. I’m making you dinner.”

  She glanced at the bags he’d brought in from the car. An overnight bag and a dark canvas bag. “You’re a genius. I was so anxious about staying overnight here and leaving my mom alone at the palace that I only brought a few things. I could have made an omelet, but that’s about it.”

  “Let’s head to the kitchen.” His mischievous grin made her stomach tingle with something other than hunger. Within half an hour he’d seared two thin steaks, sautéed a mix of tender baby vegetables and poured them both big glasses of red wine. As she sipped the wine Beatriz began to relax into her new surroundings.

  They ate their dinner in the big dining room, with its art nouveau–style stained glass windows and massive carved table, and afterward she was so relaxed she decided to say what was still nagging at the back of her mind. “The jerk who texted me mentioned the murder of my father and grandmother, then said, ‘You’re next.’ ” She frowned. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

  Lorenzo’s brow furrowed “Would you inherit the throne if something happened to Darias?”

  “No. Females only inherit if there’s no male heir. My grandmother was the oldest of three daughters. If something happened to Darias—perish the thought—Sandro would be the heir.”

  “Hence the conspirators’ desire to attack them both.”

  Beatriz stared at him. How did he know about the incident? She must have mentioned it to him. Gibran had gone to some pains to keep it out of the press. She’d told him that Darias and Sandro were coming here, then later than Sandro was injured protecting Darias, so he must have put two and two together.

  But if she couldn’t talk to Lorenzo about this stuff, who could she talk to?

  “But what do they hope to achieve? Wilhelm, the guy who did it, turned out to be some disgruntled former aristocrat whose ancestors had been sent into exile. Does he think that if they could kill off all ten of us they could somehow take over the country? It doesn’t add up.”

  Lorenzo poured more wine into her glass. “I doubt it’s that simple. People these days are more interested in money than the trappings of aristocracy.”

  “I agree, so the people who kidnapped Emma to get a bank code made a lot more sense. Why is someone texting me just to weird me out?”

  Lorenzo got up from his chair and came around the table. Before she could protest he picked her up in his arms. “First they’re going to have to get through me.”

  She felt a smile spread over her face. How could he pick her up so easily? She loved how strong he was. “You do make me feel safe.”

  “And you make me feel very protective.” He kissed her, still holding her up in the air. “In fact, I’d like to stow you safely away in bed for the night.”

  She giggled. “Shouldn’t we clean up first?”

  “Don’t you have servants for that?” Lorenzo lifted a brow. She couldn’t tell if he was joking.

  “Well, actually Lori will come in the morning to do the daily cleaning.”

  “Problem solved.” He grabbed both their wine glasses, without putting her down, and headed for the stairs.

  “How can you carry me so easily?”

  “You’re light as a feather.” He strode up the stairs as if she were weightless and headed down the hallway to her room.

  “You remember which one is mine?”

  “Of course.” He opened the door and swept her inside. She’d left the lights on—the eeriness of an unfamiliar house after dark had made her turn lights on everywhere—and the room glowed. The dark wood of the lovely bed he’d helped her choose contrasted with the soft white of the textured bedding and the warm amber of the art deco lamps. “It looks beautiful.”

  “Doesn’t it? It feels much more me than my room at the palace. Even though I’ve slept in there since I was a baby, it was decorated for some ancient ancestor and no one even thought to update the brocade fabric on the walls or the ten feet of velvet curtains. I feel like I’ve been staying overnight in someone else’s room my whole life and now I’m finally in my own space.”

  Still holding her in his arms, he kissed her cheek. “Welcome home.”

  “I give you full credit. I don’t think it would have even crossed my mind to live here.”

  “And now you do.” He laid her gently down on the soft bedding.

  “Not officially. I told my mom I was staying for a day or two. I didn’t want to freak her out.”

  “I’m sure she’s just fine.” Lorenzo joined her on the bed, and they lay side by side. End-of-day stubble ornamented his chiseled jaw. “Maybe she’s even celebrating you seizing some independence.”

  Suddenly Beatriz remembered the dinner plans she’d made with her mom. “She’d like you to come for dinner with us next week. I think Darias and Emma will be there too.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Hopefully Darias won’t challenge you to another joust.”

  “If he does, I’ll make sure to win this time.” His mischievous grin reassured her that he was joking. “I’m looking forward to getting to know your family better.”

  “That’s what my mom said. I think it’s silly that I’ve had to keep you a virtual secret so far. We’re both grown adults and have nothing to do with what happened hundreds of years ago. Not that I even know what all the fuss was about.”

  “Me either. Who cares? Let’s live in the present.”

  They kissed until the scent and the taste of him overwhelmed her senses, then they tore off each other’s clothes, laughing, and made hot, steamy, passionate love on her brand-new white sheets.

  Afterward they lay in each other’s arms, and Beatriz sighed. Everything was so perfect. Lorenzo fulfilled her more than she’d ever dreamed, and their relationship was on the way to some sort of official status. Her fashion designs had exceeded her expectations, and she was excited about seeing them come to life. And now she was building a real, grown-up life for herself in this lovely house overlooking the most beautiful lake in Altaleone.

  Could things get any better than this?

  Two days later it was Monday morning, and Lorenzo lay next to Beatriz in her spacious bed. For a while he watched her sleep, resisting the urge to stroke her long hair. He didn’t want to get up and go to the investor meeting in Turin, but the deal had been in the works for months and he wasn’t going to blow it, even for a woman as enchanting—and royal—as Beatriz.

  As he dressed he reflected what his ancestors, who’d been smarting over the loss of this property for hundreds of years, would think if they could see him climb out of bed in it this morning. Would they be laughing that an Aldobrando had flirted and wooed his way back onto the stunning acreage his forbears had once called home?

  He kissed Beatriz goodbye and they arranged to meet in Milan on Wednesday, when she’d be coming into the city to work with Signora Pazzi. He heard her phone ring as he hurried downstairs, already on the way to being late. It was hard to leave Beatriz. Something about her made him want to hold her in his arms and whisper sweet nothings to her just to see a smile brighten her habitual serious expression.

  He climbed into his car and drove to the new gate that had been installed. There was an elaborate code—which changed every day—to enter but to leave he only had to press a button. The gate had just closed behind him when his phone rang with an unfamiliar number.

  “Hello.”

  “Lorenzo Aldobrando?”


  “Speaking.”

  “This is Gibran Al Nazariyah. I work for the Leone family.”

  “Yes, Beatriz has mentioned you. You’re the head of security, right?” A twinge of anxiety suddenly tugged at him. “Is Beatriz okay?”

  “Oh, yes, absolutely.” There was a pause. “But she’s mentioned that she received another text from an unknown individual.”

  “Yes. I do hope you catch them soon.”

  “And that she was waiting to meet you both times she received the texts.”

  “That is an odd coincidence.” Lorenzo’s pulse picked up. Would they try to make something of it? He had no idea why the person had chosen to contact her when she was on her way to meet them.

  “I think so too.” Another pause, long enough to become uncomfortable. “I’d like to interview you at the palace.”

  Lorenzo frowned. “Interview? Do you mean question me?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  Indignation surged in his gut. He wasn’t a common criminal—or even a suspect—to be questioned and cross-questioned. Still, he didn’t want to rub Beatriz’s family the wrong way. “I’ve been invited for dinner at the palace this week. Thursday, in fact. I could meet with you then.”

  More silence. This Gibran character knew how to make you sweat. “I’d prefer to do it before then. Tomorrow at the latest.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I have a meeting in Turin today, then I’m traveling to Rome for another meeting tomorrow.”

  “You can cancel one of them.” No hesitation now. “It’s important that I meet with you as soon as possible.”

  Lorenzo took the turn toward the main road, thoughts racing through his head. “Am I a suspect?”

  “Until we have more information, everyone is a suspect.”

  Lorenzo frowned. If he was a suspect he needed to call a lawyer—now. “I’ll call you back.”

  He hung up and called the lawyer who handled his more acrimonious real estate transactions, who in turn suggested a well-known criminal lawyer based in Altaleone. Lorenzo explained the situation, and the lawyer assured him that they had no grounds whatsoever to question him about anything and that he would handle it.

  Then he called Beatriz.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Hi, sweetie.” There was a question in her voice. Beatriz must be surprised that he was calling when he’d left her barely an hour ago.

  “Gibran just asked me to come in for an interview.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s a formality. We all know you didn’t do anything. It’s just so they can cross you off their list.”

  Lorenzo hesitated. He was still driving, just now reaching the outskirts of Milan. Had he made a mistake to put up resistance? “But why would I even cross their minds?”

  “Because I told Gibran that I was about to meet you both times the texter contacted me. I told him it was just a coincidence. You’re not worried, are you?” She sounded anxious.

  “No, of course not.” Now he was worried. The family already hated him for the sins of his ancestors, and might latch onto any excuse to put him out of reach of their beloved Beatriz. Putting him behind bars for treason and murder would be an effective way to achieve their goals. “But why did you tell him that?”

  “I didn’t, really. It just came out when he was asking me about the circumstances surrounding the texts.”

  “I bet Gibran is embarrassed that they still don’t even have a solid suspect in the murders that happened last summer. He’s clutching at straws.” He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. “I’m a respectable citizen, and I’ve never committed a crime in my life. He has literally no grounds whatsoever to suspect me.”

  “I agree.” She sounded tense. “That’s what I told him.”

  “Your family doesn’t want me seeing you.”

  “I’m not sure they even know about this. It was a conversation I had directly with Gibran. He’s charged with keeping me safe—with keeping all of us safe.”

  “They know. Trust me.” Indignation tightened his muscles. If he wanted to, he could probably talk Beatriz into selling the damn house to him right now. Yes, she’d decorated it her way but wouldn’t she prefer a different castle without bloodstains scrubbed out of the floor? Perhaps a beautiful ancient palazzo in Milan, near the fashion scene and away from the clutches of her overprotective family?

  But he had feelings for her, dammit. And he wanted to see her have that show they’d dreamed and schemed together.

  He drove into the city center. “I called a lawyer.”

  “What!? Why?”

  “Gibran said I’m a suspect.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Alarm made her voice shrill.

  “Ask him.” Yes, Gibran had said “everybody” was a suspect, but Lorenzo wasn’t gullible enough to fall for that. “I’m a prominent businessman, and I don’t take kindly to having my reputation tarnished by false accusations.” He tried to keep his voice steady and calm while anger simmered inside him. “The lawyer agreed with me.”

  “Oh.”

  He hoped his lawyer would get him out of talking to Gibran or his goons, but there was no way to be sure. He was dealing with royals after all. “I’d better go. I need to park and get to my meeting. I just wanted to give you a heads up on the situation. I suspect your family won’t want me to come for dinner now.”

  He instantly regretted that rather snippy statement, true though it likely was.

  “I’m sure they will. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to them.” Doubt shimmered in her voice. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.” He said it softly, careful to keep his anger out of his voice. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Beatriz.” He had to be careful that this unexpected snafu didn’t drive a wedge between them. If Beatriz had to choose between him and her family, he’d be stupid to think she’d choose him.

  “And you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me by a really long way.” She sounded emotional.

  “I wish I was there to give you a hug and tell you it will all be fine.”

  “It will all be fine,” she said with gusto. “I’m sure of it. Have a good meeting, and I’ll talk to you tonight.”

  They hung up with the usual romantic pleasantries, and Lorenzo headed into his meeting still seething with indignant rage. Just because he’d dared to kiss their precious princess they thought he should now be subjected to interrogation and possible false charges?

  In the old days they’d have locked him in a tower somewhere and left him to rot without trial. They might be royal, but this was the twenty-first century and they’d better wake up and smell the legal briefs.

  Beatriz drove to the palace as fast as she could, with Nina in hot pursuit. Her mom was in the living room and rushed toward her with a big smile as soon as she saw her. “You’re back! Wonderful. Darias and Emma will be here any moment.” Beatriz could tell she was putting a brave face on and had missed her terribly. She hugged her mom.

  But she was too upset to hold back. “Mama, Gibran wants to interrogate Lorenzo. He thinks he’s a suspect!”

  Her mom stared. “In what?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” She hadn’t told her mom about the texts. She didn’t want to alarm her.

  “Not the murders.” Her mom’s face tightened. “Lorenzo? Why would he…?”

  “I don’t know what it’s about. But as you can imagine he’s really upset.”

  “Who’s really upset?” Darias strode through the door and pulled off his scarf and coat. Emma came right behind him.

  Beatriz’s mom looked at her. “Lorenzo. Because Gibran wants to question him.”

  “Gibran hasn’t interviewed him yet? Why not?” Darias gave his mom a kiss on the cheek like this whole conversation had little importance either way.

  “Why would he?” Beatriz hated the squeaky indignation in her voice. “What has Lorenzo ever done to anyone in this family? He even agreed to let you conquer him in that dumb jo
ust.”

  “That was magnanimous of him, I admit, but I’m with Gibran in thinking that everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise. Especially anyone who’s becoming increasingly intimate with my sister.”

  “We’re not becoming increasingly intimate; we’re actually dating.” It was time her brother realized that she and Lorenzo were an item, not just a pointless flirtation. “He just spent the weekend with me.”

  “So that’s why you wanted to renovate that house.” Darias raised a brow. “It all makes sense now. And I’m sure it’s a total coincidence that the house he’s spending time with you in is the one he tried—in vain—to acquire from me before he realized it was actually yours.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Darias!” His mom touched his arm.

  “It’s insulting that you assume a man would only be interested in me for my real estate. As it happens we’re—” She wanted to say that they were in love, but she couldn’t vouch 100 percent for his feelings. Or even her own. She was naturally wary, but she was pretty sure they were heading in the love direction. “We’re very close.”

  Darias sat down on the sofa. “If he has nothing to hide, then he won’t mind talking to Gibran.”

  “But he does mind.” Beatriz hated his casual attitude. These days he was acting more like her father than her—technically—younger brother. “It’s an assault on his character. He’s done nothing whatsoever that could cause him to be a suspect.”

  “Except for spending time with you.” Darias lifted a brow. “You have to admit that anyone making an effort to get close to the Leone family has to be suspected of trying to infiltrate and possibly undermine us. And Gibran said that you were about to meet him both times that you received hostile texts.”

  “What hostile texts?” Her mom and Emma spoke at the same time.

  Beatriz scowled at Darias. Then looked at her mom. “Silly idle threats that could have been sent by anyone. What would Lorenzo gain from doing that?”

  Darias stretched out. “Perhaps he wanted to scare you. Then he could rush in and be the valiant hero rescuing the damsel in distress.”