by Kate Hardy
She nodded, and looked away.
He left her room, showered and dressed swiftly, and sent holding texts to his brother, his mother and Gabriella, saying that he’d explain everything when he was back at the palace later that morning. He took the special glass bauble from the tree and wrapped it up, then added an addendum to the letter he’d written the previous night, and stowed them both in his bag along with the wrapped snow globe.
Tia was silent when she finally came downstairs. For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse breakfast. So he just said quietly, ‘You need to eat. For you and the baby.’
There was a movement across her stomach. At least the baby agreed with him, he thought wryly.
She shrugged, still looking hurt and angry, but at least she ate her toast. Drank the mug of tea he’d prepared. Climbed into the back of the car—this time, Giacomo drove, and the windows were blacked out to avoid the press.
Tia stared out of the window all the way to the airport, and Antonio didn’t push her to talk. She barely spoke to him on the flight back, either.
How could he even begin to fix this? Tia was going to marry him, which was what he’d wanted since she’d told him the news about the baby: but he could see now that it was only to save her mother from the press. Not because she wanted to be with him.
How ironic that he’d been trying to persuade her to fall for him, and what he’d managed to do instead was let himself fall for her. If he told her how he felt about her—if he could even find the right words—he didn’t think she’d believe him. Not now the press were involved.
He’d been honest with her and told her how much he hated palace politics, so why did she believe he’d do something underhand? He really hadn’t engineered that kiss. He’d wanted to kiss her. Wanted to be with her. He’d been so wrapped up in those unexpected emotions that he hadn’t noticed the paparazzi hanging round, and he hadn’t seen the flash from the camera.
If only he was good at saying what he really felt. But every time he opened his mouth to tell her, it was as if his throat was filled with sand and the words just wouldn’t come out.
When they landed, he said, ‘Would you prefer to go to the palace or to go straight back to London?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
That really hurt. ‘Yes. Of course you have a choice.’
‘I want to see my mum,’ she said. Before he could offer to go with her, she said, ‘And I’ll go on my own. I expect you have official duties.’
He needed to speak to his family and the palace secretary, yes, but he wanted to support her. He wanted to be with her; he wanted to make this work. And he rather thought he owed her mother an apology and a personal explanation.
He didn’t get the chance to tell her, because she continued, ‘And I need to see Giovanni and Vittoria, explain everything to them. They’ve been so good to me and I feel bad about letting them down. And my friend who was going to share childcare with me. I’ve let her down, too.’
Guilt flooded through him. She had a whole life without him, and he was ripping her from that support network and expecting her to be in Casavalle with him. She wasn’t the only one whose life was changed by this mess. ‘Look, I’ll sort everything out.’
‘That’s my life, not yours. I’ll organise it,’ she cut in. Which told him exactly where he stood. She’d see any offer of help as throwing his money around, not a genuine desire to make things better.
‘Will you at least let my pilot take you back to London?’ he asked.
‘Are you worried I might talk to someone in the airport while I’m waiting for my flight and say something I shouldn’t?’
He remembered the conversation he’d had with her before, and sighed. ‘No, Tia. The media will write what they like.’ It hurt that she thought he was so underhand, and he had to draw on every ounce of the training he’d had over the years to remain cool and calm and collected. But he wanted her to know his real motivation, so he said, ‘I’m asking if you’ll let my pilot take you back because you’re six months pregnant and the last thing you need is to wait for hours for connecting flights, perhaps without anywhere to sit if the airport’s really busy.’
She turned away so he couldn’t see her face, couldn’t read her eyes. ‘Whatever. I don’t care any more.’
And how that hurt, to see her so flat and cold towards him, with all her bubbliness gone. Worse, to know that it was all because of him. That she didn’t trust him. ‘Let me have a word with the pilot.’
He went into the cockpit and arranged with the crew that they’d take her to London and look after her on the way. ‘And can you please make sure that this letter’s delivered, and these two parcels go to Tia’s mum?’
‘Of course, Your Royal Highness.’
‘Thank you.’ He returned to Tia. Although part of him wanted to take Tia back to the palace before she went to London and at least introduce her to his family, from the set look on her face he didn’t think she’d be amenable to the suggestion. ‘Please let me know when you’re safely back in London.’
She huffed out a breath. ‘I’m surprised you don’t want to put some kind of tracking device on my phone.’
He winced. ‘I’m not trying to trap you, Tia.’
‘It feels like it.’
He would’ve done anything to rewind the last few hours—to go back to the children’s Christmas party where he’d felt so happy, where he and Tia had worked as a team and he’d thought they were actually getting closer. And last night, when he’d kissed her under the mistletoe. When she’d fallen asleep on him on the sofa. When she’d shyly asked him to stay with her and he’d woken in the night to feel the baby kicking in her stomach. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not meant to be...’ His throat closed. A prison. But hadn’t he felt like that at the palace, too? Hemmed in and miserable and trapped by all the politics?
On the other hand, he couldn’t just throw Tia to the wolves. The media would make her life miserable without him.
‘Safe journey,’ he said, and walked to the door of the plane where the stewardess was waiting.
‘Look after her for me, please,’ he said.
And his misery must’ve shown in his eyes, because the stewardess forgot herself enough to pat his arm. ‘It’ll be all right, Prince Antonio.’
He rather didn’t think it would.
And he couldn’t bear to look back at Tia and see how much she loathed him.
* * *
Antonio strolled off the plane, as cool as a cucumber, and didn’t even look back at her. He was clearly so secure in his triumph that he didn’t need to make sure his new chattel was sitting exactly where he’d left her.
Tia felt sick.
Right at that moment, she wished she’d never met Antonio Valenti.
There was a volley of kicks, and she rested her hand on her bump. ‘I don’t regret you,’ she whispered softly. ‘But I thought he was different. That he felt something for me. That he cared. That over the last few days he’d shown her the real man behind the Prince, a man I could really love. But none of it was true. All along it was just to manipulate me into a situation where I’m forced to do what the palace wants.’
She’d let everyone down. Her mum, the memory of her dad and her brother, her bosses, her friends.
And life was never going to be the same again.
* * *
Antonio had everything planned in the official car back to the palace. First, he’d talk to his family; then to the palace secretary, to make sure that their plans for protecting Tia and Grace were completely in place; and then he’d organise Tia and her mother coming to the palace.
Back at the palace, he found his mother in her study, doing something on a computer. He knocked at the door and, when she looked up, bowed deeply, ‘Good morning, Mamma.’
She inclined her head. ‘Good morning, Antonio.’
‘I’
m sorry I’ve...’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I’ve brought scandal to the family.’
This was her cue to tell him he was a disgrace, how disgusted his father would be, and how she expected better from him.
But to his surprise she stood up, walked over to him and took his hands, squeezing them. ‘Welcome home. Where is Tia? Is she resting?’
‘No. She’s on a plane to London,’ he said.
‘I see.’ Maria looked disappointed. ‘I would have liked to meet her, talk with her a little.’
‘It’s not her fault, Mamma,’ he said softly. ‘I accept the blame fully.’
‘For putting her on the plane?’
He nodded. ‘And for the baby—’ he choked ‘—for everything.’
She shocked him even more by touching his face. ‘Antonio. A baby is something never to be sorry for. I’m going to be a grandmother. That’s wonderful news.’
‘Even though...?’ He blinked. ‘This baby wasn’t planned, Mamma. And Tia and I are not married.’
Maria shrugged. ‘She seems very sweet, very genuine. You don’t know how glad I am that you and Luca have found someone to love, and that Luca’s engaged. I know how much Imogen loves him—and, from the look of that photograph, Tia clearly loves you.’
Oh, no, she didn’t. She might’ve started to feel something towards him over the last few days, but he’d managed to kill it. Right now, Antonio was pretty sure that she hated him.
‘I’ve been worried about you,’ his mother said. ‘I know you took your father’s death very hard.’
Antonio closed his eyes for a moment. All the regrets for things that might have been. ‘I’ll never be able to make him proud of me now.’
‘He was always proud of you, Antonio. He just didn’t know how to tell you.’
Antonio didn’t believe her.
‘Your father wasn’t an easy man,’ Maria said. ‘He was a good king, a good man—but he found family life hard. Especially after Sophia walked away from him.’
This was a subject that was never, ever discussed in their family. But Luca had actually mentioned their father’s past in public, after he’d got engaged, so maybe things were changing.
‘He loved Sophia, but she was from a different world.’
So was Tia.
‘She found it hard to deal with our way of life.’
Antonio rather thought that Tia, on the other hand, could deal with anything.
‘Walk with me, my child,’ Maria said. ‘We’ll talk in the garden.’
He helped his mother put her coat on—he hadn’t had time to take his off—and went with her into the formal garden. Even though it was almost December, there were still a few roses in bloom.
‘I love this garden,’ she said. ‘Your father did, too. He was the one who increased the collection of roses here. He used to enjoy talking to the gardener and looking over rose catalogues with him. I rather think, if he’d had the time, he would have liked to breed his own roses.’
Was she talking about the same man he’d grown up with? Antonio was amazed. ‘I didn’t think my father—’ He stopped abruptly, knowing his words were tactless and not wanting to hurt his mother.
‘What?’ she asked gently.
He didn’t think his father had been interested in anything else other than ruling. ‘Being the King was his entire life,’ he said eventually.
‘It was a very big part, but not all,’ his mother corrected. ‘He was a husband and a father as well as the King.’
Antonio struggled to think of a time when his father had showed open affection to his wife or his children. They hadn’t even had a pet dog or cat. Even at Picco Innevato, his father had never really switched off. He had been the King first, and everything else had come way down his list of priorities.
As if his mother guessed what he was thinking, she said, ‘Vincenzo found it hard to open up about his feelings.’
Yeah. He knew how that felt. He struggled, too.
‘And Sophia couldn’t cope with royal life.’
‘What about you, Mamma?’ The question came out before he could stop it. He winced. ‘I apologise. That’s much too personal. Forget I asked.’
‘No, it’s a valid question, and you have a point. I should have done more when you were younger,’ Maria said with a sigh. ‘Your father could never open up because of the way he was raised. In the view of his parents, children should be seen and not heard. They were very closed off and they never told Vincenzo that they valued him for himself—and with hindsight I think he needed to hear that.’
Antonio had never considered it before, and it made him feel guilty. ‘I never told him I valued him, either.’
‘But he knew you did,’ Maria said gently. ‘And he valued you, even though he didn’t tell you. I value you. And maybe I should’ve told you that more often.’
The lump in Antonio’s throat was so huge, he couldn’t answer her. But he wrapped his arms round her and hugged her.
Maria stroked his hair. ‘Your father was raised to be a king and a statesman, and he made sure he was the very best King and statesman he could be. But he couldn’t open up—even to me, sometimes. I think he wanted to try to be closer to you. It’s why he suggested that we should buy the house in Picco Innevato.’
‘That was my father’s idea?’ Antonio pulled back, surprised, and looked his mother straight in the eye.
‘Yes. So you and Luca would have somewhere to be children, without being in the public eye all the time.’
‘That’s where I took Tia,’ he admitted. ‘Picco Innevato.’
‘I guessed that,’ Maria said gently.
‘I asked Miles not to tell anyone anything about where I was going or who I was with.’
She smiled. ‘I’m your mother, Antonio. I know things without having to be told. Picco Innevato is where you always go when you need time to think. Where you go to decompress after a bad mission. Luca said that Tia Phillips had been trying to get in touch with you. He assumed that she was someone trying it on and told Miles to ignore her, whereas if either of them had thought to say something to me I could’ve told them she was Nathan’s sister—and I know you blame yourself for Nathan’s death.’
Antonio blew out a breath. ‘I should’ve been in that car along with him.’
‘I’m very glad you weren’t,’ Maria said. ‘I feel for his poor mother—of course I do, because it’s the fear every soldier’s mother has, the worry about getting that phone call. I tried never to stand in your way, but I hated you being in danger all the time, and I worried about you every second you were on a mission. So did your father,’ she added wryly, ‘but he said you needed to do things your own way.’
‘He was right,’ Antonio admitted. ‘I did.’
‘I wish he’d written you a letter or something like that, to tell you how he felt. But your father was your father. A different generation.’
‘Does Luca know?’
‘That your father loved you both and couldn’t say it?’ She nodded. ‘And I think love has changed Luca, too. What happened with Meribel... That was hard for both of them. I feel guilty about that. I should’ve stepped in and said no, don’t agree to marry the girl unless you really love her, because you shouldn’t sacrifice yourself for your country.’
‘But I thought you said Meribel was crazy to...’ Antonio stopped.
‘I think,’ Maria said gently, ‘she will be OK, and in the end she did Luca a favour.’
How would Tia’s mother judge him? Would she see him as the man who seduced her daughter, abandoned her, and was now forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want? Or would she judge him more kindly?
‘So what will you do now, Antonio? About Tia?’
‘I...’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know, Mamma.’
‘You look as if you’re in love in that photograph. And you didn�
�t know it was being taken.’
‘She thinks I set it up, to force her to marry me and make the baby my heir,’ Antonio said.
‘Then you need to talk to her. Find out what she wants. Find out if you can come to some kind of compromise—one where you both win rather than both lose,’ Maria advised. ‘Tell her how you feel.’
‘I don’t have the words,’ Antonio said.
‘Tell her that first. Tell her you find it hard,’ Maria said. ‘Ask her to help you. And be as honest as you can.’
* * *
Once he’d finished talking to his mother, Antonio went to find Luca, who clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Congratulations, little brother.’
‘Not yet,’ Antonio said. ‘I haven’t quite followed in the footsteps of you and Imogen. I might have messed things up.’
‘If you love her,’ Luca said softly, ‘go after her. Tell her you love her.’
‘Is that what you did with Imogen?’
Luca nodded. ‘And it was the best thing I ever did.’
Antonio looked at his elder brother. He’d never seen Luca so relaxed and happy. Was it because he was free of the burden of their father’s expectations? Or was it love? And, if it was love, could that work out for him and Tia, too?
And how was he going to convince Tia that they had a future?
He still had no idea by the time he went to see Gabriella.
‘Antonio. It’s good to see you.’ She smiled at him ‘I saw all the stuff in the press,’ she said. ‘Are you OK?’
He grimaced. ‘I think I might have been an idiot.’
‘The girl you kissed under the mistletoe on your front doorstep?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve acted like every other Valenti man—I’ve expected everyone to fall in with my wishes, and kept my feelings shut away.’
‘But you can change that,’ she said.
‘Yes. It’s time things changed in Casavalle,’ he agreed.
And then it hit him. He didn’t need to shut away his emotions, like he’d always done in the past. Not any more. He loved Tia. Although he knew she didn’t love him back, he loved her enough to give her what she wanted. She didn’t want to be stuck here in the palace; she wanted to be with her mother in London.
