The members of the House of Villani were not the enemy.
But they certainly seemed to have made one of the prime minister. So Theo kept his truth to himself and offered what he believed she hoped to hear.
“Fine. While I’d be interested to know where you got your intel, as I prize my privacy, it is true. I’m not a fan of the royals. I try to keep that under wraps. Can’t have people thinking I wouldn’t be objective.”
Skaggit nodded briskly. “Understandable. This assignment should be a brilliant jewel of a stepping stone for your career. That is, if you play it right.”
Theo wasn’t sure if that’d be classified as a threat or a bribe. Either way, it left a sour taste in his mouth. He wanted out. “You’re a powerful woman who must have far too many things crammed onto your schedule. Don’t let me hold you up. Tell me what you’d like me to do.”
“Follow your instincts. If the royal family is as bad as you think, admittance to the European Union would be a disaster. They’d embarrass the country on a vast scale.”
Jamming his hands in his pockets so she wouldn’t see the fists that formed, Theo also leaned against the shelf and crossed his ankles. It was imperative the PM see him as calm and loose. “You think a bad audit would prevent that?”
“If your audit is negative, the EU wouldn’t want us to join anymore. They’d rescind the invitation. They only want countries that will bring positive economic growth. Your report, carefully leaked to a few key players, would accomplish that. Then Parliament can hunker down and do the work of making Moncriano shine on its own merits, rather than being a tiny cog in a huge conglomerate.”
Theo’s mind reeled. “As I said when I entered, Prime Minister, I serve at your pleasure. It may take me an extra week or two to lock down the results you’d prefer.”
“That would be acceptable.”
He bowed, not trusting himself to attempt to shake her hand without crushing it in his fury. “Thank you for the audience. It’s always good to have clear directions on which path to follow. Especially one that will be mutually beneficial.”
That last sentence ought to assure her that they wanted the same thing. The downfall of the monarchy. Which, he presumed, she’d use to become even more powerful.
Theo forced himself to saunter out of the office, casual as could be. He threw the secretary a lazy wink. Didn’t even pull his phone out of his pocket until he’d left the marble halls of parliament and was back out in the baking summer sun. Who knew how many spies Skaggit had planted in the government?
His finger hovered over Simon’s photo on his home screen—one of them at the top of the Empire State Building, laughing hysterically.
If he told Simon everything that had just transpired, then his friend could also be complicit if anything went wrong. Both of their careers could be ruined.
On the other hand, Theo knew he needed help. He couldn’t just run off to Christian or Genny and tell them. That would entail explaining how much he’d always loathed and badmouthed the royal family. Skaggit believed he’d do her dirty work, that he’d turn in a false report, because of what used to be the truth.
Genny would, in turn, hate him.
The royal family could turn on him, tell him that he never should’ve accepted the job with such a bias. If they didn’t believe his story, Skaggit would still expect the report to make the princess look bad.
Again, Genny would hate him. For that matter, Theo would hate himself.
At least he’d bought himself some extra time to figure it all out. Theo tucked his phone away. He’d go for a run, sweat out the vile mood induced by the PM, and then decide on whether or not to ask Simon for help.
Or if he, too, would end up hating him for it.
Chapter Seventeen
Ordinarily, Genny adored a polo match. Hot men in tight pants bent over their horses, racing hell for leather… What wasn’t to love?
But she’d starting resenting her public duties. Resenting the time she had to pretend to be nothing more than cordial to Theo.
They’d had a close call a week ago during tea with her grandmother. His concern for her had slipped from polite to personal. Thanks to a few carefully dropped anecdotes about his time at Kelsey’s 4th of July party and his dinner with Christian, her relatives seemed to buy that he’d simply become friendly with the younger royals.
There couldn’t be another near-miss. They still had daily meetings. Theo still accompanied her to some events. But they no longer risked holding hands in the car. Or the hallway. Or anywhere besides behind her bedroom doors.
Once those shut for the night, though, all bets were off. Theo couldn’t keep his hands off her and vice versa. So polo held little of its usual appeal. It was, in fact, a form of torture. Today’s match was run by the royal family to benefit a charity, which meant Theo would be right next to her all day, checking to see where corners could be cut.
She couldn’t wait to argue with him about it.
“Aren’t you going to wish me luck?” Christian asked.
He had his helmet tucked under his arm. The white polo shirt had the purple and gold Moncriano crest on the left and a large number 1 on the right, with his white pants tucked into knee-high white boots. Genny could practically see the drool from the mouths of every woman in the crowd between twelve and fifty.
“Look around. There are literally hundreds of women who’d offer you a kiss for good luck. What do you need with a hug from your sister?”
“Because you’re the one who matters. Idiot.” He slung an arm around her neck and pretended to muss her hair. Genny, as was their habit, pretended to squeal in terror, all the while knowing he’d never actually touch it because they were out in public, and Christian cared enough for her not to put her in a viral photo situation with bad hair.
Which was not something most brothers would worry about.
But then, their relationship wasn’t that of most siblings. And Genny wouldn’t change it for the world.
She went on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “There. You’ll be brilliant on the field as always.”
“Now I will.”
“Don’t forget my good luck charm. Mallory searched high and low for the rabbit’s foot that suited you best. It’ll help you, too.” Kelsey had joined them, tugging at his belt.
Probably to keep from falling off the very high nude pumps her stylist had given her. The woman should be fired. Kelsey could barely walk in heels on the parquet floors of the palace. Walking the uneven grass of a polo field guaranteed a tumble before the end of the first chukka. Now Genny would have to text Kelsey’s maid—as soon as her sister wasn’t looking—to bring a pair of emergency flats ASAP.
Her brother reached into his pocket to reveal a rabbit’s foot virulently tie-dyed green and purple. He looked at it with…awe? Utter revolt? Hard to tell. “Your sister picked this out for me?”
“You betcha. She was thrilled when I gave her the task. She’s bored out of her mind with all the nonstop recuperation.”
Sitting around all day with nothing to do sounded equal parts blissful and horrible. One of those things that sounded great but fell far short in reality. Like men who claimed width was better than length. “Then tell her to get on a plane and get back here,” Genny commanded.
“That’s the plan. As soon as she’s finished with physical therapy and gets cleared.” Kelsey threw up a hand to stop them from reminding her for the umpteenth time that it was doctors right here in Moncriano who’d saved her sister’s life. “I know, I know, you guys would make sure she has the best doctors in all of Europe. The catch is that there’s a certain belief by the medical professionals who raised her that she’s already being looked after by the best medical staff in all of Michigan.”
That was so sweet. Kelsey went out of her way not to call the Wishners her parents anymore. At least, not in front of her family here. Genny
knew that she’d always love them, respect them. But labels mattered. Especially when you were the daughter of a king and queen.
Christian shook the chain, making the toxically bright foot dance in the air. “Mallory thought this suited me?”
“Yes.”
Genny didn’t see why Christian was so stuck on this. “The question is does it suit you in a good way, like argyle socks spicing up a drab brown suit? Or does she dislike you so much that she’s certain only something that ugly would suit you?”
“You’re a brat.”
“I guess we’ll have a conversation topic for her first night back in the palace.” Genny did not at all hide her giggles. It was healthy for the playboy prince to second-guess his level of charm. She was one of the few in the realm willing to chisel down that big head of his.
Christian slapped his riding gloves across his palm with an evil smirk. “You won’t be laughing once I reveal the job I’ve got for both of you. Well, mostly Genny. Kelsey, you should treat this as a learning opportunity. Shadow Genny.”
“I’m on board with anything, as long as I can just smile and listen.” Kelsey worried the thin bow at the waist of her blush chiffon dress between her fingers. “It’s strange to think how much confidence I had six months ago. How I knew I was a terrific graphic designer and would make a slam dunk for the client. But now, I’m always worried that once I start talking people will notice I’m not a good princess.”
Genny whirled on her. Without so much as an ankle wobble in her spike-heeled fuschia sandals, btw. Years of practice meant she could walk a freaking tightrope in stilettos and not quiver.
“Stop it.” Grabbing her shoulders, Genny gave a small shake. “I’m serious, Kelsey. I won’t hear of you being so disrespectful of yourself. You are exactly perfect as Princess Kelsey. Nobody else could do it better.”
“That sounds like the cheesy sort of thing a mom would say.”
“Or a big sister. But it’s true. Nobody wants you to be my clone. Nor should you mimic the princesses of England or Spain or Sweden. Our subjects will appreciate you for who you are. For your huge heart. For your humor.” To temper her rant, Genny flipped back her ponytail and struck a glamorous, arms-up, boobs-out pose. “And yes, they can also admire your stunning beauty that happens to make you a dead ringer for your just-a-teensy-bit-prettier sister.”
“You might be prettier now, but you’ll always be two years older than me. Someday, you’ll get crow’s feet first.”
“Women have a weird way of ending pep talks,” Christian grumbled.
“Well, we weren’t done yet.” Kelsey hugged Genevieve. Carefully. Contorting her neck to avoid the three stone purple drop earrings and the swirl of tulle and ribbons coming off the back of her hot pink hat. “Thanks. It’s nice to have the two of you to lean on. I promise to get my mojo back soon. When I graduated from college, I felt like I knew everything about graphic design. If only I could go back to college and get a degree in being royal.”
“It’d be an extremely small school. Very boring. Life experience is faster. Plus, there are no essays.”
Sir Stefano gave them a subtle nod from the back of the main tent. Christian circled a finger at their bodyguards to signal they were ready to go. They couldn’t hang out in relative privacy leaning against their vehicles all day. There were literally hundreds of people waiting to see them. “Experience is what she’s about to get. I invited the Holsts to watch the match in the royal box. That’s your job. Be nice to them.”
Genny’s mood plummeted. The Hindenburg and its fiery dive had nothing on her. “Theo’s parents?”
“And his sister, Hanna. She’s”—Christian puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly—“intense.”
“Yikes.” Kelsey clung to Christian’s arm for stability as they crossed the packed dirt to the paddock area. “That’s an oddly specific and off-putting description. But are his parents as nice as Theo?”
“No,” Genevieve blurted out.
Simultaneously, Christian talked over her. “They are social climbing assholes.”
“Wow. You’re really throwing me into the deep end with the ‘royal experience du jour.’” Kelsey made air quotes with her fingers.
“Look, there’s no sugar coating it. They’re horrible. And they want face time with the top-tier royals as badly as I wanted a Ferrari at fourteen.”
“Exactly. They want to be with a prince. A princess. They don’t care who it is.” Genny would demand retribution for this one. She and her brother traded off the less desirable engagements with regularity. But this one…this one would require something extra from him. Shoes. From the shop in Paris that kept her size on file. “They don’t want to get to know us. They just want to glom onto us.”
“All true. But what’s also true? I like Theo. He doesn’t give a crap about my title.”
“I’d say he puts up with you despite your title.”
Christian laughed as they reached the gate. His polo horse, Destiny, nickered loudly and tossed her white mane. “Fair enough. That’s fucking hard to come by. Someone who treats me as an equal. Elias thinks he’s great, too.”
“So have your three-way bromance.” Kelsey stroked Destiny’s neck, cooing at the animal. Then she whipped her head around to pin Christian with a piercing glare. “Why does it involve us?”
Ah, it was like watching herself in a mirror. They’d missed so many years of ganging up on their brother. This was fun.
“It’ll make his parents happy. Which will, in turn, make Theo happy.” Christian threw up his hands. “Christ, I’m trying to do a nice thing for my new friend. Don’t make it weird.”
It was on the tip of Genny’s tongue to tell her brother that it might not, in fact, make Theo happy. She didn’t know the details of his relationships with them—but she’d seen enough to know that it was rocky, at best.
On the other hand, she, of all people, knew how hard it was to make a true friend. To trust someone fully. To not be constantly on guard, worried about revealing too much. To not be a member of the line of succession, but just be. Genny also knew how good Theo was at ignoring titles and protocol and hoopla and treating them like normal people.
Christian’s gesture was adorable. She couldn’t stomp on it. She wouldn’t even demand the Parisian shoes from him as recompense. She’d suck this one up for her brother.
“We shall be at our regal best for the Holsts.” She grabbed Kelsey’s hand and then hip-checked Christian. “Try to let the rest of the men get near the ball. It’s a team sport, not a solo spin for the crown prince.”
Flashing the grin that turned women into simpering idiots all across the realm, he said, “I can’t dim my natural ability or my awesomeness. It wouldn’t be right.”
She and Kelsey had barely subdued their giggles by the time they entered the royal box. It’d just be a big tent for anyone else, but their security insisted on low, half-walls to protect the royal family. Well, a big tent with swags of purple satin hanging from the ceiling, a row of director’s chairs right along the front, and a full bar and buffet table in the back.
And, of course, the requisite complement of servers, bodyguards stationed at the entrances, and twenty hand-picked guests funneling in, clutching their gold-engraved invitations.
Theo was already there, waiting. “This is a sporting event. Sweat will be flying. Horses will be taking a shit wherever they feel like it. I can condone the tent, but the satin bunting up there?” He pointed at the nearest purple rosette anchoring all the fabric. “Give me a break.”
Ahhh, the battle commenced. Genevieve jumped into her prescribed role with glee. Sparring with Theo was as fun as annoying her brother. “Good afternoon, Lord Theo.”
Kelsey looked back and forth between them. “You’re about to flirt-fight again, aren’t you?”
“We’re doing neither,” Genny said, more sharply than was strictl
y called for, but the huddle of guests and staff within earshot gave her concern. “Lord Theo is conducting his daily discovery as part of the royal audit. This is a dry business meeting. Albeit one with macaroons, mimosas, and finger sandwiches.”
“I think I’ll insist that Sir Evan bring macaroons to the meetings we have to get me up to speed on Moncriano history. Great motivation. Just like now—the thought of macaroons is far more palatable than watching whatever you call what you two are about to do.” She pulled a face and almost ran smack dab into the footman carrying a plate loaded with goodies.
“Your Highness.”
“No. No way. I appreciate when you bring water at a long event, but you can’t choose for me from a buffet. Choosing and strategically loading the plate is half the fun.” Kelsey thrust the plate at a startled balding man with a seersucker jacket straining to stay buttoned across his belly. “Enjoy.”
Genevieve took her plate from a footman. And had a fleeting desire to wander the buffet table herself, for the first time in ages. “I presume my staff provided you with the cost breakdown for today?”
“Yes. Which I didn’t believe was real until I saw it for myself.” Shaking his head, Theo—looking entirely scrumptious in an open-necked pink shirt paired with a beige sport coat—frowned. “This is so over the top, it’s in the stratosphere.”
“Might I remind you this isn’t for the benefit of the royal family. This is a charity match, hosted by us. Our outlay of cash today will bring in twenty times as much from the attendees. And it will all benefit the equestrian center.”
“This isn’t the Middle Ages. Most people don’t have horses. Why do the rich need to crowd-fund their expensive hobby?”
Theo had the basis of his argument right. Or at least was coming from the right place.
While still being oh-so-wrong.
Genevieve took his arm and led him to the corner of the tent. From there, she pointed at the small group of kids being corralled by twice as many adults by the horses. “See that circle of partly sullen, partly manic-looking children?”
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