Red Carpet Romeo

by Jenny Gardiner

  “Ugh, please,” Sandro said. “Would you not talk about my sister’s attributes in mixed company? I really do not want to be privy to that. She is my sister, after all.”

  Taylor playfully slapped his arm. “Oh Sandro, stop. She’s a beautiful young woman. You should be proud of who she’s grown up to be.”

  “Of course I’m proud of who Valentina is,” he said. “I just don’t want to hear about all the physical traits that are going to lure some stupid guy to her like she’s baiting a mousetrap or something. Oh, and this guy is never going to be good enough for her, by the way. Which means it will be up to me to set him straight and send him packing.”

  “You sound like a caveman with that primitive talk,” Taylor said with a growl as her fiancé pulled her into his arms and planted a long, passionate kiss on her lips.

  “As we were saying about icky things siblings don’t want to witness.” Valentina tapped her foot and looked at her watch, her impatience growing by the minute. “Andiamo, Taylor. Let’s go, already!”

  She pulled Taylor by the shoulders and couldn’t believe her ears when Taylor and Sandro’s mouths popped as the kiss broke from her disengaging them. “Ewwwww. Just for that, Sandro, you owe me a gown for this wedding. I’ll have to use my money for therapy to get over this mortifying episode.”

  Alessandro shook his head but pulled out his wallet, handing Taylor his credit card. “You two will be the most beautiful women in attendance, my treat. Now go, before I lock Taylor in my room for the next week.”

  “We need to get out of here, Taylor,” Valentina said as she pretended to stick her finger down her throat and gag. “Any more of this saccharine overdose from my brother and I’ll end up in a sugar coma. Love you, brother dearest! Thanks for the wardrobe boost. Ciao, ciao!”

  Chapter Two

  Parker Hornsby double-checked his packing list once more with his sister Gisele.

  “Okay, so white tie, white shirt, white vest, white gloves,” he said, enumerating each item he needed to be sure was laid out for the upcoming trip to Monaforte for his good friend Luca’s wedding.

  “Check,” she said as she held each item aloft and inspected it as if it were an alien creature. It wasn’t often one was required to don white tie, and the accoutrements of the style hearkened back to a time long forgotten, when lords and ladies of the manor decked out in formal wear for dinner each night and butlers and ladies-in-waiting catered to their every need.

  “Black patent leather dress shoes, braces, cufflinks, tailcoat, tuxedo trousers, formal black overcoat.” He lifted his coat by the hanger, looked closely at what he thought was a stain, then brushed off what turned out to be a piece of lint.

  “Parker, you are going to look dashing at this white tie wedding,” Gisele said. “Amanda Covington will rue the day she dumped you for that weasel.”

  “‘That weasel’ happens to be my investment partner.” He ran his fingers through his blond hair. “And I can’t afford to risk that relationship right now—”

  “So you just let go of the girlfriend—even though I’m glad you did, mind you—and not even try to exact revenge?” Gisele pulled a ponytail holder from her wrist and secured her long, wavy blond hair into a loose side-braid.

  “It obviously wasn’t much of a relationship if she jumped ship that easily,” Parker said. “Better to have learned that before things got too serious. Besides, it’s been months since I found out about the two of them sneaking around behind my back. I’m totally over it.”

  “Well, you’re a better man than I. I’d cut that beyotch off at the knees if I were you.”

  “Probably just as well you’re not me then. Or a man, for that matter. You always were the emotional one in the family.” He winked, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “The good news is that her loss is my gain since now I get to come as your date!” She jumped up and down like a giddy schoolgirl. “And I get to wear a ball gown, and oh my God, do I have to curtsy before the queen?”

  He shook his head. “You’re not a royal subject of Monaforte, so no, you do not have to curtsy—or bow, for that matter—before the sovereign.”

  “So what do I do when I meet her?”

  “Same thing you did the first time you met Luca,” he said. “You smile, say ‘pleased to meet you, Your Majesty’—although with Luca, it was ‘Your Highness’—and then move on. After all, there will be a few hundred people in line behind you to greet her as well, so I’d suggest you avoid sharing your life story with her.”

  Gisele grabbed a pillow from the bed and thwacked her brother on the head with it. Then she turned to face the mirror that was hanging over the dresser in his room. “Your Majesty,” she said, clasping her hands together, bowing her head and curtsying anyhow. “I’m going to be in the presence of majesty!”

  Parker aimed his finger at his temple and twirled it in a circular motion. “You’re a crazy lady, you know that?” He cast his broad, white smile at her, that smile that every woman—even little sisters—found irresistible.

  “Crazy about going to a real live palace and meeting an actual queen. Hell yeah, I am!” she said. “Now, if we’ve got you all sorted out, I need to return to my own packing, because I don’t want to forget a thing.”

  “Have at it, sis. Driver will be here for us at six.”

  “Ooooh, good,” she said. “And maybe on the plane ride over you can grill me on royal protocol and Monaforte’s history. I don’t want to mess anything up. And I can’t help but think how charming it all is, just your plain old American girl marrying a prince.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but I’ll be sound asleep on this flight, and if you know what’s good for you, you will be too. We’ve got a packed scheduled once we get to Porto Castello. A driver will be waiting at the airport to pick us up and take us to the palace.”

  “Where we’ll actually sleep! In a palace. Under thirty-thousand-thread-count sheets!”

  “I’m pretty sure they don’t make sheets with that high of a thread count,” he said. “Just please, play it cool and do you best to not act like a starstruck teenager. I’ve got my reputation to uphold, you know.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please, Parker. All you ever think about is your image and your reputation. I think you’re the only boy in your high school who never did anything wrong just so it wouldn’t haunt you into adulthood.”

  “That’s right. I’ve got a strong moral compass, and you are going to be sure no one thinks I’m the exception to the rule in our family.” He smiled and swatted her on the behind. “Be ready to take the elevator down at five minutes to six.”

  ~*~

  “Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool,” Gisele muttered out loud as she stared at the cream-colored Rolls-Royce Phantom that was going to be their ride from the airport.

  “You’re saying that out loud,” Parker said through closed lips. “Remember the part about playing it cool? That means you don’t tell everyone you’re trying to do so. You just do it.”

  While he was glad to have been able to bring his beloved sister along for this exciting event, he really didn’t want to have Luca’s family thinking they’d invited someone who’d just fallen off the turnip truck.

  “Fine,” she said with a disappointed grumble. “But I mean seriously, Park, look at this ride. I feel like we should be in a parade or something, take advantage of the situation. I could just stick my hand out the window and wave like the queen probably does, and they wouldn’t even know it wasn’t her! I could be impersonating royalty, and it would be our secret.”

  “Gisele, I am so glad you’re getting all your awkward gawkiness out of the way before we meet up with Luca’s family. It was a good strategy to do it that way, so thanks.” He knew damned well that wasn’t her game plan—she didn’t even have one—but he figured maybe she’d now take the hint and make it that. He could always hope.

  Parker reached into his pocket and took out his phone, pulling up a text from Luca. “After you meet Jerome at b
aggage claim, let me know so I can be sure I’m back to the palace for your arrival,” he read aloud.

  Jerome had indeed met them, in full royal-driver regalia: black cap, leather gloves, black topcoat. He greeted Parker with a warm hug; they’d gotten to know one another over the years when Parker had visited Luca in Monaforte, so it was a reunion of sorts. Parker was so looking forward to this whole gathering as a happy reunion: he needed a little injection of joy in his life.

  While professionally life had certainly agreed with him over the past few years, and he was now making more money than he could ever know what to do with, personally things weren’t so great. First there was the whole Amanda thing, what with him finding her and his business partner William practically dry-humping in a dark corner of a bar while at an investor conference when they thought he’d gone off to bed.

  It’s not that he really missed Amanda much; she’d been fine enough to date, but he was never going to get serious with her. She was more like someone to attend events with and scratch that sexual itch for a while. But when it got down to it, while beautiful, she was really sort of boring, and he found himself always having to work too hard make conversation. It had become such an effort, and he wanted a relationship to be much less labor-intensive. And interesting. And fun. And maybe even challenging, but not challenging in having to figure out what to say to a partner.

  The biggest victim in the fallout was his ability to trust—a double whammy considering it was both his girlfriend and his business partner who’d knocked that down. He had no preconceived notions about the world being fair or even honest, but he held out hope for both, so when he was proven wrong on both counts, it sort of left him in a gray funk. Which meant he hadn’t bothered to start dating again—quite frankly, he was certain it would be a while until someone intrigued him enough to even consider trusting her. And because of all that, he was feeling pretty glum.

  So a Christmastime wedding in wintry Monaforte was just the thing he needed to de-gloom a bit and get into the spirit of things. Maybe throw in a diversionary skiing holiday in the Alps, and he was going to be a happy man.

  Jerome opened the back door of the Rolls and motioned for Gisele to have a seat, then nodded to Parker to do so as well.

  “Parker. I’m sorry, I’ll shut up just as soon as Jeeves gets in the car, but oh my God, look at this thing!” She caressed the leather upholstery, which was nearly as soft as a baby’s bottom. She moaned and Parker threw her the stink-eye. “I assume this means I can’t take my shoes off and bury my toes in the plush carpet?” She smiled broadly and elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Save it for when you’re in your room at the palace. There you can gawk and behave like a tourist all you want. But in public now, you’re officially cool as a cucumber.”

  Parker had enjoyed this ride from the airport many times but had never done so at Christmastime. So it was almost like new for him too, watching the hills cloaked in a blanket of snow that Jerome told them had fallen overnight.

  “Weather gets unpredictable at this time of year,” Jerome said. “I remember a few years back we had two feet of snow by Christmas Day.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t get that much or I’ll be stuck here for the holidays rather than being on my ski holiday.”

  “There could be worse places to be snowed in, mind you,” Jerome said.

  “Understatement of the ye-ar,” Gisele said in a singsong voice as her brother rolled his eyes at her.

  “Play it cool, remember?” he mouthed to her.

  “Look up on that hill.” She pointed to a stone cottage decorated with pine roping and wreaths, wisps of gray smoke curling from the chimney. “That enchanting cottage. It’s like right off of a postcard.”

  “Or like out of Hansel and Gretel,” her brother said. “Maybe the smoke is coming from the kid-sized oven inside.” He gave her a wink and tickled her stomach.

  “Stop. That’s so gross. Don’t ruin my fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes.”

  On the narrow two-lane road, they passed rolling white hills peppered with spotted black-and-white cows. Stacked-stone fencing that delineated property lines was seasonally decorated with huge red bows. Houses, aglow for the holidays, were festooned with white fairy lights that were visible even in daytime. Parker had to admit it really did feel magical. He’d always loved Monaforte—in some ways it felt like he was returning home at this point, he’d been here so many times. With his parents now both gone, the only thing keeping him home anymore was Gisele, and with her joining him, it was a special treat to celebrate the holidays where it felt most festive.

  Soon the countryside yielded to city as farmland gave way to large Gothic-style buildings. The architecture of Monaforte reflected the ebb and flow of history throughout Europe with the mixture of building styles seamlessly forming a cohesive sense of culture and grandeur. Parker could feel his shoulders loosen up and his breathing slowing down as the luxury car made its way down the road to town. He glanced over at his sister who looked as if she was desperate to not explode while keeping a secret of utmost importance.

  “You okay, sis?”

  She side-eyed him. “Only desperate to squeal in excitement is all,” she said, pointing out the window at a huge building with tall spires and gargoyles.

  “That, my sweet little sister, is where you’ll be staying in Monaforte.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “You are so full of it. I mean seriously, that’s like some massive museum or government building or something. Parliament maybe.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. It’s the Grande Palace of Monaforte. AKA home sweet home for you for the next week or so.”

  She let out a loud, low whistle. “Ho-ly crap. That is going to be so much fun to explore.”

  “Gisele, you can’t just run roughshod over the place. It’s their home. Not to mention a national treasure and historic landmark and all sorts of other things. It’s filled with palace guards, and trust me, you go where they tell you to go, but no sneaking off on some sort of expedition.”

  She thrust out her lower lip. “Fine, you spoilsport. But if they invite me...”

  The Rolls passed through the palace gates, the gold-leafed dueling-griffin crest festooning each of the parting gates, then came to a stop on the pebbled driveway just to the side of the grand marble staircase. Awaiting their arrival were Luca and his bride-to-be, Larkin Mallory, the petite blonde he’d met during Fashion Week in Milan.

  They both ran to their friends. “It’s about bloody time, mate.” Luca greeted his good friend with a bear hug. “You remember Larkin?”

  “Of course, how could I ever forget?” Parker reached for her and kissed both of her cheeks. A funny Monafortian tradition for two Americans to do, but it made sense since she was becoming part of the royal family. “Of course, Luca, you know Gisele, but Larkin, I’d like you to meet my impish little sister, Gisele, whom we will all have to keep an eye on because I have a sneaking suspicion she is going to deliberately get lost in the hallowed halls of the palace so she never has to return to the States.”

  They all laughed.

  “Oh, you all think that’s so funny, but seriously. I wouldn’t even miss my job. And you’d never even notice me here.” She swept her arm across the front of the palace, indicating the breadth of the place.

  “Well, size does matter,” Luca said, laughing.

  Larkin rolled her eyes. “Let’s leave the boys to their bad jokes, and we’ll get you settled in. Welcome to Monaforte, where anything is possible!”

  Parker hoped she was right, and maybe this wedding would be just what the doctor ordered to pick up his spirits.

  Chapter Three

  Valentina always loved taking the train from Tuscany to Monaforte—the tracks wound through her beloved Chianti countryside, the hills now dressed for the holidays in a festive dusting of snow, past the brilliantly white Carrara marble mines, then high into the Appenines, now deep with snow. After she changed trains in Milan, the next train worked
its way into the snow-capped Alps. The scenery on this trip changed so dramatically with the seasons, it was with great anticipation she looked forward to seeing how it differed from the summertime when high mountain pastures were dotted with cows, their bells clanging in the summer winds like Mother Nature’s concerto. Now the cows were tucked safely in barns at lower altitudes to wait out the harsh winter months, and recreational skiers laid claim to the steep mountain slopes.

  As the train approached Porto Castello, Valentina became antsy with wanting to finally be there, she so loved Monaforte. There was something about this magical country that made her heart sing. The train chugged along countryside peppered with stone farmhouses, the warm glow of tungsten lights in the houses set against the twilight sky making her want to cozy up inside them by the fire with a mug of hot cocoa and a good book. Wisps of smoke curled from the chimneys, and homes twinkled with strands of fairy lights that framed them in honor of the Christmas season.

  The glow of the city grew nearer, and with it, the towering Gothic buildings with their intricate architectural flourishes and pointed arches and flying buttresses. Statues abounded, many of ancient Greek and Roman gods and mythical figures, but others of monarchs of Monaforte past.

  Soon the familiar palace came into view: the massive stone structure capped with crenellated battlements, turrets, and spires, replete with stone gargoyles frozen as sentinels atop the castle. It was the stuff of fairy tales, and a place where Valentina had spent much time while growing up. The tall wrought iron fence embellished in gold flourishes and capped with gold fleurs-de-lis surrounded the palace and was aglow with white fairy lights and wrapped in pine roping, the main gates adorned with large wreaths. Banners announcing the upcoming nuptials were suspended from streetlamps.