The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One)

by Lyla Payne

  All that in spite of the fact that he hadn’t touched her, not in the way he wanted to so badly. Apology or not, he didn’t deserve to do such a thing.

  The entire situation revealed a truth that he wasn’t keen to see. If he was going through with this ball, with a sham of a marriage, he would need to spend more time in Cielo. His father wanted to see change, and Salvy would go mad just prowling the halls of the castle with nothing to do but kiss babies and wave at crowds. Give interview after interview about his decision to step into his role as the second son.

  The parade of thoughts left a sour taste in his mouth. That wouldn’t do, and he hoped that his brother wanted to offer him another way. He needed to find a purpose, and fast, or he would go completely insane. As much as he’d enjoyed spending time with Magdalena—with a person who would tell him the truth—that couldn’t be his purpose here in Cielo.

  He frowned at the direction of his thoughts and finished the double Windsor knot at his throat, then shrugged into his sport coat.

  A rap on his front door was followed by the entrance of his personal security man, James. A British name for a man from Switzerland, but perhaps the Biblical ones never went out of style. They’d been together for over five years and were close in age, though James was stationed in Cielo and didn’t take trips with Salvy.

  “Sir, the car is waiting.”

  “Thank you, James. I’m ready.” James didn’t move, the expression on his face one of conflict. Salvy’s stomach twisted. “Was there something else?”

  “Etzio is in the car. He said he needs to talk to you on the way, so I’m staying here.”

  Salvadore pressed his lips together. The stubborn, judgy old man was about the last person in the world he wanted to see, but his father had made it clear that Etzio had both clearance and authority over the rest of Salvy’s security, so that left him little choice.

  So much for the perks of being a prince.

  “Thank you, James.”

  “You’re welcome, sir. Perhaps you’d like to play a few hands of poker later tonight? Some of the guys have been talking about getting together for a game.”

  King Alfonso hated when his son played games with the help, which was at least half of the reason he made a point of doing it whenever he was in country. He thought about Maggie, and whether he’d be able to get her alone two nights in a row, and decided he definitely needed something else to occupy him in the meantime.

  “Sure. Let’s do it a little early, though. I’d like to be done by midnight.”

  Magdalena would likely work until at least then, if the previous week was any indication. Things were only getting crazier in the workshop, too. There were so many half-dressed mannequins stuffed in there at this point that it looked as if it could double as a fetish porn set during off hours. Not that they had off hours. Maggie worked her seamstresses and tailors until late every night, and the first shift arrived with the sun in the morning.

  He felt a little badly about all of the pressure the ball was putting on them, but it was good for business. And if Magdalena wanted to take over her father’s spot as the most sought-after tailor and dressmaker in Cielo, then that’s exactly what she would have.

  “Very good, sir.”

  Salvadore strode out into the frosty afternoon, wishing he’d stopped long enough to grab an overcoat. He didn’t want to go back, not even three steps. Restlessness infected his limbs and the only cure was movement. Even the fact that Etzio waited in the car felt like a welcome distraction.

  A frown pulled at his lips. He had no idea what was the matter with him. He would see Maggie again soon enough, so why did he feel as if he couldn’t wait?

  “Your Highness,” Etzio greeted him, his tone dry. A glass of coffee steamed in the man’s hand even though it was nearly four in the afternoon.

  Salvy opened the cabinet to his right and poured himself a scotch neat, and ignored the distasteful twist of his handler’s lips. He enjoyed getting the older man’s goat more than he should, but Salvy had little to entertain him at the moment.

  “Etzio,” he replied after taking a sip of his drink. The drive around the castle grounds to Nico’s house would only take a few minutes. He supposed he could have walked. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “It has come to my attention that you’ve…entertained a certain young lady last night.”

  Salvadore shouldn’t have been surprised. There were no secrets when security was required to have knowledge of his whereabouts twenty-four hours a day. It did worry him, however. He didn’t think Maggie was aware that the staff would know about any time they spent together, and she probably wouldn’t like it if she were.

  He trusted his people, though, and so did the King. They were vetted, they were experienced, and he trusted them with his life. The leaks to the gossip mags were coming from somewhere, but he felt secure in his house on the royal grounds. If nowhere else.

  Salvadore did not appreciate the leering assumption that something other than a chat in the kitchen might have happened.

  “I assume you have a point to your observation,” he snapped.

  “Just to make sure that you’re aware that she’s an employee of the royal family, and that certain activities are frowned upon between you and a subordinate.”

  “She’s not a subordinate, Etzio. She’s an old friend.”

  “Gray areas are not the best places to reside when discussing legal matters, sire.” The old man’s frown deepened, the reproach sharp in his gaze. “In addition, we are all quite fond of the lady in question and would hate to see her hurt at the end of all of this. You know, when you choose a bride at the ball you insisted upon.”

  “Watch yourself.” Salvy stared into the amber liquid in his glass as the car pulled up to his brother’s back door. One of them. The old chapel was half as large as his father’s palace. “This is not your business. It is between Miss Rossi and me, is that clear? I will not stand for assumptions about her character, or mine, or attempts to meddle in business that is clearly ours alone.”

  He wanted to punch the man for the first time, which was saying something, considering how many times Etzio had played the intentional cock block.

  They stared at each other for a full thirty seconds. Salvadore wondered whether steam was coming out of his ears, because his blood felt as though it had reached boiling. Etzio did not get to talk about Maggie that way, as though she couldn’t make decisions for herself, as if she would need protection from him.

  As if the servant was the only person in the car who cared for Magdalena. No.

  “I’m simply reminding you that this may not fall into the category of only your business, Your Highness. If things go awry.”

  “My father has been far more patient with you overstepping your bounds than I will be, should you choose to keep it up,” Salvy growled as the driver pulled open his door from the outside. “Magdalena Rossi and I are friends, and I plan to continue to see her in that capacity.”

  Etzio startled at his tone, which even Salvadore recognized as imperious. He usually took care to not sound as if he wielded royal power—at least outside the bedroom—and treated his staff more like friends or family than servants.

  But fucking Etzio needed to be reminded that that’s exactly what he was. Nothing more. Not to him.

  Certainly not if he was going to lecture him about Maggie.

  “Very good, sir,” the man said quietly, confusion and something else, something like surprise, in his expression.

  The quick walk between the car and the house made it easier to breathe, and by the time he strode into his brother’s study, Salvadore was feeling calmer. He might have overreacted, but damn. It sounded as if the King, and Etzio, and everyone else expected him to take advantage of Maggie, to break her heart. And that pissed him off.

  Because it might have been true or because it wasn’t, he couldn’t be sure.

  “Ah, little brother. You’re just in time.” Nico closed the doors on the antique liqu
or cabinet, a bottle of scotch in one hand. The label promised it was at least thirty years old, which meant they were in for an afternoon of serious discussion.

  Normally, that would have sent him running or reaching for a bottle of pills to get him good and numb for the process, but not today. Today, he welcomed the chance to focus on what his life could look like here in Cielo.

  “I’ll take a double,” he rasped, still working on controlling his emotions as he sank into one of his brother’s favorite, deep leather chairs. It was Etzio and his damned, out-of-line lecture that had him out of sorts.

  “You okay?” Nico set two cut-glass tumblers on the low table between the chairs and poured two fingers of perfectly aged, golden liquid into them. He nudged one toward his brother. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night. Of course, knowing you, that could be a good thing.”

  Salvy grunted. “You would think.”

  “What’s got you so uptight?”

  “Etzio. Man doesn’t know where the line is, at least not with me.”

  Nico sipped his scotch, taking a moment to study his younger brother over the rim of his glass. “He’s loyal as a dog, you know that. And he’s pretty focused on what’s best for the family. You’ve aged the man two decades since he’s been trying to keep you in line.”

  “Well, Father could have called him back anytime.”

  “Hmm.”

  They drank in silence for a few minutes. Nico checked his phone, his concentration revealed in the wrinkle on his forehead. Salvy scanned the room, a study in blatant masculinity. The furniture was leather, his brother’s desk was large and made of polished, dark mahogany. The cabinet held old liquor and the shelves were crowded with books, all free of dust. None of them wore jackets, but Salvy knew from previous explorations that there were not popular thrillers or crime fiction among the titles. They were all either classics or volumes upon volumes of family history and genealogy.

  “Sorry. So, you’ve found a woman to pass the time with here in Cielo. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. At least if you’re sleeping with her at your place, the press shouldn’t get ahold of it. Unless she talks.”

  The sour taste was back in his mouth. “That is not the issue.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Nico looked as though he wanted to ask how he could be so certain, but pressed his lips together and thought better of saying anything at all. Questions about women rarely went answered, and the two brothers had such vastly different approaches, they’d learned long ago that little could be gained from discussing it.

  “Well, then tell Etzio to mind his own business. I’m sure it’s not the first time.”

  “Indeed.” Salvy sipped his drink, letting the warmth spread through his limbs. “Was there something specific you wanted to discuss, or were you merely looking for some brotherly bonding?”

  Nico laughed. They both knew that he wasn’t much into the latter, even though they’d been close since they were boys without really trying. “There was something, and I hope you’ll be more open to thoughts from me than Etzio. Because it was Father who asked me to have you around for a chat.”

  “Oh, Lord. About what this time?” He’d figured that the ball would get the King off his back for a few weeks, at least.

  “He’d like you to be more involved in the crown’s politics while you’re in country. Take charge of a charity, work on infrastructure, sit in on parliament sessions, something of that nature.”

  “That all sounds terrible.” Except it didn’t. It sounded like a lifeline out of idleness, but he wasn’t ready to admit any such thing.

  “Hear me out,” Nico pleaded. “There are some places where we could really use some more influence, and you’ve never been short on charm.”

  “Okay, lay it on me.” Even as Salvy responded the way his brother, and likely his father, expected—with apathy—the truth was, relief flooded him.

  “We’ve been looking at passing an edict regarding the recent increase in refugee needs. A good number of people are opposed, but we’ve brought in an aid worker from one of our border camps, and she’s willing to do a speaking circuit. I was thinking with you.” Nico made a face. “You can’t sleep with her, Sal, okay?”

  Salvy laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m strangely content at the moment.”

  He regretted the spontaneous confession as it slipped through his lips. It was as big a surprise to him as it was to Nico, but as he let it sink in, it felt honest. He hadn’t thought about texting Valla since Maggie had waltzed back into his life days ago, and he hadn’t been back to see her since the other night.

  “Well, you should know that raises my curiosity quite a bit. But I won’t ask you about it. I suppose I can wait and find out at the ball with everyone else.” He refilled their glasses. “What do you think about the publicity tour regarding the refugees? I’m thinking a goodwill message, to let people know that our family is behind offering more assistance.”

  “Sure, that sounds good.”

  “Okay. I’ll put the two of you in touch.” Nico’s voice tightened as he stared down at the drink in his hands. “I know you’re not excited about all of this, but maybe Father is right. You might think of yourself as a spare, Sally, but anything can happen. Just because I’m young, it doesn’t guarantee I’ll be around forever.”

  It was no secret that Nico still mourned the loss of his wife, three years later. In his worst moments, his brother confided that he knew in his heart he would never find love like that again, and how scared it made him to think of raising Elisa alone. To know he would walk through life without a partner by his side.

  The depth of his brother’s loss was hard to grasp, because even though he had the experience of losing Mother to draw from, even Salvy realized it wasn’t the same. Saying goodbye to parents, even earlier than expected, is something children are prepared for. Losing Genie at the age of twenty-eight had been a shock from which Nico hadn’t recovered.

  “You’re not going to die,” Salvy told him, his own throat tight, even though neither of them could know it was true.

  For the first time in his life, he worried about what might happen if something did happen to Nico. If his father was gone and the people of Cielo didn’t trust him to carry on the Piacere legacy with the kind of dignity and competence his family had ensured for generations...

  Would they trust Luca?

  The prospect curled his hand tight around his glass. In that moment, he understood all of his father’s fears. The reason he’d called him back here and had thrown down the gauntlet.

  Salvy wasn’t sure how easy it would be for him to change, even if he decided he wanted to try. He had nothing to offer, no experience in politics or ruling. The people had no reason to trust him, and this ball and farce of a marriage would only cement that fact in the minds of their subjects.

  “Maybe not. But thanks for agreeing to take care of Chesapeake while she’s rallying the troops.”

  “I’m sorry, who?”

  “Yeah, that’s her name. Apparently her parents were world-traveling hippies and they conceived her in America. It’s unfortunate, but she’s smart, she’s dedicated, and she works her ass off in several of our outreach programs abroad. You might have to smooth over her edges with the press and the commoners, though. She has a bit of a tendency to shoot off at the mouth.”

  Salvy felt his eyes bug out. “And you think I’m the right person to handle her?”

  “You’re not to handle her at all,” Nico reiterated.

  He rolled his eyes. “Hands off the do-gooder. No problem. They usually don’t have much time for men like me, brother.”

  “You never know. You smile and show those dimples and women’s clothes just fall off.” There was a bit of wistfulness to Nico’s observation.

  It confused Salvadore. “You look exactly like me, sans dimples. You’re the future King of Cielo, not to mention you’re an actual grownup. Please, don’t tell me you think yo
u’ll have trouble finding a queen to stand at your side, should you desire one in the future.”

  “You know I don’t, even if there are days I’m lonely.” Nico sighed. “I’m afraid that once Father gets you into line, I’m going to land in his crosshairs next. Honestly, maybe Elisa could benefit from a mother. Goodness knows I’m doing a terrible job with her.”

  Salvy set down his drink. “You’re not doing a terrible job with her, Nico. She lost her mother, she was high-spirited to start with, and she’s as lonely and as lost as you are. You should spend more time with her.”

  “He’s been hinting that he’d love to arrange a marriage between Illaria Grimaldi and myself, if I were to consent,” Nico said, as if he hadn’t heard his brother. “That a stronger alliance with Monaco would benefit all of us.”

  “Our royal bank accounts, to be sure,” Salvy murmured, switching gears but unsure what to think. “You’d be okay with that? A political marriage?”

  Nico shrugged, looking exhausted, now. “I’ll never have what I had with Genie. So, if Father thinks having a woman at my side will ease a transition when the time comes, I don’t see the point in fighting him.”

  For his part, Salvy thought that was depressing as hell. Even if it was essentially what he planned to do in a few weeks—marry a girl his father approved of, simply to get the King off his back.

  But he wasn’t Nico. Nico was like Magdalena—they believed in love, the true kind. The real kind, the sort that lasted, that changed lives. It hurt to see his brother give up on that, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Salvy wondered how likely it was for a person to find the sort of love Nico had with Eugenie more than once.

  Once seemed impossible enough.

  Maggie’s face floated in his mind, her dark eyes full of playful desire. They saw in him more than he was—the man he could have been, not the one he’d turned into, and for the first time, he wanted to believe it wasn’t too late.

  The brothers spent another twenty minutes catching up, finishing off two more glasses of scotch. Nico pried, looking for more information on the woman he’d brought back to his house the night before, but Salvy refused. The staff knew, which meant all Nico had to do was ask, but Salvy wouldn’t be the one to betray Magdalena’s trust. He’d done that once, and he’d lost her for ten years.