by Lyla Payne
She wrinkled her nose at him as the car took off toward their destination. “Did you sleep in a whiskey barrel last night?”
Salvy didn’t answer, pulling out his phone when it buzzed. His heart was in his throat at the idea that it could be Magdalena, but the message was an invitation—with a saucy picture—from Valla instead.
He ignored it.
“You’re going to be a peach today, huh? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not true. You look like hell.” She peered at him with her green eyes that saw too much. “Is it about the girl your cousin thinks you’re in love with?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” In truth, he did want to talk about it. He wanted to rant until he was blue in the face, until someone could find an answer on the floor or under a chair, one that had escaped both Maggie and him until now, but Chesapeake wouldn’t understand.
“Let me guess, she’s not the sort of woman you’re allowed to marry, so you’re torn between your fairytale life and the fairytale ending.” She quirked an eyebrow his direction. “Am I close?”
“She’s exactly the kind of woman any man would want to marry, but I’m not any man. There are rules, and laws, and expectations, and my father thinks I’ve shirked them for too long.”
“The last part is true enough,” she agreed, giving him a rueful smile.
Salvy couldn’t even find the energy to snarl at her.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, staring out the window at the streets of his capital city as they flashed past. “I disappointed her the same way I do everyone. I’m not the man they want me to be.”
“Well, that’s a bunch of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it. What’s your big plan, to go back to the way things were before you fell for her?”
Salvy shrugged, then dragged the bottle of bourbon out of the liquor cabinet and poured himself a couple of fingers. He held up the bottle to Chesapeake in a silent question.
She made a face at him. “It’s nine in the morning.”
He knocked back the drink and poured another, toying with the glass between his fingers.
“Look, you said you disappointed her, and she must have left, for you to look like such a kicked puppy.” Chesapeake took a drink from a bottle of water she pulled from her bag. “She has a choice in whether she wants you to be her man, but you know, if she’s Cielan, she doesn’t have a damn bit of say in you being her prince.”
Her words shook something loose inside Salvy, and he squinted at the strange, mouthy woman. “What?”
“Just what I said. And you should really sober up before brunch. The last thing I need is a bunch of gossip reports about you falling over the drink table or fucking a waitress in the bathroom to distract from our purpose.” She frowned. “I’m not all that happy about spending this week in Cielo instead of in Nigeria. Our school is in crisis there and they need me.”
“I promise to be on my best behavior.” He didn’t have enough fight in him to do anything she said, and he didn’t have the desire to get shitfaced. Strangely.
They lapsed into silence, but Salvy’s brain was running on overdrive. What Chesapeake had said made perfect sense, if he took a moment to consider it.
He couldn’t have Magdalena. His father would never allow it.
But he could be the man, the prince, that she’d always believed he could be. He could stand up for what was right, for the people of his country, even if his father and brother wouldn’t. He could be there for her, prove himself to her, in this way, at least.
For the rest of the drive, he considered the consequences of going against his father. The King wouldn’t cancel the ball, not after preparations had been made across the kingdom. He wouldn’t stop Salvadore from choosing a wife, from settling down and getting involved in daily business.
He would be angry, that was all.
Wasn’t it worth it, to stand in the middle of a shitstorm, if it made Magdalena proud of him? After all, like Chesapeake said, he was going to be her prince no matter what.
He could prove to be a good one, and pretend that would be enough.
He spent the afternoon on the phone tracking down a friend of his from prep school, Pietro. The guy had been shooting up through the ranks of the law firm that represented his family, and last Salvy had heard, he’d made partner a full year earlier than anyone else had ever managed it.
Asking the firm in general to issue a cease and desist wouldn’t work—they would verify the request through his father—but Salvy thought his friendship with Pietro might pull some weight.
“Thank you again,” he told Chesapeake as he walked her over to the car that would deposit her back at her hotel. “This will be over after two more events, and then you can go back to whatever godforsaken country you call home this month.”
“I appreciate you being attentive today,” she told him, frank honesty on her face. Chesapeake reached out and gave him a light punch on the arm. “Now get your head out of your ass and do the right thing. For some reason, I have faith in you.”
“That makes one person in Cielo,” he said, smiling for the first time all day. It felt oddly nice, to know that she thought he had it in him to make things right in the only way he could.
“There are more than that, Salvadore. I promise. This lady of yours hasn’t stopped believing in you just because you disappointed her a couple of times.”
“More like a dozen.”
“That’s the beauty of true love, my prince. It never stops believing in some day.”
The smile she gave him was sad around the edges, and as he stood and watched her car disappear he wondered why. Then he focused on his own problems, climbing back into the limo and asking the driver to take him to the law offices downtown.
He didn’t realize the office was in the same building as the Matrigna Holdings space that had caught fire the week previous until he saw the sign in the lobby stating that all top floor offices had been relocated to temporary housing.
It didn’t matter to him. He punched the button for the fifth floor and then strode into Donati, Donati, Lazzari, and Gallo. His old friend’s name had clearly been recently added, and it made Salvy smile to see it. And not only because he needed his help.
“Can I help…” The receptionist trailed off as she looked up, her light eyes widening at the sight of him. “Your Highness.”
“Yes, I’d like to see Pete Gallo, if he’s available.”
“Right away.” She got up and hustled down the hallway, stopping at the office at the end and issuing a quick knock. The woman, who had a lovely shape and long blond waves, would have caught his eye a few weeks ago. Now, with impatience heating his blood, he couldn’t have picked her out of a lineup.
“You can go right in, sire,” she said when she returned, slightly breathless.
“Thank you.” He strode down the hall and into his friend’s office, which he noticed was a step up from one of the cubicles out front. He had a view of downtown, a large desk, and a huge leather chair that he rose out of when Salvy entered.
“Sal, it’s good to see you. If you would have called I would have made sure you didn’t have to wait.”
Salvadore shook Pietro’s outstretched hand, noting the premature gray coming in at his temples. He was working too hard, but Pete had always been that way. “It’s fine, she brought me right back.”
Pete laughed, gesturing to the pair of loveseats between two bookcases. “You gave her a heart attack, but at least she’ll have a story to tell at the pub tonight.”
“I aim to serve.”
They settled, Salvy declining the drink Pietro offered. He needed a clear head and despite the ache at the base of his skull, he was feeling better than he had this morning.
“What can I do for you?”
“I need to issue a cease and desist to a company operating in Cielo.”
“On what grounds?”
“Illegal business practices. They’re using blackmail to force people to s
ell property at a severely discounted rate.”
“Proof?”
“Do I need any?” Salvadore asked, point blank. The truth was, he was a Cielo royal. He didn’t need jack shit and he and Pietro both knew it.
His old friend shrugged. “No. Who are we talking about?”
“Matrigna Holdings.”
Pete’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “The top floor people? Where the break-in and fire were?”
Salvy frowned. “I didn’t know about the break-in.”
“They just found evidence a few days ago but there aren’t any suspects.”
“Huh.” Impatience had Salvy unable to sit still and he recrossed his legs, leaning forward in the comfortable chair. “Can we get this done as soon as possible? I need Matrigna to retract all of their existing and pending offers immediately, as well as return any money already received.”
“We’ll need to threaten a lawsuit to get them to budge, I would think. You’re royalty, but people won’t like it if you’re seen to be trumping the rights of private businesses.”
That had been what his father was worried about, but after everything that Maggie had told him about how Matrigna was handling things, he doubted that would be an issue. The people of Cielo needed help, and it was his family’s duty to step in.
“I’m not worried about it. If it becomes an issue I’ll take all of the responsibility.” Salvy thought for a few minutes, trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “I want the fraudulent contracts voided within twenty-four hours and the funds returned within seventy-two.”
“Fine, but…” Pietro gave him a careful look. “Does the King know about this?”
“Depends. Will it go better for you if I lie and say yes?”
“I think that’s a good idea.” His friend stood up. “I’m going out on a limb for you, Salvy, but damn if I haven’t missed you and your antics. Give me an hour to have my assistant type it up.”
“Can we get a judge to sign off today?”
“It might be tough to find one. You might have to do some sweet talking, and we’ll need a corporate address to have it served on.” Pietro frowned. “Let me make some calls. You sit tight.”
“Thanks.”
Salvy did just that, letting his mind drift while he paced the lawyer’s offices for the next hour and a half. It took Pete longer to track down the address for Matrigna’s owner than it did for the cease and desist, along with a lawsuit warning, to be typed up and notarized. The letter made it clear that the expectation of follow-through came directly from the royal family, and were the company not to comply, they would find themselves banned from doing business within the kingdom.
He had to traipse down to the courthouse and have a chat with the judge himself, a conversation that included promises about maintaining a closer involvement in the people’s affairs in the future, but the order was signed before close of business.
“Who owns Matrigna?” Salvadore asked out of curiosity once he was back in Pete’s office. He and Maggie both thought it had to be someone with money, someone well-connected, especially with the access to his own staff.
He still needed to root out that problem, but it would have to stay on the back burner for now. He hoped it wasn’t James. He would miss playing poker with the guy if it was.
“It’s the weirdest thing, but there’s no one listed. Just an address and a phone number.”
“They’re going to a lot of trouble to remain anonymous.”
“We’ll get it to him. Or her. Our private investigator is on it and he’s very good.”
“Let me know when it’s done.”
“Will do.”
They shook hands and Salvy ducked back into his car, ignoring the reporters outside who had somehow found out he’d been here the better part of the afternoon and evening. They had a million questions about what sort of legal help he needed, why they’d gone to see a judge, and the details of the cease and desist to Matrigna Holdings. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised since things like that were public record.
Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing, for people to hear about it now. It meant Matrigna had nowhere to hide, and no way for the public to accuse the royal family of being unaware of what was going on in Cielo.
But it also meant there would be one angry King waiting for him back at the palace.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Magdalena
She supposed she should be thankful for all there was to do at the house. It kept her from thinking too hard about what Prince Salvy had said to her in the kitchen four nights ago. It had helped her to ignore the alternating pangs of anger and regret as she and her father packed their every possession into boxes and moved them into a storage unit, then made their way to the countryside to take Juliet up on her offer to let them stay until they could figure out something else.
Her father’s secret was an assault charge—on Juliet’s ex-husband, after he’d nearly killed her. It was something anyone could understand and forgive, but it had happened so long ago that it would be news all over again. He hadn’t wanted to relive it.
At least people wouldn’t have to know about her weakness for Salvadore. Along with that, Maggie hoped that what happened that night at the Matrigna offices would forever stay hidden.
It was the night of the ball, and since they were all settled in Juliet’s house and there was nothing left to pack or clean or really say, Magdalena was struggling not to think about what the night would mean for Salvy.
Lucky for her, Juliet’s niece, Amalia, had arrived earlier in the day and decided to come and sit with Maggie in the living room. Juliet was puttering around the kitchen, baking some of her niece’s favorite foods since this was the first time she’d been back to Cielo in almost three years, and the sounds of her using a mixer and humming as she banged pots and pans against the stove and countertops provided a strange comfort. One of the country’s favorite gossip shows played low in the background.
Amalia was younger than Maggie by a year or so, and she was a beauty. Tall, lithe, with the carriage of a woman with both confidence and breeding, the exterior package made her easygoing, fun personality an unexpected delight.
“Ow, shit!” Amalia exclaimed after stubbing her toe on the edge of the sofa. She flopped onto the worn cushions and rubbed her foot, expression pinched. “That smarts.”
“Are you okay?” Maggie asked, trying to pull her mind from Arcobaleno and the ball. Away from the desperation on Salvadore’s face when he told her that he wanted things to be different.
“I’ll survive,” Amalia said with a wry smile. “When you’re as accident-prone as I am, you get used to little annoyances.”
Juliet popped into the doorway between the rooms, her cherry-patterned apron and her left cheek dusted with flour. “Would you two like some tea?”
“Sure, thanks Auntie J.” Amalia winked at Maggie. “I’m going to make Magdalena tell me all about this ball we’re both missing out on tonight.”
To her surprise, Maggie found that she wanted to talk about the ball—about all of her hard work, and how beautiful the gowns would be, and about Elisa’s specially designed little outfits. So she did, leaving out any reference to the reason for the event or the man who had set it all in motion.
“I think I’ve been gone too long, because all of this sounds terribly exciting and romantic. Tell me again why you’re not going?”
“It’s only for ladies of high birth and their families,” Maggie explained, on autopilot. It made no difference that she had been invited by Prince Salvadore himself.
“Right, but Auntie J said you’re friends with the royal family. You grew up with them, and you pulled this whole thing together in three weeks. Don’t tell me they didn’t invite you or it’s totally going to ruin the chivalrous image I have of them in my mind.”
Maggie paused, not wanting to lie. After everything, she thought the Piacere family were good and decent rulers—or she had, until they’d refused to take action on this Matrigna thin
g.
Everyone made mistakes. Matrigna was good at hiding their tracks; maybe she couldn’t blame King Alfonso for not wanting to get involved without any real proof of wrongdoing.
Salvadore was another story.
“Why are you frowning?” Amalia’s eyes were wide. “Are they dicks? Tell me. No, wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
Her back and forth made Magdalena laugh in spite of her heavy heart, and she shook her head. She could answer the question easily enough and not lie. “They did invite me. I declined.”
“Oh my gosh, why? It’s a royal ball!”
“I was pretty angry over them not helping out with this whole Matrigna mess, especially after I asked Prince Salvadore personally to look into it.” Her face got hot, and she wondered if the word personally sounded as strange to Amalia as it had felt on her tongue. Did it give everything away?
“Maggie loves to stand on her principles, even if it means standing in a country house instead of in the middle of a royal ball in a beautiful dress,” Juliet said, her tone dry as she set a tray with cups and a teapot on the coffee table in front of her niece and Magdalena. “Gets it from her father.”
“Oh, leave her alone, Auntie J. I guess I can understand. It’s just a dance, after all, and with the moving and losing the house, maybe she doesn’t feel like celebrating.”
“Thank you,” Magdalena said, sticking her tongue out at Juliet. The woman pulled a handful of envelopes out of her apron pocket and held them out. “What’s this?”
“Mail from the past couple of days. Your father didn’t have time to open it because we were busy packing, and I’d forgotten, too, until I found it stuffed in the box with the tea kettle a minute ago.”
“Thanks.”
Amalia went about making herself tea and Magdalena thumbed through the stack of bills and invoices.
She froze at the sight of a business envelope with Matrigna’s return address and both her and her father’s names printed on the front. The date over the stamp read three days ago—one day after they’d given in and signed the papers.