The Wicked Prince

by Nicole Burnham

  “Is that—?”

  “Aberlour. Scotland’s finest. A good burn of this at the back of your throat each evening and you’ll find you can tolerate anything. If you’re wrapped in a sinfully soft robe while you indulge, all the better.” He set both bottles of Scotch on her desk, then strode to a nearby steel cabinet, turned the key that rested in the lock, and opened the double doors. “Tell me you have some glasses here so I don’t have to break into the dining hall. They don’t even need to be actual glass. Paper cups will do. Anything to take the edge off after tonight’s disaster with Remy.”

  “It wasn’t a disaster.” Her heart sank. “And I hate to burst your bubble, but—”

  “Not a glass in sight.” He shut the doors on Frannie’s stash of office supplies. “We’ll just drink out of the bottle tonight. I’ll grab glasses from the dining hall for tomorrow.”

  He started to open one of the bottles, but Frannie put her hand over his. “Alessandro, you can’t.”

  His brows lifted as his eyes met hers. “Can’t what?”

  “No alcohol is permitted at the shelter.”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a wicked grin. “Not to worry. I’d never let the kids have this. Vittorio would be shocked to know I’m sharing with you. I take my Scotch seriously.”

  “Adults either.”

  He stared at her. As realization set in, his expression went rigid and his fingers flinched under hers. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.” Suddenly self-conscious, she withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry. I know you had it shipped all the way from Europe and that you’ve had a difficult day, but—”

  “Not even after the kids are in bed?” He released the bottle and gaped at her. “What harm is there? We’re responsible.”

  “First, it’s not a good example for the kids. Second, one of the reasons parents who’ve been forced to leave their children in our care are comfortable doing so is because they know we’re going to be stone cold sober every minute of the day and night while we’re here at the shelter. They’ve learned the hard way that an emergency can arise at any time. They want their kids protected.”

  His jaw worked. “One glass of Scotch doesn’t render me insensible.”

  “I never said that.” Gently, she picked up both bottles and put them on the floor of the steel cabinet, then walked to the box and took the rest of the bottles out of bubble wrap and started putting them in the cabinet.

  “You’re confiscating them as if I were a teenager caught with a cigarette in class?”

  His voice held a bite she didn’t like and she straightened her spine in response. Holding a bottle in each hand, she said, “You’re welcome to take a bottle to the beach or marina during your off hours, when you’re away from the kids. Until then, I’m putting them away. They aren’t permitted here.”

  “Scotch is a nightcap. Not a beach drink.”

  “Regardless, the kids shouldn’t see these and you shouldn’t be tempted by their existence.”

  “There’s temptation everywhere. That’s the real world. It’s never hurt me to indulge…in any of it. I know my limits, in all things.”

  “Unfortunately, your limits and the shelter’s limits aren’t the same.” She set the last two bottles in the cabinet, then turned the key. Hated that she felt like an uptight schoolmarm once more. Having him accuse her of treating him like a teen didn’t help. “I’m sorry, Alessandro. I feel awful—I do—because I understand how stressful this place can be—”

  “You never show it.”

  Oh, she was ready to show something, but she didn’t have the luxury of releasing the rage that occasionally welled within her. She had to tamp it down and act like a reasonable adult. Even now.

  “Alessandro, there’s a reason I held that bar of soap like it is made of gold. I’m sure you feel the same about your Scotch. It’s a respite.” She sighed, then picked up the robe from the chair and set it on the desk. Slowly, she ran her hands over its plush loops. “It’s not easy. It’ll never be easy as long as there are kids living in this compound. I may not show it, but I understand the desire for a moment of peace and comfort. It’s a deep, palpable craving some days.”

  He eyed the cabinet. Frustration rolled off him in waves. She could tell he didn’t see the harm in a simple pour. She wished she could make him grasp that it wasn’t a matter of controlling his consumption. It was the fact that drinking was breaking the rules.

  Kids needed rules. Kids needed stability. Parents needed confidence in their children’s environment. It made the world safer. Predictable. Her parents’ divorce could’ve devastated her if her father hadn’t been so stable, so reliable.

  The tsunami had taken the predictability from these kids and their families. The shelter was a rock to them now, so long as everyone adhered to the rules that kept the environment stable.

  “How do you do it? I’ve only been here three weeks, yet it feels like three months.”

  “Does it feel that way because you don’t like it, or because you’re tired? Believe me, I drop into bed every night exhausted to the bone.”

  “Because it’s hard.” He interlaced his fingers and put his hands on top of his head, causing his biceps to pull the fabric of his T-shirt. His eyes drifted closed, and he blew out a hard breath. “I have a comfortable life in Sarcaccia. I know that. I’m grateful for it. Given my family’s wealth, I could kick back and do nothing. Instead, my parents instilled in me the sense that life isn’t worth living without goals. I worked my tail off at university to finish at the top of my class, even if it didn’t matter to my future. International relations fall to my brother, not me. I’ve gone out of my way to do physical work. No one can climb a mountain on a whim. It takes months of training, months of pushing myself in a gym and outdoors. Above all else, it takes mental fortitude. When I’m not climbing, I do martial arts training to build that. But here” —he opened his eyes and met her gaze— “here I’m at a loss. I don’t know how to reach the goal. I’m not even sure what the goal is. I certainly don’t know how to translate what I’m doing here into a productive goal I can pursue once I’m home.”

  He dropped his arms and started to pace the tight confines of her office. “None of my training stops the overwhelming urge I have to grab Naomi’s parents, drag them here from Papua New Guinea, and show them how much she needs to be with them. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to punch Remy’s relatives on the Marquesas for failing him just because they had issues with his parents.”

  She frowned. “Wait. How could you know there were issues?” She’d only told Alessandro that Remy’s relatives didn’t come for him.

  “I asked Irene one night after homework time. She told me that when you contacted them, you learned that there was a falling out between Remy’s parents and the rest of the family after the wedding. The relatives said that if Remy was alone, it was his parents’ fault for not making arrangements. Irene also told me that they didn’t return your follow-up calls. He’s such a wonderful boy. How can you not feel angry about that?”

  “I do.” If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have griped about it to Irene, Tommy, and Chloe, who adored Remy as much as she did.

  Alessandro’s jaw worked as he sat on the edge of her desk. Frannie circled the desk to sit beside him. “Every single adult at the shelter feels that aggravation. It’s basic instinct to want the kids to be happy and to rebel against whatever stands in the way, even if that seems to be the kids’ own families. But allowing that anger to overtake us doesn’t help the kids. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Helping them.”

  He cast a sideways glance at her. “Problem is, I have no clue how to help them. Johnny acts tough, but I can tell he’s unsure of his future after high school. I can’t draw Naomi out of her shell. And I don’t have the foggiest idea how to handle Remy or his nightmares.”

  Deep dissatisfaction filled his voice as he spoke. Much as she knew she shouldn’t, Frannie took one of Alessandro’s hands in both of hers and gave
it a squeeze. “It may not feel like it, but you are helping them.”

  He started to respond, but she cut off his argument. “Since you found Humphrey in the dining hall on your very first day, Remy has trusted you. Remy told us he brought the camel to homework time because it was lonely. You didn’t tell him that Humphrey is only a stuffed animal and that it would be fine in his bed, which is what a lot of people would’ve said. Instead, you promised to check on Humphrey during the day. It was a great response, one that acknowledged his feelings. And tonight, when you took Remy for a walk around the compound, it gave him time to shake his nightmare so he could sleep. It was the right thing to do. When we left the bunkhouse, he was sound asleep.”

  Alessandro looked at her hands, wrapped around his. “If any of that worked, it was dumb luck. I’m tired. I’m irritable. I’m not a natural like you or Tommy or Irene. Even Walter’s a lot better than I am at this, and he’s a math teacher. Not exactly the type of person known for making kids comfortable.”

  That made her smile. She didn’t imagine Alessandro compared himself to others often, and when he did, he didn’t find himself lacking. “None of these kids have dumb luck on their side. If they did, they wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

  “I’d say they’re plenty lucky. They have you.”

  The words were said with a tenderness that surprised her. She let go of his hand and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  “Ah, she remembered how to take a compliment.”

  Frannie laughed. “I’m a fast learner. I just…I hope you understand about the Scotch.”

  “I do.” He pushed to stand, then made a point of eyeing the cabinet. “But I don’t have to like it.”

  “Understood.”

  She expected him to turn and head for the bunkhouse. Instead, he paused in the doorway, crossed his arms over his chest, and asked, “Other than getting a good night’s sleep, which clearly isn’t going to happen tonight, do you have any practical suggestions for how I might deal with the kids? Whatever you do seems perfect.”

  “I’m not anywhere close to perfect.” At his openly skeptical look she said, “I want to scream at the world some days. I dream about the morning I wake up to see the entire island fixed…with all the roads repaired, with homes rebuilt, with people back to their lives and jobs and families. With the schools and shops open again. So my practical advice? Keep in mind that that’s what the people of Kilakuru are dreaming of, too, and that they’re doing their best to make it happen. Much as you might want to throttle Naomi’s parents, try to remember that they’re frustrated, too.”

  His mouth formed a grim line. “Does Naomi realize that?”

  “On a practical level, yes. Her parents write to her often and tell her how much they want to see her and promise that they’re working very hard to find jobs. They’re trying to help her understand that it’s best for her if she stays in school, and that they can’t enroll her elsewhere until they’re employed. But in her heart? No, I don’t think she understands why this is happening to her.”

  “It’s heartbreaking to see her at meals. Her eyes follow everyone around the room. She doesn’t look sad, but she doesn’t speak, either. When she plays kickball, she doesn’t cheer for her team or celebrate when she makes a great play. She just…watches. Walter and the other teachers say she’s the same in class.”

  “I know. But you’re doing the right thing. You include her, you act as if she does speak. You treat her like the intelligent girl she is.” Frannie exhaled, long and hard. “Miracles don’t happen overnight. I tell myself that as often as I feel like Sisyphus, endlessly rolling a rock up a hill only to watch it roll down again, I’m not. There’s progress here. With Naomi. With Remy. With all of them. And with the island. A year ago, the marina was nothing but a pile of battered wood and twisted metal, and the dock was nonexistent. Nine months ago, there was no Internet. Three months ago, our nurse was leaving for a new position and we hadn’t yet found Chloe.”

  “You’re saying things will work out.”

  “This civilization has been here a thousand years. It will rebuild. Parents will find jobs. Children will find homes.”

  He leaned against the door frame, but didn’t open the door to leave. “I’m used to seeing more progress when I take on a task.”

  “You’re used to things that are within your control. This place isn’t.”

  “Yet somehow, you seem to have it within yours. At least, you make the kids think you do.”

  “That’s because I love them.”

  His smile was slow and sexy. She got the strange sensation that he was looking right through her…as if he knew something about her, but wasn’t going to share.

  “What?”

  “You love them and you keep everything on a schedule. You said it yourself, the kids do best when they know what to expect. You bring order to their lives.”

  If she had something handy to throw at him, she would. “Is that a jab at my rules? Because it won’t get you the Scotch.”

  His laugh rolled right through her, making her smile in return. “I’m not talking about the Scotch, though I’ll take that any way I can get it. A good nightcap brings order to my life.” He straightened, then pushed the door with his hip. “Good night, Frannie. Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  He paused. “We could toast our new understanding of each other.”

  She made a show of rolling her eyes. “Alessandro? Get out.”

  Chapter 10

  Alessandro grimaced at the raw spot on the side of his hand, then used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. He shifted his grip on the sandpaper block and attacked the final remnants of rust on the large piece of metal that would become the bowl of the shelter’s new grill.

  The school bell had declared the end of the day more than an hour ago, but Irene had assured Alessandro she had homework time covered, affording him the opportunity to continue working with Tommy. If they were going to pull off their plan to surprise the kids with a cookout next weekend, they’d need to use every spare moment to finish.

  And—Alessandro bit back a curse as he scraped the heel of his hand—he’d need to find a pair of gloves.

  Despite the abrasions he’d incurred from aggressive use of both the sandpaper block and a wire brush, the afternoon of physical labor served as a welcome change from poring over books with the kids. He’d spent more hours studying calculus, chemistry, history, and proofreading papers in the month since his arrival on Kilakuru than he had since college. The amount of material the kids covered in comparison to what he was assigned years ago astounded him. The drive they had to understand the material and succeed astounded him even more. None of them—from the youngest preschoolers to the oldest teens—took their education for granted.

  Tommy put his hands to the base of his spine, then stepped back to survey the freshly painted section that would be used as the barbecue grill’s lid. A few weeks earlier, Tommy had spread rusted metal parts across newspapers in the empty area where they now worked, well behind the gazebo and out of sight of the compound. Whenever possible, Tommy escaped here to sand down the metal, figure out what was salvageable, and weld the useful pieces together to create a new grill. Two days ago, Alessandro followed and offered to help. Now that they’d nearly finished, Tommy started tackling the welded pieces with spray paint.

  “The kids will smell the paint,” Tommy muttered. “I hope Irene can keep them from wandering back here.”

  Alessandro flipped over the piece he was sanding so he could tackle the other side. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue today. Frannie couldn’t get an Internet connection this morning and walked to the police station to use theirs. One of the officers had a volleyball net and offered it for the kids. She and Chloe planned to set it up at the far end of the compound from the gazebo while we worked on the grill. Once Irene lets the kids out of the dining hall for recreation time and they see a net and balls, they’ll race that direction.”

>   “I might race that way, too. I love volleyball.” Tommy grabbed a can of black spray paint to hit a spot he’d missed. “It’s the national sport of Kilakuru. Did you know that when you packed the boxes?”

  Alessandro shook his head. It’d been almost two weeks since his shipment arrived and Frannie had been doling out the gifts to the kids a little at a time. The volleyballs hadn’t yet made an appearance. “It was my sister’s suggestion to send deflated balls and a pump. She pointed out that kids can play at any age and that volleyball doesn’t require safety gear or special shoes.”

  “Smart sister.”

  “She often is. Not that I’d admit it to her.” Now that he thought about it, he realized that Sophia likely got the idea the same afternoon he’d seen Frannie admiring the Morisot. It would’ve been natural for the two of them to talk about life at the shelter when they’d gone out to lunch.

  It was only a couple of days later when Sophia had knocked on the door to his palace apartment and asked to borrow a book on Tibet. He and a palace staffer were in the midst of loading the boxes for Kilakuru, and Sophia took an interest in both his trip and the shipment. Not only had she suggested the balls, she’d shared her thoughts on the list of board games he’d selected for inclusion. Then, when he asked her opinion on luxury items that could withstand the journey, she’d suggested the soap. She’d specifically mentioned the verveine.

  Given his sister’s enthusiasm, Alessandro had to wonder whether Sophia was in league with his mother. Both of them knew he was heading to Kilakuru to work at the shelter, yet neither mentioned Frannie’s presence. Nor could it be coincidence that Sophia’s soap suggestion happened to be Frannie’s favorite.

  The question was: why?

  “If I told Irene how smart she is, I’d never hear the end of it,” Tommy said. “It’s bad enough she’s older than I am and thinks she knows best.”

  “It’s the same with my sister and she’s younger. When Sophia made the suggestion, I pretended to have to think about it. I finally told her that deflated balls would work well as packing material for the laundry detergent. I’m sure she thought I was an ungrateful, pompous jerk, but it was better than having her know I thought her idea was brilliant,” Alessandro responded, which drew a laugh from Tommy.