The Wicked Prince

by Nicole Burnham

  “We’re nearly finished,” Tommy said as he finished his inspection. “I’m happy to handle the rest myself if you want to join the kids or take a break.”

  Alessandro twirled the hammer and grinned at Tommy. “I’m not as good as the mechanics you’re used to working alongside in your shop, is that what you’re saying?”

  “They’re the best or I wouldn’t have hired them.” Tommy rubbed one of his broad shoulders, glanced at the cloud layer skittering overhead, then looked at Alessandro. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been surprised by how competent you are. I expected a European prince to be an indoor person. Not very handy, quick to tire. You’re nothing like that. It’s been great for me, having you here.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Alessandro couldn’t keep the wry smile from his face. “But you’d still prefer to finish the shed alone.”

  “Did I say that?” Tommy let loose a good-natured laugh.

  “Not in so many words.”

  “It’s not what you think.” The smile remained on Tommy’s face as he picked up his hammer and a fresh board. “You’re distracted. I won’t ask if it’s the storm, the fact we have kids going home with their parents today, or if it’s something else. But you were quiet all day yesterday. Today, it took you a full minute to realize you couldn’t close the grill properly because the grates weren’t aligned. Tools and distraction don’t mix.”

  Alessandro wanted to deny it, but Tommy was too perceptive. “How about I keep the kids from getting into trouble over at the gazebo? I could use a round of kickball.”

  “They’d love that. I’ll be over when I’m done here.”

  Alessandro packed up the tools he’d used, then tossed his empty water bottle into the shelter’s recycling bin as he made his way toward the gazebo. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his shorts as he walked. Tommy Solofa was a good man. Without being nosy, the Kilakuran had given Alessandro an opening to talk if he needed to…or not.

  Even if Alessandro wanted to talk—which he didn’t—he wasn’t sure he could explain the tumult in his mind.

  He hadn’t lied when he’d told Frannie his type was changing. If anyone had asked him a year ago, or even two months ago, what he wanted in a woman, he’d never have described Frannie. Yet every time he was in her presence, he found himself transfixed. The first time, at Sophia’s party, he’d convinced himself it was because he hadn’t been with a woman in months. The second time, in the library, he’d chalked it up to rebellion against her knee-jerk judgment of him.

  But day after day at the shelter, when he couldn’t help but look up every time she crossed the compound or entered a room, he had no explanation. She drew him as powerfully as the moon controlled the tides. He wanted to know her likes and dislikes, to smell the light verveine soap on her skin. To hear stories about her childhood and moving from New York to Sarcaccia to London. To learn more about her decision to leave a secure job with Jack Gladwell and travel halfway around the world to care for other people’s children.

  More than anything, he wanted to kiss her again. Every time he closed his eyes, he envisioned her in that split second before she pulled his mouth to hers. It was the most profound, raw, romantic moment of his life. The mere thought of it caused an ache in his lungs that robbed him of breath.

  He could have kissed her all night. Slowly and intensely, exploring her, tasting her. Holding her in his arms, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat when he pressed his lips to the base of her throat. Simply listening to her breathe was enough to make him want to throw away his entire life on Sarcaccia and spend it here on Kilakuru.

  The urge had nothing do with physical gratification. It had everything to do with Frannie and the way she made him feel.

  That thought had entered his mind at the very moment a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. The whisper-soft, erotic sound of surrender snapped him to reason.

  He knew with absolute certainty that he could never be with her. He’d always been the short-term type, one for a roll in the sheets with no emotional attachment. Here today, gone tomorrow, and he’d ensured the women he’d bedded shared that philosophy.

  With Frannie, that wouldn’t work.

  The instant that realization hit, he was thrown from the most idyllic experience of his life to the most heartbreaking.

  Chapter 14

  Alessandro ground his teeth as he stalked across the dusty compound toward the gazebo.

  He wasn’t what Frannie needed, even if—in that heady moment night before last—she made it abundantly clear he was what she wanted.

  Frannie needed stability. She needed love. She needed all the things she gave so willingly to the children.

  She needed a man who could make her sigh with happiness for the rest of her life, a man who wouldn’t leave her with regrets.

  He’d kissed her one more time after hearing that sigh—slow and deep, savoring the last moments he would ever hold her—then mustered every bit of his resolve to pull away. To hold her hands and tell her that she deserved better.

  In time, she’d realize he was right and she’d be grateful he’d exercised common sense.

  But right now, it was killing him. He couldn’t so much as hammer a nail without his mind wandering to Frannie.

  He called out a hello to Irene and Mira as he passed the nursery. The two women sat on a small bench to the side of the nursery’s front door, chatting. Yesterday he’d inspected the nursery’s roof and helped the women make adjustments to the building’s storm shutters. The place was as secure as they could make it.

  Now the little ones were in the midst of naptime, affording the two women a much-needed break. When Mira waved back, Alessandro noticed the women had a knitting basket between them and that Irene had a ball of yarn and needles in her lap. The colors matched those of an afghan he’d spied in the nursery when the toddlers used it to create a fort under their chairs.

  The kids were fortunate to have such care. Hopefully, in the weeks to come, they’d be as fortunate as the Latu and Sapani children and they’d be reunited with their parents or adopted.

  He blew out a long breath as he continued toward the gazebo. During the moments he’d spent with Frannie at the barbecue and she’d told him about her upbringing, glossing over the two years she’d spent in Cateri, separated from her father, then casually mentioning her mother’s constant travel, he’d wondered if she’d felt lonely or unloved. Perhaps, he’d thought, it was the memory of those emotions that drove her to ensure the children on Kilakuru felt valued and loved.

  When she’d pointed out that he’d had a similar upbringing, he’d realized that no, Frannie hadn’t felt unloved. But those years hadn’t been easy for her. While Frannie hadn’t said it outright, the combination of her father’s career and her mother’s need for travel doomed her parents’ marriage.

  Frannie would never want a relationship like that of her parents, where she and her partner lived separate lives.

  He was bound to Sarcaccia. Much as he traveled to the far corners of the earth, he always returned, and he always would. His mother made it plain that his time on Kilakuru was meant to direct him toward a cause at home. He could only give Frannie the here and now. She wasn’t the type to indulge in a short-term fling—or any relationship, he suspected—without getting her heart involved.

  He tripped over his own foot, then swore under his breath as he took a stutter step to catch himself. He was losing his mind.

  His whole life, he’d been able to spot the long-term-relationship types at a hundred paces. He never flirted with them, and certainly never kissed them, believing that way there be dragons.

  He wasn’t the man for Frannie. They both knew it, deep down. But accepting that fact proved tougher for Alessandro than leaving her in the dining hall Saturday night.

  The kids in the gazebo offered cheery greetings when they saw him approach. He responded with an enthusiasm he didn’t feel. “This where everyone’s meeting for kickball?”<
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  Tehani spoke first. “It’s ten minutes until break time. We’ll have enough for two teams then.”

  “If people want to,” Johnny added. “We played kickball every day last week, so we’re brainstorming different ideas.” He ran through what they’d already discussed—volleyball, capture the flag, four square—but as Johnny ticked off the list, murmurs of dissatisfaction echoed through the gazebo.

  “You have any ideas?” Tehani asked.

  Alessandro took a seat on one of the benches. He made a few suggestions, though he could tell from the kids’ faces they weren’t excited about any of them.

  Mental frustration over Frannie left him craving physical activity. He suspected the kids could use some outdoor time, too, after a day in the classroom, so he didn’t bother suggesting any of the board games or art supplies Frannie had distributed over the course of the past weeks. She’d held a few back, but he imagined she’d want those in the event the storm hit and the kids were forced to stay indoors.

  Johnny looked to Alessandro. “What sports do you do at home? Any we haven’t done?”

  “Nothing formal,” he told them. “Pickup games, like basketball or fútbol, if I’m with friends. At home I’m fortunate enough to have a gym, so I do martial arts there.”

  “Like karate?” Johnny’s chin lifted with sudden interest. “Do you take classes?”

  “I did when I was your age. Now I either work out by myself or with an instructor. If my twin brother is home, he joins me. We practice a mix of styles.”

  One of the girls squinted at him. “Is it true that you and your brother are completely identical? That sometimes even your mom can’t tell you apart?”

  “My mother can tell pretty quickly, though we tried to trick her a few times when we were younger. I have a scar here” —he indicated the spot under his left eye— “so that’s a dead giveaway if anyone gets too close.”

  “How’d you get it? Was it a fight?”

  Alessandro turned to see that Remy had climbed onto the bench behind him. The little boy stood with his toes on the seat and his heels hanging in the air as he gripped the backrest and tried to get a better look at the scar.

  “A terrible fight. Violent. Bloody.”

  Remy’s mouth dropped open. “What happened?”

  “My brother Vittorio used to own a yellow pickup. Fantastic truck, top of the line. Wide bed with a net in the back, shiny wheels, lights on top. I wanted to use it one afternoon and I didn’t feel like asking his permission.”

  “You stole your brother’s truck?” Remy’s look of incredulity made it hard for Alessandro to keep a straight face.

  “I ran right across our nursery and tried to yank it out of his hands.” He grabbed Remy by the shoulders and gave him a light shake, making the boy laugh. “I pulled as hard as I could…and Vittorio let go. I fell backward and smacked myself in the face with the truck.”

  “Is that true?” Tehani stifled a laugh. “You got that scar because you cut yourself with a toy truck?”

  “I did. Vittorio and I were four years old. You should have seen the mess. I bled all over the rug and my clothes.”

  A chorus of ewwww went around the gazebo.

  “I was more angry than I was hurt. I didn’t want our nanny to know what I did, so I tried to clean up the blood myself. When she heard the commotion and saw the cut, I tried to blame it on Vittorio, but our nanny knew us both well enough to figure out what happened.”

  “Did you get in trouble?”

  “My mother took away my favorite toys for a month. Two weeks for trying to take Vittorio’s truck and another two weeks for lying to the nanny about what happened.”

  “I bet you were mad,” Remy said.

  “I deserved it. I’m lucky I didn’t get more for trying to hide the evidence.” He shrugged as he looked around the group. “What was impressive is that my brother wasn’t mad at me for trying to steal his truck. He was upset that I got hurt. He started crying and tried to help me clean up the blood.”

  “Your brother sounds adorable!”

  “They were four.” Johnny shot a look at Tehani, who made the comment, then turned to Alessandro. “I’ve seen pictures of your brother. He looks tough.”

  “They’re identical twins,” Tehani argued. “Which means what you’re really saying is that Alessandro is tough.”

  “And you’re saying he’s adorable.”

  Alessandro tried to suppress a grin, but failed. “Tough is about more than looks, but yes, Vittorio is pretty tough. I’ve taken some hard hits from him in the gym.”

  “You and your brother fight?” Johnny couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. It caught the attention of the rest of the kids, who’d started their break from homework time and spilled from the dining hall into the center of the compound. “Who wins?”

  “We don’t fight, we spar,” Alessandro said. “It’s solely for practice. We’re roughly fifty-fifty on who wins. He’s technically superior. I’m stronger and take more chances. However, we don’t spar that often. Practicing martial arts is more about challenging yourself physically and mentally than it is about winning fights.”

  “Can you show us?” one of the other boys asked.

  “Or teach us?” Tehani’s eyes sparkled at the possibility. “Not everything, but a little? I’d love to try it.”

  “I’m not a teacher. Teaching is an entirely different skill set than—”

  At least four or five of the kids interrupted with a, “Please?”

  “We promise not to think you’re a bad teacher,” Remy said.

  Every student in the gazebo looked at him in anticipation, even Naomi, who’d tucked into the back of the group. There was no way he’d interest them in volleyball or kickball now.

  Behind the kids, he caught sight of Chloe crossing the compound, a first aid kit in each hand. She put them on top of a stack of several identical kits outside the door to Frannie’s office.

  He started to look away when Frannie stepped out of the office. Chloe said something, then popped the top on one of the kits. Frannie knelt to look inside the plastic container. Her expression was all business, but Alessandro didn’t miss that Frannie’s hand went to her lower back. He hadn’t seen either woman since breakfast, but judging from their expressions, the storm hadn’t turned away.

  If he could figure that out from a quick look toward Frannie’s office, so could the kids. They were smart enough to recognize any change in the adults’ routines.

  “All right. I’ll show you some basics.” Perhaps a few of the kids would decide to pursue further study someday. For the short term, it’d distract them from the storm preparations.

  With any luck, the activity would distract him from Frannie.

  * * *

  Frannie looked up from her desk as Walter and two of the other teachers poked their heads into her office. She was about to ask what was wrong, then saw the excitement on their faces.

  “You have to see this,” Walter told her. “Come quietly.”

  Unsure what to expect, she followed them outside. Her mind was spinning with a list of what needed to be done now that she’d checked in with Joe and the weather service.

  It wasn’t until the teachers stopped short that she looked up and realized what was happening. The kids stood in five orderly lines near the gazebo. Each stood with one leg forward, knees slightly bent, hands held in front of them at chin level. As one, they stepped forward, keeping their hands high and eyes forward.

  “Is that karate?”

  “I don’t know,” Walter told her. “Some kind of martial arts. I’ve never seen them so quiet and focused.”

  “They’ve been at it for half an hour now,” one of the other teachers whispered. “Ever since homework break started. He has them mesmerized.”

  That’s when she spotted Alessandro. He stood near the back of the group, beside Naomi. His voice was so low Frannie couldn’t hear what he said, but there was a gravitas to the tone that made it clear he expected
his instructions to be followed. The kids moved again, this time, they each kicked their right legs forward.

  Alessandro moved to stand in front of the kids. He seemed oblivious to the fact he’d drawn an audience of teachers and kitchen staff. Even Tommy had paused in his duties to come watch.

  “He looks like a prince now, doesn’t he?” one of the teachers whispered. Frannie agreed. This was the man she’d met in the palace library. A man who moved with confidence, who knew that with nothing more than a look or a simple clearing of his throat, he could draw the attention of an entire room.

  A few minutes later, the kids bowed, then clapped their hands as Alessandro declared the lesson finished.

  “See, you were great!” Remy told him. The boy’s giddiness carried across the compound.

  Alessandro said something to Remy, then cautioned the group about the proper time and place for martial arts study, which drew a comment about fighting over trucks from Tehani. Frannie had no idea what Tehani meant, but it elicited a round of laughter from the kids.

  “All right. Those of you who still have homework, it’s time to return to the dining hall. The rest of you, do you know where you need to be?”

  There were nods, then the kids dispersed. As they disappeared from the center of the compound, Tommy began to clap. The kitchen staff joined in, then the teachers standing around Frannie.

  “He’ll be missed when he goes home,” Walter said to Frannie as she began clapping, too.

  An image of Alessandro pulling away from her in the dining hall flooded her mind. She could almost hear him saying, I can’t change who I am, and I’m not the right man for you.

  Did he truly believe that? Or was it simply his way of trying to let her down as gently as possible?

  She stifled the thought and glanced at Walter as they headed toward the gazebo. “Yes, he will.”

  Alessandro waved off the adults, then turned to pick up a piece of trash left behind on the gazebo floor. If it was possible for a man with his olive-toned skin to blush, she suspected he would.