Chloe came from nursing station to join the group. “I had no idea you were a martial arts instructor. Frannie would’ve put you to work sooner if she’d seen what you can do.”
“I’m not,” he said after he flicked the stray paper into the trash can. “I told the kids that I studied several types and they asked for a lesson. All I did was explain that in most martial arts traditions, the goal is to avoid fighting in the first place. Then we went through a few kicks. I’m surprised that they took to it.”
“They all looked happy,” Chloe added. “As long as no one ends up in the nursing station, it’s fantastic.”
Alessandro turned his attention to Frannie. “What’s the word on the storm? Any updates?”
She glanced around the circle. Nearly all the adults were present, but the kids were in the bunkhouse and dining hall. “I’ve been watching all morning and just got off the phone with Joe. The storm has turned, but not enough to miss us completely. Unfortunately, it’s picked up strength. The winds are nearly high enough to categorize it as a typhoon.”
“When will it hit?”
Leave it to Tommy to get to the heart of the issue. “The outer rain bands will be here by tomorrow afternoon. It’s hard to say how bad it’ll be, given that it’s turned slightly north, but with the higher wind speed I want to evacuate in the morning, just to be safe. I was just about to call the adults together to let everyone know. The kids can sleep in their own beds tonight. We don’t have enough vehicles to evacuate them all at once, so we’ll go youngest to oldest. The adults who are last to evacuate will be responsible for locking down the bunkhouses. We’ll secure the school tonight, then the nursery and kitchen after breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll spread the word to the rest of the staff,” Chloe told her.
“I’ll tell the kids tonight at dinner,” Frannie said. “I’ve given each group a name. I thought we could have them make evacuation group flags tonight to inject some fun in the process. I want this to feel completely different from the tsunami. Like they’re going on an expedition.”
“We have plenty of art supplies, so that won’t be a problem,” Irene said. “That’s a good idea.”
“With any luck, the evacuation will be for nothing and all we’ll have is rain and some downed palm fronds.” She checked her watch, then asked Tommy about the generator shed.
“Finished. Power shouldn’t be a problem. I have a few more windows to cover, but those will take less than an hour.”
Everyone else reported that they’d completed their tasks. Frannie thanked everyone for their hard work, then they dispersed to their usual afternoon assignments.
When she stepped into her office, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, expecting to see Chloe, but Alessandro stood inside the office door.
“What’s up?” She tried to sound casual, though the mere sight of him in her space sent her heart racing. It was the first time they’d been alone since he’d kissed her in the dining hall.
Correction: since she’d kissed him.
Either way, she’d thought of little else, even when dealing with storm preparations.
He stepped closer. “I reread the evacuation plan this morning. As I was working with the kids just now, it occurred to me that you left out an important piece of information.”
She had? Frannie frowned, then walked around her desk to pick up her copy of the plan. “What?”
“You.”
His tone sent a wave of foreboding through her. “What are you talking about?”
Alessandro moved to the side of her desk, boxing her between the desk and the wall. “You’re not assigned to any of the evacuation groups. Where will you be?”
“Here.” Before he could protest, she told him, “I’ll be fine. If the forecast changes for the worse, I’ll head to the church where you, Sam, and Chloe have your group, since it’s the closest. In the meantime, I’ll be here to watch over the shelter and to serve as a central point of contact.”
“Frannie, you can’t. I know you want to protect what you’ve built here, but what can you possibly do once the storm hits? You can’t walk around the compound fixing things in the middle of the wind and rain.”
“I’ll be safely indoors.” She tapped the cinder block wall behind her. “These walls are solid. If it looks like the tide will be higher than predicted, I’ll evacuate, too. Even then, I doubt the water will come this far. This storm isn’t the tsunami.”
“Frannie—”
Her lower lip jerked. She knew he saw it, and it galled her that he could see how his nearness affected her. “You know why the kids call me Miss Frannie? Because I’m the boss. I make the decisions.”
“I have a right to be worried about you.”
“No more than anyone else. You don’t see them in here arguing, do you?”
“They probably haven’t realized what you’re planning.”
She ran her hands over her ponytail, then adjusted it so it sat higher on her head. “They trust my judgment and know I’ll be responsible. I’ve been in constant contact with Joe Papani. I told him my plan. He’ll give me the heads-up if he thinks I should leave.”
“How will you get anywhere?”
“I can get a ride with Joe. The police will be patrolling the main road throughout the storm. They’ll be driving past the shelter at regular intervals. If Joe doesn’t have time to run me to the church, I’ll have him drop me at the station. It’s on slightly higher ground than the shelter and a little farther from the beach. I’ll be fine.”
“Did he agree with your plan?”
“He understands.”
Alessandro braced a hand against the wall, his fingers resting only a few feet from her head. “That’s not agreeing.”
Her face heated as he stared down at her. She counted backward from three to try to regain her equilibrium. Then he surprised her by leaning in.
She shook her head and shifted. “Alessandro, I don’t understand you.”
Chapter 15
“Nor do I understand you.”
Alessandro curled his fingers where they pressed into the wall over Frannie’s head. The woman drove him insane. All controlled energy and confidence and those damned dark eyes with the upturned edges.
Yet as she held his gaze and insisted on staying put, the lines of propriety that stood between them began to blur. Despite the fact it was the middle of the day, the temptation to kiss her was even stronger than it had been in quiet of the dining hall on Saturday night. Now he knew how earth-shattering it felt to have her in his arms. All he could think about was wrapping his hands around her shoulders, pulling her spectacular body against his, and capturing her full, soft lips in a kiss that’d buckle her knees. A kiss that’d show her what she meant to him. A kiss to convince her not to put herself in danger.
Except.
He blinked, even as he saw the attraction burning in her eyes. A kiss would go nowhere. It certainly wouldn’t change her mind about evacuating.
Frannie was a woman who valued substance. He’d known it the moment they’d met at the Christmas party, and that opinion was reinforced as he became better acquainted with the people she’d hired here at the shelter. To a person, they were solid, moral, and dedicated. Maybe he’d developed substance over the weeks he’d spent working here on Kilakuru, but it wasn’t sufficient. Not for her. She deserved more, a man who’d remain with her for the long haul, and Alessandro never made a promise he was incapable of fulfilling.
He couldn’t walk away from Frannie Saturday night with a grand speech about his unsuitability, then turn around and kiss her now. Not unless he wanted to make their situation even worse.
He shook his head, as if doing so might loosen desire’s grip on him. “All I’m saying, Frannie, is that I want you to be safe. You mean a lot to me.”
“I’ll be safe.” Tentatively, without breaking eye contact, she put one hand on his chest. “What I really don’t understand is this” —she flexed her fingers against the fr
ont of his shirt— “between us. How you could say you’re not the right man for me. I’d understand completely if you believe that I’m not right for you, given your family and position—”
“That’s not the case. At all.”
“Then?”
She was torturing him. “It won’t be long before I return to Sarcaccia. That’s reason enough for me to stay away from you.” How did he phrase this without sounding like an ass? “I also have a reputation.”
“So?”
He moved his hand from the wall and covered hers, which still lay over his heart, but only long enough for him to remove and release it. “The reputation is well-earned.”
“Again…so?”
He gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to talk about this. Not now. To put distance between them, he moved to sit on the edge of her desk. “You must not follow the gossip columns. Or Sophia told you very little about me.”
He expected her to argue, to say once again that his reputation didn’t matter. Instead, she grinned and said, “Oh, I’ve heard plenty. Read plenty. Remember, I asked you about your travels at Sophia’s Christmas party.”
“I’m not talking about my reputation for climbing mountains or going on safari.”
“I know that. I expect there’s far more to your reputation than even the tabloids know.” Her expression sharpened, as if she were staring into his soul. “I wonder, though, if you’ve been drawn to wild parties or remote places so you aren’t constantly reminded of your role in the family.”
“Parties are fun. Period. And I travel because I enjoy it. There’s the opportunity to climb and dive, though I most value meeting people with different lives and experiences. It keeps my brain functioning on all cylinders.”
“And you can’t get that enjoyment or stimulation at home because you’re locked into a backup position. You’re not permitted to do what Vittorio does, despite being raised with the same training, the same education. You accomplished a lot during the months he was in Argentina. I suspect you enjoyed it.”
“Enjoyed it?” He gave her a look of utter disbelief. “Ever try living another person’s life? I wouldn’t describe it as enjoyable. I had to stay in Vittorio’s palace apartment. Sleep in his bed. Wear his clothes. I had to be him. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to act as if I were that dull for that long?"
She smiled at his description of Vittorio, but it faded quickly. “For most people, the hard part wouldn’t be taking on someone else’s life, it’d be forgoing their own. Months on end where you couldn’t talk to your friends, all of whom thought you were gone. How many weddings or funerals or other celebrations did you miss? How did it feel when you couldn’t congratulate a friend on an accomplishment because you weren’t supposed to know?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer, but pushed off the wall and spread her hands wide as she spoke. “The more time I’ve spent around you, watching the way you interact with the kids and the staff, the more certain I am that you’re not wired to be a spare to the throne. You crave involvement. You want your actions to have meaning. You want to go to bed at night feeling as if you’ve accomplished something with your day. Something more than the ribbon-cutting at a new office building in Sarcaccia. Parties, women, gambling…my guess is that you’ve pursued those activities as aggressively as you have for the challenge of it. Once you had a taste of Vittorio’s role, though—much as you hated having to adopt his personality—you knew what you’d been born to do.”
“Except I wasn’t, Frannie.” He gave her a look meant to shut down any argument. “Don’t try to make me into something—someone—I’m not. I make no excuses for my reputation. If it was reported in the tabloids, I likely did it. And for the record, Vittorio is an excellent crown prince. Sarcaccia couldn’t hope to have a better man on the throne.”
“I didn’t say he’s not. I’m only telling you not to sell yourself short. You are every bit as intelligent and as able as your twin. And maybe you do have constitutional limitations on what you can do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make an impact.” She paused, then her eyes narrowed. “You never did tell me why you came here. Now I think I know why.”
“I came because my mother sent me.”
“Sent you or suggested you come?”
“Does it matter? Either way, Queen Fabrizia doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“One is a punishment. The other is a challenge.” Her lips curved into a sultry smile. “And I suspect you’ve found plenty of ways to say no to your mother over the years, or you wouldn’t have the reputation you do. From what Sophia has told me, Queen Fabrizia would have locked you in your palace apartment if she could have.”
“Which circles right back to my reputation. If it doesn’t concern you, it should.”
She flipped her hand in a dismissive wave. “Have you ever driven a car while under the influence? Or done anything while drinking that could put another in harm’s way?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t think so. Gambled more than you could lose? Or gambled with someone else’s money?”
“No. Nor have I cheated. Nevertheless—”
Her brow lifted. “And did you make promises to any of those women? Treat them poorly? Allow them to have expectations that you had no intention of fulfilling?”
“No. The women I’ve dated” —he grimaced— “not even dated. The women I’ve….”
“The women you’ve…let’s say, kept company.”
“Kept company, then. They were always women who I was positive wanted nothing more from me than a brief, good time.” In other words, women who were nothing like Frannie.
“If you were consenting, single adults and no one was hurt, why should that bother me?”
“It could harm the reputation of the shelter.”
She openly scoffed at that. “You wouldn’t have come to work here if you believed that.”
“Working here and getting romantically involved with the shelter’s director are two different things.”
She contemplated that, then said, “Your use of the word ‘involved’ is fascinating.”
“Frannie, don’t—”
“This place was named the Sunrise Shelter for a reason. A sunrise is a symbol of optimism. A new beginning. Perhaps that should apply to more than the children who live here.”
He rose from the desk. None of this mattered. The bottom line was that if Frannie knew him, the real him, the man who slept with a famous Italian journalist one night and sat in the back of a dark club with a beautiful Armenian tour guide in his lap the next, she’d know better than to kiss him again. She’d risk too much.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” he told her. “As you said, you’re Miss Frannie. You make the decisions. Just be sure you’re making those decisions with your eyes wide open. You underestimate the danger you’re in, and if you’re not careful, you’ll get hurt.”
As he strode to the door, she called out to his back, “Are you talking about staying here during the storm? Or about you?”
“Both.”
* * *
The nursery school kids were the first to leave the Sunrise Shelter the next morning.
An hour after breakfast, they marched from the nursery to the compound gates wearing paper crowns they’d made the night before and carrying their group’s colorful banner. The older kids stood in the center of the compound and cheered for the toddlers as they made their way to the waiting cars and trucks. None of the kids seemed bothered by the evacuation.
As Frannie had intended, the entire event carried an air of celebration, as if they were teams heading out on a camping trip or similar adventure. The kids were far more concerned with how their banners held up in the breeze than with the impending storm.
Tommy, Irene, and Mira were assigned to the toddlers. Each drove a vehicle and carried another adult in the passenger seat who’d then bring the vehicles back to the shelter to transport the next group. Frannie had worked out the driving arrangements
so that, at the end of the day, three of the four groups would have a car or truck at their shelter. One of the part-time volunteers who lived near the fourth shelter planned to drive there once his own house was secure, then spend the night so they’d have a vehicle and an extra set of hands in the event of an emergency.
All and all, she couldn’t have asked for an easier evacuation.
Once the toddlers were loaded and ready to go, Frannie walked to the driver’s window of Tommy’s truck.
“Good luck,” she told him as she waggled her fingers at the happy kids in the back seat. “Call on the office landline if you need anything.”
“I will,” he promised. “My cousin was at the community center yesterday and said the director was looking forward to hosting the little ones. I gather he has a couple of surprises for them.” He mouthed the words, “a tent and a parachute for play time.”
“Sounds like you’ll have fun, then.”
“We should. In the meantime, let us know if you evacuate. Be on the watch for more roaches and snakes. They like to come up from the beach when the tide is higher than usual.”
“Thanks for the warning.” She patted the side of the truck, then watched as Tommy led the convoy toward the western side of the island and the community center that would serve as the toddlers’ shelter site.
The older kids finished packing while waiting for the vehicles to return, then lined up their backpacks in the dining hall. Kickball and volleyball games started, but stopped once the wind began to gust. Though the sun remained out, the kids decided they’d rather relax indoors. Over the next three hours, two more groups departed. Walter went first, along with two women who served on the kitchen staff. About an hour later, Pearl and the two teachers who lived in the girls’ bunkhouse departed with the second group. The final group, which was under the care of Alessandro, Chloe, and Sam Lameko, enjoyed a simple lunch in the dining hall, then helped lock away the dining hall items and pull the trash barrels into secured areas.
“We’re going last because our banner’s the best,” Frannie heard Remy tell one of the other kids as they walked toward the front of the compound, where Alessandro and teachers from two of the earlier groups were due to arrive with the vehicles. Once the final group was safely at St. Augustine’s, the teachers would drive two of the vehicles onward to their respective shelters. The last vehicle would remain at St. Augustine’s.
The Wicked Prince Page 16