The Wicked Prince

  “You make me sound as exciting as cardboard. Even so, what does it matter that we’re not alike?”

  “If she married me, she’d regret it the rest of her life.”

  Vittorio said nothing. Alessandro realized he’d given too much away. It was the word married. He should’ve said something else, especially after making the carriage comment in the garage yesterday.

  When Vittorio finally spoke, his words were measured. “You’re certain of that, are you?”

  Alessandro turned to the window and nodded. “When I first met her, I thought she’d be perfect for you. She’s responsible. Dedicated. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know you’d found Emily. Who is perfect for you.”

  “From what I recall, you described Francesca—Frannie—as a stick-in-the-mud. And I asked you who used that phrase anymore.”

  “And I said, ‘a stick-in-the-mud like you.’ Which is still true. You’re a stick-in-the-mud.”

  “Yet you’re in love with a stick-in-the-mud.” Vittorio laughed. “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You’re twisted.”

  “And you don’t give yourself enough credit.” Vittorio shot him a pointed look, one that compelled Alessandro to face Vittorio as he spoke. “You did more for me in the five months I was away than any man has a right to ask of his brother. You gave up your entire life so I could get mine in order. You never complained, never asked for anything in return. Not only that, you did a spectacular job acting as crown prince. You likely saved hundreds, maybe thousands, of lives by negotiating the safe zone surrounding Abu Kamal.”

  “Vittorio—”

  “You didn’t do it for the recognition, either. When you did those things, everyone believed you were me. And you thought they’d always believe it was me. We had no plans to come clean. You did it because it was the right thing to do.”

  “You make me sound like Mother Teresa. I’m not. In fact, I could tell you stories that’d singe your ears. Remember Claudine and Sylvie, the women seated at our table following the Cannes Film Festival a few years ago? That night—”

  Vittorio held his hand palm out. “Whatever you’re about to say, I believe you. I know all about your rendezvous with that Dutch artist, too. Your reputation is well-earned. But at your core, I know who you are. You’re the best brother I could have. The best prince this country could have. You need to trust Francesca to know who you are.”

  “I know who I am and what I am, the good and the bad. She deserves a different type of man.” He hated to admit it, even to Vittorio, but it was the truth. “If I did anything right while you were away, it’s because I needed to convince the world that I was you. Much as I know you can be a pompous ass, Sarcaccia couldn’t do better than to have you follow our father on the throne. And frankly, I’m holding out hope that you and Emily have children, both for your sakes and mine.”

  Vittorio snorted. “The throne is the distant future. Francesca is now. Let it be her decision.”

  Alessandro shook his head, but Vittorio put a hand on his shoulder. “If Emily acted as you’re acting now, I wouldn’t be marrying her tomorrow. She didn’t think she was enough for me.”

  “Emily is wonderful. No way she’s done half the things I’ve done.”

  Vittorio grinned and released Alessandro’s shoulder. “No, she hasn’t. But she knows I’m the crown prince. And she knows the terms of the treaty between Sarcaccia and Italy.”

  “She also knows you have four brothers.”

  “Be that as it may, she didn’t want to deny me my birthright. What I’ve been trained to do my entire life. Even if I wasn’t a prince, Emily knows how much I want children. She didn’t want to deny me that opportunity, either. She was afraid that if I married her, I’d have regrets.”

  “You talked her out of that, obviously.”

  “Only because she gave me the opportunity. Thank God she did, because I don’t know what I’d do without her. There’s no other way I can put this…but my soul lives with Emily. It always will.” Vittorio’s mouth contorted, then he raised his face to look at the windows of their parents’ apartment, where Emily and Sophia could be seen talking and laughing where Alessandro had stood earlier. “Give Frannie that opportunity, Alessandro. Let her decide what she can accept and what she can’t.”

  “It’s different.” Vittorio’s situation was one of birth. Alessandro’s was one of poor choices. He wasn’t good enough for Frannie, and there was no changing it.

  Vittorio pushed from the bench. He glanced at the windows, then turned to face Alessandro. “I want you to think about something. When’s the last time you were scared? No need to answer. Frankly, I’ve never known you to be scared in your life. You stared down the nannies, even when you were in the wrong. You climbed Kilimanjaro with a strained muscle and hid it from everyone. You believed with all your heart that you could switch places with me and fool millions of people. And you succeeded, every time. But now, with Frannie, something scares you. This isn’t about what’s right for her. It’s about you. Perhaps it’s as simple as a fear of commitment. But perhaps it’s that your reputation allows you to be the center of every gathering, yet prevents people from truly knowing you. If no one truly knows you, they can’t reject you.” He waved a hand. “Whatever it is, you need to face what scares you. Then talk to her.”

  They’d never had such a personal conversation before. Not about emotions. Not about fear. It unsettled him, especially since it was the night before his brother’s wedding. “Vittorio, I appreciate the advice. But my situation isn’t like yours.”

  Vittorio’s gaze hardened. “Don’t bet on that, best man. You’d be wagering more than you can afford to lose.”

  Alessandro opened his mouth to argue, but Vittorio had already spun on his heel and strode toward the palace doors.

  Chapter 23

  The Internet, Frannie decided, was both her greatest blessing and greatest curse. Today she’d experienced both.

  From the moment the kids awakened, the entire shelter buzzed with gossip about Prince Vittorio and Emily Sinclair’s wedding. Chloe had been the first to pop into Frannie’s office and ask to use the computer to check the news. Before long, nearly every adult who worked at the shelter had asked to peek at the coverage, despite the fact Kilakuru was hours ahead of Sarcaccia and the event hadn’t even started. Finally, Frannie downloaded photos from a slew of websites and carried a projector to the dining hall so everyone could ooh and aah over the photos of the Barrali and Sinclair families leaving the cathedral following the previous day’s rehearsal, then the morning procession through the streets of Cateri for the ceremony. The kids, especially, were taken with the scope of the event.

  Throughout the viewing party in the dining hall, one sentence was heard over and over: Prince Vittorio and Alessandro look exactly alike!

  The response each time was similar: They do!

  Or: They’re totally identical!

  Or: How can anyone tell them apart?

  The last was answered more than once with: Alessandro’s face is a deeper tan from being on Kilakuru.

  The statement was often followed with giggles, though Frannie had to agree. On the surface, it was the only way to tell them apart, especially in photographs. Those photographs, however, made Frannie yearn to see Alessandro in the flesh. He’d only been gone a few days, but it felt like an eternity. She’d caught herself looking toward the boys’ bunkhouse each morning, half-expecting to see him strolling toward the shower house with a towel draped over his shoulder. She missed the surety of his walk as he crossed the compound to join a volleyball game. The wicked sparkle in his eyes before he spiked the ball…usually in a way that allowed the nearest child to make the save if they went all-out for it.

  Photos—and the Internet—failed to convey the subtleties that made the real, flesh and blood Alessandro…Alessandro.

  Finally, at dinnertime, Frannie had declared the viewing party over for the day. She promised to gather photos and video from the
ceremony itself to show to the kids the next day.

  On the other hand, the Internet provided Frannie with the happiest moment of her entire week. She’d been in the midst of compiling the rehearsal photos when she received a surprise message from Naomi’s father, asking if she was available to video chat. During their talk, he told her he’d secured a position with Kilakuru’s fire department. The family would be living on a tight budget and staying with relatives for a short time, but he’d booked a flight that would return to the family to the island in less than twenty-four hours.

  Naomi was on a science field trip at the beach when the call came, but Frannie assured Naomi’s parents that she’d share the good news with Naomi as soon as possible. Tears shone in Mr. Iakopo’s eyes when he told Frannie he couldn’t wait to hug his daughter. Mrs. Iakopo, who stood behind her husband during the call, didn’t bother hiding her tears. They flowed down both cheeks, dripping onto the baby boy in her arms.

  Frannie prided herself on her toughness, but when she’d clicked off the chat screen, she’d been compelled to reach for a tissue to wipe her eyes. Of all the children in the shelter, Naomi had been most hurt by having to stay behind while her parents went off in search of employment.

  A knock at her open office door that evening made Frannie smile in anticipation. To ensure Naomi had privacy for the news, Frannie asked Irene to tell Naomi to come to the office after dinner ended.

  “Come on in, Naomi. If you don’t mind, please close the door.”

  Naomi’s dark eyes were wide but unreadable as she turned to shut the door. She only took a couple of steps into the office, then looked from the empty chair to Frannie.

  “Go ahead and take a seat. This is all good news, Naomi.”

  Once the girl was seated—on the very edge of the chair, Frannie noticed—Frannie walked around the desk, moved aside a few papers, then turned and sat on top of it. “Did you have a good day today?”

  Naomi nodded.

  “Did you like seeing the photos from the royal wedding?”

  Another nod. This time, she allowed a hint of a smile to show.

  “Well, I’m about to make your day even better. While you were at the beach this afternoon, your parents called. Your father has a job. Best of all, it’s right here on Kilakuru with the fire department.”

  As Naomi’s eyes watered and her hand went to her mouth, Frannie added, “Your parents and baby brother will be here tomorrow. They’ve already booked their flight. They’ll arrive after dinner, and you’re going to move into your uncle’s house until your parents can find a new place to live. There’s a small school not far from his house. A few girls from your old school are already in classes there, so you’ll even have friends. It’s only ten kids right now, but I think you’ll like it a lot.”

  Naomi let out a sob, then tears poured from her eyes and over her hand. Frannie moved from the desk to kneel in front of the little girl.

  “I’m so happy for you, Naomi. Your parents are really excited. They can’t wait to see you.”

  Naomi nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. As quickly as Frannie could catch her, Naomi fell from the chair and into Frannie’s arms, then buried her face in Frannie’s shoulder. Frannie fought to hold back her own tears as she held Naomi and let her cry. Once her sobs slowed, Frannie leaned back, holding Naomi at arm’s length. She swooped a palm over the girl’s head, then down her back and over her long, thick black braid. “Better?”

  Naomi nodded. She took a long, deep breath, then exhaled and smiled.

  “We’ll have to pack your things. Everyone will be so happy to hear your news. I bet the kitchen staff makes special treats for dinner tomorrow night to celebrate.”

  Suddenly, Naomi’s face fell. “What about Alessandro?”

  The sound of Naomi’s voice so shocked Frannie she froze for a split second.

  Panic flared to life in Naomi’s dark eyes, spurring Frannie to respond as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “Alessandro will be happy for you, too. He’ll hate that he wasn’t here to say goodbye, but you’ll see him again before his volunteer time is up. I’ll make sure.”

  Naomi shook her head, then her lower lip started to shake.

  “What’s wrong, Naomi?” She’d never before asked Naomi a question that couldn’t be answered with a yes or no. She hoped now wasn’t the wrong time to do so.

  “He promised me.” Her eyes darted to the supply cabinet, then she quickly looked to Frannie. “He promised me something…for when my parents come.”

  “And now he’s not here.”

  She nodded, then sniffled. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, but she swiped them away with the back of her hand.

  Frannie stretched to grab two tissues from the box on her desk, then handed them to Naomi. She crouched in front of the girl again, rocked back on her heels and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’m going to ask you a question. I want you to tell me the truth, even if it’s supposed to be a secret.” She aimed a deliberate look at the supply cabinet. “Does this promise have to do with a bottle that was in my office?”

  The drop of Naomi’s jaw told Frannie all she needed to know before Naomi snapped her mouth closed, then nodded.

  “Did you take it from the supply cabinet and give it to Alessandro?”

  Another nod.

  “Did he ask you to?”

  A vehement shake of the head. “I heard you tell Chloe it’s his special treat. He told me I shouldn’t have, because it’s against the rules and he couldn’t have it.”

  “But you wanted to do something nice for him.”

  She nodded, then blew her nose and let out a ragged breath. “It’s my parents’ special treat, too. Alessandro told me he would keep it and promised to share it with them when they came to get me.”

  Frannie swallowed the hard lump that had formed in her throat. She could only imagine the emotion that had gone into the conversation.

  Naomi had talked to Alessandro.

  Likely, she’d been talking to Alessandro for weeks. No wonder he didn’t want to break the girl’s trust. How must he have felt when Frannie stared him down in the truck and accused him of stealing the Scotch? Particularly after he’d taken the risk of driving down the hill in the storm to get her from the shelter.

  Frannie took the used tissues from Naomi, then handed her a fresh one. “Alessandro left the bottle here with me when he left for the wedding. He didn’t tell me why, but he wanted to keep it safe. If he promised you he’d share it with your parents, then he will. As soon as he gets back, I’ll send him to your uncle’s house. All right?”

  At Naomi’s watery nod, Frannie smiled. “In the meantime, you need to pack. I’ll talk to your teachers so they can get everything together to send to your new school. If you’re up to it, you can tell everyone. If not, I can.”

  Naomi wrapped her arms around Frannie’s neck and gave her a hug that nearly knocked her backward.

  “I can,” she whispered.

  “They’ll be so excited.”

  Naomi bracketed Frannie’s cheeks in her soft hands, then, to Frannie’s shock, kissed her on the forehead before sprinting out the door.

  Frannie stayed where she was, crouched on the floor, until the sound of Naomi’s steps faded. Finally, she allowed herself to roll backward onto her rear, then leaned her head against the side of her desk and exhaled.

  * * *

  Alessandro waved to the crowd as he escorted his mother to her open-topped carriage, which waited on the cobblestone street fronting Cateri’s main cathedral. A few steps back, King Carlo descended the stairs alongside Emily’s best friend and matron of honor, Rita Bragna. The two were deep in discussion about the recent season of Emily’s show, At Home Abroad, which filmed in Sarcaccia. As the show’s co-executive producer, Rita was currently scouting locations for the next season and had asked the well-traveled monarch for his advice.

  All around them, the air sounded with cheers, high-pitched whistles, and the deep tones of the cathedral’s bells
, which announced the conclusion of the royal wedding ceremony. For as far as Alessandro could see, people lined the streets, their balloons and Sarcaccian flags peeking out from behind the barricades. Smiles lit every face and many eyes shone with happy tears.

  The wedding of a crown prince was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

  Behind Alessandro and Queen Fabrizia, near the massive double doors at the top of the stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair paused for photos with Prince Massimo and his wife, Kelly. Sophia stood nearby with Prince Stefano, Stefano’s wife Megan, their daughter, Anna, and their new baby son, Dario.

  Alessandro watched as Stefano bent to plant a kiss on top of his daughter’s head.

  “You seem uncharacteristically joyous,” his mother said, keeping her words quiet and face turned toward Alessandro’s so eagle-eyed cameramen couldn’t pick out her words.

  “It’s a wedding. Emotional poisoning is a common side effect, is it not?”

  “Judging from your expression during the exchange of vows, you began suffering early.” She raised a hand to recognize the crowd, then allowed Alessandro to help her into the flower-bedecked conveyance. Once he took the seat beside her, she added, “You were riveted when they pledged to love one another for the rest of their lives. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you were suffering even before you entered the cathedral.”

  Oh, he was. From the moment he’d awakened early to meet his brother for breakfast, on through their time in the dressing room before entering the sanctuary, he’d ached for Frannie. To share the day with her. To glance at her while the bells rang, to hear her comments on Emily’s stunning gown and the scent of the blooms that filled the air. To witness her reaction to the heartfelt vows.

  When he’d heard Vittorio give his oath to Emily in a tone which conveyed the deep fulfillment Vittorio felt despite the likelihood they’d be unable to have children, Alessandro’s heart nearly burst.