On arrival, they parked in front of the lake house among the other black cars—their license plates blacked out—and Sandro took Serena’s arm in his as they climbed the steps to the imposing double wood doors.
“Are you regretting coming?”
Yes. “No.” She smiled, hoping to reassure Sandro. Her heart beat like a snare drum, rattling her nerves with each pulse. She didn’t have a clear idea of what would happen tonight, but all the blurry ideas scared the heck out of her. Masked strangers? Edgy sex play? Murder?
But Sandro had brought her here to prove to her that he considered her his partner, his equal, welcome everywhere that he was welcome—whether the other people there liked it or not. She was determined to do her best to play her role.
Darias rang an ancient bell, and the huge wood door creaked open. Serena gasped as a masked figure in robes to the floor greeted them with a deep bow and a heavily accented “Welcome.”
She couldn’t fake a warm smile if her life depended on it. They were led into a huge, empty room with high ceilings. The only light came from candles that flickered menacingly in a draft. The house was empty of furniture and had a neglected air. These people had so many grand houses they didn’t know what to do with them.
Where were the security force she’d heard so much about? She hadn’t seen any cars on the road behind them, and she’d looked. What if they’d been intercepted and weren’t coming at all?
Sandro took her hand and introduced her to the group—no names were mentioned. It seemed unfair that they should know who she was but not the reverse. There were drinks and even some platters of unidentifiable finger food that no one was touching. Given the threats she didn’t plan to put anything in her mouth, and she hoped Sandro wouldn’t either.
A masked woman spoke to her about Altaleone and its winter beauty—so Beatriz was wrong about women not being included—and she attempted to sound less terrified than she felt as she gushed over how pretty the snowy landscapes were. Then she and Emma were ushered into another large empty room, away from the private part of the ceremony.
Serena put her turned-off phone down on a window ledge and led Emma by the arm to the far side of the large room, with its dusty black-and-white stone floor. There was a single pillar candle burning in one corner and moonlight reflected off the white snow outside, but otherwise they were in darkness. They could hear muffled music from the room next door but nothing useful.
Serena leaned into Emma, finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything audible. We need to monitor their meeting. Someone who wants the bank details is watching.”
Emma frowned. “Gibran’s men are watching.”
“Are they?” Serena looked outside. “I looked for headlights, and I never saw any.”
“I presume that’s because they don’t want everyone to know.”
“But what if they didn’t make it?”
Emma bit her lip. “If we go outside we might be able to see in.” Where was the “ghost”? Likely too busy watching the meeting to pay attention to her. There was an ancient paneled exterior door with a wrought iron bolt. “I wonder if we can get this door open?”
The rusted latch took some fiddling, especially in the dark, but they eventually got it to slide back and opened the door to the crisp night air. Serena decided to leave her phone behind in case it could be used to track her even while turned off. They stepped out into snow at least a foot deep—in high-heeled shoes—and crept along the wall to the room next door.
Serena peered through the window, heart pounding, and saw the cloaked figures standing in a circle. It was impossible to even tell which ones were Sandro and Darias, as they all wore hoods that covered their hair and creepy featureless masks.
“At least nothing terrible is happening,” said Emma with a sigh. “Darias never seems to worry, but I often feel like I’m being watched by someone who wishes me ill.”
“I notice how the family carries on as if the staff aren’t there. No one has any secrets.”
“Isn’t it odd? I guess they’re used to being surrounded by people all the time. At least in the castle Darias and I can live with only a guard or two, not a full retinue.”
“And all the staff know the details of the murders?”
“I don’t know if they know about the sexual stuff. Darias has tried to keep that even from his mom.”
“But they said it right in the car in front of the driver. He could tell anyone.”
“I suppose they trust him. I know he’s been with them for years.”
Serena shook her head. “Maybe I’m just not a trusting person, but I’d be more wary.”
The sound of crashing glass made them both jump, and Emma stifled a tiny scream. A black-clad figure had punched through the window on the far side of the room and now held a gun to one masked figure.
“Tell me the code and your king lives.”
Serena gripped Emma’s arm. “That must be Darias. Quick, call Gibran.” Emma dialed and Serena heard her panicked whispered account. And a curse.
“They’re stuck behind an avalanche over ten miles away. His men are coming on foot, but they’re still at least twenty minutes out.”
“Where’s the driver, Wilhelm?”
“I don’t know. I suppose he stayed in the car.”
A grim thought crossed Serena’s mind. “Do you think that’s him?”
They stared at the man in black.
“Let me call him.” Emma pulled up her phone. “I have his number in here somewhere. He helped me move a lot of stuff from the palace to the castle a few months ago.”
“Wait.” Serena grabbed her hand. “I have a weird theory. Look up his number but don’t dial it.”
Inside the hooded figures stood silently, no one moving. “Tell me the code,” they heard him say.
Serena flinched as the black-clad man pistol-whipped the masked Darias.
Emma scrolled in her phone and found it. “Here it is. Wilhelm Rinald.”
“What’s the number?”
Emma held up the phone and the numbers glowed in the dark.
Adrenaline spiked through Serena as she recognized them. “That’s it. The ghost.” Serena grabbed her arm.
“What?” Emma winced as the stranger cocked his pistol at Darias head.
“Your king dies right now.”
“We’ll tell you,” said a deep-voiced older man.
Serena crept along the window. If anyone was looking this way they’d be able to see them against the moonlit snow, but all eyes were on the assailant. “He’s been texting me, threatening to kill the members of the royal family unless I cooperate.” Her brain scrambled to come up with a plan. “I think that if you call him it might distract him enough for one of them to tackle him.”
“Or he’ll panic and shoot Darias,” said Emma with a quavering voice.
“He might do that anyway.”
“Tell me!” She heard the assailant yell. “Now!”
“When you dial him, I’ll smash the window and we’ll both duck right down, okay?”
“Okay.” Emma’s thumb hovered over her phone as Serena removed her shoe and pulled her coat down over her arm.
“Close your eyes, then push dial.” Serena braced herself as she heard the dial tone in Emma’s phone. She kept her eyes fast on the black figure and watched him flinch—his phone was vibrating! Gathering all her strength she slammed her shoe—heel first—at the window and watched it crack but not shatter.
Another robed figure rushed the intruder, and Darias dived to the side as a shot was fired. The breaking glass made the assailant swing to face her. She saw the gun aim at her before she dropped down into the snow. Glass shattered over her as she fell and a bullet whistled over her head.
She and Emma crouched face down in the snow, panting. Now they couldn’t see anything but heard a scuffle and shouts, then two more shots were fired.
“Sandro’s injured!” Darias’s voice made Serena spring to her feet, a scream stifled in her throat.
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br /> “No,” she rasped, heart clenched. Through the window she could see one masked figure sprawled on the floor, robe darkening with blood. Sandro. She could also see the assailant pinned to the ground, struggling with several others. Darias—hood thrown back and mask propped on his head—now held the gun. “Call for help.”
Desperate, Serena smashed a bigger hole in the window, hiked up her dress, and carefully climbed through. “Gibran’s men ran into an avalanche,” she stammered as she rushed to Sandro’s body. Darias had already removed his brother’s mask. “They’re on their way, but the road is blocked.”
Darias ripped Sandro’s cloak from him. Serena gasped to see that the wound was on his torso, a ghastly bloom of blood spreading across his chest. “We have to stop the bleeding.” She pulled his jacket back and tore at his shirt. The wound was under his armpit, and she couldn’t tell how deep it was. “Is anyone here a doctor?”
The robed strangers stood around like statues.
“Sandro, can you hear me?” He was unconscious, possibly from hitting his head when he fell. “Wake up!” The shot likely hadn’t hit an organ, but what if help didn’t come in time and he bled to death? There was no way to apply a tourniquet to this spot.
“Sandro.” She touched his face. Her heart swelled with fear and panic. He’d done nothing but be honorable and kind to her. He’d showed her in so many ways that he was warm and caring and thoughtful—far more so than her supposedly sensible choice of partner.
Would he now be taken from her when she was just growing bold enough to care for him? “Sandro!” Did his eyelids flicker? “It’s me, Serena. Come back to me…please.” She could hear the desperation in her voice. “I need you…” She hesitated, screwing up her courage. “Our baby needs you. Don’t leave us.”
His eyelids flickered again and now opened slightly. “Serena?” His voice was barely a whisper.
She grasped the hand closest to her and squeezed it. “Yes, Sandro, it’s me. Hang in there. Help is coming.” She watched him struggle to open his eyes. “Come back to me…” She closed her own eyes for a moment, willing him back to health and strength even as she knew the blood was seeping out of him. “I love you.”
Her admission fell from her lips and echoed in the air. She opened her eyes, half expecting to see shock on his face. She’d be grateful for any response, as it would show he was still conscious. His dark gaze fixed directly on hers. “I love you too. I won’t leave you.” His voice was cracked but steady. “I won’t ever leave you.”
“Listen!” Emma’s bold voice rang out in the room. “Gibran says there’s a medical helicopter on the way that will land in the courtyard within three minutes. Clear the way and get ready to lead them to Sandro.”
The robed figures scurried out of the room. Serena held tight to Sandro’s hand, his warmth giving her strength and courage. “You’re going to be fine. They’re almost here.”
Sandro struggled to keep his eyes open. His white shirt was totally soaked in blood. What if he bled to death in the final seconds before the medical team got here? She put her hand over the wound and pushed on it with all her might. “Hold on, Sandro. Hold on!”
He didn’t speak again, and his eyelids fluttered closed. “No, no, no.” She leaned forward and kissed his face. His cheek was growing cold. “Sandro, I need you. Stay with me. I love you.” Her own anguished whispers rang in her ears.
“They’re here!” Darias’ voice boomed. “Make way.”
Serena didn’t leave Sandro’s side until the black-clad team thundered into the room, carrying a stretcher. Within seconds they’d taken Sandro’s blood pressure and applied something to stop the bleeding. Sandro was rushed out to the helicopter and hooked up to equipment.
One of the medics barked something in their local dialect.
“He says he can only take one of us,” said Darias. “Serena, you go with him.”
Fear and panic made her knees weak, but she ran toward the chopper and the medics pulled her in. That Darias would let her go instead of him—his own brother—touched her deeply. He must know how desperately she wanted to be there with him right now.
“We’re starting a blood transfusion. He’s lost a lot already,” said one of the medics in halting English. “We’ll be at the hospital in ten minutes.”
Serena used the time to pray silently. She wasn’t a preacher’s daughter for nothing. And the medics allowed her to keep hold of Sandro’s hand during the whole flight , which was only a few minutes but felt like an eternity. Right before they landed she felt Sandro squeeze her hand, and he rasped the words, “Thank you.”
Thank you—for what? His words cut her like a knife—as if he were saying goodbye. “Sandro—” But the medics were already lowering the stretcher down off the helicopter. They ran into the hospital and she hurried behind as fast as she could, but when they wheeled Sandro into an operating room the door was politely but firmly closed in her face.
She realized with horror that her hands were covered with Sandro’s blood. And she’d left her phone in the creepy mansion so she couldn’t call anyone. Tears welled in her eyes, and she felt her knees finally buckle. Two nurses caught her and hurried her into an observation room where she was able to gather herself and wash her hands, but neither of them spoke enough English for her to get an update on Sandro.
She’d been so anxious to protect herself that she’d kept him at arm’s length. She’d been so terrified of the sexual chemistry between them that she hadn’t hugged him when she could have. He might be scared about the baby too. In some ways the uncertainty was much worse for men as she could move away and refuse to see him again.
She’d never assured him that she wouldn’t do that. And now she regretted her defensive behavior with all her heart.
At least she’d told him she loved him. She meant it every fiber of her being and she didn’t care who’d heard, either. She was done keeping secrets and hiding behind half-truths.
Please let me have another chance.
She sat on a row of chairs not too far from the operating theater, from where she could see anyone coming in or out. The door didn’t move for a long time. They must still be working on him.
At last two men came out, removing their masks and scrubs, faces grim. She sprang to her feet and ran toward them. “Is he okay?”
They looked up, surprised, and she realized she might well look like a crazy person—despite the fact that little black dresses hid blood quite well—and was obviously not a family member. “Who are you?”
She stood, brain whirring, “I’m Sandro’s…girlfriend.” It was a bold thing to say, calling herself the romantic partner of this country’s royal prince when he hadn’t called her any such thing himself.
“Oh.” They looked at each other. “He’s very weak from loss of blood, and his right arm was broken by the bullet, but we expect a full recovery.”
Relief swept through her at his last words. “Oh, thank God! Can I go see him?”
“He’s being moved to a room. The nurses will take you there when he’s ready.”
Chastened by their curt reply but elated that Sandro had survived the gunshot, she paced the hallway anxiously until the harried nurses ushered her to his room. To her surprise, Darias, Emma, his mom and Beatriz were already there. They exclaimed that they had been calling her and didn’t know where she was. Sandro was awake and his eyes fixed on hers as soon as she came through the door. “Serena, you saved my life.”
She barely heard his words as she rushed toward him, then hesitated, suddenly self-conscious in front of his whole family.
“I dived forward to get his gunsight off Darias, and as soon as he pointed the gun at me you broke the window and threw off his aim. The bullet grazed my chest and broke my arm instead of heading straight for my heart.”
“I’m so glad you’re both okay.” So much emotion roiled through her that she could barely get the words out.
Emma had tears in her eyes. She turned to Sandro. “Thank yo
u for risking your own life to protect Darias.”
“Idiot,” muttered Darias, with a half-grin on his face. “Typical, really.”
“Serena, come closer.” One of Sandro’s arms was bandaged, but he reached the other one out to her. “I heard everything you said.” He spoke softly, as if they were the only people in the room. “Did you mean it?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Every word.”
“I love you too.” His eyes sparkled with emotion. “I promise I won’t ever leave you.”
A thrill of emotion roared through her.
“Serena.” He frowned. “Damn, I wish I could get down on one knee to say this, but they won’t let me out of this bed and I don’t want to waste another minute. Life is too precious.”
She blinked as he squeezed her hand.
“Serena, will you marry me?”
It was a crazy question—too much, too soon and at totally the wrong time—but she knew there was only one possible answer. “Yes, Sandro, I will marry you.”
She heard a sob behind her and turned, expecting to find Sandro’s mom collapsing in tears at her son marrying a nobody. Instead it was Emma, blubbering into a Kleenex. Lina beamed. Tears hovered in her eyes, but they didn’t look like tears of devastation. They looked suspiciously like tears of happiness.
“Congratulations, bro,” said Darias gruffly. “Only you could turn an assassination attempt into a romantic occasion. My hat is off to you. Welcome to the family, Serena. It’s a crazy place to be, but we love it.”
The family.
Was she really going to become part of Altaleone’s royal family? It seemed too impossible to imagine. But if they married in time, her baby would be born into a complete family unit and something about that appealed to her tradition-loving heart.
“Thank you for accepting me,” she said quietly. “I suppose we should tell everyone we’re expecting a baby.”
She heard Lina gasp. “Oh, my goodness, I had no idea! Congratulations.”
Darias and Emma looked at each other. She stared at them. “Did you already know?”
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