‘Unlike the Italian men?’ Rosie guessed, still digging for information.
‘And so I looked for a job amongst the people,’ Callie had driven on in an attempt to avoid Rosie’s question. She had never lied to her friend, and she never would.
‘You’re too hard on yourself, love,’ Pa Brown had insisted when Callie explained that without the young maid’s suggestion she would still have been sitting in the hotel, rather than experiencing the lemon groves she had grown to love. ‘You wanted to get out and do an honest day’s work. You asked for help to find some. There’s nothing wrong with that. We all need help sometimes.’
Pa Brown’s words resonated with Callie more than ever now. He was right. In her current situation, she would have to ask for help at some point.
Yes. From Callie Smith, Callie concluded. Like millions of women who’d found themselves in this situation, she’d get through, and get through well. Though there were times when she wished she’d agreed to see Luca when he first flew to England to set things straight between them.
‘Why won’t you see him?’ Rosie had asked with incredulity on the first occasion. ‘He’s an incredible man and he cares about you. He must do, to leave everything to fly here to find you. And he’s a prince, Cal,’ Rosie had added in an awestruck gasp, ‘as well as one of the richest men in the world.’
Callie remembered firming her lips and refusing to add to this in any way. She had simply given her head a firm shake. The money meant nothing to her and neither did Luca’s title. She couldn’t risk her heart being broken again, and the feelings she had for Luca were so strong they frightened her. But Rosie knew her too well. Realising Callie wouldn’t change her mind, Rosie had put an arm around Callie’s shoulders and hugged her tight. ‘I know you love him,’ Rosie insisted. ‘And one day you’ll know that too. Just don’t find out when it’s too late.’
It hadn’t ended there, of course. Luca wasn’t the type to meekly turn around and go home. He didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He’d called several times, sent flowers, gifts, notes, hampers of dainty cakes and delicacies from a famous London store. He’d even despatched an elderly statesman called Michel to plead his case. Callie had felt particularly bad about the old man, but Ma Brown had made up for her refusal, treating Michel to a real northern afternoon tea before politely telling him that his Prince had no chance of changing Callie’s mind at the moment. ‘You shouldn’t even have given him that much hope,’ Callie had insisted. ‘I don’t want to be any man’s mistress and Luca’s a prince. He’s hardly going to take things in the direction I...’
As her voice had tailed away, Pa Brown had piped up, ‘The direction you want is love, Callie. Love and respect is the direction you’re entitled to want, when you give your heart to someone special.’
As Ma Brown had sighed with her romantic heart all aflutter, Callie had known it was time to move on. Her relationship with Luca, such as it had been, had started to affect the Browns, so she’d told them what she planned to do, and had packed her bags. And here she was three months later in Blackpool, the jewel of the Fylde coast. It was blustery and cold this close to Christmas, but there was an honest resilience about the place that suited Callie’s mood. And there were the illuminations, she mused with a rueful grin as she glanced out of her top-floor window at the light-bedecked seafront. Known as the greatest free light show on earth, one million bulbs and six miles of lights brought tourists flocking, which meant there were plenty of part-time jobs.
The irony since she’d been here was that Luca was never out of the press. She couldn’t believe she’d spent so much time in blissful ignorance as to his identity when his face stared out of every magazine and newspaper. Even when she went to the hairdresser’s, she couldn’t escape him. She had read every column inch written about him, and knew now that Luca had won his position in Fabrizio thanks to his sheer grit and determination. That, and the love of an adoptive father who had always believed his ‘boy from the gutters of Rome’, as Luca was referred to in the red-tops, was an exceptional man in the making.
Callie had become an expert in press releases and could quote some of them by heart. Luca, who was already a titan in business, was now equally respected in diplomatic circles. A tireless supporter of good causes, he had just completed a world tour of the orphanages he sponsored.
The photos of him were riveting. Luca relaxing, looking hot as hell in snug-fitting jeans, or Luca riding a fierce black stallion, looking like the king of the world. He could be cool and strong on state occasions, when he was easily the most virile and commanding of all the men present. In a nutshell, the new ruler of Fabrizio currently dominated world news, which made him seem further away to Callie, and more unreachable than ever. Much was made in the press of his lonely bachelor status, but Luca clearly had no intention of changing that any time soon. Flowers arrived regularly at the Browns’, a clear indication that he hadn’t given up his search for a mistress yet.
The flowers were still arriving, Rosie had informed Callie only last night, together with the handwritten letters bearing the royal seal, which Rosie had insisted on squirrelling away for Callie. ‘You’ll look at them one day,’ she’d said, not realising that Callie steamed them open and had read every one.
She’d never fit into Luca’s glitzy life, Callie concluded, however much affection and humour he put into his letters. But there were deeper reasons. Her mother had died believing her father’s lies, and Callie had listened to them for most of her life. ‘Tomorrow will be better,’ Callie’s father would promise each day. But it was never better. He always gambled away the money, or drank it, and so Callie would do another shift at the pub. Did she want another man who lied to her, even if not telling her that he was a prince was a lie of omission by Luca to test how genuine she was? She would be the one lying if she couldn’t admit to herself that each time she saw a photograph of Luca, she longed for him with all her heart.
‘The trick is knowing when to say thank you, and get on with things,’ Pa Brown had told her in their last telephone conversation, when Callie had asked what she should do about the flowers. ‘You can send us your thank-you notes, and we’ll pass them on. Don’t you worry, our Callie, Ma Brown’s loving it. She’s like Lady Bountiful, spreading those flowers around the neighbourhood so they do some good. You can thank that Prince Luca properly when you see him in person. I certainly will.’
We won’t be seeing him, Callie had wanted to say, but she didn’t have the heart.
‘Stop beating yourself up, girl,’ Pa Brown had added before they ended their most recent call. ‘You went to work in the lemon groves, which was what you’d dreamed about. You turned that dream into reality, which is more than most of us do.’
She should have kept a grip on reality when it came to Luca, Callie thought with a sigh. But she hadn’t. She had allowed herself to be swept up in the fantasy of a holiday romance. And now there was something else she had to do, something far more important than fretting. Reaching into her tote, she pulled out the paper chemist’s bag. She couldn’t put the test off any longer. While her periods had always been irregular this was a big gap, even for her. Now, she had to know. It was a strange thing, becoming pregnant, Ma Brown had told Callie before the last baby Brown was born. There could be barely any signs for a doctor to detect, but a mother knew. For a couple of weeks now Callie had tried to believe that this was an old wives’ tale, but she couldn’t kid herself any longer. She might not be a mother, or have personal experience of becoming pregnant, but she did know when she wasn’t alone in her body and there was a new, fragile life to protect. She had considered that this feeling might possibly be nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination. There was only one way to find out.
She stared at the blue line unblinking. Not because if she stared long enough it might disappear, but because she was filled with the sort of euphoria that only came very rarely in life. It was a moment to savour before reality kicked in, and she was going to clos
e her eyes and enjoy every moment of it. When she opened them again, her biggest fear was that the kit was faulty. Surely, there had to be a percentage that were?
Leaning forward, she turned on another bar of the ancient electric fire and pulled the cheap throw that usually covered the holes in the sofa around her shoulders as she tried to stop shivering. Part of that was excitement, she supposed, though her hands were frozen. She couldn’t believe it was December next week. Where had the time gone? It only seemed five minutes since she had been basking in sunshine in Italy. That was almost three months ago. Three months of life-shattering consequence, Callie reflected as she stared, and stared again at the blue line on her pregnancy test. One thing was certain. She’d have to see Luca now.
* * *
He knew Callie was pregnant since he’d tracked her down to England. He’d been tied up with his enthronement once the dispute with Max was settled. That stiff and formal ceremony was over now, with the celebratory garden party for thousands of citizens of Fabrizio still to come. He loved being amongst his people and looked forward to it, but it was time to concentrate on Callie. They were similar in so many ways, which warned him to tread carefully, or Callie would only back off more determinedly than ever. And hormones would be racing, so the mother of his child, the one woman he could never forget, would have more fire in her than a volcano. Once more into the breach, he thought as the royal jet, piloted by His Serene Highness, Luca Fabrizio, the most frustrated and most determined man on earth, soared high into the air.
* * *
Blackpool Illuminations Requires Tour Guides. Callie studied the headline. She was going to need more money soon. Her bank account was bouncing along the bottom, and when the baby arrived... Touching her stomach, she was filled with wonder at the thought; when the baby arrived there would be all sorts of expenses. A wave of regret swept over her, at the knowledge Luca should be part of this. The sooner she told him, the better, but he must understand she didn’t want anything from him.
But the baby might need things.
Might need the father she’d never really had, Callie mused, frowning. But what would that mean? Would Luca be a good father? Instinct said yes, but would he and his royal council control their every move? What about the lack of freedom that being royal would mean for a child? She wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach as, hot on the heels of excited disbelief and the marvel of a new life, came a very real fear of the unknown. What if she was a hopeless mother?
She couldn’t afford to be frightened of anything, Callie concluded with a child on the way. Grabbing her coat and scarf, she quickly put them on. Leaving the bedsit, she locked the door behind her. The baby came before everything. She had to make some money, even save a little, so she could move to somewhere bigger, hopefully somewhere with a garden. Long before that, she had to buy clothes and equipment for the baby.
Remembering not to rattle down the stairs at a rate of knots as she usually did, she walked sensibly, thinking about the baby. She was already feeling protective. She was confident of one thing. She would not be separated from her child. Luca would have to know they were expecting a baby but, Prince or not, billionaire or not, she would not allow him, or his council, to take over. She would raise her child to have values and warmth, and teach it to be kind. The Browns would help. Maybe she’d have to move back to the docks, but not yet. Burying her face in her scarf to protect it from the bitter wind, she prepared to brave the weather to find a job.
And Luca?
He was an Italian male. Of course he’d want to be part of this. But he would also want to found a dynasty, and for that he needed a princess, not Callie from the docks.
She exchanged a cheery hello with the kindly shop owner who had rented Callie the flat and paused to help with a string of tinsel. ‘Thank you, darling,’ the elderly shop owner exclaimed, giving Callie a warm hug. ‘I can’t believe how you’re glowing. You look wonderful. Don’t you get cold outside, now.’
‘I won’t,’ Callie called back over her shoulder as she stepped out into the street.
* * *
He saw the car coming from the end of the street. Driven at speed, it was being chased by a police vehicle, sirens blaring.
No!
He wasn’t sure if he shouted, or thought the warning, but he did know he moved. Sprinting like a cheetah, he hurtled down the road. Shoving pedestrians from the path of the car, his sightline fixed on his goal. Time remained frozen, or so it seemed to him, with countless variables of horror possible.
Most people hadn’t even realised there was a problem. Callie was one of them. She was still walking across the street, oblivious to the danger hurtling towards her. Launching himself at her, he slammed her to the ground. There was a thump, a screech of brakes, and for a moment the world went black, then the woman in his arms, the woman he had cushioned from the edge of the pavement with his body, battled to break free.
‘Are you okay?’ she exclaimed with fierce concern, lifting herself up to stare at him.
Winded, he was only capable of a grunt. She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Luca?’
He gulped in a lungful of fumes and dust, mixed with Callie’s warm fragrance, then, as his brain clicked back into gear, he had only one concern, and that was Callie. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘At least, I don’t think so.’
Colour drained from her face. He could imagine the thoughts bombarding her brain. She was pregnant. Was the baby okay? Could she reel back the clock and walk across the road a few seconds later or sooner? Did she have any pain? She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, making him think she was examining her body, searching for signs of trauma, particularly in her womb. She slowly relaxed, which he took to be a good sign. And then she remembered him. He saw the recognition and surprise in her eyes turn to suspicion and anger, and then back again, when she remembered where they were and how they had got there.
‘You saved me,’ she breathed.
‘Grazie Dio!’ he murmured.
Her gaze hardened again. He was back. The man she had thought she knew had turned out to be someone else entirely. She’d flirted with him, and had had sex with a man she had believed to be an itinerant field worker, who had turned out to be a billionaire prince, and an important figure on the world stage. He could imagine her affront when she’d found out. It wouldn’t have taken her long. Settling back into her normal life, she could hardly avoid seeing his face in the press after his enthronement. In shock, she would be trying to process every piece of information, amongst which had to be what the hell was he doing here?
He followed her gaze as she glanced around to see if anyone else was hurt. He saw the tyre marks on the pavement left by the car as it had mounted the kerb, and realised how kind fate had been. Pockets of survivors were checking each other out. Numbers were being exchanged and arms thrown around complete strangers. This was human nature at its best. From what he could see, everyone was shaken up, but thankfully unharmed. Quite a crowd had gathered. People were calling on their phones. The emergency services would arrive soon. The police were already on the scene. The youth behind the wheel of the speeding car had been captured. Patrol cars had his vehicle boxed in.
‘Luca,’ Callie gritted out, managing to fill that single word with all the bitterness and uncertainty prompted by his supposed deception. When she was calm, she might realise they’d both been escaping their normal lives during their time in the lemon groves. Both had seized the chance to escape and explore a different, looser version of themselves. But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was that Callie was safe. However, she, understandably, took a rather different view. ‘I can’t believe this,’ she said, staring at him. ‘What are you doing here?’
Ignoring her understandable surprise, he concentrated on essentials. ‘Take it easy. Slowly,’ he advised as she struggled to sit up. ‘You might feel dizzy for a while. You’ve had a shock.’
‘To put it mildly,’ she agreed. ‘Are you all rig
ht?’ she asked tensely.
‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘You came down with quite a bang.’
He wasn’t interested in discussing anything but Callie, and was only relieved that he’d reached her in time.
‘Sorry.’ She started to giggle. Hysteria, he guessed. ‘But we must stop meeting like this.’
He couldn’t agree more. They were lying in the road on a bed of grime and oil patches. Hoping that laughter signified her body’s resilience to the blow it had just received, he huffed wryly, and for a moment they weren’t at loggerheads, but just two people caught up in an unexpected incident on a cold and wintry street.
‘Oh, no!’ Callie was staring at the stolen vehicle, which was planted in what appeared to be a dress shop window. ‘My landlady,’ she exclaimed, starting to get up.
‘Let me help you.’
She pushed him away in panic. ‘I have to make sure she’s all right.’
‘You have to get checked out first,’ he argued.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
‘You’re in shock, Callie. You need to go to hospital for a check-up now.’
‘I’m fine,’ she insisted, starting to pull his jacket off.
He closed it around her. ‘You’re shivering. You’re in shock,’ he repeated, ‘and until the paramedics get here and check you out, I’m not taking any chances.’
‘So you freeze to death instead?’
‘I don’t think it will come to that,’ he soothed, ‘do you? I’m just glad I got here when I did. I couldn’t get here any sooner.’
‘I heard you’d been busy,’ she admitted.
A paramedic interrupted them. ‘You all right, love?’ he asked, proffering a foil blanket. ‘Let the gentleman have his jacket back, or he’ll catch his death of cold.’
A Night of Royal Consequences Page 8