Bad to the Throne

by Gardiner, Jenny

  Zander shook his head. “Not touching that one with roadside bomb-detection equipment, thanks. I wouldn’t want her to blow off any of my favorite limbs—or worse still, Big Alex—next time she decided to eviscerate me.”

  Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “Big Alex? Really?”

  “You don’t want me to call him Little Alex now, do you?” He grinned.

  Lorenzo shook his head. “I don’t want you to call it anything. At least not to me.”

  Zander glanced at his messages. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ve got a message from my new pen pal!”

  He pointed to his phone where there was a new text from an American phone number. He scrolled down the screen to read it.

  “Dear Alexander,” he said aloud, reading from her text. “‘Dear.’ She sounds like such a nice mum. Don’t know how she raised such a raging nutter. This woman seems so sweet and calm.”

  He continued. “I wanted to thank you personally for coming to the aid of my daughter. I know it is through the help of strangers that one navigates the world alone. As Andrea’s mother, I always worry about her welfare with her being so far from home. And I wanted you to know how grateful I am to you for your generosity.”

  Zander shook his head. “Her daughter must be adopted. Either that or she didn’t get the loving-kindness gene from her mother, because it’s hard to believe those two could be blood relatives.”

  Lorenzo laughed. “Maybe it’s a mellowing-with-age thing.”

  “Who could tough it out that long to see with that one?” Zander said. “Maybe I should be going after the mother instead.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you. But I’d also suggest you not go there.”

  “I might be a bird dog, but I’m not a creeper,” Zander said. “I don’t do mothers. Literally.”

  “Thank heavens for small miracles.”

  “Stop with the Zander-shaming. Lest we forget, I’m one of the good guys. Now let’s get back to mama here. Come to think of it, we’re not even on a first-name basis. Wonder what she’s called? Gladys? Harriet?”

  He typed on his phone, speaking it to his friend as he wrote, “Hello, Andi’s mother. I don’t even know your name! You’re a gem to thank me. It was my pleasure. You have a lovely daughter, by the way.”

  “Whom I’d have loved to bang, if she hadn’t gone and bashed me in the face and run off like some weird Cinderella from an alternate universe,” he said aloud to Lorenzo.

  “Definitely say that to her mother. She’ll want you as a son-in-law for sure if you tell her that.”

  Zander put his hand to the side of his mouth and said to Lorenzo, “I’m not going to say that! Though no way am I mother-in-law shopping. Besides, I’m the master at laying it on thick. Women swoon when you get in good with the mother.”

  “Considering your audience is me, I’m not quite sure what your objective is, then.”

  “Practice, my friend,” Zander said. “Practice makes perfect. It never hurts to butter up the mama. Let’s see what she’s got to say now.” He held his phone out as if focusing on her words.

  “Please, call me Peggy. I hope you don’t think I’m bragging if I agree with you, but I am awfully proud of my girl. She’s a remarkable young woman. To go off like she did, completely on her own. I’d never have been brave enough to do it. And with all the good work she’s done.”

  Zander typed in Good work?

  “Andi’s been volunteering in refugee camps in Africa, and in every country she’s in she seeks out some sort of charitable work to do. It’s her way of paying it forward, I suppose.”

  Zander frowned at Lorenzo and cocked an eyebrow. “She’s actually nice?” he said, shrugging his shoulders in a “who knew” kind of way.

  Of course you have a wonderful daughter. How could you not, with her having such a lovely mum? he typed.

  “I’m blushing. But believe me, I’ve been around the block. I’m not nearly as sweet and innocent as my Andi. Besides, who’s the one going to work in a soup kitchen today—me or her?”

  I assume you are?

  Zander winked at Lorenzo with his little inside joke, since he figured Andi to be a demon seed who would not only not help impoverished people, but would rather eat them for dinner, perhaps with a nice glass of Chianti. And maybe use a tiny leftover bone for a toothpick afterward.

  “Heavens no! But Andi said she was taking her host and his girlfriend to work at one in Rome.”

  Zander shook his head. “So she’s nice to bloody strangers but she’s mean to me? What the ever-loving hell?”

  “Maybe she took one look at Big Alex when she snapped the picture and wanted to run screaming as far away from you as possible?” Lorenzo said. “Took off for Africa just to get away from that scary thing of yours.”

  “They don’t say I’m royally hung for nothing,” Zander said with a wink. “And now having seen with your own eyes, I think you’ll agree.”

  Lucky all those hungry people at that soup kitchen who get to lay eyes on your beautiful daughter, Zander typed.

  “I noticed you haven’t mentioned anything about wanting to never see the whites of her daughter’s eyes ever again.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m tempted to seek out every soup kitchen in Rome just to see what she’d do to me next.”

  His friend shook his head. “Oh, sure. Just what you need: that girl with a meat cleaver, your appendages nearby. You got some sort of chase-me-beat-me thing going in your demented head?”

  “I want to show her I can take whatever she can give me.”

  “You might want to tell your therapist that.”

  Zander returned to texting. If you talk to Andi, please tell her I said hello and would love to see her again. He grinned like he’d just gotten away with a bank robbery and was rolling around in a pile of cash.

  “I told Andi she should get to know you,” Peggy typed. “She can be fickle, that one. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  “Fickle? Andi is to fickle what dogs are to elephants.”

  Lorenzo knit his brows. “I’m not even going to try to understand that line.”

  You’re the best, Peggy, Zander wrote.

  “Thanks for being Andi’s knight in shining armor!”

  At that, Zander stuck his phone back in his pocket.

  “Knight in shining armor,” he said with a little laugh. “I could do her one better and make that a prince. Wouldn’t that surprise her?”

  “I think you’ve done enough tempting fate today, Z.”

  “In that case, it’s time for me to find that fun I never had yesterday. You game?”

  Lorenzo just shook his head, grumbling something about having his hands full.

  Chapter Nine

  ANDI woke to a pounding in her head. Actually it was just the now-all-too-familiar pulsating sound against the wall that was all that separated her from her host and his girlfriend. At it again. As it was, she was a default eavesdropper, which was super uncomfortable: she wasn’t a voyeur for a good reason. Thank goodness the place didn’t just have those flimsy standing screens for walls.

  Are those two creatures in there humans or rabbits? she wondered. And is this an Italian thing? Or have I just been with the wrong guys? This was like the land of Our Lady of the Perpetual Fuck.

  She stretched out on the couch for a few minutes, half wishing that was her and the naked prince making all that racket. But then she shook her head vigorously to eradicate that salacious thought.

  I could never in a million years have sex with that man, she thought. Aside from the fact that he’s a man-whore. But really, his ego is so bloated. And he gets naked in public. In public! He’s nothing but a child. A spoiled child who has no burden or responsibility in the world, so he gallivants around, partying and picking up whomever his flavor of the moment is, whatever idiot female capitulates to his wiles. Not me.

  To reinforce that vow, she shook her head yet again.

  “Buongiorno, signora,” Elisabetta said when Andi couldn’t help but
spy her sneaking toward the bathroom covered in nothing but a top sheet she held fast with her hand.

  “’Giorno,” Andi said, looking away—as if it mattered, considering she’d been practically a third wheel to their goings-on for much of the night. Andi immediately regretted not nabbing the bathroom while she’d had the chance, so instead curled up on the mattress in a way that didn’t put too much pressure on her full bladder until she got her turn.

  Rafaele came out of his room a few minutes later, a look of complete satiety—or was that exhaustion?—spread across his face. Andi could hardly complain about the awkward situation. After all, a free place to sleep is a free place to sleep. As her old high school economics teacher used to drill into her head, “Ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.” Indeed. Or a restful night’s sleep when people within immediate earshot are doing it all night long with the stamina of a couple of teenagers, for that matter.

  Andi let out a large yawn and scratched her head.

  “Ciao, bellissima,” Rafaele said. “I trust you slept well?” Clearly the man was too caught up in his business to realize he was a wee bit noisy.

  “Like a champ,” she said, forcing a tepid smile. She could only hope that Elisabetta was just a Saturday night kinda gal and would go elsewhere for the next two nights Andi was a guest. Either that or maybe he’d go to her place.

  “What have you got planned for today?” her host asked her.

  “I’m thinking of doing a bike tour of Rome,” she said, “and also I’d like to spend some time helping out at a soup kitchen. Although I think in Italy it should be called a pasta kitchen.” She winked at him.

  “If it was a pasta kitchen, you might find me going there for meals too,” he said, rubbing his belly.

  She decided not to comment about him having worked up an appetite. “Why don’t the two of you join me?” Andi said. “We’ll make a day of it.”

  ~*~

  Rafaele enlisted his friend Simone, who ran a bicycle shop near the looming Colosseo, to get them all suited up and off to see the city in style on shock-absorbent bicycles that could handle cobblestoned streets with a bit more comfort. They decided they’d follow the general path of the ancient Aurelian walls of the city completed some 1700 years ago. It was remarkable how many Roman and Etruscan ruins remained in this history-rich city. With Simone’s leadership, they deftly navigated their way through multiple tourist-bus-laden lanes of traffic, past the overwrought Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II with its many statues, reliefs, and murals (overwhelming yet still a work of extraordinary art, Andi thought). They climbed first the Palatine Hill, which overlooked the famous Roman Forum and Circus Maximus. From there they could see the ancient ruins spread before them and marvel at how the city had been able to withstand the ravages of invasions and time for so long.

  After that they followed the wall as best they could, which enabled them to take in much of the city from the Tiber River and past Tiber Island to the magnificent Saint Paul’s Cathedral in Vatican City to the Villa Borghese and sumptuous gardens surrounding it, complete with a spectacular view of the city at the nearby Pincio. Emma particularly enjoyed the large double archway of Porta Maggiore on the eastern side where they could see the genius of the Roman aqueduct system. She also loved the tomb of Eurysaces the Baker, whom Simone jokingly referred to as the first pizza maker in Rome because his tomb featured a frieze depicting scenes from baking bread, which was this former slave’s job. It was remarkably intact despite having been built over two thousand years ago.

  After their long tour, they bade farewell to Simone and made their way to a large public kitchen and dining hall in the Trastevere neighborhood of Rome.

  “A woman I met in Africa told me of this place,” Andi told Rafaele and Elisabetta as they opened the large double doors to enter. “Pippa said it was one of her good friend’s charities, and she thought I’d enjoy helping out. After all, when in Rome.” She tapped lightly on Rafaele’s head since he’d pulled that line on her about clubbing the night before.

  They were introduced to a woman named Giulia who handed them aprons and knives to get started. Soon they were set up on a long prep line in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and cutting meat.

  “This is a really nice facility,” Andi said as she diced onions, wishing she could wipe the tears from her eyes as the fumes caused her to weep.

  “We are quite lucky,” Giulia said. “This is all courtesy of the Prince’s Trust.”

  Andi cocked her head, curious. “But you don’t have any royalty in Italy anymore, do you?”

  “There are those who claim the heritage, but none that are anything official,” she said. “But this comes to us from the Prince’s Trust in Monaforte. It’s a project near and dear to his heart.”

  Andi furrowed her brow, remembering that darned prince in Monaforte, certain Giulia couldn’t be talking about him. But then she recalled that Zander had an older brother, Prince Adrian, who would take over the country one day. No doubt it was his trust.

  “That’s so generous of him to set this up, and it’s not even his country.”

  “Yes, but his father comes from Italian nobility of days gone by, so the family remains very connected to Italian culture. We owe a great deal to them all. In fact, the prince often comes here to lend a hand when he’s visiting.”

  Andi tried to imagine Zander ever doing something like that. He ought to take a cue from his philanthropic brother and stop catting around and instead do some good in the world, she thought. But she knew a man like him would never have such depth.

  Chapter Ten

  ZANDER was wiped out. His ego had taken a beating with that slap from Andi, and for some reason it left him feeling oddly insecure about himself, something he’d never experienced in his life. He’d returned home practically licking his wounded pride.

  “Why are you wandering around with such a hangdog look on your face?” Adrian said over breakfast in the palace.

  “Adrian! Be nice,” his fiancée Emma said to him, patting him on the leg. “No sense in making him feel worse when he obviously looks like he feels awful already.”

  Zanders eyes grew large. “I look awful?”

  He pulled out his phone and opened the mirror app, then started tugging on the underside of his eyelids, inspecting his bloodshot eyeballs. Granted, they didn’t look perfect, but that had more to do with the extended partying in which he’d partaken all day Sunday. He gave himself a quick slap across each cheek to perk his skin up a bit, but that only reminded him of his unfortunate Saturday-night episode.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Emma said, blushing with embarrassment. She was new to the family and still trying to figure out her place, all while she undertook planning a wedding and overseeing the renovations in the palace apartments she and Adrian would occupy. Zander held up a hand, indicating he took no offense by her comment.

  “My God, Alexander, what have you done now?”

  All heads turned to see Zander and Adrian’s mother, Queen Ariana, and father, Prince Enrico, enter the room.

  Zander buried his head in his hand and groaned.

  “Well?” his mother said, prodding.

  “Well what, Mother?” he said. “Have you not gotten your progress report from Lorenzo about my weekend behavior? About my having to be bailed out of jail?”

  “Jail?” His mother’s voice elevated.

  Zander shot two air pistols with his fingers at his mother. “Gotcha,” he said, grinning broadly.

  “Alexander,” his mother said, shaking her head with a growl of annoyance before leaning over to kiss his cheek and brush hair from his eyes. “Congratulations on staying out of trouble.”

  “Thanks, Mother dearest. You know I aspire to great heights. And, as always, I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  “You know what I mean, Zander.”

  “Your mother loves you just the way you are,” his father piped in, scruffing Zander’s hair.

  “By that yo
u mean irresponsible, impulsive, and prone to unacceptable behavior?” Zander said.

  “Somebody took a gloomy pill for breakfast,” his mother said.

  “It’s quite curious,” Adrian said, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I feel like I’m having flashbacks. Or is it déjà vu? Whatever it is, I haven’t seen Zander this glum-looking since—”

  “Since Lady Alicia dumped him after he told her he loved her.”

  Zander looked over his shoulder to see his sister Isabella enter the room, then sit down.

  “Oh, so now we’re going to drag her into this?” Zander said. “What is this, Beat Up Zander Day? I wish I’d known so I could have stayed in Rome and avoided the abuse.”

  Isabella smiled, her sapphire eyes sparkling. She tucked her long, wavy dark hair behind her ears. “Are you kidding? I love talking about Alicia. I could say her name all day long. Alicia. Alicia. Alicia. Alicia. Alicia.”

  Zander plugged his ears.

  Adrian looked at Emma and nodded at his infantile siblings, and she promptly burst out laughing.

  “We need to explain this to the newest family member,” Adrian said, grabbing Emma’s hand and kissing it. “You see, Zander was away at boarding school, and Alicia was the headmaster’s daughter. Alicia had a habit of latching on to a guy just long enough to stir up the old libido.” He winked at his brother jokingly. “And then she’d just drop him. It got bad enough that people started calling her Malicia, because her intentions seemed so bad from the start.”

  “But why would she do that to Zander?” Emma said. “He’s too sweet for that.” She batted her eyelashes, clearly trying to butter up her future brother-in-law after that “awful” comment earlier.

  “I knew I liked this one,” Zander said to Adrian, pointing his thumb toward Emma. “Finally I have an ally in the family.”

  “Oh, pishposh. You know I’ve always been your biggest fan,” Isabella said. “It’s why I love to say her name. Alicia. Alicia. Alicia. To remind you that you’re better than her. You don’t need some half-wit female like her in your life.”