by Teri Wilson
Or when another story came along that was more salacious.
Another story that was more salacious. That’s the only way.
He couldn’t erase Julia’s past. He couldn’t undo the damage done by her father and Elio. He couldn’t even take back all the hurtful things he himself had said and done over the past two days.
But he could give her the one gift that would keep her name safe. It would be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but wasn’t it time to shake off the shackles of the past? For everyone? Wasn’t it time to let truth reign?
Deception had ruled long enough. Enough time had passed. Enough tears had been shed. The people would accept what he had to say. So would parliament. Niccolo would bet his crown on it.
It was time to face his future. With or without Julia, he knew what he had to do.
* * *
SOMEHOW JULIA MANAGED TO make it to the lobby of the Hotel de Russie without completely falling apart. By the time she crossed the grand sparkling foyer and made her way to the front entrance on the Via del Babuino, her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. When she reached the enormous arched entryway, a gloved valet held the door open for her. Naturally. She was still in Nico’s world, a world where one couldn’t be bothered to do things as mundane as open doors.
She cringed when she thought about her modest little flat as it must have looked through his eyes. Her apartment, her job, her life. All of it. He probably thought she was pathetic.
So pathetic that he asked you to stay.
Well, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She’d rather die than face his grandfather.
The king.
She squared her shoulders and marched outside. Or at least she tried. The moment she crossed the threshold, tears began streaming down her face. She simply couldn’t hold them back another moment.
“Non piangere, bella.” The parking attendant handed her a pristine, starched handkerchief.
Julia stared at it. She didn’t even realize people used such things anymore, which was one more reason why she wasn’t cut out to be a princess. Princesses probably carried them around wherever they went. They probably cried dainty, princessy tears instead of falling to pieces in an ugly, sobbing mess like she was on the verge of becoming any second now.
“Per favore. Non piangere.” Please. Don’t cry. The valet waved the hankie at her. A tiny white flag.
Surrender.
“Grazie.” She took it and dabbed at her eyes.
“There’s no need to cry, miss. Your . . . ah . . . vehicle is safe. It’s just been moved.”
Her scooter? She aimed her gaze toward the spot where she’d left it, and sure enough. It was gone.
Unbelievable. All she wanted to do was get as far away from the Hotel de Russie and its royal guest as quickly as she could, and her Vespa had gone missing.
“You moved my scooter?” She jammed her hands on her hips and pinned the valet with a glare. Now that she got a closer look at him, she realized it was the same man who’d dragged her inside to see Nico. The man whose job she’d supposedly saved by acquiescing. And this was the way he thanked her? By hiding her Vespa?
“Yes, miss. I’m afraid the hotel manager thought it was a, um . . .”
“By all means, don’t mince words. I assure you that my day couldn’t possibly get any worse. Go ahead and tell me. The manager thought my scooter was what, exactly?”
“An eyesore.” At least the valet had the courtesy to lower his voice. “I’m sorry.”
An eyesore? Seriously? Somewhere in her consciousness she remembered the playful look in Nico’s eyes when he’d proclaimed her scooter a dinosaur, and she felt like crying all over again.
Perfect. Just perfect.
“Well. I do apologize for defiling your hotel with my only mode of transportation.” Good grief, she couldn’t get out of here quickly enough. “If you’ll tell me where it is, I’ll be on my way.”
He held up a hand. “I shall go fetch it for you. Aspetta qui.”
Aspetta qui. Wait here. No, thank you. She couldn’t wait to put some serious distance between her and Nico. She was leaving. Now.
“I’ll fetch it myself. Just tell me where it is.” Her voice came out louder than she’d intended. But honestly, how much more could she take?
Horrified, the valet’s eyes widened. Julia had no doubt he was torn between letting her stand there and make a scene on the front steps of Rome’s finest hotel and breaking the rules and telling her where her “eyesore” had been stashed. He opted for the latter.
“Signorina, very well, your vehicle is parked in the via behind the piazza.” He motioned toward the back of the hotel.
“Grazie.” She stormed off in the direction he’d indicated.
But as soon as she stepped onto the piazza, she stumbled into a crush of people. Some of them had cameras. Some had notebooks. And all of them were gesturing wildly and yelling at something beneath the massive peach umbrellas by the bar. Correction—not something, someone.
Nico.
Her breath caught in her throat. This was his press conference! She’d forgotten all about it, and here she was, stuck in the middle of it.
She tried pushing her way out of the crowd, but ended up getting jostled farther toward the front. She’d never seen paparazzi in such a frenzied state before. She’d faced down plenty of mobs of reporters and people with cameras and lived to tell about it, but not like this. It was like being stuck amongst members of a firing squad.
People were shouting, yelling questions from every direction. Nico just stood calmly beneath the umbrellas, waiting for them to settle down. An older man stood beside him, and Julia knew instantly it was his grandfather, the king. He had the same regal posture as Nico. Neither of them yelled or attempted to speak above the noise. Nico, in particular, appeared completely calm and authoritative.
Majestic.
At the sight of him, a lump lodged in Julia’s throat. The instant he spoke, a reverent hush fell over the piazza, and the lump took root.
“If everyone would please settle down, I have a statement to make. I’ll keep it brief and once I’m finished, I’ll take your questions.”
The crowd of reporters grew still. Other than the shutters of the cameras, there was no movement on the small piazza. Trapped at the center of the grouping, Julia couldn’t slip away without being noticed at once. And that was the absolute last thing she wanted.
This cannot be happening. I can’t be here.
She couldn’t leave either. At a loss, she did her best to hide behind a tall man from the BBC. She closed her eyes, as if doing so would make her invisible.
When Nico spoke again, his familiar voice washed over her like a caress. “This weekend I missed several appointments, and I disappointed a great number of people. For that, I sincerely apologize. I wish I could say I was sorry that I’d allowed myself to stray from my royal duties and obligations, but in all honesty, that is not the case.” He paused and waited for the murmurs among the crowd to subside before continuing.
What in the world was he doing? He was supposed to be apologizing. Making amends. Wasn’t that the whole point of meeting with the press? She glanced at his grandfather, but couldn’t discern a thing from his impassive expression.
Nico cleared his throat. “I’ll get to the reasons behind my disappearance in just a moment. There’s a matter I need to address first.”
A shiver ran up and down Julia’s spine. She didn’t know what he was about to say, but everything within her told her that after he gave voice to it, there would be no turning back. It was in the tone of his voice, the gravity of his presence. Things were about to change.
“I know you all remember the untimely death of my mother a decade ago.”
All the air left Julia’s lungs in a terrifying whoosh. His mother? Why was he talking about his mother? Unless . . .
She had to stop this. Now, before it was too late.
“No!” She moved out from behind the BBC reporter, and every pair of eyes on the piazza turned toward her.
Including Nico’s.
His expression was one of shock at first, but as his gaze took her in, a peacefulness seemed to settle over him. He even smiled. Just a little, but enough for her to notice.
He wasn’t angry. Clearly. Then what was this all about?
He continued, never taking his eyes off of her. “My mother was a remarkable woman who touched many lives and worked hard for her family and for her country. She had a special way with people and as such, she was loved very much, not just by her family, but by the world.”
All around Julia, reporters were scribbling down his every word, anxious for any bit of new information about Nico’s mother, the tragic princess who’d died before her time. And as she watched their pencils fly, she realized what was happening. Nico was revealing his mother’s story here, now, for a very specific reason. He was creating a story so big, so newsworthy, that no one would care to read about an old scandal involving the father of the crown prince’s new girlfriend.
He was doing this for her.
She couldn’t let him do it. She couldn’t stand by and watch him sacrifice himself, his family, and all of his secrets for her.
No, Nico. Don’t. Please. You don’t have to do this.
She bit her lip and shook her head, but he answered with the smallest of smiles and a nearly imperceptible but very firm nod, which told her that he’d made up his mind. Nothing she could do or say would change it.
“My mother had a tender heart, and as so often happens to tenderhearted people, hers was torn apart by the cruelty of the world and by circumstance, and in the end, her death wasn’t caused by a heart condition, but rather by her own hand.”
Julia waited for the assembled crowd to explode, but they were too stunned to make a sound. The king stared straight ahead. Off to Niccolo’s side, Piero and the royal bodyguards looked as though they were having a difficult time wrapping their heads around what their employer had just said.
Oh my God. No one knew. Not even Piero. I was the only one.
No one had been privy to Nico’s secret. He’d never told another soul. Until now. Until her.
Her heart hurt from the beauty of what he’d done for her. This was real. This was love. Love like she’d never known, in all its self-sacrificial glory.
Niccolo glanced at Julia, and in that briefest of moments, she could see the burden that he’d carried for so long fall away. He beckoned her forward, and without hesitation, she took her place beside him. There were no more doubts, no more fears. Just this man who she’d known for only a few days, but had somehow changed her world.
“Sei mio,” he whispered and pressed a reverent kiss to the back of her hand. And this time, it was true. She was his.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and addressed the press again. “Two days ago I met the woman beside me, Miss Julia Costa. She showed me the sights of your beautiful city and taught me a great deal about history, art, and the Roman people. She taught me even more about life and about love.”
Reporters stopped scribbling in their notepads. Even the shutters of the cameras stopped clicking. Nico had cast a spell over the people assembled, and they hung on his every word.
“Like my family, Miss Costa’s has had its difficulties. Those difficulties are in the past, and I ask that you respect the fact that Miss Costa has moved beyond these trials and tribulations. The palace in Lazaretto will be preparing a detailed statement regarding my mother and the events of the past.” He smiled, humble. Human. “I will not be available today for further comment, as that is a private matter. But within the next few days, I will sit down and address each and every inquiry surrounding the nature of her death. As for now, this concludes my statement. Are there any questions?”
There was an agonizing second of silence in which Julia wondered if perhaps this had all been a mistake, if she’d indeed ruined him. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, while she waited for someone to react.
Please let them see him as I do. Please give him the respect and love he deserves.
It was a silly thing to wish for. She knew that. These were reporters, not friends or family. They were out for blood. Weren’t they always?
But to her astonishment, instead of screaming invasive questions or taking him to task for lying about the past . . .
Instead of saying anything at all, one by one, they began to applaud. They stood and clapped. Every single one of them.
Julia couldn’t believe her eyes.
Then above the din of the applause, came a voice. One question. Just one. “Your Highness, can we assume of all the places you’ve visited on this royal tour, that the Eternal City now has a special place in your heart? Might you even have a favorite?”
“You’re asking me to choose a favorite? The proper answer would be a diplomatic one.” Niccolo gave Julia a prolonged glance, and without taking his eyes off her, he said, “But the honest answer is Rome. Without a doubt, Rome. I’ll treasure every moment I’ve spent here—every footstep, every heartbeat, every breath—until the day I die.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
* * *
With special thanks to Elizabeth Winick, Elana Cohen, Kathleen Zrelak, Meg Benjamin, and Hannah Sprado. I probably couldn’t get out of bed in the morning without all of you, much less actually write a book. It takes a village! Much love, Teri
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
Teri Wilson’s novel Unleashing Mr. Darcy is now a Hallmark Channel Original Movie, and she currently has two other films in development with Hallmark. She’s also at HelloGiggles.com, a lifestyle and entertainment website founded by Zooey Deschanel. Teri loves books, travel, animals and dancing every day. Visit her at TeriWilson.net or on Twitter @TeriWilsonAuthr.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Teri-Wilson
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Teri Wilson
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First Pocket Star Books ebook edition March 2017
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ISBN 978-1-4516-5963-4