by Lia Lee
"All right, but we're talking while we eat," she said, and he grinned.
"Understood."
She had imagined Marco eating in something like a banquet hall. Perhaps the two of them would need to shout at each other from either end of the table, or servants would deliver them food as they ate in silence.
Instead, Marco led her to a gorgeous room walled in glass letting in a breathtaking amount of morning light. There was a small table in the center of the room, which seemed to be some sort of elegant conversation area surrounded by a low bench around the wall and piled up with pillows.
"Oh, but this is gorgeous," she breathed, looking around.
"This is one of the older parts of the palace," Marco said with a slight smile. "Go back far enough and there's a fair amount of Moorish blood in the family. It remains in the architecture, as you can see."
With a start, Briony realized that when Marco was talking about his history, he was also talking about Eva's. As they sat down to a delicious breakfast of sliced fruit, perfectly warm, flaky croissants, and cups of hot chocolate, Briony felt bowled over by the rush of history. In the United States, history felt like a drop in the bucket, something you could see immediately. Here in Florence, history rolled back into the fog, and if you were lucky, you had a velvet ribbon to follow.
"Will you tell Eva about this?" she asked suddenly. "Will you tell her about her ancestors, even if they might not have preferred someone like her?”
"Someone like her?" he asked with a frown, and she smiled a little.
"Born from an unwed mother and a one-night stand, born in America, half whatever it is that Seanan and I are. We don't really keep track of such things in America, you know."
Marco shook his head, and to her surprise, he reached over to cover her hand with his.
"If my fool ancestors thought they would prefer someone else to Eva, then it is a good thing they are dead. She is my child. I know this, and she has my blood. That is what is important. She belongs here, and all of this...it belongs to her."
"Thank you," Briony said quietly. She could see that Marco meant it, and there was a part of her that could have wept with gratitude. At his curious look, she explained.
"Seanan and I are orphans. Our parents died when I was twelve and Seanan was eighteen. An aunt took me in, but she died only a few years later, and then Seanan and I were on our own. We...we both have issues with being wanted, I suppose. Seanan goes out of her way to make sure that the whole world wants her..."
"And you...perhaps you only want to be wanted by those who understand you very well?"
She laughed a little, shaking her head. "Or maybe I think it would be better and easier to be completely unnoticed. That's a matter for a skilled therapist, I suppose. But I will be happy to say without needing to consult anyone that the idea of Eva having a place like I never had... It feels good."
"Even if it involves me hiring a nanny?" Marco asked innocently, and she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Don't think I'm letting you off the hook on that one," she said, even as she was becoming certain that she had done just that. "That's not something you should surprise me or Eva with."
"I promise I'll not make a habit of it. I started looking as soon as I knew you were coming to Florence, and of all the three dozen applicants, she was the one I liked best."
"I like her a great deal too," Briony admitted. "But I'll admit that I'm feeling a little lost. I mean, for the last three, three and a half months, all I've done is be with Eva. I think this breakfast with you is the longest I've been without her."
Marco tilted his head at her. For a man who was known as one of the most libertine playboys in Europe, he sure could listen, Briony reflected.
"And how do you feel about that?"
She hesitated. She wondered how he would take her reaction, but well, she was entitled to it, wasn't she?
"Weird," she said at last. "At least three times as we ate, I've been panicked about where Eva was before I remembered, oh, right, she's with a nice woman who's going to take great care of her. And at the same time...relieved? I love Eva. I love her more than anyone else in the world, and I've never felt that tide of emotion for anything else in my life...but I'm also light right now. As if I'm...free."
She shook her head. "Wrong word. God, you must think I'm terrible."
"Not at all," Marco said thoughtfully. "You said that you read about me. Did you read about me coming to the throne?"
"I did," Briony said, slightly confused by the topic shift.
"When I was first crowned, I felt as if I was carrying a burden I could never put down. There were what felt like a hundred duties that could only be performed by me; it was very different from the life I had been living until then."
"Less supermodels?" she asked, blushing when she realized how she sounded.
He grinned at her. "Yes, actually. I got too busy for fun, and that's what women like that are usually around for. I thought I was going to suffocate under it all. Then one day, as I learned which things would always require my attention, and which things could be allowed to wait for my convenience, it got easier. Soon enough, I was carrying the weight without noticing it as much.
“Then one day, I realized that all of the duties that were in front of me were ones that I could put off to another day. No one would be harmed. No one would be hurt or put out of house and home. They would only be irritated and perhaps annoyed. There were duties that were otherwise, of course, but none of them were happening that day.”
“You were still you, but for a day, you could put down the burden,” Briony surmised, and Marco grinned at her.
“Very much, yes. So for the first time since I had stepped up to fill the role of Prince of Florence, I could step back and be myself again. It does not mean that I want to run away forever or that I truly want to shirk my duties. All it means is that I had grown into the role, developed to where I understood it a bit more.”
“You felt free for the first time since you'd become the prince,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
She mulled over his words as she ate the excellent breakfast in front of them. The silence between them, rather than being strained or irritable, was pleasant. There was a kind of ease that settled over her and Marco when they allowed it, and she found herself treasuring it. Had there really been so little quiet in her life? Perhaps so.
Finally, she looked up from her meal, slightly startled to find Marco watching her. His dark eyes were soft, and it made her blush a bit before she remembered herself.
“I've come to a decision on Paz,” she said. “You may rule this entire darned city, but I'm still Eva's mother.”
He nodded, as graceful as a medieval prince gesturing his opponent onto the field. There was no concession, just courtesy, and Briony smiled a little.
“I am more than happy to have Paz come in for a set shift all three of us will decide on. I like the idea of having help, but I don't want other people raising my daughter. I won't take it.”
He nodded, and she wondered if she saw a little bit of respect in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
God, she thought momentarily. What are parents like among the people he knows?
She pushed the thought away because it was going to be the second part that was the harder sell.
"And second...I want you to learn how to take care of Eva as well."
Marco's eyes went up towards his hairline, and she might have laughed if she weren't so very tense. "You want me to what, give over the running of the country to change diapers?"
At least his tone was teasing, but there was no doubt that he sounded at least a little incredulous.
"No, certainly not. I wasn't planning on giving up my job, either, truth be told. But if you want to be Eva's father in more than name, that means taking care of her. You can give her such beautiful things, but unless you care for her..."
She shook her head, wishing she had time to express herself more clearly. She tried agai
n, because this was simply too important.
"You need to learn to care for her. That means being a parent and doing all the dumb, dull and dirty things that go with it. Late night feedings, diapers, holding her when you're bone tired...you need to do more than hire good staff and sign the checks."
She stumbled over her words. In the back of her mind, Briony wondered what she would do if Marco refused. It wasn't like she had anything that she could hold over him, after all.
He stopped her words with a gentle touch to his hand.
"All right," he said calmly.
"All right?"
"Yes. You're right. I want to be more than just a man who signs checks. I want to be a father to Eva."
Briony felt a rush of relief. How long had she been tense about this? Somehow throughout the ordeal of pulling up stakes and moving her life and her baby to Florence, it had never sunk in until this moment that Marco wanted to be a father.
"I'm glad," was all she said.
Chapter Eleven
Three weeks later, Briony was surprised by how well Marco had taken to fatherhood. He didn't cancel meetings with heads of state to attend to his daughter, but he was around more often than she’d thought he would be.
Sometimes when she woke up in the morning, he would let Paz go for a few hours so he could feed Eva and play with her. When Eva cried, he comforted her, and when she needed to be changed, he took care of her.
Getting Marco used to nights with their daughter was a little harder, and that had more to do with Briony herself rather than either of them.
"I think I have learned enough to make sure she is safe and sound," Marco said with an impressive amount of earnestness and lurking humor. "I mean, if I can negotiate a multimillion dollar trade deal before lunch, I might be trusted to keep track of a baby who cannot walk yet."
"Those two skills actually have nothing to do with one another," Briony pointed out.
"If things go strangely, you'll be close," he said firmly. "Unless you have any actual disagreements, I think I am ready."
She knew he was, so around six in the evening, she bundled up a simple kit of essentials and slung Eva over her shoulder to make the trek to Marco's quarters. At her tentative knock, he opened the door wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that looked beautifully soft and worn. His smile was as bright as the sun.
"Let me hold her," he demanded, and she laughed as she passed their daughter into his arms.
"Are you going to be so eager when she cries if you put her down?" Briony teased.
"I have trouble setting her down at all," Marco retorted. "It's so nice to have her close."
Eva gurgled with delight and leaned into him, bonking up on his nose with her forehead. Briony knew from long experience how that could sting, but Marco only laughed.
After she set down the bag, Marco brought Briony to the small room close to his bedroom, where an identical crib to the one in Briony's quarters had been set up. He showed her how he had the same supplies she did and told her there was nothing to worry about.
"I know there's not," she said.
She had seen Marco enough with Eva to trust him at this point. The problem was inside her.
What was she meant to be doing right now? In some ways, this felt a great deal like what separated parents did when they were handing off their children.
God, I'm too young to be those divorced people, she thought dismally, but here she was.
Before she could excuse herself, however, Marco juggled Eva to one shoulder and took her hand.
"Why don't you stay for a while?" he asked. "I've not had dinner yet, and we could send to the kitchen for something."
"If you're sure..."
"Of course I am," he said with a smile. "I thought perhaps you might have made plans for your evening of freedom, but if you have not, I would like you to stay."
Not “we would like you to stay,” or “Eva would like you to stay,” Briony noticed.
"All right, I would like that too, I think..."
The evening passed by so quickly that later Briony half-wondered if witchcraft was involved. They fed themselves, and Briony watched as Marco fed Eva a bottle of warmed milk.
As they both watched over their tiny girl, Briony found the words coming easier than they ever had. She learned about Marco's family, distant even before they had died, and she found herself talking more about her childhood with Seanan, how she loved her sister, but sometimes the jealousy was intense.
"What in the world do you have to be jealous about?" Marco said, so befuddled that she laughed.
"Um, my sister is turning into a world-famous movie star. Don't you think that warrants some jealousy?"
"Not from you," he said simply, and she blushed.
The talk turned to other things, to her relief. Her meeting her future coworkers at the university and his business deals were safe topics, as were movies and books, their favorite television shows, and where they wanted to travel.
When Eva started to fuss, Marco scooped her up close. "Time for bed, little one."
Briony knew this was a good time to excuse herself. Marco had never had all that much time alone with Eva, and he might want to put her to bed for the first time on his own.
Instead, she followed him to the nursery and watched from the doorway as he prepared Eva for bed and tucked her in. He stood watching their daughter for a long time, and when he started to sing, it was so quiet that Briony thought she was imagining it at first.
For some reason, she could feel tears prickle briefly at the corner of her eyes. She stifled them down, wiping hard at her eyes. Why did she feel as if her heart was breaking? If Eva was going to have a father, this was the father that she wanted her to have.
She backed out of the room when Marco turned away, and she approved silently as he left the door cracked so he could hear any signs of distress. For a moment, they stood in the dim hallway, silently watching each other.
"I should go back to my own place," Briony murmured. She started to walk towards the door, but Marco caught her hand gently. That spark shot between them again, but by this time, she was almost ready for it. He would touch her, she would pull back, and he would do the same. They seemed to have tacitly agreed to ignore the attraction between them.
This time, however, she didn't pull away.
"Stay awhile," he said softly. "I've not had much chance to talk with you lately."
"We talked plenty before," she objected. "One thing about parents, we can grow surprisingly dull..."
"Then come be quiet with me," he said, and she surprised herself by nodding.
She had glimpsed his bedroom in passing. It was enormous with a bed at the very center of it. The bed was draped in black and gold, gleaming quietly and speaking of a sensuality that roused her. She had a momentary, guilty flash of what it might be like to be tumbled down in those sheets.
She was both relieved and disappointed when he led her past the bedroom back to the living room. Marco sprawled on the incredibly expensive couch as if it was nothing to him, and he gestured her to sit next to him. Once she was there, it was the most natural thing in the world to lean against him.
Their quiet together was perfect and gentle, soft with just an undercurrent of heat underneath it. His arm over her shoulder was a perfect weight that made her feel alert and sleepy by turns, and there was something about the smell of him that simply made her sigh.
"We're doing everything backwards," she after several long minutes. She wondered if he would be irritated by her breaking the silence, but he only raised an eyebrow at her.
"Oh?"
"First we met, we slept together, and then we had a baby. Now we're...sharing custody, I guess? All without ever having had an affair or a relationship or being married..."
She sounded a little bitter, but she realized she wasn't angry. Marco looked at her with a surprisingly speculative glint in his eye. She started to ask what he was thinking when he spoke.
"Well, if you want to catch up on
what we missed..."
She started to ask him what he meant by that, but then she gasped as he pulled her loosely into his arms. He didn't grab on to her, he didn't make her feel trapped. Instead, he simply brought her close enough to dip his head down and kiss her.
There was nothing hurried about the kiss at all. There was only a deep and endless heat spreading between their bodies and enveloping them as his mouth explored hers. Instinctively, she suckled on his tongue, her hands coming up to curl around his shoulders. It felt like more than passion, however. It felt as if she was welcoming home a missing part of her, and she held on to him tighter.
"I have thought of this so often since we parted," Marco murmured, smoothing his kiss to her throat. "I have longed to feel you again, to bathe in the sweetness of your body..."
From anyone else, it would have sounded like a line. From Florence's playboy prince himself, it was perfect.
She threw her head back as he kissed her throat, lighting a line of fire as he went. She had misremembered how good he was at kissing her, or she had grown more sensitive in the year they had been apart. It felt like the more he kissed her, the more she needed to be kissed. Her hands roved over his back, and soon enough, she found the hem of his sweatshirt. She tugged it up to feel the smooth, muscled skin underneath, and when she raked her nails lightly up his back, she relished his shiver.
"Perfect, perfect girl," he crooned. "My little Velvet..."
It was that name that woke her up as nothing else ever could have. She went hot, and then she went cold, and suddenly she was just Briony again.
She tugged away from Marco so violently that she nearly landed on the floor. She might have if he hadn't steadied her.
"Briony, what's the matter?"
"I...I need to go," she murmured. "I need to go back to my own quarters."
She started to move, but he wrapped his hand around hers, holding her still. "Please. I can't let you go when you're like this..."