by Susan Stoker
Cute? Huh. Was cute good? Was she cute like a kitten or a little sister? Or cute like a woman he’d like to kiss? she wondered, suddenly hoping for the latter, though she had no expectations. She was still trying to convince herself that she was actually playing hooky from work on a busy Saturday afternoon.
“Sorry, Bella.” He shrugged. “My cousins get all the attention.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Do you actually know them?”
“Well,” he said, trying desperately not to grin at her, “besides the fact that we’re third cousins once removed, yes, we do run in some of the same circles.”
Or used to…before the last of our fortune was mis-handled.
“The yachting, skiing, and polo circles?”
He chuckled, his good mood quickly restored by her sass. “More when we were younger than now. Everyone’s so busy.”
“Oh, yes. Buying castles and keeping up palaces is—”
“—villas,” he corrected her with a grin.
“—so exhausting.”
“Quite so,” he said in a credible British accent, reaching for the bottle of wine. “Do you drink?”
“Certo.” She nodded. “My parents owned un piccolo vigneto.”
“A vineyard in Ticino?” He paused in his pouring. “Then surely you’d prefer a red?”
Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised her that he remembered she was from Ticino and knew the region was known primarily for its merlots, but it did. In the best possible curl-your-toes sort of way, it did, because it meant that he was keeping track of her.
“Not at all. I like white too,” she said, “and Sauvignon Blanc is my favorite.”
“Mine too,” he said, pouring her a full glass. “My uncle’s vineyard in Fiesole makes a mean bottle.”
“Dio!” she exclaimed, pieces of information coming together in her head. “You’re not talking about the Villa De’Medici Vigneto!”
“The very one,” he said, raising his glass. “You know it?”
“I do,” she answered, her mind segueing back to many happy afternoons spent touring the vineyards in and around Florence with her parents. “I remember it well.”
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, and she looked up at him, meeting his eyes, which had taken on a slightly pained look, like perhaps something was hurting him a little.
“Thank you, Ni—um, your Serene Highness?”
“No. Absolutely not. You are not calling me that. Nico, okay? Nico is who you met last night. Nico is who I am.” He raised his glass. “And you’re beautiful Bella, who keeps saving the day. Salud.”
Lifting her glass, she clinked his, shaking her head at his blatant flirtation. “Salud.”
He held her eyes as she took a sip of the chilled wine, savoring it on her tongue as her parents had taught her and breathing slowly through lightly parted lips to smell the bouquet before swallowing.
“It reminds me of friulano,” she sighed, recalling a crisp, delicious regional white wine from northeastern Italy.
He grinned at her, swirling his glass absentmindedly. “Now that’s my favorite wine of all.”
“Mine too!”
“My uncle still makes one. He calls it La Dolce Vita.”
“The sweet life,” said Bella with a sigh, replacing her glass. “I’ve had it.”
Nico leaned back in his chair, searching her face. “Tell me…did your boss give you a hard time about leaving with Tina?”
“I think she was so stunned to have a princess standing at her reception desk, she didn’t have time to process what was happening. And your sister has a way of making her wishes…”
“…mandatory.” He nodded. “Tina rarely asks. She much prefers to order.”
“Well, it certainly worked with my madrina.”
“Your madr…” He screwed up his face. “Your godmother? Your boss is your godmother?”
Bella nodded. “Sí. My parents died several years ago, and Madame Gothel brought me to New York. My parents were her childhood friends.”
“I’m so sorry about your parents,” said Nico, his eyes compassionate. “I’m not particularly close to mine, but still…if anything happened to them…”
“I miss them every day,” said Bella, clearing her throat before taking another sip of wine. “But I am lucky to have Madame’s help and guidance. She is training me in all facets of salon and spa management and ownership. I’m sure that someday the Innsbruck will be mine.”
“Is she very old?” he asked.
“No. She’s not fifty yet.”
“It sounds like ‘someday’ is a long way off.” His forehead creased. “Does she expect you to work this hard for the next twenty or thirty years? Cleaning and accounting and classes every night? Not being able to accept a date or have a little fun?”
“I do work hard, but…” Bella licked her lips. “I wasn’t entirely truthful last night.”
“How so?”
She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “It’s true that I have to help her, but…well, I exaggerated my busyness last night. The truth is, I’m not allowed to date guests of the hotel. Not under any circumstances.”
“Or what?” he asked, leaning forward and using the same conspiratorial voice as she.
“I don’t…” She shrugged and shook her head, then grinned at him. “I don’t know, actually. But I’m not seventeen anymore. She doesn’t have to let me live with her. I guess she could…send me away.”
“Back to Switzerland?”
“Ha!” scoffed Bella. “She’s too frugal to put me on a plane back to Ticino. I guess I’d just be…out. You know—”
“On the streets?” he asked, his handsome face screwing up into a scowl.
She nodded, taking another sip of wine.
“Surely your parents left you something?” he asked.
She sighed. “All my money was given to Madame for my living expenses.”
“And she didn’t set any aside? So you could be independent one day?”
Bella thought about this for a moment. “I don’t believe she wants me to be independent.”
“Why would she?” asked Nico, scoffing with something that looked a little like disgust. “She’d lose her slave.”
Cringing at the ugly word, Bella leaned away from him. “I’m not her slave.”
“Really?” he asked, sitting back in his chair. “How much do you make for answering phones, fixing hair, staying after hours, cleaning, accounting—”
“You’ve made your point,” she interrupted, feeling defensive.
“No, I really want to know,” he said. “How much?”
She raised her chin, picking up her menu and scanning the words on the page, though she wasn’t processing them at all. Without looking at him, she said in an even voice, “She brought me here when I had nowhere to go. I live rent-free in her apartment. I have my own bedroom and—and food. A credit card for incidentals. And I’m learning a trade. That doesn’t ring of slavery to me.”
“So you make nothing.”
“I have free room, board, and an education.”
“Chattel in velvet chains.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, lowering her menu to meet his eyes with a frown.
“Property. A slave. A pet. Cared for in luxury, but far from free.”
“A pet?” she cried.
“I mean no offense,” he said quickly. “I just don’t like the way you’re being treated.”
Well, she didn’t like what he was saying about her, or about Madame, whom her parents had entrusted to raise Bella after their deaths. She looked down at the menu again. “It must be very easy to judge from your lofty position.”
“No, Bella,” he insisted. “My position isn’t so very lofty. And actually, my life isn’t so different from yours.”
“Not different?” she asked. “You’re a prince! Royalty! You can do whatever you—”
“—want to?” He shook his head. “No. I’m afraid not. Not at all.” He cocked his hea
d to the side. “Think about it—Tina doesn’t want to marry Steve Trainor, does she? And yet…”
Bella thought about this. Valentina’s circumstances—an impromptu wedding—certainly made a lot more sense now. She couldn’t think of another European royal, aside from the Monaco royals, who’d ever had a child out of wedlock, and she imagined that titles and…and villas…wouldn’t be passed down to those children, would they?
“No, she doesn’t,” said Bella, her heart filling with compassion for Nico and his sister. Maybe they were in similar circumstances, after all. What had he called it? Chattel in velvet chains…which made her wonder: “Who do you have to marry?”
***
Nico’s heart sank a little as she asked this question, because even though he knew it wasn’t right, he was hoping to sidestep it this week. He was hoping to spend the week—every waking moment—with Bella, but if he answered her honestly, there was every chance she’d refuse to see him again.
Still, looking into her clear brown eyes, he found he couldn’t lie. He’d have to take his chances with the truth.
“Her name is Elena.” He’d never seen anyone’s eyes lose their sparkle so quickly, and it hurt him inside to see it. “Princess Elena of Greece and Denmark. Our families are old friends.”
The smile she mustered was brave. “Friendship can be a good basis for marriage.”
“To be clear, I haven’t asked her yet…but I’m supposed to propose after Tina’s wedding.”
“Why ‘supposed to’?” she asked, her eyes compassionate as she reached for her wineglass and took a sip.
“The relationship between Italy and Greece is special,” he said, reciting words he’d heard from infancy. “Our trade relations, especially. In fact, Greece is our most important economic partner. Our militaries collaborate. We share a lot of tourism. Strategically, they’re one of our most important allies.”
She nodded, urging him to continue.
“Plus, the De’Medicis…well, there isn’t a delicate way to say this: we’re broke,” he said, “or quickly getting there. And Elena’s family is very wealthy.”
“Ahhh,” she said, nodding as though figuring something out.
“What?”
“Last night…your sister mentioned her fiancé’s fortune. I just—”
“—thought she was a money-grubber?” he asked sharply, ready to protect his sister, even if it was, partially, the truth.
“No,” said Bella gently. “Please don’t think that. I didn’t judge her. I only noted that it was said.”
“Sorry to snap at you,” he said. “I hate that she has to marry a practical stranger for money and—and, a name for her baby.”
“I understand. At least you’ll be marrying a friend.”
A friend? He barely knew Elena. Yes, they’d met each other at various functions throughout their childhoods, but he hadn’t had an actual conversation with her in years. He had no idea if they were even compatible.
“There hasn’t been”—he cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush with heat—“a marriage between the royal houses of Italy and Greece for some time. It would be a good thing.”
“For whom?”
“Tourism? Trade? The world watching as an Italian prince marries a Greek princess?”
“But…will it be good for you?” she asked.
Frankly, he had no idea. But Valentina wouldn’t get her settlement from Steve Trainor for ten years. His parents expected him to pay off their debts now with money from his future wife: Elena.
“As you say…marriages built on friendship are solid. Our families approve of the union.”
A crease appeared on Bella’s forehead as she folded her napkin and placed it on the table, looking up at him with heavy eyes. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to have lunch together.”
Nico’s hand darted out to reach for hers. “Please stay.”
“You’re almost engaged.”
“But I’m not yet. Elena and I aren’t even dating. We aren’t together at all. Not yet.” He rubbed slow circles in the soft skin of her palm. “Please. Don’t go.”
“It wouldn’t hurt her, then? If she saw us together?”
Nico shook his head. “Not at all. I swear to you, we’re not a couple. No promises have been made. My parents have spoken to hers, and her parents have welcomed the match if Elena agrees. But she’s doing aid work in Africa. I doubt she knows anything about it yet.”
She tried to pull her hand away. “Still…”
“Bella,” he said, refusing to let go of her hand and deciding to put all his cards on the table, “since meeting you last night, you’re all I can think about. And…I want to spend as much time as I can this week with you.” He gulped. “While I’m still…free.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why me?”
“Because you’re beautiful and fun, and you don’t treat me like a prince. Because you give great advice and make me laugh, and when I’m with you, the weight of the world slips from my shoulders. I promise not to kiss you, or fall in love with you, or try to make you mine…” He shrugged, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not a very good bargain.”
“Let me decide that,” she said, squeezing his hand before pulling hers away to place her napkin back on her lap. She looked up at him, her lips unable to keep her smile from spreading as she said softly, “I still have to work.”
“Of course.”
“So I don’t know how much time we’ll have.”
“We’ll make the most of what we do have.”
“And no kissing,” she said.
“Or falling in love,” he promised, though he had a funny feeling in his heart that he wouldn’t be able to keep it.
“We can be friends.”
“Friends…,” he murmured, knowing already that his feelings for her had surpassed friendship and hoping he could keep his end of the bargain.
“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I hurt someone…if I hurt Princess Elena.”
“You won’t hurt anyone, Bella…except me, if you refuse to see me again.”
She grinned at him, shaking her head. “How am I supposed to say no to a prince?”
And for once, His Serene Highness Nicolo Alessandro Lorenzo Giovanni De’Medici was happy that he was a royal and didn’t feel it a burden…because if that’s what it took for Bella Capelli to spend time with him this week, he’d take it and say Grazie.
***
After lunch, he convinced her to let him take her for a rowboat ride, and she sat across from him in the sunshine, talking about her dismal lack of sight-seeing for the five years she’d lived in Manhattan.
“So,” said Nico, his arms tanned and muscular as he rowed them farther out onto the little pond in the biggest city in the world, “you’ve never seen the Statue of Liberty, the ballet, the opera, the roof garden at the Met, a Yankees—”
“—or Mets!”
“—game, taken the Staten Island Ferry, or seen a Broadway show. Is that about the scope of it?” he asked.
Bella had stopped making excuses for her long days of work. “Yep. That’s the gist of it.”
“Madonna!” cried Nico. “That’s unbelievable. You’re in this great city, and you haven’t seen a thing! Have you had a vacation in five years?”
Shaking her head back and forth, Bella said, “Nope. Not even a day off. I mean, unless you count Christmas…though I end up setting the table, making the dinner, and cleaning up after.”
“Then I don’t count Christmas,” said Nico with a sour look.
“When are you working tomorrow?”
“I have to be in at six a.m., but we close at three on Sundays, so I’ll be finished by six!”
“A twelve-hour day?”
She nodded. “In early to get everything ready. Last to leave to make sure everything’s in order. Remember…she’s grooming me to take over.”
“Will you be too tired to see me?”
Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. Nev
er. “No. It will give me something to look forward to all day.”
“Me too.” He nodded. “Okay. So out of all the things you’ve never done, which would you like to do first?”
The marquees of the many Broadway shows had taunted her on the few and rare occasions that she left the hotel. What was it like, she wondered, to sit in a theater and watch people dance and sing who had the talent and courage to stand up in front of a full house? She wished she could know.
“I see you thinking, Bella…What’ll it be?”
“Have you already seen every show on Broadway?”
He chuckled at the way she backed into her answer with a question. “Not by a long shot. Shall we catch one together?”
She sighed longingly. “When I flew to New York, after my parents passed, there was a magazine in my seat back with an article about Wicked. You know, the play based on The Wizard of Oz characters? It all looked so wonderful.”
“We’ll go tomorrow,” he promised, rowing them back toward the Loeb Boathouse.
“Can you afford it?” she asked, remembering their conversation at lunch.
“I’m a lawyer in Florence,” he said. “I make a good living…just not enough to save the properties and businesses owned by the De’Medici family. If I only had to worry about myself…”
His heavy voice trailed off and they were silent as he rowed, the sound of the little boat cutting through the water and the ambient noise of other conversations drifting to her on the breeze. As much as Bella wanted to see a Broadway show sitting beside Prince Nico De’Medici, something inside of her felt unsettled.
Had she a right to spend these precious moments with a man who would soon belong to another? He had assured her that there were no promises between himself and Princess Elena, so technically, she wasn’t doing anything wrong…but was she being smart?
Bella was the very definition of inexperienced. She had never really had a boyfriend, aside from a flirtation with another student from lower secondary school. But the extent of their love affair had consisted of a peck on the lips while walking home from a school play, which had made her innocent heart take flight. Was it wise, then, to agree to spend this time with Nico, who, she guessed, had had many love affairs and known many women? Looking up at him, at the way the sun kissed the gold strands in his brown hair, she knew that she was perilously close to falling for him already, and she barely knew him. What would happen, then, when he bid her good-bye and proposed to Princess Elena? How would she mend her broken heart?