The woman who’d played Violetta stood onstage, holding the necklace she’d worn for the role. As bids came in, she sweetened the pot by offering a signed poster in which she was shown wearing the piece.
The audience was riveted on the woman, who knew exactly how to engage a crowd. Eduardo had eyes only for Claire. She sat where he’d left her at the end of the performance, leaning forward to take in the sights and sounds of the theater. He’d gone backstage to greet the cast and crew as the auction took place and to thank them for all they were doing to raise awareness of the Royal Foundation and its purpose.
As if she sensed his presence, Claire turned in her seat. Her smile made his throat catch.
He moved forward and into the seat beside hers.
“This is the final item. If we want to leave unnoticed, now’s the time. Chiara has a car waiting in the alley behind the theater. We can go to a trattoria I know of a few blocks from here. We’ll have privacy.”
“I should let my driver know. He’s waiting in a café nearby.”
“I could have my driver return you to your residence after we leave the trattoria if yours wants to get home, but that might raise questions.”
“I’ll call him on our way out.”
Claire’s driver had told her that it was no problem to be in front of the trattoria whenever she wished. “This is early for me,” he assured her. “I work evenings and never sleep before two or three.”
“Thank you, Fabiano. Do you want me to get you anything at the trattoria? Maybe a dessert?”
“No, no. I have plenty. Enjoy yourself. It’s no problem.”
Soon they were settled at a table at the rear of the restaurant, in a spot that allowed them to eat without being seen by the rest of the dining area. The owner, whom Eduardo had known since he was young, had long since retired, but his daughter, Gaia, greeted the king as if he were a member of her family.
“I have fresh raspberry tarts, or a tiramisu, if you’d prefer.”
Eduardo glanced at Claire. She told Gaia, “I’m a fan of raspberry tarts, but I suspect His Highness would prefer the tiramisu.”
“How’d you guess?” he asked, though he was thinking of the cake and berries he’d complained about during their palace dinner and knew she was thinking of it, too.
Gaia looked from Claire to the king. “Is Samuel still feeding you bird seed and berries?”
“He is.”
“You need extra, then.”
“A small serving is plenty, but definitely the tiramisu rather than the tart. Thank you, Gaia.”
For the next hour, he and Claire talked about their families. Eduardo confided that Amanda’s doctor was fairly sure she was having a girl. “There are a number of downsides to my job, but the biggest upside is that the palace is large enough that my adult children can live under its roof while still maintaining their own households. I know my three grandsons as if they were my own children. I expect the same will be true with my granddaughter. Whenever I’m annoyed by the public nature of my role or I have a day where the weight of my responsibilities exhausts me, I think of my grandchildren. What about you? Where is your family?”
“They’re in New Mexico, in a mountain town called Chama near the border with Colorado. My father’s parents ran a hotel there that primarily caters to hikers, cyclists, and fishermen. When they retired, my dad’s sister took over. My parents run a towing and auto repair business nearby. You’d be stunned at the number of travelers who show up in town with automotive issues.”
“Was your mother raised there, as well?
Claire shook her head. “She was born on a Navajo reservation near the Four Corners area.”
“Your mother is Native American?”
“Proudly so. Unfortunately, her parents were dirt poor and her father died of complications from alcoholism when my mother was a baby. If you want to know why I’m so invested in educational programs, it all comes from my mother. She was able to participate in Head Start, which is a program that ensures children from low income families begin school on equal footing with their peers. Her life would have been drastically different without it. She and her two older brothers worked hard and all three graduated high school with honors. That education—that opportunity—helped them rise out of poverty. My mother was awarded a scholarship that enabled her to attend a community college for two years, then she finished her economics degree at the University of New Mexico. One of my uncles still lives on the reservation and teaches third grade in a Navajo school in Shiprock. The other runs his own plumbing business.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say but it wasn’t this. The sharp difference from his own background fascinated him. “You have a lot of respect for her.”
“For both of my parents. I try to channel their work ethic into everything I do. Anything I’ve accomplished is because of them.”
At the love in Claire’s voice, he fell a bit harder for her. “They must be proud of you, too.”
“They are. My mother even set up an alert so she knows when I’m mentioned in a news report online. She called when she saw an article about the credentials ceremony. She was very excited that her daughter met a king. Her first question was, ‘Is he as handsome in real life as on television?’”
“And you said?”
“I believe I laughed at the question.”
The flirtation in her voice made Eduardo’s insides clench with want, but rather than lean closer and kiss her, he smiled in return and said, “Next time, tell them I’m better in real life.”
“Maybe I will.”
As they finished dessert, the conversation turned to their upcoming work schedules. Then Claire noted that she’d had a productive talk with Franco Galli. “I think I have him convinced that the education program works, but he hasn’t fully committed to it. I have a meeting with Monica Barrata next week and Franco said he wanted an update on how that meeting goes. I think if I can convince one of them, I’ll convince the other. My staff says they have similar philosophies and that their votes rarely differ.”
“I hope you convince them both, then.”
She eyed him over the last bite of her tart. “Really? Even if it means you’ll have to spend some of your valuable political capital?”
He liked that she had the backbone to tease him. “You have to get all four. That was the deal.”
“Two is halfway.”
He didn’t point out that Franco Galli and Monica Barrata were the easiest votes of the four. As Claire set her fork across her plate, he winked and said, “Let me know when you convince all four.”
“I’ll do that.”
After notifying their drivers and paying the bill—over Gaia’s objection—they made their way to the front of the trattoria. It was closing time and the last of the customers had departed a few minutes earlier. To his relief, Gaia disappeared into the kitchen, giving them a few valuable moments alone.
He stopped Claire just short of the door, keeping them out of sight of the street. “I enjoyed this.”
“So did I.”
The sincerity in her voice made him as happy as he’d been in a long time. When he pulled her close and kissed her, her fingers curled around his elbow and an entirely different emotion swept through him. He held her as long as he dared.
Stolen moments were just that—moments—and perhaps that was part of their magic. He craved more.
“We’ll do this again soon?” he murmured near her ear.
“Maybe something that doesn’t involve high heels. Or two drivers and a staff to pull off.”
“Like a movie?” he asked. “I believe we had an agreement to see Out of Africa. I have an engagement on Friday night that Luisa can move if you’re free then.”
“It’s a date.”
“Come to my place,” he said, giving her a final, quick kiss. “It’s cleaner than most bachelor’s apartments, I promise.”
“I seem to remember that.”
He waited a full minute after her car
was gone before slipping out of the trattoria and into the back seat of his own car. He allowed his eyes to drift closed for the brief, dark drive through the city streets, imagining the feel of Claire Peyton in his arms and the taste of her on his lips.
Chapter 13
Claire greeted the guard as she passed through security at the embassy’s employee entrance, then made her way to the elevator. Her footsteps echoed against the marble as she walked. At quarter to seven, the streets had been quiet, save for a few runners and cyclists, and the embassy was empty.
Given her packed week, it made sense to arrive early, but Claire hadn’t needed her alarm clock this morning. She’d been on an adrenaline rush since Saturday night’s opera date with King Eduardo and had awakened an hour earlier than usual, brimming with energy. She planned to make the most of it.
After stopping by her office to drop off her bag and a stack of reports she’d brought home to review, she made her way to the small break room down the hall to start a pot of coffee. To her surprise, Karen stood at the counter, her back to the door as she spooned ground coffee into a paper filter.
“Good morning,” Claire said as she entered. “You’re in early.”
Karen measured out another scoop without looking up. “So are you, Madam Ambassador.”
Claire grabbed the empty pot and walked to the sink to get water while Karen plugged in the machine. After Claire added the water and set the pot in place, Karen started the brew cycle. It was a system they’d worked out during their years in Uganda, when they’d often arrived for work at the same time, each craving a morning cup of java. As Karen sealed the bag and replaced it on the shelf, she asked, “You didn’t get any on your way? I’m used to you arriving with a cup in hand from one of the cafés down the street.”
“I woke up wired and decided to come straight to the office. Besides, now that I’ve satisfied my curiosity and tried all the coffee places between here and the residence, my wallet will be happier if I stick to the break room most days.”
Karen said, “ah,” but didn’t quite meet Claire’s gaze. They’d known each other long enough for Claire to realize something was off. She asked if everything was all right, but Karen merely shrugged and turned toward the table where she’d left her tote bag. She withdrew a container—presumably her lunch—and slid it into the refrigerator.
Something was definitely off. Claire tried again. “Did you have a good weekend?”
“I did.”
“Settled in the flat?”
“Yes. Even did some baking yesterday. I ran into someone I met during our first week here while I was buying flour. We started talking and it turns out his sister runs a bakery. He came over and showed me how he makes croissants.”
“That sounds intriguing.”
“Just making a new friend and improving my croissants.”
“Ah.”
At this point on a typical Monday, Karen would usually ask about Claire’s weekend. Today, she didn’t.
“Oh, good morning,” a male voice came from the doorway. “Karen, Madam Ambassador. I didn’t realize either of you were in the building already.”
Claire turned to see John Oglethorpe. As Public Affairs Officer, John served as her senior advisor on public affairs and public diplomacy. He oversaw both the embassy’s resource information center and its press office, which arranged press conferences, briefings, and interviews. He’d been the one to bring her up to speed on the public relations initiatives that had taken place during Richard Cartwright’s tenure and kept her updated on San Rimini’s reactions to news and events in the United States. After nearly a decade at the embassy, he knew all the players in the local media. During their initial meetings, she’d found him both shrewd and insightful.
Claire welcomed him with a smile. “Busy week ahead. Are you usually here before seven?”
“I like to catch the early morning news programs and papers in case anything needs to be addressed. No surprises that way.”
Karen shouldered her tote and moved to the door. “I’ll drop this at my desk and be back when the coffee’s finished.”
“Have you turned on a television this morning?” John asked once they were alone.
“I haven’t, no. I arrived a few minutes ago and made a beeline for the caffeine.”
John looked over his shoulder, as if checking to ensure no one was in the hallway. “You went to the opera on Saturday night and were seated beside the king in the royal box.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t think I should have heard about that from you, rather than seeing it on the morning news?”
She froze. “You’re kidding me. The morning news?”
He didn’t roll his eyes, but his expression said as much.
She raised a hand. “I know, I know. I probably should have expected it.”
John glanced into the hallway again, then moved further into the break room. “Any engagements involving the diTalora family draw the media. In the future, I’d appreciate it if you would inform me ahead of time so I can prepare a response in advance of any press inquiries.”
“Have you received any yet?”
“I had six calls before breakfast yesterday and at least another dozen during the day. I haven’t listened to my messages yet this morning, but there are a lot of them. When I passed by a news kiosk on my way in, I saw the latest Today’s Royals with a photo of you and King Eduardo on the front. I don’t know what it says because I didn’t want to be seen buying a copy, but I’ll have someone do so discreetly later.”
A choice four-letter word sat on the tip of Claire’s tongue at the mention of the gossip rag, though if she’d actually said it, it would have been directed at the situation, not at John. He had the respect of everyone in the embassy. She’d seen it in people’s expressions and body language any time John walked by their desks or ran into them in the elevator. And in this case, he was right to be frustrated.
She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. She’d thought when she’d spotted theatergoers looking into the royal box, there might be a call or two from a tabloid, but nothing like this. “I’m sorry, John. I didn’t intend to place you in a difficult situation.”
“I appreciate that. In any event, I wanted to talk to you before I respond. I need to ensure that our messaging is clear. Nothing I say can conflict with any public statements you may have made.”
“I haven’t said a word.”
“All right. Well, that’s good.” John exhaled, apparently relieved Claire hadn’t failed to notify him about any interviews. “Once the coffee is ready, we should find an office and discuss what you want said about the embassy’s support of the Royal Foundation. Anything about how the partnership came about and why you were in the royal box would quell gossip and focus on our two countries’ mutual goals, the importance of the Foundation and its work, et cetera.”
It was Claire’s turn to exhale. A beep sounded from the coffee machine. She offered John a cup. When he waved it off, she poured one for herself. Quietly, she said, “There’s no partnership.”
He absorbed that for a moment. “Maybe I will have a coffee. Preferably with bourbon.”
She smiled at his attempt to lighten the moment, then took a tentative sip of her coffee to test its temperature. “I was in the box because I received a private invitation from King Eduardo. It came to the residence, not the embassy, which is why I didn’t mention it to you. I only told Karen on Thursday evening so she could make arrangements for secure transportation, the same as I would if I’d decided to go to Venice to see St. Mark’s or take a shopping trip to Trieste over the weekend.”
“You’re saying it was a date.”
She paused. She wasn’t ready to share it with the world, but she owed John the truth. “Yes. It was a date.”
“Wow. Just…wow.” John blinked, then shoved his hands into his front pockets. “That explains a lot. It also means there’s little our office can say. I can’t tell the media that you were there in your
official capacity to support the objectives of the Royal Foundation and its work.”
“I realize that.”
“But I need to say something. Silence means they’ll create a story to fill the void.”
“I realize that, too.” She quieted as two people walked past the break room door. They were deep in conversation and didn’t notice that John or Claire were inside, let alone the tension that permeated the room. Once the pair had moved out of hearing range, Claire said, “Let’s see what the coverage looks like as the day goes on, then we’ll decide what to say. If you’ve received inquiries, I imagine the palace information offices have, as well. They may have already made a statement.”
John nodded, but didn’t look appeased.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I need to say something, Madam Ambassador, but I’m not sure I’m adept enough to manage it without offense.”
“You’re the Public Affairs Officer. ‘Adept speaker’ is in the first line of your job description.”
“This is new territory.” He shifted as if gathering himself, then focused on her. “You’re single. You can date whomever you please, and everything I’ve ever heard about the king indicates that he’s a good man and one of the few around whose intelligence is on par with yours. But King Eduardo is not simply a good man, he’s a national symbol. Unless this relationship goes all the way, and I mean all the way, you’re going to have fallout. He won’t be the one to pay the price. You will. And if you do, that will be hard on every single person who works under this roof, both personally and professionally.”
“John—”
“I should go to my office now. I’ll catch up on messages, do a bit of reading, and see what the palace has said, if anything. Can you meet me in the conference room for lunch? Say, twelve-thirty?”
“I have a meeting scheduled with Monica Barrata at two in her parliament office. If we can finish by one-thirty, that will work.”
“Are you seeing her about the Ugandan education program?”
At Claire’s nod of confirmation, he said, “I might be able to use that. I’ll see you at twelve-thirty.”
To Kiss a King (Royal Scandals: San Rimini Book 6) Page 13