To Kiss a King (Royal Scandals: San Rimini Book 6)

by Nicole Burnham

  He brushed his hand over his head as he strode out the door, as if doing so might clear the conversation from his mind.

  “Good morning, Your Highness. Did you enjoy your session with Greta this morning?”

  Eduardo gave Luisa a hard stare as he met her at the bottom of the stairs. She was always chipper on Mondays, but had an extra bounce to her step today. “Of course not.”

  “In that case, I’m sure it was quite productive. She told me it was a thruster day. I have no idea what that means, but it sounds like fun.”

  He greeted one of the guards as they strode toward his office. It was only eight a.m., and already his hamstrings and quads were sore from the morning’s workout. Once they were clear of the guard, he told Luisa, “For your information, a thruster is when you pick up a loaded barbell in what’s called a clean.” He demonstrated by holding his hands in front of his shoulders, palms up and elbows pointing forward. “You catch it in a full squat, then straighten and thrust the bar overhead while keeping your core engaged. With Greta, you do a lot of those in a row. I may not be able to walk by the end of the day.”

  “You’ll feel better knowing that you have the best muscle tone of any sitting monarch.”

  “I may not be able to sit, either.”

  She handed him a piece of paper. “This is your schedule for the day. Zeno asked to extend the morning status meeting. I gave him an extra fifteen minutes and moved your haircut to four-thirty.”

  He frowned. “Wasn’t I meeting with Prince Antony this afternoon? He has a major fundraiser for the San Riminian Scholarship fund next week and wanted input on his speech.”

  She gestured to the paper. “I gave him a thirty-minute block prior to your haircut.”

  They turned a corner that brought them within sight of King Eduardo’s office. There were several couriers waiting at Luisa’s desk, all holding paperwork that required her signature. To Eduardo, she said, “I’ll have your coffee in a moment, Your Highness.”

  Eduardo wished the couriers a good morning before entering his formal office, where Sergio, Zeno, and Margaret waited. Margaret’s yellow notepad had more scribbles than usual.

  The group surged to their feet and wished him good morning. Luisa closed the door behind him and he rounded the desk while gesturing for everyone to relax. “Word of warning: I had a difficult session with Greta this morning, then Samuel Barden served fruit pie for breakfast. While fruit pie sounds delicious, I don’t think it had a single gram of sugar and the crust was made of oatmeal. Or something that resembled oatmeal. Tell me something that will restart my week on a positive note.”

  Zeno and Sergio both looked to Margaret. Eduardo followed suit, wondering what they expected her to say.

  Her mouth twisted. “I, uh, just told Zeno and Sergio that when I arrived this morning Samuel offered me fruit pie.”

  “And you said?”

  “I said yes. And after I ate it, I said, ‘yum.’ It was fabulous.”

  Luisa entered with his coffee, then placed it at his elbow. After she slipped out, he said, “You all look anxious to speak, so we’ll hold the fruit pie debate for later. If it’s something other than the Strada il Teatro project, let’s hold on it. We’re down to nine weeks before parliament needs a finalized plan in hand. And that’s at the latest if we want to ensure it’s part of their budget discussion for the Central Business District.”

  Looks were exchanged, then Sergio said, “I can give the Strada update, but it ties into another matter, so they need to be discussed together.”

  “Which is?”

  Sergio’s eyes flicked to Zeno, who said, “The Claire Peyton situation.”

  Chapter 14

  Eduardo’s gut tightened. He made a conscious effort not to show it. “There’s a Claire Peyton situation? I’m unaware of a Claire Peyton situation, let alone how one might relate to the Strada il Teatro.”

  He said it in a tone meant to end discussion, but Zeno forged ahead. “The morning news reported that the ambassador attended the opera with you on Saturday and was seated in the royal box. We” —he made a circle with his index finger to encompass everyone in the room— “didn’t see her mentioned on the schedule. The usual royal tabloids have speculated wildly about the reason—”

  “As they always do.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. So far, the mainstream outlets have steered clear of speculation. However, one of the high-circulation tabloids indicated that members of the backstage crew were overheard in the alley behind the theater saying that during the intermission, the king was on the catwalk above the stage holding hands with a mystery woman later identified as Claire Peyton.” Zeno visibly reddened as he said it, but his voice remained even.

  “And this affects the Strada project…how?”

  “It’s a problem, Your Highness, because the gossip is out there,” Sergio said. “Even if Zeno avoids the topic in this morning’s press briefing so as not to call attention to it, every other outlet is now looking for it.”

  “Men and women have been known to see each other socially, Sergio, particularly single men and women.”

  Eduardo didn’t miss the look of surprise on the faces of his senior staff. They hadn’t expected him to confirm that the night was, in fact, a date.

  Sergio folded his hands in his lap, then quickly unfolded them and leaned forward. “It’s my job to give you the truth, even when it’s hard to do so. Part of your popularity lies in the fact that you are single. It gives you a certain mystique. If that changes—even with a woman whose reputation is as good as the ambassador’s—it will affect everything you do.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re saying that going on a date will hurt my popularity, and therefore hurt our ability to unify support for the Strada project before we hit the deadline to put it in front of parliament? That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

  Even as Eduardo said the words, he envisioned Giovanni sitting across the cribbage board from him, warning him that his popularity would take a hit.

  Of course, then Giovanni had said, “you’re in trouble anyway,” and urged him to ask Claire for the date.

  “I’m looking ahead,” Sergio said. “Anyone with a vested interest in the Strada project will do the same. Groups who have been brainstorming ways to push back against aspects of your plan may be tempted to wait and see how this plays out rather than come to the table. If your popularity were to dip, they’ll take advantage of that fact to ask for more concessions.”

  Eduardo drummed his fingers on the desk, then said, “Point made. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?”

  “There’s also the agreement you made with the ambassador, Your Highness. You said you’d introduce legislation to parliament regarding support for her education program if she harnessed certain votes.”

  Eduardo gave a roll of his hand, urging Sergio to continue.

  “When you told us about it last week, my consultants didn’t believe the deal would matter. They doubted the ambassador could find the support to hold you to it. But that’s changing. We understand that the ambassador is meeting with Monica Barrata today. She met with Franco Galli last week and the word is that he came away leaning toward the program. If he supports it, Barrata is also likely to give it her support. They tend to vote in lockstep.”

  “She’d still need Luciano Festa and Sonia Selvaggi. They’ll be far more difficult to convince.”

  “I agree, those two will be tough. Particularly Selvaggi. But I wanted to raise the concern. There are a lot of moving pieces to this project. We need to control what we can.”

  Eduardo took longer than usual to respond. When he did, his voice broached no argument. “I won’t put the Strada project at risk.”

  There was a collective, “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Eduardo addressed Zeno. “Should the subject arise, Claire Peyton is the United States Ambassador to San Rimini. As such, she has frequent interaction with the palace, with parliament, and with a number of San Rimini’s business
and charitable organizations. In her previous position as United States Ambassador to Uganda, she developed a reputation for effectiveness. We are fortunate to have her in San Rimini and expect that the media will see a great deal of her both in her public role and in social settings, just as they did Ambassador Cartwright.”

  Zeno made a note to himself. That settled, Eduardo asked Sergio to report on his group meetings regarding the Strada project. As expected, the Grand Prix organizers wanted a firm date for completion before lending their support, as well as a specific list of any proposed changes that could affect the course. The casino owners wanted to know about the availability of government financing due to the increased costs of changing their entrances during construction, should their primary entrances be inaccessible. The transportation minister had a question about routing buses around the area while work was being done, but praised the fact that the proposed changes would make it easier for police, fire, and ambulance services to respond to emergencies throughout the area.

  “The Central District Historical Society has provided a substantial list of concerns,” Sergio said. “We’re working through those point by point. Of all the stakeholders, they will take the longest to bring to consensus. I have experts meeting with them twice this week. I’ve also started to sow seeds in parliament so they know this is coming and understand that our intent is to submit a plan that has the backing of all the affected groups and a substantial amount of financial and safety research behind it.”

  Zeno jumped in. “For better or worse, that means the media is now aware of the proposal. A reporter left a message this morning to ask why Sergio met with the casino owners and whether it had to do with roadway construction. Sergio and I will work together on a statement so it’s ready for my press briefing. We want the media to convey the need for upgrades and that there is a well-crafted plan in place to protect the area’s business interests and its history as improvements are made.”

  “Good. Once the statement is ready, send me a copy so I have talking points.”

  Zeno nodded, then ran through several unrelated items for the week’s press briefings, including follow-up questions he predicted he would receive about Amanda’s due date. Luisa entered to refill the water pitcher and offer more coffee. Margaret Halaby gave reports on several royal charities and relayed a request that King Eduardo become patron of a new organization, one that had been created to identify and assist elderly or disabled citizens who lacked family support. “I drafted a brief with the essential information for your review,” she said. “I believe the organization is well structured both in terms of financials and their mission. If you are unable to act as patron, I would recommend either Prince Marco or Princess Isabella.”

  Eduardo tucked the information into a folder to take to his study while Margaret checked her phone for the final tally from Saturday night’s Royal Foundation fundraiser at the opera. Her staff had sent it moments before, which meant Zeno could use the information in his morning briefing and the king would have the figure should anyone inquire.

  They were nearly finished when Luisa opened the door. “Your Highness, Teodora Rossi’s car just entered the rear gate. She’s the new head of the San Riminian Cancer Council. Will you be ready in five minutes?”

  “We’re wrapping up now.”

  “Then I’ll escort her to the library. I’m told that she is engaged to her longtime partner and is to be married next month.”

  “Good to know. I’ll be there shortly.”

  Luisa often provided information he could use to relax his guests. Over the years, such tidbits had come in handy. He committed the information to memory and was halfway to the library when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and smiled at the number. Conscious of staff in adjacent rooms, he answered with a low, “Hello, Claire?”

  “Bad time?”

  “I’m walking to a meeting and have exactly three minutes.”

  “Same, but I’m in the car.” He heard the strain in her voice, though she tried to mask it. “I assume you’ve heard of a tabloid called Today’s Royals?”

  She quickly told him about an article the embassy’s Public Affairs Officer had spotted and gave an overview of the morning news reports, which avoided the innuendo of the tabloid. “He’s about to watch the daily press briefing from the palace to see what your press secretary says.”

  “He’s going to tell the truth,” Eduardo said, then repeated exactly what he’d told Zeno.

  “A reputation for effectiveness? I appreciate that.”

  Eduardo slowed his pace and lowered his voice as he entered the hallway where the library was located. “I’m used to dealing with the media, even with Today’s Royals, but this is uncharted territory for me.”

  “Just a moment,” she said. He heard her tell her driver to turn onto Via San Vito and stop near the guard station.

  “You’re going to parliament?” he asked when she came back on the line.

  “I have a meeting with Monica Barrata that was moved up from this afternoon. As you were saying?”

  “Uncharted territory.” He stopped walking. To his right, a row of windows overlooked the palace gardens. Out there, all seemed tranquil. “Claire, I want to keep seeing you.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder if that’s wise.”

  “You like me.”

  She laughed at his blunt statement. “That has nothing to do with wisdom.”

  “Come to La Rocca tonight and we can talk. Miroslav is on duty. I’ll send him to your residence to get you. He will be discreet.”

  Several seconds passed in silence. Eduardo’s throat tightened as he waited.

  “Claire? Are you there?”

  “Yes. Is ten too late? My street is quiet after nine.”

  Relief washed through him. “Done.”

  John’s words marinated in the back of Claire’s brain all day. During their lunch meeting, they’d brainstormed possible media questions about her night at the opera and drafted a slew of answers. In the end, they’d ditched them all in favor of having John sidestep when he could reasonably do so. Otherwise, he’d answer queries with language similar to what Zeno Amendola had used during the morning press briefing at the palace.

  By the time Claire followed Miroslav through the palace corridors and up the staircase that led to King Eduardo’s private apartment, past gilt-framed mirrors and portraits of past monarchs, she knew what she had to do.

  It tore at her heart, but John had been right when he’d confronted her in the break room. With Eduardo, a relationship needed to be all or nothing, and what were the odds a relationship with Eduardo would be forever? She didn’t have a good track record on that front. Her bare ring finger was evidence of that. Besides, there were major obstacles to leap before they could even get to serious, let alone permanent.

  And that was if they had enough time to date like normal human beings. She was a true believer in the notion that good relationships were built over time, during moments of laughter and late-night debates. During lazy vacations and shared tasks, during days of sorrow and joy, stress and exhilaration.

  Deep down, she knew she and Eduardo had the potential to build that kind of relationship. But she also knew the price they could each pay for a chance at it.

  Miroslav knocked on the king’s door, then punched a code into the entry pad without waiting for a response. Over his shoulder, he said. “His Highness asked that I let you in when you arrive.”

  She thanked him, then strode past Miroslav into the vestibule. The king was crossing the great room as she entered. He wore dress slacks, a white shirt, and polished shoes, but his tie was gone and he’d rolled back his sleeves to expose his forearms. The only light came from a lamp beside the sofa. A pair of reading glasses lay there on top of a notebook she guessed contained his daily briefing materials.

  One look at him and she wanted to be in his arms.

  Before temptation made her do something stupid, she said, “We need to end this. I didn’
t want to do it on the phone.”

  Eduardo’s eyes widened fractionally and his gaze swept past her. “Thank you, Miroslav, I’m set for the night.”

  “I’ll be available should you need me.”

  Claire’s face heated. She’d thought Miroslav had stayed in the hall. When the door closed, she said, “I’m sorry about that, Your Highness.”

  It was becoming quite the day for apologies. First with John, then with Eduardo. She probably owed Karen an apology somewhere in there, too.

  Eduardo approached slowly, pausing when he was within arm’s reach. “Which part?”

  “I should have made sure we were alone.”

  “First, I’m not often alone. Second, I trust Miroslav.”

  She started to speak, but he continued, “Third, now that we are alone, don’t call me Your Highness. I’d much prefer Eduardo. It throws off the balance between us if we’re to continue seeing each other. And fourth…you said something else when you walked in. I don’t believe I remember what it was.”

  Claire sighed. He was going to be charming and make this difficult. Having him stand so close was an added difficulty. “You know what I said.”

  His bright blue eyes filled with both appreciation and concern. “I know what you said. I’d hoped you’d changed your mind in the last thirty seconds.”

  “You’re making it very hard to do this.”

  “Good. It shouldn’t be easy. I don’t want to end this.”

  “We should.”

  He had the audacity to smile. “Were you hoping to do better than a king? If so, I’m not certain there are many options for you, even as brilliant and gorgeous and intriguing as you are.”

  “Please be serious. We’re courting disaster, Your Highness. The media won’t get easier. It’s putting the embassy’s press office under needless stress.”

  “It’s their job. You didn’t embezzle funds or cheat on your taxes, you went on a date. My guess is that they’re talented enough at what they do to turn any resulting publicity to the embassy’s advantage.”