The Italian's Runaway Princess

by Andrea Bolter

  “Luciana.” The king looked up from his audible pacing across his office floor.

  “Giovanni Grassi,” Gio introduced himself and hurried to meet the king face-to-face, thrusting out his hand for a proper handshake.

  King Mario merely looked at his hand and continued on his walking course.

  “Bow,” Luciana mouthed to Gio.

  Bow? Gio couldn’t believe such an antiquated custom was still used on this remote little island that, frankly, had no relevance on the world stage. He knew that bowing to royalty was protocol in formal settings, but he somehow expected a man-to-man shake would be more appropriate to this private meeting.

  The king returned to his paces.

  It was with a grinding of his teeth that Gio bowed his head. “It’s a great honor to meet you, sir.”

  He wasn’t sure if sir was an acceptable address, but Gio was doing the best he could.

  King Mario sized him up, his approval or disapproval impossible to read.

  Gio decided to forge ahead with a preemptive, “Your Highness, I do apologize that our acquaintance begins so unusually. After I received the intelligence that you were unwilling to meet with me, I took a bold action in conferencing with the princess.”

  The king finally stopped his pacing and stood facing Gio, crossing his arms over his chest. “Indeed.”

  “I hope that when I, when we—” Gio gestured to Luciana, who stood beside him “—fully explain our proposal, you’ll agree that the plan benefits all concerned.”

  “So, you and my daughter have already mapped out the future of Izerote? Mr. Grassi, you’ve known of the existence of this island for exactly how long?”

  “A week, Your Highness. Please allow me to explain.”

  King Mario said nothing, merely nodding his head once. Princess Luciana straightened her spine and made herself taller, which Gio took as a positive sign of her willingness to stand up to her father.

  Fortunately, from the minute Gio had had this idea, he’d been compiling scores of information. As he talked of his plan to bring the manufacturing of his biometrics to Izerote, he was able to emphasize Grasstech’s eco-friendly practices that Luciana had told him were very important to her father. They were the sticking point that had caused him to reject other propositions in the past for enterprise on the island.

  The strategy appeared to be working because King Mario listened attentively. “And depending on your preferences, if you so choose we could operate the factories on a twenty-four-hour cycle, with three sets of staff working eight-hour shifts, allowing us to employ thousands of your citizens.”

  “Not to mention that Gio will be able to bring the highest level of technology into our homes and throughout all the other businesses on the island,” Luciana chimed in.

  “At my expense, sir. We’d seek to modernize Izerote on a full scale.”

  Luciana surprised Gio by taking his hand. Which felt so right, Gio’s chest swelled.

  King Mario took note of the hand-holding.

  The act was a declaration of independence that was difficult for her father. Just the same, Gio was proud of his beloved for doing it.

  “I suppose you two have got all of that figured out, as well,” the king stated flatly as he gestured to their hands in each other’s.

  “We do.”

  “I love Gio, Father. I knew it from the moment I met him.”

  “Your Highness, I will admit that I’m an informal man. My employees address me by my first name. Most of the time I’m wearing a pair of jeans and sipping a cappuccino as I hover over a computer.” Although he had donned his finest dark blue Savile Row suit to meet the king today.

  Luciana smiled at the comment about the jeans. Gio’s mind paraded back to their time in Florence when Luci had first bought the pairs of baggy jeans that she was so thrilled to wear while they took in the sights.

  He and his love locked eyes, making the world disappear. With her gazing at him like that, the affection and closeness they’d come to share, Gio could conquer the world.

  “I’m well aware that as a commoner, sir, I have a lot to learn about palace etiquette. Therefore, again I beg your forgiveness if I’m not following royal decorum when I ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  “You are already engaged.” King Mario’s glare could shatter glass.

  “To a man that I don’t love.”

  “Perhaps you will in time, child.”

  “I’m not a child and I could never love King Agustin. Because I love Gio and there would never be any room in my heart to love another. Father, I know that you and Mother didn’t have the kind of romantic love that only the lucky few are destined for. But I’ve been chosen. Don’t you think that brings its own duty? Even though you didn’t have it, don’t you want that for me? I believe my mother would have.”

  The king’s face transformed dramatically, morphing into one of a much softer man, changing into a loving father.

  “I know this is a lot to take in all at once, Father. May we please sit down together?” She pointed to the dark wood conference table and chairs in front of the bay windows. “We want to tell you so much more about our plan for Grasstech on Izerote.”

  An hour later, Gio didn’t know whether King Mario had admitted defeat or had been simply won over by his and Luciana’s enthusiasm. There had been enough of the occasional half smiles and several nods indicating his comprehension of the plan that Gio was satisfied. He wanted to conclude the meeting while things were still going well.

  Just one more part of the endeavor needed to be outlined. “King, there’s a final matter we need to discuss.”

  * * *

  “How do I look?” Gio buttoned his jacket and modeled for Luciana as they prepared for the public address.

  She lifted up on tiptoe to give her handsome fiancé a kiss on his mouth before she applied her lipstick. “My love, you look as fine in your bespoke suits as you would in a tuxedo or in swim trunks.” And added with a wink, “Or in nothing at all.”

  “I can’t believe how nervous I am. I’ve spoken in public many times before.”

  “It’s the palace balcony bit. Intimidates the best of us.”

  Allowing a royal dresser to approve them as they passed through the corridor, the princess and her soon-to-be husband were escorted to the inner chamber that led to the official balcony. Luciana could hear the murmur of the citizens on the grounds below. It was a din she’d heard often enough to be able to estimate that it was a packed crowd with most of Izerote in attendance.

  She had to admit to some jitters herself, as she generally appeared beside her father as a porcelain doll who merely waved and rarely spoke. Today, she had a lot to tell her subjects.

  King Mario joined them and they were announced as His Royal Highness King Mario de la Isla de Izerote, Her Royal Highness Princess Luciana and honored guest Mr. Giovanni Grassi of Florence.

  Gio looked to Luciana for instruction, and she pointed for him to step out onto the balcony. The crowd below stretched as far as the eyes could see. With the palace grounds not able to hold the mass, people stood all the way back to the entrance lawn in order to get a glimpse of the royal family when they took to the balcony. Their appearance was met with loyal applause and cheers.

  Luciana peered down to the people and worked to spot individual faces in the crowds. A young father held his toddler up on his shoulders, the boy’s arms wrapped around his neck. Teenaged girls looked up to Luciana with palpable admiration. An older couple linked arms.

  Truly, Luciana loved Izerote. The untamed natural beauty. The cordiality and goodness of its people. She slanted her eyes sideways to steal a glance at Gio. With this man by her side, she could do her duty to these citizens. As a pair they would not only change the island for the benefit of these deserving people, they’d leave a future of stewardship and prosperity for genera
tions to come. Luciana again focused on the little boy atop his father’s shoulders in the crowd.

  “Princess.” King Mario leaned in to speak only to his daughter. “You’ve forced me to see how much my own fear has suffocated you. I love you, daughter. You’ve become a wise woman. You’ll make a fine queen someday.”

  “I love you, too. Dad.” The corners of both of their mouths tipped up in a private almost smile that they alone shared.

  King Mario then thrust his shoulders back and faced his subjects.

  “Thank you, citizens of Izerote, for joining us today,” he spoke through the standing microphone placed on the balcony. The crowd cheered. The king explained the arrangement he’d made with Grasstech to create jobs and futures for the island’s population. He invited Gio to speak.

  “My father began Grasstech forty years ago,” he began, “at a time when computer technology was ancient compared with what it is today. He founded the company with the command to his employees to think deep, to think wide, to think far outside of the box. King Mario has told you a bit about what we plan to do here in Izerote. But, in reality, that is only the beginning. We don’t yet know how high we can fly, how fast we can soar. I can hardly wait for us, together, to find out.”

  The throng roared with approval. Luciana filled with pride at Gio’s inspiring words.

  Now it was her turn to stand in front of the microphone. She peeked over to Gio, then took her place in the center of the balcony, righteous and strong.

  “I am pleased to see so many children here.” She pointed to six or so in her sight. “Because any actions we take today affect them tomorrow. Gio has outlined our plans to bring living wages and enduring jobs to our people. As parents, and as future parents, we understand that in order for us to be successful in our work, we need to know that our children are being meaningfully looked after. That’s why I’m pleased to announce the formation of the Luci Foundation, a new initiative that will create free, quality child care for our youngest citizens until they are old enough to go to school.”

  Many in the audience applauded, especially the women.

  Luciana bowed her head to her father, who, after she and Gio laid out their intentions for this element of the plan, had consented.

  “In addition to devoting myself to you as a monarch,” she continued, “it has always been my own personal dream to work with young children. To help parents raise confident, happy, creative and secure children who will grow into the big-thinking adults Gio just spoke of. I ask you today to support me in my quest. I would like to continue my education to earn an advanced degree in early childhood education so that I can lead the Luci Foundation with experience and expertise, and work together with you to bring Izerote the progress and prosperity I know we can achieve.”

  Her speech was met with ovations of endorsement.

  In reality, Luciana had always known that her father was wrong when he insisted that the citizens of the island did not want advancement and modernization. It was only he who feared it. The protective king didn’t want to put his people, or his daughter, in danger and thought that by keeping them sheltered and separate he could better safeguard them.

  She and Gio would teach him. Slowly, in a way that was comfortable to him.

  Her lovely Gio had already broken the ice when after the meeting in the king’s office yesterday, the conversation turned friendly and Gio taught his future father-in-law how to check the weather and the world’s stock markets on his smartphone.

  King Mario handed something to Gio, who nodded knowingly. She’d spied them having a private tête-à-tête this morning but didn’t know what the topic was.

  His Royal Highness moved to the microphone. “Our family has another announcement to make. Princess Luciana has made a change in her personal plans. She will not be marrying King Agustin de la Isla de Menocita. I spoke with the king this morning and he wishes everyone on our island peace and prosperity in the future.”

  A hush of shock swept across the gathering. Luciana swallowed hard, knowing that she was perhaps disappointing people with this news. She was compelled to take over the microphone from her father and speak candidly.

  “Are any of you in love?” she asked her subjects. Bellows and yelps came from different areas of the grounds. Couples kissed. Others smiled. “I hope you’ll agree that there’s no predicting love. Quite unexpectedly, I have fallen in love. To a man I wish to marry. Although he is a commoner, I hope that you will accept him and learn to love him as much as I do. Together, we will earn your trust. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Giovanni Grassi is not only the genius mind who will help us take our island into the next generation and beyond, he is also the man I will marry and bear children with.”

  Gio stepped forward and opened his hand. It held Luciana’s great-grandmother’s wedding ring. She remembered the family stories about Esmerelda being the only one in her lineage who fell in love with her husband after an arranged marriage.

  Luciana mouthed Thank you to her father.

  Her fiancé placed the ring on her finger.

  The princess took his hand in her left and her father’s in her right. The three faced the crowd, who went wild with well-wishes.

  Gio and Luciana had their first official kiss as an engaged couple, which was welcomed with resounding cheers that echoed all the way to the blue skies above.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Andrea Bolter

  Her Las Vegas Wedding

  Her New York Billionaire

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from English Lord on Her Doorstep by Marion Lennox.

  English Lord on Her Doorstep

  by Marion Lennox

  CHAPTER ONE

  BRYN THOMAS MORGAN, Twelfth Baron Carlisle, Peer of the Realm, thought his week couldn’t get worse. It could.

  It said a lot for his state of mind—weary, horrified and disgusted—that while he searched in the rain and the dark to find the dog he’d just hit, his head was already rescheduling.

  If the dog was dead, he’d take it to the local police station, explain how he’d hit it on a blind curve and let the locals look after their own.

  His plane back to London was leaving in three hours and he had a two-hour drive in front of him. He had time to scrape a dead dog from the road and catch his flight.

  But when he finally found the soggy heap of fur that had been thrown into the undergrowth, the dog was alive.

  Despite being hit by an Italian supercar?

  Twenty years ago, when he was a boy learning to drive the estate’s four-by-four across the vast estates of Ballystone Hall, his father had told him never to swerve for an animal. ‘You’ll lose control,’ he’d told him. ‘Animals can usually judge distance and speed. If you swerve, they’re more likely to be hit, not less, and there’s a possibility you’ll kill yourself, too.’

  But this hadn’t been a farm-vehicle-savvy calf, darting back to the herd, or a startled but nimble deer. This dog was a trudger: a dirty white, mid-sized mutt. It had been square in the centre of the country road, head down, looking almost as if a car coming around the bend would be doing it a favour by hitting it.

  So of course Bryn had swerved, but the road was rain-washed and narrow. There hadn’t been time or space to avoid it. Now it lay on the grass at the roadside, its hind leg bloody, its brown eyes a pool of pain and misery.

  Bryn stooped over it and those eyes were saying, ‘Kill me now.’

  ‘You didn’t think of taking pills,’ Bryn said, but he said it gently. He liked dogs. He missed them.

  But the dogs at home were currently being cared for by his mother and by the farm staff who valued them as they deserved. Not like this one. This dog looked as if it had been doing it tough for a while.

  What to do?

  He was trying
to beat a storm that threatened to close the country down for a couple of days. A line-up of lawyers was waiting to meet him in London. He needed to get away from this mess and get back to Ballystone Hall, to the farm, to the cattle, to the work that filled his life. He also needed to finally accept the title he hated, and he still wasn’t sure how to do that. The dreariness of the last months had hauled him close to the blackness he’d fought ever since...

  No. Don’t go there. Focus on getting on that flight.

  But there was a dog. A bitch. Lying on the road. Bleeding.

  It was a twenty-minute drive back to the last town. It was twenty-five minutes to the next.

  It was eight o’clock at night.

  The dog was looking at him as if she was expecting him to wield an axe.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he told her, fondling the bedraggled ears. Forcing himself to think.

  This was farming country, west of Melbourne. Where there were farms, there’d be a vet. He could ring ahead to warn he was coming, and pay whatever was needed to pass over the responsibility of taking care of her wounds and finding her owner.

  But first he had to get her off the road. It was raining already and the distant rumbling of thunder threatened more.

  The dog was bleeding. Blood was oozing rather than spurting, but it was enough to be worrying. He needed towels.

  He was travelling light and a towel wasn’t included in the sparse gear he carried. He was in Australia to try and distance his name from his uncle’s financial mess. The debt collection agency was due to collect this car from the airport’s valet parking tomorrow. It’d be a great look if they found it smeared with blood, he thought. That’d add even more drama to the mess that was his uncle’s life.

  ‘A pill would definitely have been easier,’ he muttered to the dog, but he was already shrugging off his jacket, figuring how to edge it underneath so he could carry her. Then he headed back to the car to find a spare shirt to wrap the leg.

  ‘Okay, dog, hopefully it’s only your leg that’s damaged,’ he told her as he worked. ‘I’ll ring ahead to the next town and have the vet meet me. Let’s get you safe and warm before the eye of this storm hits. I might need to break the odd speed limit but I can still catch my plane.’