Ignoring the pout on Marguerite’s lips, Stefano nudged Alora toward the director. As expected, the museum director approached as soon as he saw them.
“Your Highness. I’m so glad you were able to come.”
“Thank you, Pierre.” Stefano motioned to Alora. “This is Alora DeSanto. Alora, Pierre Dumond is the director of the museum.”
Some of Alora’s nerves seemed to ease as she shook Pierre’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I believe we spoke earlier today on the phone about a painting I wanted to acquire for the chateau.”
“Oh, of course.” He smiled more fully. “It’s nice to be able to match the name to the face.”
“Yes, it is.” Alora glanced at the artwork on display around the room. “You certainly did a wonderful job on the exhibit. It is very impressive.”
“Thank you.” Pierre’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I hope you enjoy yourselves.”
“I’m sure we will.” Stefano shook his hand before moving on to make the next set of introductions.
As they worked their way around the room, Alora seemed content to stay on the fringes of the conversations taking place around her, as though she were afraid she might say something wrong. Outwardly her posture and manners were polished, despite the nerves that seemed to be thrumming just beneath the surface. As the evening wore on, Stefano found himself wondering if perhaps she too had been trained for social events such as this.
After more than two hours of constant conversation and a second confrontation with Marguerite, Stefano leaned down and spoke softly in her ear. “Are you about ready to go?”
She gave him a subtle nod, and a short time later his guards escorted them out the rear entrance so they could avoid the press.
“Was it as bad as you thought it would be?” Stefano asked as he settled back onto the seat beside her.
“Actually, no.” Alora smiled up at him. “Thank you for asking me to come. I had forgotten how nice it is to talk to adults without having children constantly interrupting.”
“It was truly my pleasure.”
“And thank you for reading to my boys tonight. They have become quite fond of you.”
“I have to admit, I have enjoyed having them around.” He shifted to face her more fully. “I didn’t realize you and your children speak English.”
“The boys are still learning, especially Dante. He hasn’t had as much exposure to the language as Giancarlo.”
His eyebrows lifted inquisitively. “Oh?”
Alora’s eyes darkened, and she hesitated as though she had said too much. She took a steadying breath, and her voice was thick with emotion when she spoke. “My husband was American. It was his idea to read them stories in different languages so they would be able to communicate with their different family members.” She looked down and spoke quietly. “Dante was just a baby when Carlo died.”
“I’m sorry.” He reached for her hand. “Do you mind me asking how he died?”
“It was a house fire.” She glanced out the window, and Stefano guessed she was fighting back her emotions. Then she looked back at him with an expression of vulnerability that pulled at him. “It’s hard knowing that Dante doesn’t remember his father, but in a lot of ways, it’s been easier on him than on Giancarlo.”
“What do you mean?”
“Giancarlo wanted to stay home with Carlo the day of the fire. He wasn’t quite three yet, but he remembers coming home to find nothing left, to find out from the police that his father hadn’t survived.” Alora let out a little sigh. “I think this move has been good for him though. He hasn’t had a single nightmare since we got here.”
Stefano rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as he considered what she must have suffered. His voice was soothing as he said simply, “Such a young child shouldn’t be haunted by nightmares.”
“I agree,” Alora said softly. “No one should.”
* * *
“This is a potential nightmare,” Janessa said as she read the papers in her hand. Only ten minutes ago she had been saying good-bye to her sister, brother-in-law, and baby niece and felt like everything was right with her world. Then a courier from the CIA had arrived and had succeeded in shocking her back to reality. “Garrett, you need to take a look at this.”
“What is it?” Garrett shifted in the seat that he typically used to work from when he was on his father’s jet.
“The CIA believes that Hector Ambrose is in Meridia.” Janessa managed to keep her voice steady, but her stomach twisted uncomfortably.
Garrett reached out and took the report from Janessa. He skimmed through the first few pages, and his jaw clenched. Ambrose was suspected in nearly a dozen bombings, but no one had ever been able to get a jury to convict him. “How confident is Director Palmer in this intel?”
“Apparently the CIA has confirmed that Ambrose is currently living in Medina. He is the one person suspected of being involved in planning the bombing of the U.S.S. Kohl who wasn’t convicted.”
“Medina is only thirty miles from Bellamo.” Garrett’s voice was tight. “Do you think he’s planning a similar attack at our naval base?”
“It’s possible.” Janessa shrugged. “This information is a courtesy so your family is aware of the potential threat, but they don’t know if Ambrose might be targeting the U.S. base or something else in Meridia. All they know is he is living in Medina.”
“Theoretically, he could just be hiding out there.”
“I doubt it.” Janessa shook her head. “Director Palmer mentioned last week that they’ve been picking up a lot of chatter in the region. That makes me think he’s involved in something.”
“It sounds like we should have him picked up and deported before it’s too late.”
“We might want to wait on that.” Janessa sat down beside him. “The CIA has offered to send over a few operatives to help track him. The U.S. government is also planning on sending over another complement of Marines to help guard the naval base during construction.”
“What does that have to do with anything? If a terrorist is in Meridia, he poses a potential threat to our citizens. We can’t just ignore the fact that he’s there.”
“I agree, but if you get rid of the bomb maker, whoever hired him will likely go hire someone else. We need to know who he’s working for and make sure we get everyone involved,” Janessa said gently. “Besides, no one is exactly sure where Ambrose is staying. We only know he’s been seen in Medina. I think the CIA would also appreciate the chance to identify his target.”
“I would think the target would be obvious.”
“Not necessarily.” Janessa shook her head. “Meridia is 99 percent Christian. One hypothesis is that an attack may occur against the citizens of Meridia, possibly some kind of religious target.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Garrett shook his head, clearly hoping and praying that this hypothesis was unfounded. “Meridia is a small country and only a minor part of the war on terrorism.”
“Yes, but your naval forces have nearly doubled over the past decade.” Janessa motioned to the report. “The fact that your country has become a significant supplier of oil at a time when the Middle East has faced so much unrest would also put Meridia on the radar, especially since your main customers are western Europe and the United States.”
“That may be true to some extent, but since my father has prohibited offshore drilling, we don’t expect our oil production to change significantly any time soon,” Garrett commented. “We aren’t any more of a player than we were five or ten years ago.”
“At this point, we have no way of knowing if the person behind this is motivated by profit, power, or hatred. According to this report, Ambrose will make anyone a bomb for a price. Until we figure out who’s paying him to be in Meridia, we aren’t going to be able to identify the potential targets. For now, it’s best to be prepared for anything.”
Garrett considered for a moment. “I’ll talk to my father about allowing your CIA friends
to track him, but I don’t think he’s going to be willing to let Ambrose operate in our backyard for long.”
“Believe me, everyone will be relieved to see him behind bars. We just need to find a reason to put him there.”
Chapter 19
Stefano put his laptop down on a small table situated on his balcony and then sat on a cushioned wicker chair. A thin layer of clouds scattered the sun’s early rays, and a light breeze brought some relief from the already warm temperatures. Stefano looked out over the horizon as his computer warmed up, and he thought of the night before.
After Alora’s initial reaction when he’d asked her to be his date, he had expected her to be out of her element as they socialized with many of the region’s most prominent citizens. He had sensed her nerves throughout the evening, and she had been somewhat withdrawn, but he doubted that many of the other attendees had noticed her discomfort.
Though he typically didn’t bother looking at the social pages, today he tapped on his computer keyboard until he found the first of many articles about the exhibit from the night before. As expected, a photograph of Alora and him filled up most of the screen.
Stefano indulged his curiosity and skimmed several articles. The press didn’t offer any information about Alora except for her name. One even dubbed her Prince Stefano’s mystery woman because of the lack of background information available on her. He supposed there was some accuracy to the statement. After all, he didn’t know much about her either except that she was a dedicated, caring mother and a trusted friend to Janessa.
It was easy to see why the two women were friends. They were both genuine and kind and tended to look for the good in everything around them. The fact that Alora had lost her husband so suddenly without becoming bitter was a miracle in itself, but even more amazing was how she had helped him look past his own situation. It wasn’t until he was alone in his room last night that he had remembered his future wasn’t what everyone thought it to be.
A knock sounded at his door, and Stefano called out, “Come in.”
Martino entered the sitting room and then crossed to the balcony, where Stefano was still sitting. “Good morning, Your Highness. I have some paperwork that needs your attention if you have a moment.”
“What is it?”
“The approval forms for Signorina Rogers’ new assistant.” Martino handed him the single folder he carried.
“Thank you, Martino. I’ll take a look at it and get it back to you this afternoon.”
“Very good, sir.” Martino bowed and then turned and left the way he had come.
Casually, Stefano opened the file. He flipped past the standard employment forms until he reached the routine background check. He expected a basic work summary and perhaps a quick background on Alora’s family. Instead, he found himself staring down at a photograph of Alora’s late husband. He flipped past the photo of the dark-haired man with the crooked grin to find the report on the fire that had claimed Carlo DeSanto’s life.
His stomach clutched when he realized the fire hadn’t been an accident as he had assumed. Alora’s husband had died when a bomb had detonated at his house. He read further, his jaw dropping when he discovered that Alora’s parents, her older brother, and her in-laws had also died in the explosion.
A glance at the financial records revealed why Alora had shown up with so few belongings. Not only had she lost everything she owned in the fire, but she had also been forced to sell her childhood home when she was unable to pay off the mortgage. Left with only the proceeds of a modest life insurance policy, Alora had opted to live frugally so she could stay home with her children.
When he noticed her previous work experience, he looked up and stared once more at the horizon. Perhaps Alora and Janessa had even more in common than he’d thought.
* * *
Alora walked into her living room, her eyes immediately drawn to the children’s book resting on the coffee table. Prince Stefano had been so kind to her the night before, first spending time with her children and then allowing her to talk about the loss of her husband in a way that hadn’t made her feel self-conscious. She hadn’t told him everything, of course. Some things could never be spoken of, but for the first time since that dreadful day, she felt a weight easing off her shoulders.
Even their time at the exhibit had been more enjoyable than she had expected. She had been admittedly nervous at first, especially when she had seen all the photographers and reporters outside the museum, but Prince Stefano had stayed by her side, and she had drawn comfort from his presence.
She wondered if any of the photographs taken of them the night before had made it into the local newspapers, and she was torn on whether she should let the evening fade into memory or if she should try to search out a souvenir of her night out with royalty. Since she didn’t have a computer of her own, she couldn’t take the easy route and do an Internet search, but she might be able to pick up a newspaper when she went into town later.
She couldn’t say why she wanted a memento of the night. Perhaps it was her lack of photos from her past that made her want to have something to hold on to. Except for the few photos she had salvaged from her parents’ house, all of her old scrapbooks had been lost in the fire.
A sigh escaped her. She knew from Janessa that Prince Stefano typically lived in Calene and that their night out was likely a one-time event, but the fact remained that he had opened her eyes to possibilities she hadn’t previously wanted to consider.
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the prince had made her feel again. He made her want things she had never thought possible. Carlo was gone, but maybe someday she would find a man who could love her children enough to want to take the time to sit down and read bedtime stories or take them for a walk on the beach. Maybe she could even find someone she could love who would remind her that there was life outside of her sons’ little world.
“Good morning, Mama,” Giancarlo said from his bedroom doorway. He balled up his hands and rubbed at his eyes as he crossed to her.
“Good morning.” Alora motioned for him to join her on the couch. She smiled when he snuggled onto her lap, his body still heavy from sleep. “Were you and your brother good for Brenna last night?”
“Yes, Mama.” Giancarlo nodded and then burrowed his head just beneath her chin. “Brenna said we can have ice cream after lunch today because we were so good.”
A smile crept across her face. “She did, did she?”
“Uh huh.”
Alora heard a knock, but before she could move, Dante raced into the room and headed straight for the door. “I’ll get it!”
“Okay.” She turned her head, expecting to see Brenna standing in the hall. To her surprise, Prince Stefano filled the doorway. Her eyes lowered to the clutch of yellow roses in his hand, and her heartbeat quickened.
His eyes turned dark and unreadable as he stared at her. She started to rise despite the weight of Giancarlo on her lap, but he motioned for her to stay seated. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Of course not. Please come in.”
“We were good last night, and we get ice cream,” Dante announced as Prince Stefano stepped over the threshold.
“Were you, now?” Though there was a touch of humor in his voice, his expression remained serious. “Well, I was going to give these to your mom as a thank you present for coming with me last night, but maybe I should give them to you and your brother instead.”
“Nah.” Dante shook his head. “Flowers are for girls.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I guess they are.”
Alora smiled as Giancarlo finally shifted off her. She stood up and stepped toward Prince Stefano. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“You’re welcome.” He handed the blooms to her and then linked his hands together, watching her intently as she walked into the kitchen and retrieved a vase. When she set the flowers on the kitchen counter, he continued, “I wanted to let you know the painters have arrived. I th
ought perhaps you and the boys would like to go into town for some breakfast, and we could do some shopping afterward.”
“Can we, Mama?” Dante grabbed at her hand and bounced up and down.
Alora looked at Stefano hesitantly. “Are you sure you want to brave going into town with these two?”
“I am certain that Giancarlo and Dante will be perfect gentlemen.” Prince Stefano looked expectantly at the boys, who both nodded in agreement.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” She motioned her boys to their bedroom. “Let me help them find something to wear. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
When she emerged from the boys’ room a minute later, he was sitting on the couch holding the book he had read to the children the night before.
“They should be ready in just a minute.”
“There’s no hurry.” He held up the book. “You mentioned that you’re teaching the boys both English and French?”
“I’m trying.” Alora nodded. “We’ve been working more on English since I need the practice too, and I don’t want Giancarlo to lose what he already knows.”
“I was just thinking that you might want to mention to Patrice that your boys speak some French. She taught me more of the language than my tutors ever did.”
“Really?”
“It’s amazing how much you pick up when someone’s yelling at you while holding a frying pan.”
Alora’s laughter rang out. “I can imagine.”
* * *
Stefano fell into step beside Alora as they strolled down the sidewalk in the main shopping district in Bellamo. A few enterprising photographers followed behind them, snapping photographs, and a few pedestrians greeted him as they passed. Stefano responded automatically, but his attention was on the woman beside him.
Alora seemed content to walk aimlessly down the street, although she kept Dante’s hand firmly in hers while Giancarlo trotted along in front of them. They stopped occasionally to look through the windows, but Stefano was surprised that the boys never asked to go inside any of the stores, nor did they ask their mother to buy them anything.
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