“Remind our parents of that, will you?”
“Like they listen to me.” Stefano opened the door to the long gallery and wished Massimo a good day. Before the door closed behind him, he paused and popped his head back inside.
“Yes?” Massimo asked.
“You know, if you really want Mother to ease up on you, why not have dinner with her one of these nights when she’s not busy? Ask her about her projects. It’ll show her you’re interested and it might give you some ideas of your own.”
“I can do that.” Besides, the queen looked like she could use some attention. “Think the same thing would work with our father?”
“Guess you could try. But I wouldn’t.” Stefano’s laughter echoed through the door after it closed behind him, which made Massimo smile to himself. No, dinner alone with their father wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world. Though King Carlo was popular, he wasn’t an easy man to know one on one, even with members of his own family. He did best in a crowd, perhaps because he’d been surrounded by them from birth.
Massimo moved back to the coffee table and dropped the brief he’d been reading on top of the stack. He’d found himself more interested in the economic update than he’d imagined. Learning about the positive changes that had taken place in Sarcaccia during his absence made him remember what the country meant to him. If he read through a few more briefs and started attending state functions as his parents had encouraged him to do, perhaps his purpose would find him.
It certainly wouldn’t find him if he hid out in his apartment.
He dialed Vittorio’s assistant and asked her to contact Queen Fabrizia’s office to arrange dinner at her convenience, and then to schedule interviews with the decorators she’d indicated as her top two choices. After that, he sent a message to Sophia asking her to let him know when she found a stylist so he could get started as soon as possible. It felt like the most roundabout way possible to accomplish his goals, but it was the nature of his family.
Plus, the more items he knocked off his mother’s list, the faster he could get on to real business and stop thinking about Kelly.
As if on cue, a knock sounded at his door. When he called out that it was open, Kelly entered. She held a measuring tape and a pen in her hand and cradled a light blue notebook in her arm.
“You ready for me?”
Ready as he’d ever be. “Come on in.”
* * *
Kelly had fully intended to make her phone calls upon settling into her suite of rooms. At least, that was the plan until she’d stepped through the door. Soaring white ceilings graced with antique crystal chandeliers drew her eye upward while shining hardwood topped with modern rugs in shades of beige, charcoal, and sage fought to pull her attention to floor level. As in Massimo’s apartment, a large fireplace served as a focal point. However, where Massimo’s apartment was dark, this room was light and bright. Diaphanous curtains fronted the windows, plush linen-colored sofas invited one to sit and relax, and paintings of water scenes reminiscent of Monet graced the walls. The windows afforded the apartment’s occupants a garden view almost as beautiful as the one Massimo enjoyed.
All in all, it was one of the most restful, clean, and inviting rooms Kelly had ever seen, yet the majestic scale of the furnishings and lighting meant its style fit well into the palace as a whole.
And she’d thought her villa was the most beautiful place on the entire island. Even without an ocean view, this apartment made the villa look ordinary.
Adriana, the head housekeeper, showed Kelly around with all the deference one would show to an ambassador or head of state. Finally Kelly pleaded with the woman to call her by her first name, saying she was only an employee, and a temporary one at that as she was here to remodel Massimo’s closet.
Adriana’s expression resembled what might happen if she’d swallowed a bug, though she quickly masked it.
Kelly couldn’t help but grin. “Not what you were expecting?”
In her gentle accent, Adriana said, “I admit, I assumed you were here for the Independence Day events. However, I still prefer to call you Ms. Chase.”
A thought occurred to her. “Guests aren’t typically in rooms like this, are they? Let alone employees.”
“Guests reside in whichever rooms the royal family feels would best suit.”
“But not here.”
“No,” Adriana conceded after a moment’s hesitation. “Not here. But Prince Stefano only recently vacated these rooms and all the guest rooms are full with Independence Day guests, so it was a logical spot for you to stay. I do hope this will be fine, regardless? I’m afraid we are rather limited—”
She thought it was a problem? “No, no, it’s more than fine. It’s amazing. Thank you very much.”
Adriana nodded, then proceeded to show Kelly the location of a small but updated kitchen, a phone that would connect her to housekeeping should she need anything, and then to the apartment’s spacious bedroom and bathroom. In a layout that was similar to Massimo’s bedroom, it boasted a gigantic walk-in closet. On the other side of the bedroom was a door Adriana explained would take Kelly to the garden. “If you do go out, be sure to take the key card with you and lock the door behind you for security,” she said, showing her the key’s location in the bedside drawer. “If you need anything at all, please feel free to call. Maria is the housekeeper in charge of these rooms and she’ll be happy to provide you with any linens, pillows, or other needs. Also, the computer in the main room is free for your use. The login directions are on a card inside the desk.”
“That’s fantastic.” Not only could she use the computer to pull up design photos to show Massimo, she’d be able to confirm her tours and research other spots she might want to visit while in Sarcaccia. “Thank you, again, Adriana. And please thank Maria for me in advance.”
Once Adriana had gone, Kelly took a moment to sit on the sofa and breathe. Other than the few minutes she’d had in Massimo’s bathroom this morning, it was the first time she’d been alone since she’d met him on the beach yesterday. She sank into the soft, welcoming cushions, and wondered at how different this apartment was from Massimo’s, despite having a near-identical floor plan and the same basic architecture. Where Massimo’s rooms were dark and foreboding, Stefano’s were light and welcoming. Next thing she knew, the alarm on her cell phone pinged her from a deep sleep, indicating that she only had fifteen minutes before her appointment with Massimo.
Which meant when she knocked on his door, she’d made no calls. She was no closer to recouping her money from Ted, had no preliminary sketches for Massimo’s closet, and hadn’t logged on to the computer to pull up any photos to show him. She’d had to race simply to brush her teeth and gather the necessary items to measure out his closet space.
His voice came from the other side of the door, inviting her in as casually as if she walked in and out of palace rooms every day. His palace rooms.
Cautiously, she poked her head inside. “You ready for me?”
“Come on in.” He waved her over to where he stood near the coffee table. Official-looking documents filled the space where they’d eaten a few hours earlier. “I’m getting caught up on leisure reading.”
“I see that.” How he’d managed to stay awake after such a long night was beyond her. The drained coffee mug at the corner of the table wouldn’t have kept her alert enough to muddle through the volume of paperwork he seemed to be tackling. Yet he looked robust and energetic, as if he’d gotten his second wind, and the skin of his cheeks appeared bronzed with hints of pink. “Were you outside?”
“I was. Have a seat and we’ll get down to business.” He indicated the sofa opposite the one he chose. More than the physical space he created between them, however, was the distance with which he spoke. If an observer were to see them, they’d think Massimo was an acquaintance meeting her for a specific business purpose. Polite, friendly, but emotionally detached.
For the next half hour, they discussed the details
of how she handled a closet redesign from beginning to end. He asked insightful questions, offered a few opinions on materials, and handed her a general list of the closet’s contents and what he knew offhand could be donated or thrown away. She wrapped up her introductory questions by asking about his typical day, what types of clothes he’d wear most often, how frequently he traveled and would need access to suitcases or other gear.
“I’ll have a better idea of how much hanging space I’ll need for suits or slacks once I hire a stylist,” he said. “I imagine it’ll be significant, though, based on what my brothers have.”
“My designs allow for flexibility.” She drew him a quick picture as she spoke. “I’m a fan of moveable rods and shelving so as your needs change, you can alter the closet’s arrangement without going back to the drawing board. You want it to work for you for the rest of your time in the apartment.”
“That makes sense.” He gave her sketch a quick once-over. “So what’s next?”
“I want to take some measurements so I have a better idea of layout options, then I can get to work.” She thought he’d join her as she went to measure the closet, but as she stood and turned in that direction, he remained near the coffee table.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said when she looked back. “The carpenter will be here any minute to talk over plans with you.”
“You don’t want to walk through some ideas?”
He shook his head. “Use your best judgment. Keep a list of questions for me as they arise. If you need access to the apartment and no one answers your knock, feel free to simply enter as if you were a member of the housekeeping staff. You have free rein as far as I’m concerned. I don’t have an opinion on things like, say, what color paint you use or what type of flooring is in there. If it fits with the look of the palace as a whole, I’m fine.”
“Even if I think that’s hot pink?” she teased.
His shrug was practically dismissive. “You wouldn’t do that or I wouldn’t have hired you.”
Disappointment welled in her, but she tamped it back. Keeping a professional distance was for the best, wasn’t it? “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You’ve earned it. Speaking of which, before I forget” —he shuffled through the stack of papers on the coffee table and withdrew an envelope— “here’s half the payment for your work. If you need a larger portion to cover materials, let me know. If you’re agreeable, I can pay the next quarter when you’re halfway through, then make the final payment when the project is complete.”
His fingers brushed hers as he handed her the envelope, but he showed no more emotion than a child would when handing a paper to a teacher. “I’m sure it’s plenty,” she assured him. “And the payment schedule is fine.”
“Good. Then I think we’re set. And please, take your tours or explore the town as you wish. Adriana explained how to go through security so you can get in and out?”
At Kelly’s nod of confirmation, he added, “You’re not on the clock. As long as the closet is finished before you have to return to the States, I’ll be satisfied.”
With that, he disappeared out the front door of the apartment, a sheaf of papers in his hand. He didn’t look back.
Chapter Sixteen
Kelly knew she should be grateful.
She knelt on the carpeted floor of Massimo’s closet, ran the measuring tape along the baseboard, then scribbled in her notebook, all the while reminding herself that only yesterday she’d been lazing on the beach telling herself that her next job would come along soon enough and that she shouldn’t spend her vacation time fretting about it. That her inane decision to sell her business would end up being the closing of a door that resulted in the opening of a window, or whatever the saying was. That in the long run, selling her business would end up being an opportunity.
Well, not many opportunities arose to redo a closet for such a high-profile client, let alone one with a royal pedigree who openly stated that working for him would be good for her resume.
So why’d she have the urge to pout like a toddler being told to finish her veggies?
“Get over yourself, Chase,” she grumbled aloud. “It could be worse. You could be in jail instead of a palace. This could be a lot of fun.” How many times had she dreamed of a budget like this? Or the ability to design a closet however she wanted?
“I hope it’s fun, though I’m not sure what jail has to do with it.”
The female voice coming from the direction of the bedroom was lighthearted, but its unexpectedness sent Kelly’s measuring tape flying back into its case with an embarrassingly loud snap.
Before Kelly could ask the woman who she was, the tall, striking blonde entered the closet and offered Kelly a hand up from the floor. “I’m April. I’m told you’re redesigning Prince Massimo’s closet.”
“Yes, I—”
“I’m your carpenter. Great to meet you! It’s Kelly, right? I heard that you’re from the States. Where? I’m a New Yorker, myself.” April put her hands on her hips and looked around the closet, assessing its size before she walked to the far wall and ran her hand along it, checking its condition.
“Dallas. And did you say you’re the carpenter?” The woman’s movements had an easy flow, similar to what Kelly had seen in other craftsmen. In her experience, those who worked with their hands stayed relaxed in every other body part. But she had yet to meet a carpenter who looked like April. Her neat blonde bob, gold hoop earrings, softly faded designer jeans, and closely-fitted black top oozed casual sophistication.
She also sported black Converse sneakers and had more energy in her little finger than Kelly possessed in her entire body at the moment.
“I know, I totally don’t look it. But I swear I know a bandsaw from a jigsaw. You can quiz me. My dad rehabbed prewar buildings in Manhattan when I was a kid and I spent as much time as possible tagging along. Those old buildings were glorious. Best hide-and-seek spots ever.” She ran a finger along the lower edge of the window frame and shrugged. “Turned out I learned a lot along the way. My brother and I eventually took over my father’s business, but Queen Fabrizia lured me away by promising better beaches. How could I say no to that?”
Kelly tried not to laugh at the quick recitation of April’s qualifications and life story. The blonde would be a joy to work with, assuming she was as competent as she professed. “Was she right?”
“You’ve probably seen the beaches,” April said with a shrug. “You tell me. What really got me, though, was that the queen sought me out after staying in a building I’d renovated. She noticed details most people don’t, then asked the building’s owner who’d done the remodel. I was impressed by how much she saw. Well, that and she called back twice after I refused her first offer. So now I make a great income doing what I love and don’t have the stress of running a business.”
Kelly could understand the appeal in that. While she’d loved running her closet design company, day-to-day management headaches often added to her stress level.
April tucked her hair behind her ear as she gestured to the notebook lying open on the closet floor. “Tell me what we’re doing in here. Better be a total remodel, because it’s dismal as is.”
“I haven’t come up with a final plan, but if you have a few minutes, I can pull up some photos on the computer to show you. You can let me know what’s possible.”
April’s blue eyes widened with excitement. “Please tell me you mean the computer in your room. You’re staying in Prince Stefano’s old place, right?”
“I am.” Word traveled fast in the palace, apparently.
“Awesome. I did the cabinetry in his closet and kitchen when it was remodeled five years ago. It was my first project when I came to the palace. Haven’t been in there since and I’ve been dying to see how it’s held up. Maria—she’s the housekeeper—insists it looks as good as when I did the installation, but I want to see it with my own two eyes.”
“Come see for yourself, then.” Kelly gathered
her belongings and they made their way to Stefano’s suite. After April inspected the cabinets—noting a few scratches she wanted to touch up and hinges she felt needed tightening—they spent the rest of the evening brainstorming closet layouts and finishes. It quickly became apparent that their approaches complimented each other, as did their personalities. They tended to like many of the same design elements, finding them both visually appealing and practical. As the dinner hour approached, April picked up the phone and ordered an appetizer tray and a bottle of wine from the kitchen.
“You can do that? I never would’ve thought to order food as if I were in a hotel.” Kelly’s jaw dropped as April hung up the phone. Massimo might’ve done it with pancakes, but he was the prince. Not a guest or an employee.
“I don’t do it often, but if we’re busy working, then you bet. Prince Stefano even encouraged it when I did these rooms. In my experience, a bottle of Sarcaccian wine is the best thing for the creative juices. I mean, you’ve seen Prince Stefano’s kitchen. How do you think I managed to construct such spectacular cabinetry in such a tiny space? There were at least two or three bottles of wine along the way.”
Kelly pushed away from the table where she and April had spread out several sketches and photos. Her legs ached from hours of sitting, but until she stood and moved to the windows, she hadn’t noticed the tightness in her muscles. She’d been so caught up in her discussion with April she’d lost track of time. As she looked out at the gardens, lit only from the glow of the palace windows above, the lack of sleep finally hit her.
“I’m not sure how much creativity I have left in me, wine or not,” she admitted. “I was up pretty late last night.”
“Beats jail, though, doesn’t it?”
How much gossip went through the palace, exactly? “Um, sure.”
“You were talking to yourself when I met you, remember? The word ‘jail’ tends to stand out when anyone’s talking.”
Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) Page 17