“Of course we’re having a state wedding. We are Corinthia’s most prominent couple. We can’t marry with anything less than pomp and circumstance. What would people think?”
“That you wanted to keep things intimate?”
He waved her answer away with a scoff. “Are you serious? Intimate is for commoners. A royal wedding is supposed to make a statement.”
Wasn’t he making a statement already? Arianna’s insides deflated. She perched on the windowsill, and wondered how long it would take for her to shrivel up and die. Not once had Manolo expressed any interest in the baby itself. He didn’t even ask about her changed appearance. In fact, so focused was he on the logistics of their prospective union that she could have left the room without him noticing.
She didn’t expect him to greet the news with hearts and flowers, but surely he could show some curiosity about his child.
“I heard the baby’s heartbeat.”
Manolo barely looked up at her announcement. “Good for you.”
“You don’t care how it went?”
He stopped his pacing to look at her. “I am sure if there was a problem, you would have told me. By the way, if we are smart, we will have the palace press office drop a few hints to the papers about an engagement. It is important that we avoid looking as though I had to marry you.”
“Even though you did,” Arianna muttered.
“Yes, but the world does not need to know that. I do business with a number of conservative countries. I do not want to give them the wrong impression.”
By all means, let them protect his reputation.
Look at him, she thought, ratting off tactics like a man planning an acquisition. Wasn’t he, though? Had he not won the lifetime rights to the royal family? The prize he worked so hard to attain with his charm and ingratiating behavior?
She was wrong about there being no emotion in his eyes. They gleamed with triumph.
Marry me.
She closed her eyes as Max’s final plea mocked her. This was what she wanted, she reminded herself. A marriage that wouldn’t haunt her with if-onlys. There would never be any doubt as to Manolo’s feelings toward her. Or lack thereof. It was a cold and lonely future, but what did it matter? Without Max, her future would be cold and lonely anyway.
Suddenly, she saw herself ten years down the road, angry and alone with a child desperate for its father’s attention. That was the future she was creating for her child. A life full of misery for both of them. Two unhappy people living for duty. No love. No warmth besides what they gave each other.
She thought of a woman living a joyless Christmas and a son longing to buy a tree.
Her child deserved better.
“I can’t do this,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I can’t.”
Manolo stopped his pacing and stared at her. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he’d forgotten she was in the room. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “What is it that you cannot do?”
“Marry you.”
“Don’t be silly. You and I are having a child. We have to marry. Your father would expect no less.”
“My father will have to understand.” At least she prayed that he would. Either way, the die was cast. Having spoken the words, there was no way she would take them back. No way she wanted to. Free of responsibility’s mantle, she felt lighter. Truer to herself. “Because there is no way I am marrying you. Not now, not ever.”
“But...” When she looked back, she would probably chuckle over the stunned expression on Manolo’s face. He looked as though he had been struck. This was a man who was used to succeeding. “But the baby.”
“I would never keep the baby from its father. You may have as big a role in its life as you wish. Always. Just not as my husband.”
“Hardly see the point otherwise.”
The words were barely a whisper as he ran a hand over his face, but they were loud enough for Arianna. Her child definitely deserved better than this man. Filled with the rightness of her decision, she drew herself to full height and gave Manolo the most imperial glare she could muster. “You may go now. My secretary will keep you informed of the baby’s progress.”
Leaving him in the living room, she turned and disappeared into the music room.
* * *
She decided to play Chopin’s Nocturne in C minor. The desolate-sounding concerto seemed an appropriate choice for a woman who had dismissed the father of her unborn child, was about to shame her family and was in love with a man who didn’t love her back.
Mostly she played because of Max. Playing piano no longer reminded her only of her mother. Memories of playing in New York joined the mix. When her hands drifted over the keys, it was his smile of approval that she pictured. That smile was the moment when everything had begun to change. When the nerves that had been plaguing her started to shift into something more.
As for sending Manolo away, the moment she heard him mutter those words, she knew she’d done the right thing. Just as she refused Max’s proposal because she didn’t want to spend her days wishing he loved her, she could not marry Manolo and subject their child to the same fate. Better to live in disgrace than let her child be raised by a man who didn’t love it.
Finally, she knew the answer to her no-win situation. Too bad she had to break her heart to figure it out.
Which brought her thoughts full circle back to Max. Closing her eyes, she ran through every detail of their week together. The way his voice rumbled in his chest when he stood close. How the snow dotted his hair with tiny drops of water. The warm, safe feeling she got whenever he wrapped his arms around her.
Then, after she’d remembered everything, she folded the memories up into a tiny square and forced them into the back of her mind. From here on in, she would use what was left of her heart to be the best mother possible.
“It is good to hear music in these rooms again.” At the sound of her father’s voice, she opened her eyes. He stood in the doorway.
“It has been a long time since you played,” he said. “Such a sad song, though, for this time of year.”
Arianna switched to a carol, one of his favorites. “Better?”
“Much,” he said, coming to stand behind her. She felt him press a kiss on top of her head. “It’s good to have you home.”
“It’s good to be home,” she replied, smiling. On the inside, however, she was far from cheerful, knowing this was nothing more than a brief moment of tranquility. She’d postponed the inevitable long enough.
Meanwhile, her father sat down on the settee a few feet away. It was the same piece of furniture she had sometimes napped on while her mother practiced. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father unbutton his jacket and settle back against the cushion.
“How was your meeting with the financial minister?” She didn’t really care; it was a way of avoiding the subjects she should be discussing.
“Very well. Armando has developed a real knowledge of fiscal policy. He’s going to make a very good king when I decide to step down.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Her brother took his position as heir apparent as seriously as she took her own as princess. More, actually. He would never have run off from his responsibilities. Even during the darkest days of his grief, he managed to fulfill his duties.
Had he been in her shoes, Armando no doubt would have married Manolo, too.
Her father made himself more comfortable. “I am surprised to find you alone. I assumed Manolo would be with you when I returned. Did something happen?”
Arianna’s fingers slipped, and she hit a wrong note. Fortunately, Father didn’t notice. “It was good to see him,” he continued. “For a while, I thought the two of you might be having problems.
“Or are you still?” he asked after a pause.
It was time to stop running. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her hands on her skirt and turned to face the one man whose opinion had always meant the world to her. “Manolo and I are no longer seeing each other,” she said.
“Oh.” The corners of his mouth turned downward in disappointment.
Arianna bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Father. I know you liked him.”
“Very much,” he replied. “I had hoped... That is, Manolo had hinted the two of you...”
“Manolo might have hoped,” she said, shaking her head. “But no.”
“Really? Here I thought you were fond of him.”
“I tried to be.” Lord knew she tried.
It was clearly not the answer her father expected, because the lines on his forehead grew more pronounced. “What do you mean ‘you tried’?”
“I knew how much our being a couple meant to you. I wanted things to work out between us so that you would be happy, but in the end...”
Rising from the bench, she walked to the left-hand side of the room, where there hung a series of seventeenth-century panels by an artist whose name she never could remember. “Manolo isn’t the man we thought he was.” She told him about Maria and the other women. “He was more interested in currying your favor than he ever was in courting me.”
“That—” Behind her, she could hear the settee cushions crinkle as her father’s posture stiffened. “I treated him like a member of this family, and this is how he pays me back? By mistreating you? If I had known...”
There was another pause, and a few moments later, he was on her side of the room, drawing her into a hug. It felt disingenuous accepting the embrace, but Arianna relaxed into it anyway.
“This is why you went to New York, isn’t it?” he asked. “Because of Manolo?”
“Yes...” She broke free of his arms. “And no.” There was only one way to deliver the news, and that was as quickly as possible. With her hand on her stomach for strength, she looked him in the eye and said, “I’m pregnant.”
You could hear a pin drop. Arianna watched as her father’s expression changed from disbelief to the anger and disappointment she’d been dreading. Seeing it stabbed as deeply as she knew it would, and she ached to take it away.
“Pregnant,” he finally repeated.
“I’m sorry, Father.” It was the best she could do. Tears threatened to burn her eyes, but she blinked them away. Regardless of how badly his disappointment hurt, she needed to stay strong.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice said Max would be proud of her for doing so.
Letting out what sounded like a low growl, he started pacing. “Manolo. He knows?”
“Yes, he does. And before you say anything, I have already told him that I would not marry him. I can’t. Not knowing the kind of person he is.”
She held up her hand before her father could interject. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve let you down, and I know it breaks with every tradition Corinthia has ever had, but please understand. I can’t let my child grow up with a father who only loves himself. If I can’t have a marriage like yours and Mama’s, then I don’t want any marriage at all. I would rather leave Corinthia than—”
“Leave Corinthia? What are you talking about?”
“To avoid a scandal. I know tradition expects me to—”
Her father stared at her in disbelief. “And you think I would ask you to leave Corinthia because of that?” he asked. “Never.”
“But, the baby would be...”
“My grandchild. And you would still be my daughter. I will admit, this is not the path I expected your life to take, but I would never want you to spend your life married to a man you didn’t love.” Drawing close, he cradled her face in his hands. “Your happiness is far more important to me than any tradition or scandal that might erupt. Surely you know that.”
Your father would want you to be happy. That was what Max had said.
She closed her eyes before the tears could break free. “I’ve been so stupid,” she whispered.
“No, my darling daughter, I am the one who was stupid for letting you think even for a second that you had to sacrifice your happiness,” her father said, gathering her in his arms.
With his arms tight around her shoulders, Arianna finally let loose the tears she’d been fighting. Outside in the courtyard, the workers were hollering about the decorations; she could hear them through the window. At the moment, though, all that mattered was that she had been afraid for nothing. She cried a little harder, this time for her foolishness.
“It’s all right,” her father said. He rubbed small circles on her back. “The three of us, you, me and Armando, we will deal with Manolo and any scandal he might cause. Because you are right. You should not settle for anything less than what your mother and I had.”
At that, Arianna had to sniff back a fresh batch of tears. Beautiful as his words were, they made her feel more foolish. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” she said, breaking out of his embrace once more.
“Why is that?”
Suddenly, the commotion she’d heard outside grew closer. No, this was a different commotion, coming from the corridor outside the salon. “Is someone arguing with Armando?” she asked. The two of them headed into the salon, just in time to see the door fly open.
“Call the damn national guard if you want. I’m going in there,” the intruder barked.
Arianna gasped.
There, in the doorway, his coat half off his shoulders, stood a wild-eyed Max Brown. “You and I need to talk,” he said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE’D MADE IT.
It wasn’t until he’d landed in Corinthia and saw the large royal portrait hanging in the airport that Max discovered a major flaw in his plan. This wasn’t New York, where all he had to do was unlock his penthouse door to see Arianna. Visiting her here was going to be like trying to see the President of the United States. A person couldn’t walk into the palace and ask for Arianna Santoro. You needed a royal invitation or special permission, which could take days—or weeks—to wrangle.
He didn’t have days to spare. Not with Arianna planning to marry Manolo and leave his life forever.
Fortunately for him, he still had Vittorio Mastella’s business card in his pocket. Either the head of security had a romantic streak, or he appreciated Max’s skills as a fast talker, because he agreed to let Max pass through security without credentials.
“You are on your own after that,” he’d said. “If Her Highness refuses to see you, I will throw you out personally.”
Max had no intention of that happening. Not even when Arianna’s brother tried to bar him access, and he had to push his way through.
Now, he was face-to-face with Arianna at last.
She looked horrible, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, her skin the color of chalk. “You and I need to talk,” he said. With all the adrenaline of the last few minutes, the words came out far harsher than he meant, so he added in a gentler voice, “Please.”
He’d just finished shrugging his jacket into place when a hand clamped down on his upper arm. “I’m sorry, Father. He pushed his way through,” its owner said. “Security is on the way.”
“It’s all right, Armando. I know him.” Arianna’s eyes were two large pools of blue, shimmering with surprise and...were those tears?
His stomach clenched. The pallor, the crying... Wrenching himself free, he rushed closer only to stop short of taking her in his arms. He wanted to—God knew, holding her again was all he thought about since leaving New York—but the despair in her eyes held him back. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Is the baby...?”
“The baby is fine,” she replied. Max let out his breath. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been to hear her answer until she alleviated his concerns. If there had been any doubt in hi
s mind about raising another man’s child, it died then and there. Who cared who fathered the child? The baby was part of Arianna; therefore he loved it with all of his heart.
Loved it with all of his heart. Who would have guessed those words would ever enter his thoughts? He, who avoided love like the plague.
“What are you doing here?” Arianna asked.
“I told you. I needed to talk to you.”
She hadn’t moved since he burst into the room. Now, she walked toward one of the room’s large windows, her hands twisting back and forth in front of her.
“What could we possibly have to talk about that we did not say in New York?” she asked.
A lot. Their entire lives. “Just give me five minutes. After that, if you want me to go, I’ll leave and never bother you again.”
Blood pounded in his ears thanks to his racing heart. Please let her say yes.
She didn’t answer.
“I think you should leave now, Signor Brown.” It was King Carlos. Focused on Arianna as he was, he’d forgotten the king was in the room. “My daughter obviously does not wish to see you.”
Turning slowly, he looked at the man Arianna served so devotedly. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather hear that from her directly.”
“Who do you think you are? Do you have any idea who you are talking to?”
Arianna’s brother—at least he assumed it was Arianna’s brother—reached for his arm again, only this time Max was ready and sidestepped the attempt. He backed toward the window as well, meeting the gazes of the king and his son glare for glare. They could try and intimidate him all they wanted. He wasn’t leaving unless Arianna threw him out herself.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Arianna hang her head. “Let him stay,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ll listen to what he has to say.”
“Alone,” he added. Again, King Carlos and his son glared at him. Again, he returned the glares.
“It’s okay,” Arianna added. “I’m not in any danger.”
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