by Holly Hart
“That’s my girl,” he says. “But I want you to think about something before you do that.”
“Think about what?”
“I want you to ask yourself why you’re doin’ it.”
“What do you mean, why? I just told you.”
He nods. “For the kids, I heard you. But I want you to really think about that.”
“There’s nothing to think about.”
“Yeah, there is. Honey, do you remember that time when you were little and you tried to get that old cat in the barn to come be your pet?”
Old Duffy. I tried for months to get that smelly old bugger to be a house cat, but he refused. Mom was still alive then; she called Duffy “that damned cat.”
“Of course I do. But what does that have to do with this?”
“You didn’t even like that little bastard,” he says. “He was always hissin’ at you, he stunk to high heaven. Every time you tried to pick him up, he’d just wriggle out of your arms and run away.”
“I still don’t see your point.”
“My point is that you thought he should be an indoor cat because then he’d be safe and warm and always have food to eat. You didn’t even really like him. You didn’t want to pet him or have him sleep on your bed or anything like that. You just thought it was the right thing to do.”
“So?” I’m getting angry now. “It was the right thing to do. Are you comparing the twins to Duffy?”
“’Course not. I’m sayin’ that you were always thinkin’ about Duffy’s welfare, not your own.”
“And?”
“And you’re doin’ it again. Sacrificing what you want for the sake of doin’ the right thing. At some point, honey, you gotta put yourself first. This is the rest of your life you’re talkin’ about here. As much as we both care about those kids, they’re not a good enough reason to give up your life.”
I can’t think of anything to say to that.
“You think you’d be doin’ those kids a favor by stayin’ with a man just for their sake? Believe me, I seen enough couples who fought like cats in a sack but stayed together for the kids. You talk to those grown kids today, they’d tell you they wish their folks had split up instead.”
I want to yell at him that he’s wrong, that everything he just said is bullshit. But I can’t. He’s right; Dante took care of those kids for ten years before I showed up. He doesn’t need me to save them.
And if we were to turn into one of those couples that fights in front of the kids, or worse, plays manipulative games against each other with the kids as pawns, we’d be no better than the types of people Dante’s been fighting his whole life.
By trying to do the right thing, I could end up becoming Isabella myself.
I don’t want to play the Game of Thrones. I just want to live my life and be happy.
Dad lets out a huge yawn and rubs his eyes.
“I need to catch a nap,” he says. “Jet lag is a bitch. Heh, listen to me. Ike Sparks talkin’ about jet lag. Ever think you’d see the day?”
“No,” I say with a half-smile. “Then again, I never thought I’d see the day when I married Prince Charming, either.”
He kisses my cheek. “Think about what I said, honey.”
“I will, Dad,” I say as he heads off for his quarters.
I may not get any sleep tonight, because it’s all I can think about.
Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Eight
53. DANTE
“I’m not sure how the Crown Council building can be considered neutral ground,” I gripe.
Carlo leans in close. “Remember, sir,” he whispers. “There are cameras everywhere here, and you’re not exactly anyone’s favorite person right now.”
He’s right, of course, I’m just letting off steam. The foyer of the council building is large and open, perfect for the debate that’s about to happen. And I need to make sure I don’t come off as an asshole, the way I did with Lorenzo Ricci. Maria showed me the social media numbers after that – they weren’t pretty.
There are dozens of people milling around the foyer as the media set up to broadcast the debate live. Huber and I will spar, then we each get a closing statement. After that, the people of Morova go to the polls and decide my future.
“I hate giving speeches,” I say to Carlo.
“Then learn to like it,” he says. “And learn it very quickly. I have no desire to begin working for your aunt, in the unlikely event she would allow me to keep my job.”
Speaking of Isabella, she’s sucking up to a gang of council members on Huber’s side of the stage. She refuses to look in my direction. I have no idea where Emilio is.
In the distance, I see Amanda come through the main entrance, Maria and Ike by her side. She’s dressed in a dark dress with a suit jacket, her hair pulled up in a conservative style. She looks every bit the prim and proper lady. All she’s missing is a hat and she could be one of the British royals.
It’s a strategy, of course – make her appear dignified and serious, a perfect, proper princess of Morova. But it’s jarring how different she looks. Nothing like the wide-eyed young woman in the tight, soaking wet blouse who captured my heart that day outside my office.
Was it only a couple of months ago? God, it seems like forever.
She greets me with a chaste peck on the cheek.
“I think we may just pull this off,” Maria says, nodding her approval of the kiss. “Amanda in her finest, you in your uniform, sword by your side.”
“I figured it was the beginning of this whole thing,” I say. “Might as well have it beside me at the end.”
“Keep your pecker up,” Ike says, shaking my hand. He’s dressed in his typical mash-up of cowboy chic and Italian style. “We ain’t licked yet.”
I take Amanda’s arm and lead her to an alcove so we can speak away from prying eyes.
“How do I look?” she asks.
“Like someone else,” I say.
“That’s what we wanted, though, isn’t it?”
We did when the team discussed this, but now that I’ve seen her, I don’t know anymore.
“Amanda, I need you to know something before I step in front of that microphone.”
“What?”
I take her by the arms and look deep into her eyes.
“No matter what happens today, your future is up to you. Your contract is over – it was a stupid idea to begin with, I see that now. The payments will continue to your father, but you don’t owe me anything.”
“Dante – ”
“Please, hear me out. I don’t have much time. Amanda, I never expected you. You came into my life like a desert rain – I didn’t even know I needed you until you were there. But I didn’t have the brains to realize how important you were, or the courage to tell you.
“It’s been said that if you love something, you must set it free. I’m setting you free, Amanda. Your life is your own. I pray that it will be with me, but that’s not my decision to make. It’s yours.”
Before she can say anything, I pull her to me and kiss her. Not the chaste kiss for the cameras this time; this is the real thing, deep and long and passionate. Everything I am, summed up in a single expression of love.
I can’t read her the way I’ve been able to in the past. All I see is her heart-stopping eyes, wide open and blinking at me, as our lips part.
“I have to go,” I say, turning to head to the stage. “Wish me luck.”
As I stride away, every step echoing against the marble floors, I think I hear her whisper “good luck,” but I can’t be sure.
“People of Morova,” Lorenzo Ricci intones gravely to the camera. “Welcome to the future of your country.”
Of course Ricci is the moderator. Why not just blatantly stuff the ballot boxes and be done with it?
Shake it off. Focus.
“Today, we will decide the fate of the monarchy that has been part and parcel of Morova since its inception. The choice you face today is simple, yet profound: keep Prin
ce Dante Trentini as your monarch, or choose a new future, and appoint his older cousin Emilio as the custodian of the Trentini fortune.”
It’s all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes.
“Before you make this most crucial of choices, 4Roma presents this debate between Prince Dante and Crown Council Chancellor Julian Huber. We are being broadcast live via television across Western Europe, and streaming live around the world via the Internet.”
As he drones on, I gather my thoughts. We went over the strategy last night: keep on point, hold my temper, appeal to the traditional morals of the Morovan people. Above all else, remain dignified and serious.
“Our opening remarks will begin with His Highness, Prince Dante Trentini.”
Ricci waves a hand at me and I see a red light flash on top of the camera facing me.
“My fellow Morovans,” I begin from my podium. My speech is measured and formal. It’s imperative that the audience sees me as someone who wants the job and understands the grave responsibility.
Yadda, yadda, yadda. It’s all the words they want to hear, not the ones I want to say.
The red light goes out as I wrap up, and Ricci points to Huber.
“Chancellor Huber will now bring his remarks on behalf of the National and Crown Councils.”
He clears his throat, sparking feedback from his lapel microphone, and sets his piggy little eyes on the camera. His speech is simply an expanded version of what he said on Ricci’s show, and what he’s been saying to every camera for over a month now: reputation, tradition, respect. How I’m an embarrassment to the monarchy.
He gets to the part about Emilio and his eyes light up. My cousin is made of the right stuff, a man of honor and breeding, who graduated from Oxford with honors and didn’t coast through on his name.
And a man who disappears on his cousin as soon as his mother starts scheming. I haven’t talked to Emilio since before the photos leaked. For that matter, even Huber and I have never spoken face-to face.
I think of Ike’s “face-to-fist” and have to bite back a laugh.
Huber finishes his remarks and Ricci tells the audience the format of the debate: Ricci himself will ask the questions, Huber and I will have a minute each to answer. As if a minute can sum up the fate of a nation.
Ricci takes his place at the table as the cameras move into position on myself and Huber. A minute later, the red lights come on.
I take a deep breath. It’s show time.
Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Nine
54. AMANDA
“We’re getting slaughtered.”
Maria’s voice is stoic, but her eyes are another story. For the first time ever, I can see the shimmer of tears in them.
Beside me, Carlo’s shoulders stoop in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s like someone has cut the strings off a marionette and it’s trying to stand on its own. On my other side, Dad’s eyes are boiling. He’s keeping his mouth shut, but I can feel the anger emanating from him in waves. His big fists clench and unclench, over and over.
Every question from Ricci is carefully designed to make Dante look like a fool, or a womanizer, or an asshole. It’s like the old joke about journalists asking the politician if he’s stopped beating his wife: if he says no, he’s still beating his wife. If he says yes, he’s admitting he beat his wife.
And, like the joke, this debate isn’t funny. It’s frustrating and infuriating. Worst of all, it’s heartbreaking.
I can practically see Dante’s fear of losing the children on his face as each question hits him like a boxer’s blow. I feel each one with him.
“I don’t know if there’s any coming back from this,” Maria says quietly.
“There is if I can get those two bastards alone in the alley,” Dad growls.
“Gentlemen,” Ricci says, holding up a hand. “We’ve come to the end of the question portion of this morning’s debate. I and the Morovan people thank you for your answers.”
Dante’s still keeping his cool, but I can see the emotion in his eyes. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now. Dad’s line about taking Ricci and Huber into the alley is right on the money – this wasn’t a fair fight.
“We will now wrap up the proceedings with a final statement from each of our participants,” Ricci says with a smug grin. “Chancellor Huber, you have the floor.”
Huber turns to face the camera directly. He looks like a school principal about to lecture a group of rowdy students.
“People of Morova,” he says. “The choice you must make today is clear. You all saw the photographs. You’ve read the scandals. You know the solution.”
He leaves his podium and walks towards the camera.
“The question before you is, I believe, simple: do you believe that the royal marriage is real? Or is it a lie created to block this council’s duty to remove a monarch for not fulfilling his duties?
“I believe it’s the height of arrogance for the prince to believe that we, the people, are foolish enough to believe that he could have fallen in love in the space of a few weeks. With an American commoner, no less.”
I feel Dad tense up beside me.
“We’ve already seen that money has changed hands. Are we expected to believe that Dante, a noble with centuries of royal breeding, and access to one of the world’s most vast fortunes, would marry such a woman?”
I put a pre-emptive hand on Dad’s arm to keep him from moving. Huber will never know it, but I just saved his life. I see similar flashes of anger on Maria and Carlo’s faces as well.
Then I hear Dante’s voice come across the sound system.
“Such a woman,” he says quietly.
Ricci frowns. “Your highness will refrain from speaking during the chancellor’s closing remarks.”
“Shut up, Lorenzo,” Dante says mildly. “You’re not talking to your wife. Or your mistress in Sorrento.”
Ricci’s face turns ghostly white as Dante ambles over to stand beside Huber. He obviously struck a nerve with everyone’s favorite host.
My heart is racing. What’s Dante doing? Whatever it is, Huber is sputtering like crazy.
“Such a woman,” Dante says again. “It’s funny that you say that, Julian, since you’ve never actually spoken to her face-to-face. You’ve made all sorts of accusations and innuendoes against her, but you don’t actually know her.”
All eyes are on Dante now. You could hear a pin drop.
“All the debate we just went through was smoke and mirrors. Sure, I could go on and on about how you’re trying to get your hands on the Trentini fortune, and that Emilio is just a puppet for your government. But that’s not what this is about. Not really.
“This is about Amanda Sparks. It’s about a prince who had the audacity to fall in love with an American cowgirl whose father spent his wife’s life insurance to send his daughter to community college instead of Oxford. A woman who grew up taking care of cattle with her own two hands and riding horses in barrel races, instead of hosting garden parties and betting on thoroughbreds at Royal Ascot.”
Dante finds me in the audience and locks his gaze on mine.
“A woman who had the nerve to invite common people to her wedding reception so they could share in our joy. Who welcomed my beloved Oriana and Vito into her heart with a generosity I’ve never seen in all my years in the royal court. Who showed me what it means to be honest and loyal and real.”
Tears spill onto my cheeks as all the doubt that’s been eating at me for so long finally fades. I don’t even care that we’re surrounded by strangers.
“So fire everything you’ve got at me, Julian,” he says, turning to face the chancellor with a look that could freeze lava. “I’m the one on trial here. But when you feel like talking about the woman I love, I advise you to shut your fat, arrogant mouth before I drive my fist into it.”
The foyer seems to hold its breath for a stunned moment. Then my father’s voice rings out.
“You tell that fucker, kid!” he bello
ws.
The outburst is met with shocked looks from the council members gathered to watch the debate. A few look like they might be on the edge of a coronary.
But all I can think about is how proud I am. How much I love Dante. I don’t care what happens from here on – this moment is everything I could have wanted.
Huber finally seems to come out of his coma and takes to his own microphone.
“That behavior right there!” he shouts, waving a chubby finger at Dad. “Threatening violence! Profanity from the prince’s own father-in-law! Do we really want the worst of America in the highest office of our land?”
That’s it. I’ve had just about enough. I save Huber’s life one more time by grabbing Dad’s arm before he can move.
“This one’s mine,” I say, stalking towards the stage.
Chapter Two Hundred
55. DANTE
Amanda plucks Ricci’s handheld microphone before he even realizes she’s on stage.
“Hello, Chancellor,” she says to Huber. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but my father – that beautiful man you just pointed at – taught me to never tell a lie. He also taught me it’s rude to point at people.”
I can’t help but grin. Letting both barrels go on Huber has me feeling better than I have in weeks. Whatever the outcome today, I know I’ve said my piece and my conscience is clear.
Judging by her behavior, I think Amanda feels the same way.
“Dad taught me a lot of things,” she says. “About being humble, and not talking behind people’s backs, and being honest and straightforward. But I’m not here to talk about him.”
She turns towards me and smiles. It feels like cool water on a hot day.
“I want to talk about this man right here. The one you’ve been throwing insults at for the past forty minutes. And for three weeks before that, thanks to Mr. Ricci here.”
Lorenzo’s white face has started to turn green.