by Tara Wylde
“Uh, Dante,” I say.
“We can’t allow corruption like this to drag down Morova!” he says, more to Emilio than me.
“Dante.” I say again.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, darling, what is it?”
I point towards the edge of the stage. He turns his head to see what I see: dozens of people, staring at us with their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open.
At the front of the pack is Lorenzo Ricci, now a whole new shade of green.
“What’s going on?” I ask, looking for our friends.
“Ho-lee sheep shit!” my father hoots as he bounds up the stairs and onto the stage. Maria is close behind, with Carlo bringing up the rear a bit more slowly. Their eyes are dancing.
“What’s going on?” Dante asks, eyes darting around the room.
Dad looks over to Ricci.
“Why don’t you tell ‘em, you little peckerhead?”
“The, uh. The lapel microphones,” Ricci says, staring blankly ahead. “They were. Uh. They were. Live.”
Dante and I look at each other, eyes wide, as it sinks in.
“We heard every word,” Maria says through a triumphant smile. “So did viewers all around the world. Every. Single. Word.”
“That’s what you all were looking at before we went backstage!” I say.
Carlo nods. “The talking heads were doing their analysis – you two were on the receiving end of some very unflattering words, I must say – but the audio kept cutting to your microphones.”
Dante looks at Emilio, then back to Carlo.
“You heard… everything, then?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
Dante helps Emilio into a chair. His cousin is almost on the verge of passing out.
“Maria – ”
“I’ll have an ambulance here as soon as possible.”
Dante smiles. “What would I do without you?”
“Let’s hope you never have to find out.”
There are dozens of people milling around now, trying to make sense of what’s going on. As they do, Dad emerges from behind the stage curtain.
“I was gonna go pay my respects to Isabella,” he says. “By which I mean laugh in her face. But she’s gone. So’s Huber.”
“I doubt they’ll get far,” I say.
“It’s like you’re psychic,” Maria says, turning her iPad screen towards me. On it is an image of the duchess and the chancellor, ambushed by media in the alley behind the building.
Dante looks at me and smiles.
“Remember how not that long ago, all we could talk about was how crazy our lives were?” he asks.
“Yup,” I say. “Apparently the universe took that as a sign to roll up its sleeves and say ‘here, hold my beer while I screw with them a little more.’”
I feel a weight on my shoulders as Dad wraps an arm around each of us.
“You two really need to start bein’ normal,” he says.
“We were just talking about that,” says Dante. “But before we do, we’re going to have to sit around for a few hours while the entire population decides what it’s going to do about us.”
Chapter 102
57. AMANDA
“Careful,” Dante says to Carlo. “I’ve told you before that it’s within my powers to have your head chopped off.”
“I swear on my honor, sir,” Carlo replies, hand raised as if taking an oath. “I am not fucking with you.”
It seems like a dream, especially considering the nightmare of the past few weeks.
“That has to be a first,” I say, looking at the iPad Carlo brought into Maria’s office. He has a direct pipeline to the Office of the Elector, and got the results hot off the press.
“I mean, have any of you ever heard of a referendum getting one hundred percent agreement on anything? It’s hard enough to get a dozen jurors to agree unanimously, let alone 30,000 Morovans.”
“Social media exploded after the hot microphone incident,” says Maria, pointing to the screen on the wall. “Hashtag ‘hubergate’ started trending within seconds of him and Isabella being ambushed in the alley.”
“And my sources inside the council say many of them have been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of the chancellor and his cronies,” says Carlo.
I look at Dante. “Apparently, being honest was the right thing to do.”
“Who would have imagined?” he says with a grin. “A royal being rewarded for being straightforward with his people. It boggles the mind.”
Dad finishes his bottle of Budweiser and puts the empty on the table beside him.
“So what the hell is a hashtag, anyway?” he asks. “Where I come from, hash is somethin’ you eat with your eggs, and a tag goes in a cow’s ear.”
As Maria attempts to explain social media to Ike, I take Dante’s hand and lead him out into the hallway. He pulls me close until our foreheads touch.
“This has been quite a day,” he says. “I keep expecting to wake up and discover it was all a dream.”
“So do I.”
He kisses me, prompting a flutter of butterflies in my belly.
“That felt pretty real to me,” he says.
I tilt my head so my lips are at his ear.
“If that felt real, imagine how real this will feel.”
I reach out and squeeze his cock through his pants, and it jumps at my touch.
“Don’t tease me,” he breathes. “It’s been too long.”
“So who’s teasing?” I whisper back.
One of the many, many benefits of living in a palace is that there’s always a room around when you need one.
My back is against the stone wall of a sitting room a couple of hallways away from Maria’s office. The furniture is mid-seventeenth century, with a mirror motif on the walls. That means I can see us making out from half a dozen different angles. And it’s making me horny as hell.
Dante’s hands explore under my blouse as his lips probe my neck. My hand manages to free his cock through his zipper, putting it on display in all the different mirrors. There’s something incredibly hot about seeing your husband’s throbbing shaft from so many different angles at once.
“I missed you so much,” I breathe in his ear. “All those nights in separate beds.”
“It was torture,” he says. “Being so close but not able to touch you.”
His hands tug my blouse free and open the buttons. I use my own hand to unhook my bra and slide out of it. Suddenly two dozen tits are on display in the mirrors.
Dante’s mouth closes over my nipple instantly, licking and sucking greedily. My heart rate seems to double as I feel the familiar pooling of sensations between my legs. God, how could I have gone so long without knowing this pure joy? I have so much time to make up for.
His steel shaft throbs in time with each stroke of my hand, his skin hot to the touch. With each tug, he moans more loudly against my breasts. His tongue seems to gain urgency from his cock, because soon I’m holding onto his neck as my first orgasm sweeps over me.
“How can you do that so easily?” I pant as the aftershocks finally subside. “You didn’t even touch me down there…”
“I’ll take that as an invitation,” he says, grabbing my ass and lifting me onto a flat settee that probably dates to the time of Louis XXIV. With another swift move, he’s pulled off my skirt and panties, leaving my slick opening exposed to him.
“Oh, Dante,” I breathe. “My prince.”
He’s just as deft with his own clothes; a few quick moves and he’s naked. I admire his chiseled body from every angle in the mirrors. It’s like looking at a photographic study of an ancient Roman statue.
It also drives my desire to the point of no return.
“Hurry,” I whisper urgently, pulling him down to me. “I need you inside me now.”
He obliges, dropping to his knees on top of me. I grab his cock once more and guide it towards my opening. I slide the tip back and forth inside my lips, getting us both
ready for the plunge.
“I can’t wait anymore,” he moans as he pushes all the way inside.
It’s as if a live electrical circuit has been turned on deep inside my body. His first thrust is enough to bring on the delicious heat that emanates from my center all the way through my body.
Dante starts out slow, deliberate, ending each stroke with a kiss on my eager lips. But we both know that neither of us can last much longer.
“God, I love you,” I whisper as he doubles the speed of his thrusts. “I want it to be like this every time.”
He props himself on his hands as I wrap my legs around his waist. He doubles his speed again, until he’s thrusting so fast I can barely keep up with my hips. I bite my bottom lip, waiting for the tsunami of pleasure that’s about to hit.
“Amanda,” he pants. “Oh, my love. Everything I have is yours.”
“Give it to me,” I say, feeling my body on the point of release. “Give it all to me.”
One last lift of his hips and we both begin to tremble. I feel his muscles tense against my skin as his eruption fills me with warmth. I ride my own wave by burying my face in his shoulder, whimpering in ecstasy.
We lie there, skin to skin, sweat to sweat, breathing in each other’s exhaled breaths, until our hearts finally slow and resume their normal pace.
“God, I just want to do that all the time,” I say.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he says. “There are over 200 rooms in this palace.”
I giggle as he gently kisses my throat.
“Did we really win?” I ask. “When we walk out of here, are we really free to just live our lives?”
“Yes,” he says. “At least as free as we can be while ‘Amandante’ is still a thing.”
“I love that word. It’s the two of us coming together. Just like now.”
He looks at me with feigned shock. “Your Highness,” he says. “That’s no way for a princess to talk.”
“Stick around, Prince Charming,” I say, pulling him to me again. “I’ll teach you all sorts of words you’ll never hear in a Disney movie.”
Chapter 103
58. DANTE
The palace’s south terrace is a great spot to eat lunch: it has the best view of the lake, and the stone helps catch the sun’s heat and radiate it back, which is perfect for cooler days like today.
Emilio sips his coffee, silently staring out at the lake and the Morovan shoreline beyond.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Amanda says.
He turns toward us with a half-smile. He’s looking much better these days.
“One of the things they tell us to do in the program is to make amends with the people we’ve hurt along the way,” he says. “I was thinking about how I would broach that subject with you two. An apology just doesn’t seem like enough.”
“It’s enough,” I say.
“I suppose it has to be. There’s nothing I could possibly do to balance the scales. I almost ruined your life.” He looks to Amanda. “Both your lives.”
“You already balanced them,” I say. “The day of the referendum. If you hadn’t showed up when you did, I don’t know what might have happened.”
“Showed up drunk out of my mind,” he says ruefully.
“You weren’t yourself,” says Amanda. “If it wasn’t for your mother, none of it would have happened.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But if it weren’t for me losing all our money and falling into the bottle, she might not have felt the need to do it.”
“You don’t honestly believe that,” I say.
He sighs. “I suppose not. But she is my mother; I have to try to be kind.”
“Have you heard from her?” Amanda asks.
“She’s staying with a cousin in Lichtenstein. Even though she’s technically not in exile, I doubt we’ll ever see her set foot in Morova again. She’s too embarrassed.”
The three of us look out at the lake for several moments, just soaking up the late summer sun. It won’t be long before it will be too cold to eat outside.
“Can I tell you two something?” Emilio asks.
“Of course,” says Amanda. “Anything.”
“I had a feeling about you two,” he says with a smile. “That day when Dante came crashing into you outside his office.”
I give him a sidelong look. “You did not.”
“I did,” he says, nodding. “There was something there. I could see it in your eyes. Both of you.”
Amanda takes my hand.
“I knew it. You couldn’t resist my cowgirl charms.”
“I admit it,” I say. “I looked at you and said to myself, she’s the one – ”
Amanda smiles shyly.
“ – to clean out the palace stables. They were filthy.”
Emilio chuckles as Amanda wallops me on the shoulder.
“I knew I was right,” he says. “That’s a win for me, and God knows I can use as many as I can get right now.”
“You were right,” says Amanda, toasting him with her coffee. “To Emilio being right.”
“To being right,” I say, lifting my own cup.
“You shouldn’t bother them,” I hear Oriana say behind us.
“I just have a question,” says Vito. “They’re not even talking anymore.”
Emilio smiles as the twins approach the table. Amanda and I turn to greet them.
“What are you two on about now?” Amanda asks, pulling Oriana into her lap.
“I just want to know if I can ask Nonno for a belt buckle like his when we go,” says Vito.
“I told him he can’t,” says Oriana.
“For any particular reason?” I ask. “Or just because you always have to say the opposite of what he says?”
Amanda giggles as Oriana shakes her little fist at me.
“I’m afraid she’s right, honey,” Amanda says to Vito. “You have to win a buckle like his in the rodeo.”
His eyes light up. “Can I rodeo when we visit?”
“I think we can get you started, at least,” she says with a grin.
“When do you leave?” Emilio asks.
“In four days!” the twins answer together.
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” says Amanda. “Dad’s got a pull-out couch.”
The image of Emilio sleeping on a sofa is enough to make me have to stifle a laugh.
“I appreciate the invitation, but I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he says. “I’m not exactly in your father’s good books, I think.”
“I guarantee you’d be welcome,” I say. “Ike isn’t one to hold a grudge. He’s not that kind of man.”
“Still,” he says, finishing his coffee. “Best not to tempt fate.”
“Do you believe in magic?”
I’m rinsing the last of the shampoo from Amanda’s hair in the giant tub in our quarters. Her bare back feels smooth and soft against my chest, and my cock very much appreciates its spot in the cleft of her buttocks.
“That’s an odd question,” I say. “What makes you ask that?”
“It would explain a lot. I mean, the last few months have been like a fairy tale – the prince and the commoner girl meet and fall in love, they get torn apart by circumstance, but in the end they live happily ever after.”
“First,” I say, kissing the back of her neck, “we have a long way to go before we qualify for happily ever after. Second, I don’t remember any virgin decrees in the fairy tales I read as a child.”
“Still. You have to wonder, don’t you?”
I do have to wonder. What did I ever do to deserve a woman like her? A life like this? A family like ours?
“I do believe in magic,” I say. “I’ve just decided.”
“Good,” she says, turning to face me. Her breasts bob on the surface of the water, prompting an involuntary throb in my cock. “Because I believe in it, too. And it has to be both of us, or the magic won’t work.”
“Then let’s get together and make some magic,
” I say, pulling her to me.
“Don’t I have to try on a glass slipper or something?” she giggles.
“Trust me,” I say as she gasps at my hard shaft slipping inside of her. “I already know that everything fits perfectly.”
EPILOGUE: AMANDA
Three Years Later
“Sir, I don’t believe this is a prudent course of action,” Carlo says. I’ve never seen him fret like this before.
Dante smiles. “I’m not asking for your opinion, Carlo. You wanted to see this.”
“Yes, sir. But I want it on the record that your father would not have approved of this.”
“Maybe not,” I say. “But my father’s busting at the seams with pride.”
I point across the dirt field to Dad as he helps tie Vito onto his bull, an ornery little cuss named Spitfire. They’re safely behind the gate right now, but in a couple of minutes, it’ll open and Spitfire will come charging out, twisting and bucking until he sends Vito flying into the dirt.
“I still don’t understand why he can’t do something sensible,” says Carlo. “Perhaps barrel racing, like the princess.”
Oriana rolls her eyes in the way only a thirteen-year-old girl can.
“Barrel racing is for girls, Carlo,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe.
“Hey,” Maria snaps from beside her, beating me to the punch. “Respect.”
Oriana flashes her a sheepish look and turns to Carlo.
“I beg your pardon, Carlo,” she says.
He smiles, sending up fans of laugh lines at the corner of his eyes.
“There’s nothing to pardon, Your Highness.”
From the stands behind me, I hear a young boy say: “Mom, that old guy called that girl ‘your highness.’ What does that mean?”
“He’s probably drunk,” Mom says absently. “Just stay away from him.”
Dante squeezes my hand as the announcer comes over the public address system: “Up next is Vito Trentini on Spitfire!”
“Here we go,” Dante says.
He’s trying to hide it, but I see the tension in his face.