Fit for a Queen (Royal Scandals: San Rimini Book 1)

by Nicole Burnham

  “What about the former chef? Anyone check him out?”

  Royce had nodded. “He’s living with his daughter in Greece. He sleeps in, putters around his daughter’s garden, and plays cards twice a week at a local club. He’s never lived above his means or acted in any manner that would indicate he’s responsible. Prince Federico says the man has no interest in fashion and likely wouldn’t have known the value of the queen’s belongings. He lives for his herbs, his card games, and his family.”

  Daniela had mulled that over as they walked. “Samuel Barden did say he made treats for Aletta. Remember when he brought the tray on her birthday? And he mentioned that he’d been in the suite before.”

  “I asked Prince Federico about that. Barden delivered treats to the residence to mark special occasions, but the only time he was known to have entered the queen’s suite was while planning the menu for Federico’s wedding. There were a number of meetings, but Federico said it’s unlikely Barden was left alone in the suite at any point.”

  “So it’s possible, but not probable.”

  “Exactly.” Royce cast her a sideways look. “There’s something else. Whoever stole those items needed a steel spine to do it. Even if a thief doubts they’ll be caught, it takes a certain boldness to enter the queen’s private closet. Having a certain personality trait isn’t hard evidence, like fingerprints, but from what little I’ve seen of Barden, he doesn’t fit. Nor does the former chef.”

  Daniela agreed. Barden struck her as mild mannered and eager to please. “What about the security staff? Boldness is in their job description, and Prince Federico said he preferred to keep them in the dark about your role. But you told me the other night that you don’t suspect either Chiara Ascardi or Miroslav.”

  They’d approached an overlook, but kept walking when they spotted several teenagers sitting on the stone wall marking its edge. Once clear, Royce told Daniela that Chiara had visited the residence on Thursday, lingered to chat, and mentioned that Miroslav was at a dentist appointment. “Chiara and Miroslav have had access all along, and they knew the queen well. Either one of them would have the resources and smarts to pull it off, so Federico’s decision makes sense. But my gut tells me no, especially where Chiara is concerned.”

  He’d shared more observations about Chiara and her personality, then said, “Helena is still a consideration. She visited the suite this morning. Was that planned?”

  “Sort of. I knew she’d stop by, but I didn’t know when. She’d emailed a slew of photos of her sister in different outfits. There were a lot of notes attached, and she wanted to see if I understood everything.”

  “Were the two of you in the closet?”

  “Yes, but we were together the entire time. I had no information on two of the queen’s hats and needed to know if they were designed to be worn with particular outfits. She matched them to dresses for me. She’s coming back on Monday morning to help me with a few of the scarves. She kept notes on when the queen wore them, but needed the weekend to locate them.”

  As they’d continued their walk, she told Royce about the Italian heels with the customized insoles and added, “I didn’t mention the shoes to Helena. I considered asking her about their origin, but it seemed a more appropriate question for the king.”

  “You think they may have been from him?”

  “It wouldn’t be unheard of for a design house to create a monogrammed item as a surprise for a top client, but this didn’t strike me as one of those cases. The pattern was too—”

  “Romantic. And personal,” he finished when she fumbled for the right word.

  She’d nodded. “Helena walked past them twice on her first visit without saying anything, and they were right in front of her when she was in the closet this morning, but nothing. Since she had plenty to say about other pairs, I doubt she’s aware of the insoles.”

  They’d circled to Royce’s car and settled in their seats. Before buckling his belt, he caught her eye. “Should I take you back to your hotel? Or would you like to watch the stars at my place for a while?”

  She’d glanced out her window, then looked back at him and noted the intensity in his gaze, even though he tried to appear casual. She deserved to enjoy herself, right? She’d shrugged. “The weather’s beautiful and the sky is clear. We should take advantage.”

  “Take advantage,” he’d repeated, chuckling as he started the engine. “If I used that phrase, I doubt you’d interpret it the same way.”

  Her smile had widened as he swung the car onto the road that took them across the border, then to San Rimini’s marina. He’d turned on music, and they’d cruised along to songs by Otis Redding and the Temptations, windows down, air rushing through the cabin. Now that they were stepping aboard the Donati, the fears she’d had on her previous visit seemed silly. The boat felt larger tonight. More open. Of course, they were on the deck, not inside the cabin.

  Daniela settled into one of the lounge chairs while Royce grabbed a bottle of water and two heavy-bottomed glasses. He filled them, set one on the table to her right, then pulled the second chair to her opposite side and dropped into it, setting his glass on the deck alongside his chair. They tipped their faces skyward.

  “Want a blanket?” he asked when the breeze kicked up, blowing the rebellious strands of hair across her face once more.

  She yanked the hair back into place. “Not unless you do.”

  “I’m fine. If you change your mind, just say so. I promise they’re clean.”

  That led her to ask how he did laundry, and as they watched the stars, they talked about the practicalities of living on the water. She enjoyed the conversation. She enjoyed him. His love of books, the thoughtfulness with which he lived, his ability to read the people around him…even his respect for her opinion, whether or not they agreed on a particular topic. All of it resonated with her.

  As he lifted a hand and pointed out the North Star, she decided his shoulders weren’t bad, either.

  When they’d kissed at the marina gate, she’d discovered arms corded with muscle. Now she ached to explore the contours hidden beneath the fabric of his shirt, to follow each movement of those shoulders and learn the dips and curves formed by years of hard work.

  She rolled slightly in her chair for a better view.

  When he asked, “What’s your astrological sign?” she laughed.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “You don’t strike me as the what’s-your-sign type.”

  “This isn’t about your horoscope.”

  “Good, because this morning it told me I’d have a serious conflict with a neighbor.” She let the skepticism drip from her voice before adding, “I’m a Virgo.”

  “Well, then, you’re in luck, because Virgo is visible. Do you know where to find it?” When she said she didn’t, he pointed toward the Big Dipper. “Got the handle? Follow it away from the bowl and keep going in an arc. See that really bright star?”

  She followed the line of his arm away from the Big Dipper. “Yes.”

  “That’s Arcturus. Now keep going to the blue star, the one that looks like it’s in the middle of an upside-down letter Y.”

  Again, she followed his movement. It took her a few seconds to find the blue star and several more to pick out the rest of the upside-down Y. “Got it.”

  “That Y is Virgo.”

  She stared at it for a moment. “I never could’ve found that.”

  “Sure you could, if you wanted to. There are programs that allow you to hold a phone up to the sky and identify the stars.”

  “I think I prefer the old-fashioned way.”

  “I do, too, but technology helps when you aren’t sure.” He swept a hand to encompass the sky. “There’s nothing like a dark night and your imagination. It’s timeless, knowing Copernicus and Galileo studied the stars in exactly the same way.”

  They lapsed into silence, enjoying the peace of each other’s company, the soft sounds of the water and the distant hum of the city, and the easy
rhythm of their breathing. When a wispy cloud drifted over Virgo, temporarily obscuring it, a tightness gripped her chest, then her throat.

  She liked Royce. A lot. She didn’t trust easily, but in their short time together she’d come to both trust him and crave their connection. This connection. When she’d had lunch at the bistro with her mother, she’d told herself she was ready to date…but that was in the moments just before she realized that Roy was Royce. She’d thought of dating as a gradual process. But with Royce, gradual wasn’t happening. The connection she felt with him was what she’d hoped to find after multiple dates with someone special…and expected would follow a lot of middling to bad first dates with a lot of not-so-special men.

  A thought occurred to her: if she were home in Sarcaccia, experiencing this level of closeness, it would scare her silly. She’d have the usual concerns one had when embarking on a new relationship, fears about heartbreak, of opening up to a new person. Then there’d be the personal concerns she’d avoided for years. Would the guy understand her mother? Would he think less of her father for leaving? And would he judge Daniela for how she was handling the issue? Understanding her family situation was a lot to ask of a significant other, and explaining it was a challenge she’d struggle to address.

  But Royce wasn’t a significant other. His life was here, and hers was there. In a few weeks, she’d be home again, preparing for Fabrizia’s ten-day trip through South America, and he’d be chasing spies or guarding wealthy clients or whatever else he did as part of his security business.

  She’d thought her sense of ease derived from Royce himself, but perhaps it was because a deep, primitive part of her brain understood that their time together was fleeting. As in, there’d be no happily ever after, no matter how rare their connection. However close she felt to him, there was no need to consider the long term and all its complications.

  She reached for her water, deciding it was both the man and the situation.

  As she replaced her glass, her eyes moved from cloudy Virgo back to the Big Dipper. Then back to Royce and those wide, protective shoulders. A deep, masculine exhale left him as he crossed his legs, then folded his hands behind his head. The movement sent another whisper of his scent past her, drifting away on the wind before she could fully indulge in it, and carrying away whatever thoughts she had about the whys of her attraction.

  She had a wild urge to bury her face in the crook of his neck, to see if his skin tasted as divine and wild as it smelled.

  To distract herself, she asked, “What about you? What’s your astrological sign?”

  “Cancer. At the moment, it’s beneath the horizon. But even when it’s up, it’s one of the toughest to see. A telescope helps.”

  “You have one?”

  “Not yet. Soon,” Royce said. “During my final year at university, I took a class in astronomical instrumentation. We learned how to use advanced telescopes, the best methods for capturing and analyzing data, all the aspects of astrophysics that would make most people yawn. The professor was fantastic. Her research focused on Neptune’s gravitational effect on Kuiper belt objects—”

  “Effect on…what?”

  “You know the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter?” When she indicated her familiarity, he explained, “There’s a similar belt that extends outward from Neptune’s orbit. However, it’s far larger, with greater mass. That’s the Kuiper belt.”

  She closed her eyes, hearkening back to the classroom. “When we covered the solar system in school, we watched an interview with an astronomer based in Hawaii. He mentioned the Kuiper belt when he was talking about Pluto. I couldn’t have come up with its name, though.”

  “I’m impressed you remember. Most people haven’t heard of it at all. It was theorized in the 1930s, but its existence wasn’t confirmed until the early nineties. The astronomer you saw was probably discussing the debate over reclassifying Pluto as a dwarf planet due to its relationship to the belt.”

  “That might have been it,” she said on a laugh. “All I remember is that I was sitting in the back of the class, thinking that poor Roman god Pluto was once again getting the short end of the stick, given that Jupiter and Neptune both had their names on gigantic planets.”

  “Life isn’t fair, especially in the world of mythology.”

  “True, but Pluto was already stuck with the underworld. Pretty lousy in comparison to being ruler of the heavens or ruler of the seas.”

  “Well, he did have Persephone.”

  “She was kidnapped.”

  “Life was even less fair for mythological women than mythological men.”

  She smiled, though she doubted Royce could see. With Friday night crowds moving through San Rimini’s casinos and restaurants, the city glowed and thrummed with a vibrancy absent on her first visit, though their location in the marina kept them in relative darkness. “Anyway…you were saying about your professor?”

  It took him a second to pick up the track. “The first day of class, Professor Hart issued an open invitation for students to visit the observatory on nights she conducted research. There were several times I was the only one who made it. She gave me access to the university’s telescope. I didn’t always understand her work—the math was at a higher level than I’d taken—but I loved looking through that telescope. It was like listening to a moving piece of music, one that gets under your skin and expands your soul.”

  He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed by describing an emotion. “Anyway, after I bought the Donati, I started setting aside money for a decent telescope. That’ll be my next purchase. I want to go out to sea, away from the lights, and play with it.”

  “That’s terribly intellectual of you,” she said. “You do know that most single men use their play money for beer and sports cars?”

  “I’m not so different. I went with beer and a boat.” He flipped his hand in the direction of the parking lot. “On the other hand, I drive a decade-old Toyota.”

  “Your boat isn’t play money. It’s your home.”

  “That depends on your perspective. On the weekends, the Donati is my passion project. No different than another guy’s sports car.”

  “Know any guys who live in their sports car?”

  “No, but I’ve met a few who would if they could.”

  The Big Dipper hung in the night sky, its handle high. She could picture Royce standing on the deck, aiming his telescope in that direction. Despite what he claimed, this boat meant more to him than most men’s weekend toys. “You never did tell me why it’s named Donati.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  His chair scraped the deck, moving until it touched hers, and he eased onto his side to face her. She could pick out the ridge of his brow and curve of his ear, then the moonlit glow of his cheekbones, but night shadows made it impossible to read his eyes.

  Though if she inhaled just right, she could breathe in the scent of him. She could become obsessed.

  “I believe I was counting down seconds when you asked,” he said. His hand brushed hers, then he caught her fingers and eased her hand toward him. He paused, dragging out the moment. His breath caressed her knuckles, then he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand.

  “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Is it working?”

  Hell yes, it was working. It made her want to slide right over to his chair, so his entire body could follow what his mouth was doing.

  She flexed her fingers in his. “Tell me why you named your boat Donati and I’ll tell you whether it’s working.”

  Chapter 23

  A low murmur of protest rumbled from Royce’s chest. She gave her hand a subtle pull, but he tightened his hold and said, “It all started long, long ago—”

  She let out a huff. “Now you’re teasing me.”

  “Do you want to hear this?”

  His voice was low and sexy as he uttered the question. After a show of deliberation, she used her free hand to form a zipper across her lips.

/>   Royce exaggerated a throat clearing, and his tone morphed into that of a bard sharing an epic tale. “It all started long, long ago, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fifty eight, with a simple Italian man named Giovanni. Giovanni worked in obscurity at the Florence Observatory, his hours spent mapping the stars. One June night, as he stared into the heavens, his gaze fixed near the constellation of Leo. There he spied a beautiful nebula-like object, one he’d never seen before. For several nights he continued his watch, filled with awe at the strange, bright spot, and soon he realized it was a comet. Giovanni was thrilled and shared his discovery with other astronomers. They, too, turned their telescopes that direction, anxious to see the beautiful, glowing ball of gas as it hurtled through space. The comet grew larger in the sky each night, until it was visible to the naked eye. By the time the summer leaves turned to copper, the comet had moved from Leo through Ursa Major. It became apparent throughout the Northern Hemisphere, even to non-astronomers, and as it moved closer to Earth, a brilliant tail appeared. Giovanni’s discovery became the talk of the Europe. It was dubbed The Great Comet of 1858 and became the first comet ever photographed. Artists depicted it in oils and charcoal, and it’s even said that Abraham Lincoln watched it from the porch of his Illinois hotel the night before one of his famous senate debates.”

  Daniela smiled at Royce’s whimsy, intrigued by this side of him. He was methodical and thoughtful in his work, but a creative soul lurked beneath the surface.

  He was an amazing storyteller.

  “And what of your simple Italian named Giovanni?” she asked. “Wait…let me guess. His last name was Donati.”