“You could say that,” Armando replied. He stared at his palms. Maybe one of the lines had the words he needed to explain. “Did you mean what you said last night? About being proud of Arianna and me?”
Whatever his father had been expecting, that wasn’t it. He leaned back a little so he could see Armando’s face. “Of course I did. You make me immensely proud.”
Would he still feel that way once Armando finished—that was the question. “Even if I dishonored Corinthia?”
“Considering your sister married a man who is not the father of her child, it would be hypocritical of me, don’t you think? Besides, I doubt there’s anything you could do that would dishonor Corinthia too much.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
His father paused as what Armando said sank in. “What have you done?”
“More like what I can’t do,” Armando replied and looked up from his hand. He didn’t need a love or life line to tell him what needed to be said. “I can’t marry Mona.”
“I see.” There was another pause. “And why can’t you?”
“Because I’m in love with someone else.” He laid out the entire story, from why he contacted King Omar in the first place to his goodbye to Rosa a short time earlier. When he finished, he went back to studying his palms. “I know we’re responsible for every light in Corinthia. I know that backing out of this arrangement means dishonoring our reputation and making an enemy out an important economic ally, but I just can’t.
“It’s selfish, but I’m tired of being unhappy, Father,” he said, staring at the shadows flickering along the wall. “It’s been three years of not being among the living. I need to live again.”
By this point, he’d been expecting his father’s silence, so it was a surprise when his father responded immediately. “Every light in Corinthia? Sounds like someone spent time with his grandfather.”
He reached over and patted Armando’s knee, something he hadn’t done in Armando’s childhood. “My father was a good man, but some of his advice could be heavy-handed. If I had known he was putting such notions in your head when you were young... Apparently I’ve failed you as well.”
“No, you didn’t,” Armando said, shifting his weight to face him. “You have been an exemplary king...”
“And a mediocre father,” he replied. “I wallowed in my grief and, as a result, taught you by example. Of course you should be happy, Armando. You can’t lead a country if you’re angry and bitter. If Rosa is the woman who will make you happy, embrace her.”
Armando planned to. He took a deep breath. Perhaps his father had a point. Having made his decision, he no longer felt the pressing weight on his shoulders. Like on the night of the rehearsal dinner, the bits and pieces kicking around his head had solidified, making his thoughts clear. He could breathe.
“Omar is going to be furious,” he said. Mona, too. And deservedly so.
“Omar is also pragmatic. His main concern is helping his people. If we offer economic aid, I think he and Mona will be willing to swallow their hurt pride. Although I wouldn’t expect an invitation to stay at the Yelgierian palace any time soon.”
If that was the only fallout, Armando would live. “I would like to start an initiative as well to encourage Corinthian and other EU doctors to set up practice in Yelgiers. From what Mona says, a dearth of doctors is one of their most pressing concerns.”
“We’ll make it a priority,” his father replied. “Now, what are you doing sitting under a mistletoe with me? Don’t you have a future princess to collect?”
Yes, he did. With his cheek muscles aching from the grin on his face, Armando jumped to his feet.
“Armando!” his father called when he reached the door. “Merry Christmas.”
Impossibly, Armando’s grin grew even wider. “Merry Christmas, Father.”
* * *
Rosa was trying. She was serving food and reminding herself that her life could be a lot worse. She had her brain. She was strong and capable. Moreover, while she might be alone, Armando loved her. Wanted, needed and loved. She should take solace in the fact she was special enough to win the heart of the crown prince.
“I’d rather have Armando.”
“Are you talking to your imaginary friend, Miss Rosa?”
Daniela, she who started everything by spotting the first mistletoe, yanked on her blazer. “I have an imaginary friend, too,” she said. “His name is Boco. He’s a talking elephant. Is your friend an elephant, too?”
“No,” said Rosa, embarrassed to be asked about her imaginary friend. “She’s an angel named Christina.”
“Like the name of this place?”
“That’s right. She’s been helping me make sense of a very confusing problem.”
“Is it helping?” Daniela asked.
“Not yet,” Rosa replied. “But we’ll keep trying.” Broken hearts were never solved in one day. And when the person you loved had also been the center of your life...she suspected she’d be trying to sort things out for a very long time.
“Maybe cake would help,” Daniela said. “When my mama needs to think, she always eats cake. And ice cream.”
“Your mother is a very smart woman.” Though in this case, cake would only make matters worse. She’d already eaten her weight in Christmas cookies.
Sending the little girl back to play with the other children, Rosa stole a couple more cookies and made her way to the rear picture window. In the distance, Mount Cornier’s snow-covered peak had been swallowed by clouds. She bit a cookie and imagined her sister’s spirit sitting on a fluffy white cushion, watching over her legacy.
Holidays and heartache made her overly poetic.
If Christina was watching, the least she could do was tell her what to do next, since Rosa didn’t know. In some ways, she was worse off than when she left Fredo. Then, she’d had Armando. This time she would have to lean on herself. Maybe she would go to the continent and find a job there. Or America. She didn’t care so long as she could start fresh.
And someday forget Armando.
Maybe.
If she didn’t—couldn’t—forget him, she knew she would still survive. She wasn’t the same woman who had scurried away from Fredo thinking she was a fat, ugly lump of clay. Oh, she still had days...but there were also days when she felt good about herself. The fact she made the choice to walk away from Armando said she was stronger.
In time, she would be all right. Sad. Lonely. But all right.
“If only you could make my heart stop feeling like it was tearing in two,” she whispered to the glass.
“Ho, ho, ho! Buon Natale!”
The entire shelter burst into high-pitched squeals. “Babbo!”
It couldn’t be. They must have hired a professional impersonator for the day, as a surprise for the kids.
The director hadn’t mentioned anything to her, though.
“Is everyone having a good Christmas?”
Uncanny. They even sounded alike. She looked in the glass hoping to catch a reflection, but it was too bright out. All she could see was a darkened silhouette in costume.
“Babbo needs your help, boys and girls.”
This was silly. Armando was not at the shelter playing Babbo. As soon as she turned around she would see that the person...
Was Armando.
Why? He was dressed in costume and surrounded by children. “There’s a very special person whose present Babbo forgot to deliver,” he was telling them in his boisterous Babbo voice, “and I’m afraid she thinks I decided to give her present to another girl. It’s really important I find her, boys and girls, so I can tell her that I would never pick someone else. That she’s the most important person in the world to Babbo. In fact, Babbo cares about her so much that he wants her to come back to the North Pole with him.”
“Right there!” the children screamed, two dozen index fingers pointing in her direction.
Rosa was too stunned to breathe. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“What do you think I am doing?” Armando said. “I’ve come to bring you back home where you belong.” He reached through the throng to catch her fingertips. “I love you, Rosa.”
Beautiful as those words were to hear, they were still only words. “I told you, Ar—Babbo. I can’t stay at the North Pole.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the children watching intently and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It hurts too much.”
“But you don’t understand,” he whispered back. “Mona’s gone. Come with me.” Grabbing her hand, he led her to the shelter’s lobby and closed the community room door. “I told Mona I couldn’t marry her.”
She had to have heard wrong. “What about your agreement with King Omar? You gave him your word.”
“It’s a long story. What matters is I love you and I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
Rosa couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was too unreal. “Are you saying that you damaged relations with one of your closest allies for me?”
“When you put it that way...yes.” He pulled off his hat and beard, leaving only his disheveled self. His beautiful, disheveled self. “I would do it again, too. Are you crying?”
“Like a newborn baby.” All those years married to Fredo, believing she wasn’t anyone special. How wrong she had been. Armando made her feel beyond special. Not because he’d nearly created an international incident on her behalf, or tracked her down dressed like Santa Claus, although both were amazingly romantic.
No, the reason he made her feel special was in his eyes. They were shining as clear and bright as a summer’s day without a trace of melancholy to be found. He was happy being with her, and that was all she needed. “I love you,” she told him.
Her reward was an even brighter shine. “Does that mean you’ll come back with me to the North Pole?”
“Absolutely, Babbo. Right after you kiss me under the mistletoe.”
“Forget the mistletoe,” he said, tossing the beard over his shoulder. Rosa gasped as he pulled her into his arms and dipped her low. “All I need is you.”
New Year’s Eve
“Five minutes left in the year. Will you be sad to see it end?”
Rosa took one of the glasses of champagne Armando was carrying. “Yes,” she said. “And no. I’ll be sorry to see December end. For all the ups and downs, it turned out to be a pretty wonderful month.”
“The last week certainly was.” Armando gave her a champagne-flavored kiss that quickly deepened. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that we decided to skip a formal courtship?” he asked, lips continuing to tease hers.
“Well, it did seem a little silly, considering...”
“Mmm, considering,” he said, kissing her again. What they were discovering was the intimacy that came from being friends before becoming lovers. There was a level of trust that made everything they shared feel deeper. Of course, the fact Armando was an amazingly enthusiastic lover didn’t hurt, either.
“You know what else I’ll miss,” Rosa said, turning in his arms. “Once Epiphany passes, this will become a plain old archway again.”
They were in their archway now, preferring to ring in the new year alone rather than in a ballroom full of dignitaries.
Armando kissed her temple. “If you’d like, I can insist the trees stay up by royal decree.”
“Is this the same royal decree where you’re going to ban the use of fake Babbo beards?”
“The fibers give me a rash.”
“My poor baby. Too sensitive for synthetic fibers.” She snuggled closer. “As much as I’ll miss the decorations, they need to go. How else will they stay special?” Christmas decorations weren’t like the man with his arms around her—Armando woke up being special.
While she woke up feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.
“Besides,” she told him, “we still have tonight.”
“Which switches to tomorrow in less than two minutes,” he replied.
A brand-new year. Given how wonderfully this year was ending, Rosa couldn’t imagine what the next year had in store. As far as she was concerned, she had everything she could want sitting next to her with his arms wrapped around her waist. She loved Armando, and he loved her. What could be better?
“Do you realize,” she said, pausing to take a drink, “that if we hadn’t gotten our act together, you would be announcing your engagement to Mona at this very moment?”
“You’re right—I did plan to be engaged by New Year’s, didn’t I?”
“That was before.” Armando’s breaking the engagement to date his assistant turned out to be scandal enough to push Arianna’s pregnancy out of the papers completely. Fortunately, Mona and King Omar, while hurt, didn’t hold too big a grudge. Hard to be angry at a country that was funding doctors’ relocation efforts.
“There is still the matter of my producing an heir, though,” Armando said, shifting his weight.
“That can be arranged,” Rosa said with a smile.
“Very amusing. If you don’t mind, I would like to establish my family in the proper order. Marriage, then heirs. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a very logical...” Armando had moved to his knee. In his hand was the most beautiful diamond Rosa had ever seen. “Are you—” She couldn’t finish the sentence; her heart was stuck in her throat.
“I am,” he whispered with a nod. “Rosa Lamberti, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She never did say the word yes. Instead, Rosa threw her arms around his neck and kissed him until there was no doubt as to her answer. “I would be honored,” she told him.
Down the hall, the crowd began chanting a countdown to midnight. Rosa and Armando didn’t care. Their time was already here.
* * * * *
If you loved Rosa and Armando’s story, find out where it all started with CHRISTMAS BABY FOR THE PRINCESS, the first book in Barbara Wallace’s festive ROYAL HOUSE OF CORINTHIA duet, available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS IN THE BOSS’S CASTLE by Scarlet Wilson.
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Christmas in the Boss’s Castle
by Scarlet Wilson
CHAPTER ONE
GRACE BRUSHED THE snow from her shoulders as she ducked in the back door of the exclusive Armstrong hotel in Chelsea, London. It was just after six in the morning, the streets were still dark and she could see her footprints in the snow outside.
Frank, the senior concierge, came in behind her. A wide grin lit up his face as he saw her looking at the snow outside. ‘Finally,’ he muttered as he shook the snow from his coat and started to sing the words to It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas. The words of the song floated from his lips. He gave her a nudge. ‘You’re too young to remember this one.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Frank, you should know, I know every version of every Christmas song that’s ever existed.’
They walked into the changing room. ‘What version do you want to go for? Johnny Mathis, Frank Sinatra, or Michael Buble?’ She started singing alongside him as she wound her long brown hair up into a loose bun and tied on her white chambermaid’s apron over her black shirt and skirt.
Christmas was her absolute favourite time of year. It brought back great memories of the Christmases she’d spent with her grandmother in the little flat they’d shared in one of the poorer parts of London. But what they didn’t have in wealth, they’d certainly made up for in love. This would be her first Christmas without her gran and she was determined not to be sad and gloomy—her gran would never have wanted that for her.
Frank slid his arms into his dark green and gold jacket and started fastening the buttons. ‘I swear this thing shrinks every night when I put it into my locker.’
Grace laughed and closed her locker, walking over to Frank and pulling his jacket a little closer across his wide girth, helping him with the buttons. He kept singing the whole time. She finished with a sigh. ‘I wish those words were true.’
Winter Wedding for the Prince Page 14