“Of course.” He held her gaze, then his eyes narrowed. “Next time you need to meet with Lorenzo be sure Nina is with you.”
She gulped. “Okay.” So he suspected something, even if no one else did.
“Someone is trying to scare you. To put you on edge. You should be wary—we’ve had two murders and Emma was kidnapped so we don’t know what to expect. As the reigning king’s twin sister you should consider yourself at high risk of foul play.”
“I know.” She moved for the door, desperate to get away from him. “I appreciate your discretion.”
He made another grunting sound—no royal charm for Gibran—and she exited into the hallway. The family was heading into dinner, and she hurried to join them, heart still thudding like a runaway train.
It was pretty sad when you were more scared of your family’s opinion than you were of an unknown weirdo who’d somehow gained access to your phone.
“Beatriz!” Darias called to her from across the dining room. The urgent tone in his voice startled her and she almost tripped on the edge of the ancient carpet. “What’s going on?” He strode toward her. “Why were you out with Lorenzo Aldobrando?”
CHAPTER NINE
Beatriz’ heart sank. I snuck out through the woods to meet him, then we went to Dad’s old hideaway to have steamy sex. “He took me out to lunch.”
She could almost feel her nose growing.
“Why?” Darias towered over her.
She kept going to the table and sat down, careful to keep her expression neutral. “Why not?” She took a fresh, hot roll from the basket.
“Are you serious? He’s Lorenzo fricken Aldobrando. He’s trying to get something out of you.”
“Darias!” Emma cut in. “You don’t know that.” Beatriz wished she could reach across the table and hug her sister-in-law.
“You bet I do. His whole family are like that. They remind me of the Medicis.”
“Then shouldn’t one of them be pope?” asked Aunt Liesel with an arch expression.
“I’m sure they’re working on it, but Lorenzo has obviously managed to avoid that duty, at least based on what I’ve heard about his fondness for the ladies.” Darias took a swig of wine.
Beatriz felt herself shrinking. She managed to tear her roll and dip a corner of it in her tomato and bacon soup. “He didn’t try to get anything out of me. He was very nice.”
“All part of his dastardly plan, I’ll bet.” Darias frowned. “Did I tell you he tried—twice—to convince me to lease him the lake and the land around it? And I’m sure the lease was just a way of getting his claws into it so he could take ownership by fair means or foul.”
“Oh, Darias, don’t be so dramatic.” Their mom shook out her napkin before putting it on her lap. “That land has been sitting unused for ages. There’s nothing wrong with him asking to lease it.”
“Dad told me from day one that the most important part of my duty as king was to maintain the territorial integrity of Altaleone.”
“That’s more important than taking care of its people?” Beatriz seized this opportunity to change the subject.
“Yes. People only live a short time, he said, and the land is what makes Altaleone a nation that continues from one century to the next.”
“I suppose I can see his point,” said Sandro. “But that seems a bit reactionary.”
“A monarchy is reactionary,” said Darias with a wry grin. “Continuity of tradition is the whole point. Of course I want to do everything I can to make life good for our people, but I don’t intend to lose one square inch of the kingdom that was handed down to me.”
“Life is already good for our people.” Their mom helped herself to the salad that a staffer was taking around. “We have the highest per capita income and longest life expectancy on earth. I don’t think there’s a more robust measure of happiness than that.”
Beatriz wasn’t so sure. Still, she wasn’t going to argue that Altaleone wasn’t the best place on earth. She’d certainly never thought of living anywhere else.
“So the most important part of my job,” Darias continued, uncharacteristically loud, “is to make sure that no one, including Lorenzo Aldobrando, manages to buy, sneak or steal our land out from under us.”
“I hardly think he could do that even if he wanted to,” murmured Beatriz, avoiding his intense gaze.
“Don’t be so sure. His family has never ceased protesting and making a claim for that land. Every now and then some thousand-year-old agreement holds up in court somewhere in Europe. I don’t intend for that to happen. If he wants it badly enough he might even try to marry you to get it.”
Beatriz managed a fake laugh. It didn’t sound very convincing. “Trust me, there was no marriage proposal. We simply shared an enjoyable conversation.” And some very pleasurable lovemaking. She distracted herself from the memories with a sip of iced water.
“The whole thing sets my teeth on edge,” said Darias. “And why did you go out without an armed escort?”
Beatriz felt her dander rising. “Darias, you may be king, but I’m still your sister, not your child.” She hated talking like this in front of Sandro’s new girlfriend, Serena, who probably felt awkward witnessing this family spat.
“He’s only concerned about your safety, my love,” said her mom. “I am too. Anything could have happened. You know Emma was kidnapped.”
“I know. I won’t do it again. It’s not easy getting used to living like we’re at war or something.” She felt bad for worrying her mom. She had enough to deal with after losing Dad. “But don’t be so neurotic. Lorenzo has just been friendly. He insisted on dropping me home so it’s not like he was trying to hide from you. I bet he thought it was rude of me not to ask him in, but I know how you all feel about him and his family. Anyway, I’m more uptight and suspicious than all of you put together, so I can’t believe you think I’d just fall into some trap.”
“You have a point,” said Sandro. “Still, Lorenzo is known as kind of a shark in the business world, so do be careful.”
“A young lady in your position must always be careful,” said Aunt Liesel, through a mouthful of bread roll. “When you have both money and a title you can never be sure which one they want more.”
Unfortunately Beatriz had to agree with her. She’d learned early on that being a princess was a major liability when it came to dating. Now that her grandmother had left her a large personal inheritance, she was even more of a catch for some unscrupulous male.
“Why don’t you ask him to come over for dinner?” asked her mom. “So we can get to know him better?” Her usual warm expression didn’t hide an edge of genuine curiosity in her voice.
“Sure. I’ll ask him next time I talk to him. Not that it will be any time soon. Like I said, we’re just friends.” She had no intention of doing any such thing. After Darias’s performance tonight she could just imagine how he’d rake Lorenzo over the coals and possibly—she almost died just having the thought—accuse him to his face of trying to marry Beatriz for her inheritance.
“What did the two of you talk about?” Sandro looked up from his glass of wine. “I’m just curious.”
We were planning my ascent to the pantheon of European fashion designers. “Oh, this and that.” Could she tell them about the dress without going into too much detail about her big dreams? She doubted they’d remember she’d wanted to be a designer. It hadn’t come up for years. “He likes to ride. You know I could talk about horses all day.”
“That is true,” teased Sandro. “If he’s a rider he’s perfect for you.”
“Don’t encourage her,” said Darias with a glare. “I can see why traditionally monarchs liked to arrange marriages for all their sisters and daughters. That’s very tempting right now.”
“Throwing a bread roll at you is very tempting right now.” Beatriz lifted a brow. “I thought you considered yourself a feminist. Becoming king seems to be having a devastating effect on your respect for human rights.”
“Ouch.” Darias made a wry expression. “I guess you’re right. It’s weird…suddenly I feel responsible for everyone in a way I never did before. I must be driving Emma crazy with it too.”
“Only a little.” Emma smiled. Emma was quite possibly the nicest person on earth—well, maybe after their mom. Nothing ever made either of them mad enough to yell at someone. They were both the kind of warm, giving women men dreamed of marrying—unlike her, the prickly, awkward one who was suspicious of everyone and usually said the wrong thing.
A flashback to her afternoon in Lorenzo’s arms almost stole her breath. She didn’t feel awkward when she was with him. He was easygoing and encouraging, and he made her relax and reveal things she’d vowed never to tell anyone, hopes and dreams she’d almost forgotten she had. And the way he kissed…
“…can you promise me that?” Darias had asked her a question. She hadn’t heard it.
“What?”
“Earth to Beatriz,” chimed in Sandro with a cheeky grin.
“I was just thinking about something.” Like Lorenzo’s hard, flat stomach.
“I can see that.” Darias’s eyebrow lifted. “I just want you to promise to always take a security escort with you when you leave the palace.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“Beatriz!” their mom protested. “He’s just concerned about your safety. We all are.”
“I know. I’m just bitter that he gets to be king even though I was born first.” It was better to openly joke about it than to fester over it. “Would that happen in America, Serena?”
Sandro’s girlfriend looked startled. Then she shrugged. “I wish I could say it wouldn’t, but I suppose we’d need to elect a woman president to prove that Americans are comfortable with a female leader.”
“True.” Beatriz lifted her glass. “We women have our work cut out for us.”
“Come on, Beatriz. You don’t even have a job.” Sandro cocked his head. “You haven’t ever had one.”
“Nor have you, bro. Didn’t you try that once and you got fired on the second day?”
“They simply asked me to offer my resignation.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. Nothing rattled Sandro. She envied his cool. “Besides, I run my own business.”
“Maybe I should start a business.” She blinked. They had no idea she was already planning it.
“You don’t have to do that, sweetheart,” protested her mom. “You fulfill a very important role here.”
“Opening school buildings and giving out companies’ year-end awards.”
“A woman’s work is more subtle but every bit as important,” said Liesel smugly. As far as Beatriz knew Liesel had never worked a day in her life. Her existence revolved around riding her horse and driving people nuts. More things they had in common… “One doesn’t want to lower oneself.”
Beatriz fought the urge to roll her eyes. “There seems to be a very short list of acceptable professions for princes and princesses.”
“That’s why I ignored it and became an artist anyway,” said Darias with a wink. Their soup bowls were cleared away and replaced with plates of glazed salmon and green beans. “I’m still painting too. I told my gallery I’d be ready for a new show by the end of the year.”
How did Darias get away with doing something “frivolous”? That was the word her dad had used to describe her fashion school dream. Because Darias didn’t ask anyone’s permission and just did it.
As his older sister, she intended to take a page from his book. Hopefully they would learn of her new venture when she showed them glowing articles in the press. She had to work to keep a smile off her face at the prospect.
“I think it’s wonderful that you’re still painting, sweetheart,” said their mom.
“Emma encouraged me.” Darias leaned over and gave Emma a tender kiss. “And how could I not paint with inspiration this lovely beside me every day? It would be torture.”
“Your paintings should command a higher price now that you’re king,” said Liesel sharply. “If they don’t, then fire your gallery.”
Darias laughed. “I have no say in the pricing. It’s what the market commands, according to Keane Moss, my gallery owner. And I trust him. He hired Emma. We’d never have met if it wasn’t for him.”
“And me,” cut in Sandro. “I suggested you marry her, remember?”
“Yep. Before I’d even said a single word to her.”
“What can I say, I have a good eye.” He turned and smiled at Serena—who looked alarmed, then slowly smiled back. Beatriz wondered if Serena would turn out to be “the one” for Sandro. She didn’t remember him ever looking at another woman like that.
If Sandro and Darias—two unrepentant playboys—could find love, then why was it so wrong for her to have a relationship with Lorenzo?
It wasn’t. And, like her fashion line, she was going to pursue her relationship with him using as much discretion—or even secrecy—as she could manage.
Beatriz didn’t want anyone, even the staff, to see her drawing, so she did most of it at night after everyone had headed for their separate rooms. She visited the old art supply shop in the village to stock up on paper, pens and watercolors, taking Gibran’s female security guard with her, but no one seemed to notice or care. Sketching and painting were perfectly acceptable princessly activities, after all.
Lorenzo called her, and they chatted about horses and cities they liked and how he’d like to kiss her all over. “It’s entirely possible that someone, possibly even the palace security, is listening in on this phone call.”
“We’re not discussing anything criminal.”
“True, but you should have heard the reaction when I told them I met with you. You’d think I’d handed over the keys to the kingdom.”
“When can I see you again?”
She smiled. He wasn’t easily deterred. “I don’t know. We should lay low for a while.”
“Tomorrow sounds good. I’ll come pick you up at ten.”
“What? No! You can’t come here. Besides, I ride my horse at ten.”
“Then ride your horse at eight. I need to come early so we have time to drive to Milan. I want to show you two possible venues for your show.”
“Already? I can’t believe you even started looking into that.”
“Fashion week is very busy. The best venues are booked years in advance.”
Beatriz chewed her lip. “I can meet you in town, but I have to bring a security guard. She’ll drive in a car behind me.” So much for any romantic kissing.
“That’s fine. The usual street at ten?”
“Okay.”
“Sleep well, beautiful. I hope your dreams are all about me.”
“You would,” she teased, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “You sleep well too.”
Beatriz ended the call, wondering how her telling him she wanted to lay low translated into him meeting her tomorrow. He made her smile. Truth be told, his persistence and refusal to take no for an answer were the reasons he’d managed to get this close to her. She had decades of experience with keeping everyone at arm’s length.
And she couldn’t wait to see Lorenzo again.
Cunning as he reputedly was, she had a feeling he’d figure out a way for them to be alone and away from the security guard for at least a few stolen moments. And she couldn’t wait…
CHAPTER TEN
The drive to Milan went smoothly, considering the subfreezing temperatures and banks of snow piled high on either side of the roads out of mountainous Altaleone. Even as they descended the mountain passes, Lorenzo’s hands strayed to touch her and his stolen glances and sexy half-smiles underscored the attraction between them. They arrived in the city almost forty-five minutes before their first appointment and stopped at a café.
Beatriz had a notebook of sketches in her bag—nothing final—to show to Lorenzo. Half of her wondered if he’d take one look at them and change his mind about this whole crazy idea of her having a show at fashion week. After
they’d ordered, she pulled it out with trembling fingers.
“They’re just ideas,” she muttered. “I don’t really have a theme, and I should.” He looked through the sketches, pausing to consider each one. Her pulse ratcheted up as she watched his serious expression. Was he trying to figure out how to offer critique without crushing her?
He handed the notebook back. “I can’t wait to see them.” His eyes glowed with pleasure. “They’re beautiful.”
Her chest filled with emotion. His fingers brushed hers as she took the book and stirred her senses, too. “I was thinking that perhaps Signora Pazzi could come with me to choose some of the fabrics. She’ll know what will be easy to sew into a certain design—and I’m sure she has connections at the best fabric showrooms in Milan. I could pay her a consulting fee.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, and all I need to do is sit back and admire your collection.” He raised his coffee cup. “Soon you’ll be the toast of the town.”
Beatriz sipped her coffee—it was strong and slightly spicy. She could just imagine the looks on her family’s faces when she told them she was having a show. Or maybe she shouldn’t tell them until afterward? It would be embarrassing if they came, and it bombed and everyone in the audience whistled and jeered. Could that even happen at a fashion show?
“What’s wrong?” asked Lorenzo.
Her anxiety must be showing on her face. “What if it’s a disaster?”
He laughed, then took her hands and squeezed them, as if to reassure her with his firm, warm grip. “How can it be? It’s going to be a smashing success.”
Most of the usual venues were long rented by established designers, but Lorenzo’s contacts had found a couple of options. The first venue was an elegant old mansion with a double-roomed ballroom that could accommodate a runway. It also had a pretty formal garden that would be perfect for a reception afterward. Beatriz could almost hear champagne glasses clinking and people whispering her name in shocked awe.
The Princess's Scandalous Affair (Royal House of Leone Book 4) Page 8