‘But—’
Francesca spoke over her. ‘And after you tell him that I can guarantee that within hours he will leave. Crown Prince Rafael was not expected to stay here for even a few days. I was told that as soon as he was even partway healed he would grow bored and fly out.’
‘He didn’t leave, though.’
‘Of course not. He was getting sex and nightly entertainment. Tell me, Antonietta, why would he leave?’
‘It wasn’t like that—’
‘It was exactly like that, and I should know,’ Francesca said. ‘I was taken advantage of by a man a year after my husband left me. I’m guessing that you were lonely?’
Antonietta opened her mouth to argue, but the truth was she had been lonely—desperately so. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But Rafe did not take advantage of that fact. I was complicit.’
‘You were out of your depth,’ Francesca countered. ‘He is a notorious playboy. Have you not seen him in the scandal rags?’ Francesca answered her own question. ‘Of course not—you wouldn’t read them. But, Antonietta, not all gossip is bad. It can serve as a warning.’
‘I doubt I would have heeded any warning.’
Antonietta thought back and knew that there might have been a group of protesters on the lawn that first night, as she had walked to his suite, and they could have been holding placards attesting to his reputation, and still she would not have let go of his hand.
‘He told me from the start it could go nowhere...’
‘Of course not.’
‘Even before I knew who he was.’
‘And now that you do, be the one to end it.’
Francesca gave her shy and somewhat naive chambermaid a little cuddle, and felt angry on her behalf—and not just with Prince Rafael.
‘Antonietta, for what it is worth, I will not tell your mother.’
‘I don’t care any more.’
She would have dreaded that a short while ago, but no longer. She had spent these last years frozen at age twenty-one, desperate to reclaim their approval.
‘I cannot keep apologising for being me.’
‘No,’ Francesca said. ‘And neither should you. I think your parents’ treatment of you has been terrible and I have told your mother the same. We are no longer speaking.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No more saying sorry,’ Francesca said.
‘One more apology,’ Antonietta replied.
In the last hour she had learnt many lessons, and she now felt all of her twenty-six years. She knew that Francesca was being stern out of kindness and to protect her.
‘I will always be Aurora’s best friend, but I will never use that friendship again. At work, I answer only to you.’
‘Thank you,’ Francesca said.
It felt right. And for a moment the world felt a lot better than it had in recent years. But now came the hard part. The hardest part.
To let Rafe go with grace and not let him see the agony in her heart.
* * *
Antonietta knocked on the door, and instead of being called to come in, or using her swipe card, this time Rafe opened it.
He wore black jeans and a black shirt and was unshaven, yet somehow he seemed so immaculate and regal that Antonietta wondered how she had not known he was royal on sight.
‘Come in,’ Rafe said. ‘How did you get on?’
‘Okay, I think,’ Antonietta said.
And because she felt as if her knees might give way she chose to take a seat opposite the chair on which Francesca had folded her uniform dress, on the sofa on which they had made love the previous evening.
‘I have assured her that it will never happen again.’
‘You are hardly going to make a habit of sleeping with the guests.’
‘I think she understands that it won’t happen again. And I won’t be coming to your suite again.’
Rafe actually opened his mouth to dispute that. To wave his royal wand, or rather have things smoothed over, but to what end?
He was leaving, and it was far better to end it now. Cleanly. He did not want to follow his father’s example.
Rafe glimpsed it then—a future for them of the kind his father had described. He could return to Silibri at every whim. Take out a permanent lease on the August Suite...
No. Better he followed his mother’s example and killed this now.
Or let her think that she had.
‘Perhaps that would be for the best.’ His voice was steady and he watched her rapid blinking.
‘So I’m dismissed?’ Antonietta could not keep the hurt at his cold reply from her voice.
‘You are the one saying that you won’t be returning to my suite,’ Rafe pointed out. ‘You are the one saying that you cannot see me any more.’
‘Yes, but...’ She had hoped for some protest, some indication—any indication—that this was hurting him even a fraction of how much it was killing her. Yet he seemed unmoved.
‘I told you this could go nowhere.’
‘You did, but...’
That but again. He could hear her attempting to defend them. Worse, he was still glimpsing that future.
And so he killed it, with brutal but necessary words, for he could not drag it out any longer. ‘I am to marry,’ Rafe said. ‘My engagement will be announced in the New Year.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘At least I have the difficult conversation, Antonietta. At least I don’t run from it.’
‘That’s unfair.’
‘Why? Would you prefer it if I just take off and leave and then write you a letter in a few months, explaining my actions? Would you prefer that I return in five years and expect to resume where we left off?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So what do you want, Antonietta?’ he asked. ‘You tell me that you are no longer coming to my suite and yet you secretly want me to dissuade you?’
‘No!’ she protested, but that wasn’t quite true. ‘Perhaps...’ she conceded.
Her honesty floored him and made it hard to remain cold, for he could see the confusion in her eyes.
Cleanly, Rafe.
He didn’t want it to be over, though. And neither did she.
‘One moment.’
He went into the bedroom and from the dresser there removed a slim black velvet box. Then he returned to the lounge and handed it to her.
Antonietta opened it with some difficulty, for she could feel him watching her. She refused to gasp, but held her breath when she saw the gorgeous pendant, with a stone so bold and blue that for a moment she could imagine she was back in the Blue Grotto.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but I cannot accept it.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘No.’ She held out the box to him but he refused to take it, so she placed it on the desk. ‘Rafe, I don’t know its value, but I am certain that sapphire would buy me a house—not that I would ever sell it.’
He did not tell her that it was a rare blue diamond. Instead he let her speak.
‘But how on earth could I keep it?’ She looked at him. ‘When my life moves on, am I to wear it for special occasions? Perhaps on my wedding day?’
His jaw ground down.
‘No,’ she answered her own question. ‘For that would be crass. So just on dates, or birthdays, or whatever? Or do I buy a safe? And when my lover asks how I came upon it do I tell him that for a few nights I slept with a prince?’
She looked at him, this girl with the saddest eyes, but still there were no tears.
‘I don’t think that would go down too well.’
She held it out but still he did not take it from her.
‘Please, Rafe, don’t mark the end of us with this.’
‘Take it, Antonietta. Sell it if you have to.’
<
br /> ‘I already told you—I refuse to be your whore.’
She stood and placed the box on an occasional table.
‘I’m going.’ No more kisses, no promises, just one plea. ‘Don’t get in touch with me. Don’t enquire about me from Aurora or Nico. Don’t keep me on a thread.’
And so he did what Antonietta wanted and what his mother had suggested—he pushed them to the point of no return.
‘That’s very conceited of you, Antonietta. I won’t even remember your name by the middle of next week. Certainly I won’t be looking you up for a replay. You weren’t that good.’
Ah, yes, Antonietta thought, he warned me how cold he would be at the end.
But she had so little to compare this with—so little to go on apart from her heart, which was braver than she. So she walked over to him and looked up to meet his eyes.
And as it turned out she could have the difficult conversation.
‘Liar.’
She was met with silence.
‘I’m going to get on with my life now.’
She walked out of his suite and there, waiting in the cloister, was Francesca.
‘I’m proud of you,’ Francesca said.
‘So am I,’ Antonietta admitted.
And so too was Rafe.
* * *
‘I hope you have had a wonderful stay,’ said the concierge.
‘Indeed,’ Rafe replied, and handed Pino a handwritten note of thanks, as a royal prince was expected to do to someone who had taken such care to ensure his every demand had been met. ‘Thank you for your help. The running route you suggested was most excellent.’
‘It was a favourite of mine.’
‘Was?’ Rafe checked.
‘I used to walk there with Rosa.’
Ah, yes, Rafe recalled that Pino had lost his wife earlier this year. What was it with this place? Usually he did not get involved in staff’s lives or dramas.
‘It’s still beautiful,’ Rafe said.
‘Not without Rosa,’ Pino responded, and held out his hand to the Prince. ‘It’s been a pleasure having you at the Old Monastery, and I know we are all looking forward to your return.’
But he would not be returning.
Like Pino, the thought of being here without his love meant Silibri had lost its charm.
Love?
Instantly he refuted that. His life would still be beautiful without Antonietta, Rafe told himself. He would return to his country and marry a suitable woman, if it pleased the people, and then he would have the power he required for the changes he craved.
He would no longer be the reckless Playboy Prince.
And Antonietta would move on with her life.
* * *
She had been expecting that sound.
Chi-Chi was eating a guest’s grapes in one of the standard suites as Antonietta switched off the vacuum. She could hear the whirr of the rotors in the distance and headed to the window.
First she saw Pino and one of the bell boys, carrying luggage, and then she saw Rafe, running across the ground and bounding up into the helicopter.
‘He’s leaving, then,’ Chi-Chi said with a distinct lack of interest.
Antonietta didn’t have the energy to respond, and she watched as it lifted into the sky until it was just a tiny black dot on the horizon.
Without his ‘amusement’ Rafe had not even seen out the day...
CHAPTER TWELVE
RAFE’S HELICOPTER TOOK him to Palermo, and from there it was a private jet to Tulano.
Rafael did not reside at the main palace. He had his own court. As the gates opened it was already dark. But there was no question of sleep. He sat with a pen and tried to work on the most important speech of his life.
It took all night, and, when he finally stood before his father, to his disquiet his mother was there, and her cool gaze was less than encouraging.
At least she was listening. His father didn’t even let him past the second line.
‘She’s a commoner?’ the King interjected. ‘Non.’
‘Will you at least hear what I have to say?’ Rafe bit down on his frustration, for he knew it was imperative that he stay polite.
‘There’s no point,’ the King said. ‘So I don’t need to hear it. I have been giving your marriage a lot of thought, and we need someone who is well-versed in royal tradition—someone who understands that the crown comes before everything...’
‘So a loveless marriage?’ Rafe checked.
‘Rafe, you have had your freedom, and you have abused that freedom to the nth degree. You are thirty years old and the only heir to the throne—’
‘Whose fault is that?’ his mother interrupted.
Rafe closed his eyes in frustration. Here we go, he thought.
Except his mother truly was the Ice Queen, and Rafe watched as she spoke of the most painful part of her life without a shred of emotion.
‘You married me because your father instructed you to. You have stayed married to me purely to avoid a royal scandal, and yet you have created many a royal scandal of your own.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ the King retorted, and he shot a reproving look at the wife who for so long had refused to share his bed.
‘Don’t speak to her like that,’ Rafe warned his father.
‘May I remind you to whom you—?’
‘I don’t need to be reminded,’ Rafe retorted. ‘I have lived it, and so has your Queen.’
His mother was on his side, Rafe realised. And suddenly he understood her cold nature better and looked back on his childhood with adult eyes. No wonder she had never set foot on Capri, for Rafe could not even fathom taking his future wife there after what he and Antonietta had shared.
He did have his mother’s heart after all. She was not cold. She was just bruised by an unfaithful husband, and yet she spoke out for her son now.
‘I shall never recommend that you force our son to do the same,’ she said.
‘I tell you this much,’ Rafe said, for though he was grateful to his mother for speaking out he knew his own mind. ‘I will never conform to the same.’ He faced his father. ‘As I have stated, I refuse to take marital advice from you, but I venture to give you some in return: sort out your own marriage before you meddle in mine.’
‘How dare you?’ the King roared. ‘Have you forgotten I am your King?’
‘Never,’ Rafe responded. ‘And for that reason, and that reason only, I stand before you and petition for your permission to propose to the woman I love.’
‘She is a commoner,’ the King dismissed.
‘I have made my choice,’ Rafe said.
‘A poor one! I will never approve this marriage.’
Rafe knew his father well enough to know that he would not back down.
‘Will you abide by my decision?’ the King demanded.
Would he?
Rafe knew that although his father was King in truth it was Rafe who held the power, for he could simply say no, he would not abide by his father’s decision. And he would get his own way for his father would loathe the thought of the succession continuing with Rafe’s cousins rather than following his own line.
But marrying without the King’s permission, even if he remained Crown Prince, would prove a living hell for Antonietta. She would be frozen out by the courtiers and treated with derision by the aides. There would be division in the palace and ramifications that he would not wish on the girl with the saddest eyes, who had only ever wanted to belong.
‘Rafe?’ the King pushed. ‘Will you abide by my decision?’
‘Yes,’ Rafe said finally. ‘I will abide by your decision but I will never forgive you for it.’
‘Don’t threaten me, Rafe.’
‘It is not a threat—it is a fact. And one you should consider. Unlike you,
I will do everything in my power to make my marriage work. My wife will never know that I did not wish to marry her. When she asks why I am cold with my father the King I will never tell her the true reason. And when she asks why I don’t stand by your side on the balcony I will tell her that it is to do with ancient history and not something she should trouble herself with. And when the heirs you seek are born, and they ask why they only see their grandparents on formal occasions, I will tell them to ask their grandfather to explain why relationships are strained.’
‘How dare you threaten me?’
The King stood, but Rafe did not flinch.
‘It is a mere glimpse into the future,’ Rafe said. ‘So think long and hard, Your Majesty, as to how you wish to proceed.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘YOU ARE TENSE,’ Antonietta commented as she massaged Vincenzo’s shoulders.
As part of her training she was still practising on the staff, but they were actually asking for her now, and a couple of them had told her that they would be her clients if she ever set up on her own.
‘Isn’t everyone tense at Christmas?’ asked Vincenzo, who was lying face-down.
‘No!’ Antonietta smiled. ‘It’s supposed to be a happy time.’
‘Well, you should be happy!’ Vincenzo said. ‘It would seem you made the right choice!’
‘Sorry?’
‘With Sylvester. You know...because his wife left him?’
Her hands stilled on Vincenzo’s shoulders.
‘You haven’t heard?’
‘No,’ Antonietta said.
As Vincenzo spoke on she discovered that it had been a terrible break-up—and, no, it did not make her happy to hear it.
She poured more oil on her hands and got to work on Vincenzo’s knotted neck. Some clients preferred silence, which Antonietta was very good at, and usually Vincenzo was one of them, but today he seemed keen to talk.
‘I am so over Christmas, and it isn’t even here yet,’ Vincenzo said.
‘You’re off to Florence tonight?’ Antonietta checked.
‘Yes, but my family are driving me crazy.’ He sighed. ‘They expect me to come home, yet they don’t want me to bring a guest...’
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