Of Princes and Promises

by Sandhya Menon

  “Let’s have a seat and chat about it, then.” Oliver sat gracefully in an armchair and waited for RC to sit in the couch across from him. When he had, Oliver continued. “Perhaps something besides money would work better for this deal.”

  “Okay,” RC said, a little confused. “Like what? I don’t have any jewelry or gold.”

  Oliver shook his head and set the jar gently down on the table between them. “I don’t just trade in objects. In fact, there’s something else far more valuable to a merchant like me.” He smiled widely, all of his teeth perfectly even and white.

  “What’s that?” RC asked. A finger of uneasiness pressed along his spine.

  “Information.” Oliver crossed his thin legs and drummed his fingers on the one on top. “Would you be willing to part with information, RC? You strike me as someone who’d have plenty of that to go around.”

  “I guess I might,” RC said, unsure. He glanced at the hair gel. There was definitely more going on here than met the eye, but… what were his options? How could he say no, when the key to his happiness, to his freedom, to his future, sat right there on that table? Oliver was the gatekeeper, the keeper of the keys. And if RC had something Oliver wanted, if RC had the power to barter for the gel, he would. There was no question about it.

  Taking a breath, he met Oliver’s dark eyes. “What kind of information are you looking for?”

  Oliver cocked his head, a small smile at his lips. “Let’s talk about Caterina LaValle.”

  CHAPTER 21

  CATERINA

  Tears pricked at Caterina’s eyes as she walked as quickly as she could without causing a scene. She didn’t want people talking about her, talking about how she was so unlucky in love, how she was alone again. She felt too raw.

  Mia, ever loyal, kept pace with her. “I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together.”

  They turned off the main hallway into a smaller one, Caterina desperately looking for somewhere she could gather herself in private. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with Alaric, who was standing with one hand braced on the teal-blue linen-wallpapered wall, the other rubbing his face. He stopped short when he saw her, just as surprised to see her as she was him.

  He looked good, she noticed. He was wearing a taupe cashmere sweater with a thick black stripe along the chest, black jeans, and boots. His hair was combed just right, as always, the blond gleaming like polished gold. He had a new watch she’d never seen, probably a gift from Lizel Falk. The thought stung a little more than she wanted it to.

  “Caterina.” He looked at her with a slightly lost expression on his face, blinking his long eyelashes. “You…” He stepped forward, so much taller than her, a frown deepening between his brows. “What’s wrong?”

  Caterina brushed roughly at her eyes. She’d probably smeared her mascara; dammit. “What do you care?”

  Mia cleared her throat and walked past them, ostensibly to look at one of Grace’s framed photographs farther down the hallway. Caterina knew she was just being polite and attempting to give them some privacy while still being near enough in case Caterina needed her. Mia was such a good friend.

  “Of course I care,” Alaric said, stepping even closer. He attempted to take her hand, but Caterina brushed him off. He had the audacity to look hurt. “I’ll always care, Cat.”

  “Stop.” She knew she should take a step back, but she couldn’t. This was Alaric. She’d given him over two years of her life, and he’d completely taken advantage of her. “Where’s Lizel?”

  “We’re not together anymore.” Alaric took a breath. “She just broke up with me. Over text.” He looked at her, his blue eyes piercing. “But if she hadn’t done it, I was going to. Because I realized something.”

  “What?” Caterina’s voice came out less cold than she wanted it to, more curious.

  “I was a fool to let you go. I didn’t know what I had until—until I wasted it all away. I’ve always loved you, Cat. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize it.” He did take her hand then; she was too surprised to stop him. His family insignia ring—big and bold and garish—dug into her skin. “We belong together, you and me. I don’t believe one bit what I’ve seen in the papers about you and RC. That’s not real. That’s something like Lizel and I were—shallow, temporary. This”—he gestured to their interlocked hands—“this is what’s real.” When she didn’t answer, he pressed, “Tell me what you and RC have is perfect. Tell me it’s what you always thought it would be.”

  Caterina thought about RC, how he’d invited Roubeeni into the conversation she’d wanted to have with him. How she’d been ready to pour her heart out to him; how he’d stomped all over that without a second thought. “It’s not,” she said quietly, truthfully, looking into Alaric’s eyes.

  Here it was—the opportunity she’d thought about in her loneliest moments, something she hadn’t even confessed to herself, let alone anyone else. Alaric coming up to her, apologizing, telling her he’d made a mistake. She’d imagined it a thousand times since the night of the yacht gala when he’d broken up with her. And now it was happening.

  “You belong with me, Cat,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. Sounds of the party—the laughter, the conversation—drifted into the hallway, but she barely heard them. “Not with him. And I belong with you.”

  Caterina knew she could erase the last few months. She could pretend they’d never happened. She could forget about RC, the hurt, the anger. She could forget Alaric had ever cheated on her. She could just… blissfully… forget. They could be the king and queen, together again, just like two years ago. They could start over. Alaric still got under her skin; he obviously still had a hold over her. Maybe that meant she loved him. Maybe that meant, like he said, they belonged together after all.

  Caterina opened her mouth to say that—or something like that—and instead, heard herself say, slightly incredulously, “You haven’t even apologized.”

  Alaric’s mouth popped open, giving him the appearance of a fish gasping for breath. “What?”

  She pulled her hand from his—his ring scraping her flesh—and took a step back, studying his face. “You haven’t apologized for cheating on me. For the way you treated me. You haven’t said ‘I’m sorry’ once.”

  He huffed a laugh and crossed his arms, his wiry muscles pressing against the sleeves of his sweater. “Okay, then. I’m sorry.”

  And just like that, all of Caterina’s twisting, turning, churning thoughts quieted. She could see clearly again. Maybe RC wasn’t for her, but neither was Alaric. She didn’t belong with him. Maybe she didn’t belong with anyone. She was done being tossed around; she was done falling for the wrong guy. She was done with guys like Alaric, period.

  She found herself smiling a little. “Thank you. Thank you for teaching me a very valuable lesson.”

  He raised one haughty eyebrow. “Which is?”

  “Your hold over me is gone, Alaric. You mean about as much to me as…” She pointed to a bronze sconce on the wall. “As that. I’m done feeling things because of you. So thanks for showing me that, once and for all.”

  He spluttered disbelievingly. “You’re going to regret this. You think you’re going to be happy with that RC guy?”

  “Maybe not.” Caterina’s eyes pricked with tears again because she had really, really wanted to be. “But I think I’ll find a way to be happy by myself, regardless.”

  And then the tears were threatening again. She pushed past Alaric and walked to the bathroom, Mia close on her heels.

  * * *

  Once they’d politely asked the bathroom attendant to leave, Caterina sat on the tufted bench in the basil-and-lemon-scented bathroom, using the Kleenex that Mia offered her to wipe under her eyes. “It’s just so much. It feels like everything’s happening at once.”

  Mia squatted next to her and rubbed her back. “But you handled it so well. With Alaric, out there.” She thrust her chin toward the door. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

&n
bsp; Caterina shrugged as a new rush of tears doused her cheeks. She was past Alaric; she’d finally broken the fetters he’d placed around her. The pain in her heart wasn’t about him anymore.

  “No, really. He doesn’t deserve you. And neither does RC.” Mia paused, as if weighing her next words. “Women in your position, Caterina, often do best alone. Love is a complication you can’t afford.”

  Caterina pressed a tissue to her eyes, feeling the truth of Mia’s words burn into her. “I—maybe you’re right. It’s all too messy and awful.” She let out a shuddering breath, the ache in her heart unrelenting. “I can’t believe that happened. With RC, I mean. I was trying to be open with him, to tell him how I feel. And he brings the press?” She shook her head. “It’s so unlike who he really is. I just—I can’t wrap my head around it.”

  Mia rose from her squat and perched on the vast marble counter, looking at her sadly. “When people show you who they really are, you should believe them. I’m pretty sure someone very wise said that.”

  “I know. But he was one of the sweetest people I knew, Mia. He was so kind and genuine and completely guileless. The Rahul I knew would never have brought a reporter in when he knew I wanted to speak with him privately. It just shows me how much I’ve—I’ve—” She broke down then, unable to continue. Caterina wasn’t one to sob, but her chest heaved from the fruitless effort of trying to hold back more tears. A fresh onslaught rolled down her face, fat and warm, drenching the top of her dress.

  “We should leave.” Mia got off the counter, her face a mask of concern. “You can’t be around all these reporters like this.”

  Caterina followed her, because she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t shut herself away in this bathroom all evening, she knew that much. “But what about Ava and Heather? They rode here with us.”

  “We’ll send Pietro for them,” Mia said. “And don’t worry about Harper. I’ll go talk to her really quick. You just text Pietro and go get in the car. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  Nodding, thankful she had someone to take charge right then, Caterina went to find her driver.

  * * *

  She waited in the back, with the privacy screen raised, because she couldn’t stand to have Pietro looking worriedly at her in the rearview mirror. Even worse, she was afraid a single gentle question from him would reduce her to even more of a puddle than she already was.

  A minute later, he had hopped out and was holding the door open for Mia, who got in and patted Caterina’s hand. “There,” she said, her amber eyes sparkling. “All taken care of. Now let’s go.”

  “Where to?” Caterina asked, feeling exhausted to her core. “My dorm?”

  “No. Let’s go to my apartment.” Leaning forward, Mia gave Pietro the address.

  “Your place?” Caterina sat back against the seat. A text message from Rahul pinged on her phone. Without even looking at it, she silenced her phone and slipped it into her bag. “I haven’t been there yet.”

  Mia smiled back sweetly. “I can’t wait to show you around.”

  RAHUL

  He slammed the door of his Lyft and rushed back up the drive and into Harper’s house. Doing a quick sweep of the guests in the foyer and then the great room, he could see Caterina wasn’t there. He hopped off the step into the crowded living room, walked down the small hallway, and peeked into the empty bathroom, then crossed back quickly. He walked to the conservatory, but it was empty.

  He was on his way back into the living room in search of Everett or Harper, slipping his cell phone out of his pocket to text Caterina, when he ran into Roubeeni. “Hey, Roubeeni. Do you know where Caterina is?”

  She shot him a confused look. “Do I know you?”

  “Oh, right.” Rahul ran a hand through his limp, flat hair. After visiting Oliver’s shop, he’d made a pit stop at Rosetta Academy to quickly wash up before he’d headed back to the party as himself. “Um, it’s me, RC. Actually, call me Rahul.” He adjusted his glasses, feeling self-conscious.

  He could see her trying to take in this new information as her eyes ran over his un-made-up face, his glasses, his hair. “Wow. It really is you, isn’t it?”

  He managed a smile. “Yeah, I think so. But where’s Caterina?”

  “She left some time ago with her friend Mia.”

  Rahul sighed. “Right. Mia. Seems like she just cropped up out of nowhere, and now she’s always around.”

  Roubeeni smiled and played with her big gold necklace. “Funny, that. I make it my job to know who’s who in this crowd, so I did a little bit of sleuthing. Turns out she’s renting a place in Rosetta, and she dates a young guy in town as well, though not someone in this crowd. He owns a store… Cassa something? His name’s Oliver. Anyway, Mia hasn’t been in town too long—”

  “Wait.” Rahul looked at her, his heart hammering in his chest. “Did you say she dates Oliver? Oliver Lemaire, who owns Cassa del Tesoro?”

  Roubeeni smiled and snapped her fingers, her gold ring winking in the light. “Yes! That’s it. Do you know him?”

  Rahul began to dial Caterina, his body feeling cold. “Sorry, Roubeeni. I need to make a phone call.”

  The line rang, and rang, and rang.

  CATERINA

  “So this is your place.” Caterina walked into the tiny one-bedroom apartment and looked around. It smelled faintly of beeswax and had only the bare essentials in place—a small couch, a coffee table that was leaning to one side, a corner lamp, and a small credenza near the kitchen. “Oh, shoot.” She turned to look out the still-open front door. Pietro was idling at the curb. “I forgot to tell him to pick up Ava and Heather at the end of the night.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Mia said, patting her arm. “You go inside and make yourself comfortable.” She ran down to the curb, knocked on the window, and began speaking to Pietro.

  Caterina watched her, smiling a little. Pietro looked at Caterina through the open window, and she waved to show him she was okay with what Mia had told him. Pietro nodded and pulled away from the curb.

  Sighing, Caterina went to sit on the cheap sofa, laid her head back, and closed her eyes, wondering if she should check the text message from Rahul. But no. She’d silenced her cell for a reason; she had absolutely no strength to talk to him right now. Her cell phone would remain in her bag, at a safe distance.

  A few moments later, a shadow fell across her face. She opened her eyes to see Mia gazing down at her, her hands on her hips, a peculiar smile on her face.

  RAHUL

  “Dammit.” He ended the call as it went to voicemail for the fifth time. “Dammit.”

  Roubeeni was already gone, so he made his way to the great room again, hoping to find Leo and the others. Maybe they’d know how to get ahold of Caterina or even exactly where she and Mia had gone. He had to talk to her.

  As he crossed the great room, looking for his friends, Rahul noticed that people were clustered in groups, talking in urgent tones. He slowed down a little, to try to catch what they were saying.

  “… such a horrible thing…”

  “… think he’ll survive?…”

  “… Dr. Finer works at the ER at St. Francis, so he’s in good hands…”

  Rahul frowned. Who were they talking about? He stopped and tapped an older man on the arm. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what’s going on? Did someone get hurt? I stepped away for a little bit.”

  The man turned to him, his expression grave. “One of the party guests had a severe anaphylactic reaction to the cake. They had to call the paramedics. He was rushed to the hospital.”

  Alarm bells began to clang in Rahul’s mind. “Who was it? Do you remember his name?”

  The older lady the man had been talking to leaned in and said, “Leroy or Leon, I think? It was hard to tell in the hubbub. He was here with a group of friends—an Indian girl and a very large young man were also in the group, I believe. They all went with him to the hospital.” She paused, frowning at whatever she saw in Rahul�
�s face. “Are you all right, dear?”

  Rahul was already backing away before she finished talking. “They went to St. Francis?”

  The two older people nodded.

  “Thanks.” Rahul turned and ran through the room, toward the front door.

  * * *

  The Lyft driver was the slowest driver in the history of humankind.

  Rahul leaned forward. “Would you mind driving a bit faster? My friend is in the hospital.”

  “I’m going the speed limit,” the driver said in a monotone, without taking his eyes off the road. “I never go above the speed limit. Did you know seventeen percent of all vehicle crashes happen in winter conditions?”

  Rahul massaged his temples. “Yes. I’m aware.” Great. When he needed to get there ASAP, he got the one speed-conscious Lyft driver in human existence. Sitting back, Rahul texted Caterina again. It was the seventh text he’d sent in a row, but he didn’t care. He was worried, and he didn’t care if he seemed desperate.

  Hi, me again, he typed. Please text me back even if you’re mad. I just need to know you’re okay. Mia is NOT who you think she is—stay away from her.

  He checked the time again. It was past ten o’clock now; Oliver’s shop would be closed. And it’s not like Oliver would tell him anything anyway. He thought back to his visit there, how Oliver had asked him for information about Caterina.

  He’d asked weirdly personal questions—were she and Rahul in love? Had Rahul had a chance to meet Caterina’s father yet? Was Caterina heavily involved with her dad’s political campaign, and did Rahul think he’d be invited to campaign parties and events? Rahul had no idea why he was asking—he still didn’t, but he’d left there without the hair gel.

  Whatever information Oliver was after, and for whatever purpose, it was clear he didn’t have Caterina’s best interests at heart. And Rahul knew he could never betray Caterina that way. Even if his loyalty to her meant he had to be… well, himself. That was why he’d washed up at school; after realizing the true price of Oliver’s hair gel, he hadn’t been able to wear it a second longer. He glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror and ran a hand through his hair. No more RC. Ever. Could he live with that?