Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (33 page)

He wondered how many of those revelers would end up drenched, or if the downpour that’d been forecast would hold off until they could make their way home.
 
The well-heeled crowd on the palace patio had it easy.
 
They could duck inside the ballroom within seconds to escape a storm if necessary.

“I see you met with the stylist.”

Massimo turned his attention from the fireworks to the source of the droll comment.
 
Vittorio stood just behind his right shoulder.
 
Massimo raised his brow marginally, but kept his sarcastic response to himself.
 
They watched the fireworks in silence for a few moments as the crowd around them chattered away, with couples pointing out different colors to each other and commenting on which types of fireworks were their favorites.

“It’s good to have you back,” Vittorio said just loud enough for Massimo to hear.
 
“Not just back to attending events—which I think you’ve needed—but back to the family.”

The seriousness of Vittorio’s tone made Massimo glance at his older brother, but the crown prince’s gaze remained fixed on the skies, his eyes reflecting only the blues and reds of the fireworks blossoming overhead.
 

“You remember the text message you sent me asking about a particular tourist?
 
What prompted it?”

Vittorio shielded his eyes as if to better view the fireworks, with the positioning of his forearm blocking others from seeing him speak.
 
“A rumor floating amongst the paparazzi that morning claimed that a well-known palace insider was about to be arrested for defrauding the family.
 
That’s why they were at the station.”

The information surprised Massimo.
 
“Was there a story?”

“About you?
 
All that was reported—since
you
apparently haven’t checked—is that the police chief stated you were at the station in regard to Gaspare, who’d wandered off that morning but was located on the beach.
 
The tourist’s name was never mentioned.
 
The reporters thought they had their fraud story when you walked out, but when the police chief stated that it wasn’t related and that he knew nothing of a palace insider committing fraud, they left.”

That was a relief where Kelly was concerned, but didn’t explain why Vittorio had been paying such close attention.
 
“So what of the original rumor?”

“Let’s just say that I’m monitoring the situation.” An ironic smile lifted one side of the older prince’s mouth as he dropped his hand from his forehead and turned to Massimo.
 
“Of course, I hadn’t anticipated discovering your information along the way.
 
That was a nice bonus.”

“Anything to make fun of me?”

Vittorio’s eyes lit, but he said nothing.
 

“On a more interesting topic, where’s Carmella tonight?
 
I’d hoped to get to know her better.” Vittorio’s girlfriend was nowhere to be seen during the cocktail hour that preceded the fireworks, nor had she joined them in the royal box at the parade.
 
Massimo had only met the woman in passing during a leave of absence two years ago.
 
He’d thought her a passing fancy, as the part-time actress didn’t seem Vittorio’s type, and hadn’t paid her much attention.
 
However, from what Massimo had heard and read, the two had been inseparable for the last year.
 
An engagement announcement was rumored in every other issue of the tabloid press.
 
Bookmakers across Europe were waiting with baited breath to see when, and how, Vittorio would propose.
 
If the crown prince weren’t his brother, Massimo might be tempted to place a bet himself, just for fun.
 

“She has the flu.”

Though Vittorio’s face remained neutral as he looked skyward, Massimo knew it was a lie.
 
“I see.
 
I hadn’t heard.”

“It’s unfortunate,” Vittorio continued, his tone conveying far more than his words, “as the timing couldn’t be worse, given how much the family is in the public eye this week.
 
But these things can’t be scheduled.
 
They happen when they have to happen.”

In other words, the relationship was over and Vittorio had been the one to end it.
 
Whatever had happened between them, Vittorio must have felt it necessary to call it quits before the Independence Day festivities.

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“I’m sorry, as well.
 
Naturally, there have already been questions, so the press had to be informed about her sudden illness.”
 
Vittorio finally met Massimo’s inquisitive look.
 
“I suspect she’ll be on the mend very soon.
 
She’s rather resilient.
 
She also has someone taking care of her.”

Massimo gripped his brother’s shoulder.
 
Anyone who observed them would’ve seen a quick show of lighthearted camaraderie and not thought twice about it, given the upbeat spirit of the evening.
 
Between the brothers, however, a sense of deep mutual support was shared, one that said,
I have your back.
 
As the next round of fireworks lit the sky, both men clapped and cheered with the rest of the crowd.

“We’ll talk soon,” Vittorio said as the Italian ambassador caught his eye and began to approach through the crowd.
 
“In the meantime, enjoy yourself.”

Massimo nodded, then resumed watching the fireworks as his brother went to speak to the ambassador.
 
When the display ended, he made his way through the crowd, greeting local socialites, politicians, and foreign dignitaries he hadn’t seen in years.
 
When he finished speaking to a French financier, he turned in search of a glass of water, only to have a drink dumped on his arm.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”
 
The voice was soft and feminine, as was the hand brushing liquid off the sleeve of his jacket.
 
“I’m afraid this isn’t the safest place to carry one’s champagne.”

“Yours isn’t the first drink spilled on this patio, nor will it be the last,” he said to the striking blonde.
 
He studied her for a moment before placing her.
 
“It’s Madeline Lockwood, isn’t it?
 
I hope you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Of course.
 
Your family has been exceptionally welcoming.
 
Thank you.”
 
She glanced over her shoulder, then looked at him conspiratorially.
 
“I trust my parents haven’t hit you up for business purposes tonight?
 
They mean well, but often don’t know when to quit and simply enjoy themselves.”

Her candor surprised him, though he realized it was calculated to put him at ease.
 
He got the sense Madeline moved through parties like this one on a regular basis and knew how to work them.
 
“They’ve done no such thing.
 
In fact, I believe I saw your mother and mine discussing the royal gardens earlier.”

“Perfect.”
 
The young woman’s smile was earnest without seeming over the top.
 
“My mother has a spectacular garden at home in Scotland and has talked for years about wanting to see the gardens here.
 
You grow flowers we couldn’t dream of at home.”

“I’m sure the reverse is true, as well.”
 
He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Have you had a tour of the gardens?”

The flash in her eyes let him know she’d hoped for the question.
 
“I haven’t.
 
Are you offering one?”

“If you’d like.”
 
Suddenly, he felt like an actor in a play, going through expected, well-rehearsed motions as he responded to her easy flirtation.
 
As if attempting to convince an audience of his feelings, but without really
feeling
them.
 

“I’d appreciate that, if it’s not too much trouble.
 
I wouldn’t want to take you away from your guests.”

“Aren’t you a guest?”
 
He gestured toward the staircase that led from the patio to the nearest garden, a smaller one that fronted the patio, rather than the larger ones that occupied the area behind his palace apartment.
 

She thanked him, taking his arm as they walked down the stairs.
 
No one seemed to pay any attention.
 
He knew that chatting with beautiful women at parties was what everyone expected of him.

So why did it feel…off?

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, he carefully kept to the well-lit areas, pointing out the various trees and flowers.
 
Madeline answered politely, making a few observations of her own as they went.
 
He had to admit, she was perfectly lovely.
 
Her skin radiated health, she held herself with confidence without coming off as egotistical, and she struck him as intelligent and witty.
 
And yet…

She’s not Kelly
.
 

He swatted back the thought as Madeline pressed a hand to her bosom, careful to keep the front of her gown discreetly in place, so she could sniff a large red rose at the side of the path.
 
When she straightened, she lightly placed her fingertips on his arm again.
 
There was nothing overtly flirtatious about it.
 
He’d do the same for any of the women at the party were he walking them through the front garden, with its uneven stone path.
 
Yet he knew she hoped for more.
 
And against all logic, his mind—and his body—rebelled.

He flashed a smile as they walked.
 
She really was the perfect woman for a prince.
 
She didn’t need his money or his connections.
 
She was educated and felt at home in luxe surroundings.
 
Her family was humble, yet successful.
 
And there were no scandals in her past…not that he’d heard of, and he was certain Sophia wouldn’t have pointed her out at the parade if there were.
 
When she returned his smile, though, there was no adrenaline rush as there’d been when Kelly approached the Jeep and asked if her dress was appropriate for dinner.
 
He wasn’t tempted to check out Madeline’s assets or the way her dress skimmed her hips.
 
There was simply…nothing.

For the next few minutes he circled her through the front garden, gradually making his way back toward the patio, and kept the conversation light despite subtle attempts on Madeline’s part to get to know him.
 
Once they reached the stairs, the rain began to fall in slow, large droplets.
 
He hurried her inside, along with the rest of the crowd, as it picked up, threatening to soak them all.

Once inside, she ran a hand over her hair and grinned.
 
“Good timing, Your Highness.”

“And see, a little champagne on my sleeve didn’t hurt a thing.
 
I was going to get wet, anyway.”
 
He shot a pointed look at the tables, which were set for the banquet.
 
“I apologize, but I need to circulate a bit before dinner is served.
 
It was lovely meeting you.
 
I enjoyed our walk.”

“And you as well.
 
I look forward to seeing you again.”
 
She didn’t allude to the dancing which would take place later, as women often did when introduced to Massimo or his brothers at these functions, hoping they might be remembered when it came time to find partners.
 

She had class, Massimo decided as he took his leave.
 
But his lack of attraction to her was…disturbing.
 
And illuminating.

On the bright side, walking with her hadn’t bothered him in the slightest, nor had the crush of the people on the patio watching the fireworks.
 
Now that he was inside the ballroom, moving through the masses surrounding the elegantly-set tables, greeting guests as he went, he actually felt comfortable.
 

Controlled
.
 

It was the word his father once used to describe Massimo to a friend when he thought Massimo was elsewhere.
 
It gave Massimo more satisfaction than any other label his father could have used.
 
Mostly because he’d known it to be the truth.
 
From birth, he’d had a formidable amount of control, but he’d honed it through endless mental and physical challenges.
 
In high school and college, he’d driven himself hard, both in the classroom and on the athletic fields.
 
Once in the military, he’d led his unit, and not because he was a prince.
 
He’d led them because he’d earned it.
 
His men trusted him because he was predictable, demonstrated good judgment, and because he trusted them in return.
 
He’d kept his orders precise, his emotions in check, and his men alive.