A Royal Wedding(105)

At any rate, he didn’t want to be the one to open her world to la dolce vita with all its glamourous disguises and ugly underbelly. This merry-go-round he’d been on for the last ten years was a sad and poisonous way to live, and he was heartily sick of it himself.

How had he let this happen to his life? He’d once had high hopes of all the good things he would do for his people and his country—how he would bring in industry, improve education, raise the standard of living for all. Somehow he’d become bogged down in trying to keep the alliance together in order to avoid another war, and he spent his days playing this soul-deadening role in order to do his part.

Funny how it had taken the arrival of this fresh, free spirit to show him the truth in that. The times needed to change. But right now he had a mission to accomplish. He had to convince her to marry Alphonso. That was going to take some time. And if she was going to stay with him for a day or two she would obviously need some clothes.

“What size are you?” he asked her.

She looked startled. “Why?”

“I think I’ll have my man, Rolfo, pick up some things for you in the hotel shop. He’ll bring them up and you can try them on and decide which ones you want to keep.”

Her face was transformed. “Clothes?” she whispered, as though she were receiving a wonderful present, something she could only dream of in the past. “New clothes?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her funny face. If he’d known this was all it took to bring her such joy he’d have been sending her packages from department stores for the last three years.

“We’ll see how sophisticated Rolfo’s taste is.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll get him right on it.”





CHAPTER THREE



PRINCE ANDRE escorted Princess Julienne back to his penthouse suite as soon as their meal had run its course. She went willingly enough, though she did have a qualm or two. Had he tempted her with the promise of new clothes just to make sure she didn’t try again to make a run for it? Or was she getting a little too suspicious for her own good?

Since her parents had died when she was fourteen, she’d known almost nothing but life in the Diamante Castle—a stark, forbidding structure manned mostly by servants. She’d studied with a governess, and the daughters of local noble families had been brought in to be her friends, but the days when Andre was home were what she’d lived for. Andre was her hero and her best friend. When he showed up, her drab life had suddenly lit up.

But once she’d turned eighteen it had been mostly life in the convent. She was allowed to go back to the castle at Christmas for three days, and for two weeks in the summer she was sent off to stay at the lake house. On her birthday someone would come to visit her bringing presents. Until two years before that someone had been Prince Andre. But without explanation he had stopped coming.

Dear Prince Andre, she mused sarcastically, glancing at him sideways. Her guardian. The man who was in control of her life. And he wouldn’t even come to visit her. They’d told her that he was too busy. They’d said he was an important man and couldn’t be bothered. And he hadn’t answered her letters.

So she’d finally come to see for herself.

He was busy, all right. Busy living like a playboy. As she thought of it now, she was more furious with him than ever—and that only confirmed her determination to fight him. House of Diamante, House of Emeraude, House of Rubiat—who cared? They could take this royal life, this relic of the past, and they could keep it for themselves. She would have no part of it.

“Did you enjoy the dinner?” he asked her, pulling off his tie and opening his shirt a few more buttons’ worth.

She nodded, going back and forth between thinking he was the most handsome man on earth to resenting how he’d treated her over the years.

“It was wonderful,” she admitted.

“I’m glad you liked it.” His eyes were deep and sultry. “I want you to be happy.”

But still he expected her to marry Prince Alphonso.

He left the room and she turned away and looked at the moonlight over the lake. She really didn’t know Alphie well, but she’d met him a time or two, and this last summer he’d come to the lake to see her for four days—the longest, dreariest four days of her life.

If only he were more like Andre maybe she could stomach the thought of it. But he wasn’t like Andre. Nobody was like Andre. She put her hands against the cool glass and sighed.