Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (15 page)

Of course, it probably helped that she prioritized her exercise time when outlining her schedule each week.
 
The woman could knock out a six-mile run in a better time than most men he knew.
 
Having a personal chef create fresh, vegetable-heavy meals didn’t hurt her figure one bit, either.

“Thank you.”
 
Her assessing gaze took in his stubble and the wrinkles at the elbows of his shirt before alighting on the duffel bag he’d carried in from his Jeep.
 
“Were you out this morning?”

 
“Yes.”
 
She knew perfectly well he’d been out this morning and all night, too.
 
He suspected that was precisely the reason she’d followed him into the gallery.
 
She’d likely asked the staff to notify her when his Jeep entered the palace’s underground garage.

“I assume you’re heading to your apartment.
 
May I join you?”

Since saying no to Queen Fabrizia wasn’t an option, he gestured down the hall in the direction he was already walking.
 
She fell into step beside him, saying nothing more until they reached the double doors leading to his suite of rooms.
 
One of the housekeeping staff exited just as they arrived.
 
Despite the stack of towels balanced in her arms, the young woman gave the pair a deferential bow.
 
The queen greeted her by name and asked after her brother’s health, mentioning his recently broken leg, then offered well wishes for the woman’s entire family.

Once the doors were closed behind them, Massimo said, “You have an amazing memory for names, Mother.
 
I didn’t think Maria was assigned to any of your rooms.”
 

“She’s not, but it’s only polite to know the staff.
 
It’s our duty, as well.”

Ah.
 
So that was where the conversation would go.
 
Duty.

Massimo invited her to take a seat on one of the living room’s two large sofas as he set his duffel bag near the door.
 
Gaspare disappeared toward the apartment’s kitchenette, where he’d find his food dish.
 
A strip of light below one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the palace’s rear garden caught Massimo’s attention.
 
The heavy curtains had been pulled most of the way shut.
 
Ostensibly it had been done to protect the furnishings and carpets from the sun’s bright rays, but it gave the place an abandoned, foreboding feeling.
 

He walked to the first window and used the hidden pull cord to let in more light.
 
As he moved to the second window, he heard his mother lightly clear her throat.
 
It was her way of letting him know she’d searched him out for a specific reason and that her time was limited.

Much as he loved her, and much as he knew giving her his undivided attention would get her out of his apartment faster, he wasn’t in the mood.
 
He grasped the cord to the side of the second window and pulled, allowing sunshine to stream across the room’s gleaming hardwood floors, masculine brown sofas, and antique furnishings.
 
Eventually he’d need to redecorate the apartment and replace the palace treasures from generations past with more modern and—frankly—more livable furnishings.
 
His mother had been after him for years to update the rooms, but when he’d been granted the space after returning home from college, he’d known he’d only be in residence temporarily and didn’t much care what was in it.
 
He certainly hadn’t any urge to hire a decorator or order furniture during his time abroad.
 

By the time he’d crossed to the third large window, Queen Fabrizia had tired of waiting.
 
“Massimo, dear, take a seat.
 
We need to talk.”

“Sounds ominous.”
 
The cord on the third window stuck.
 
He reached behind the curtain to locate the source of the snag.
 

“Let me call someone to fix that.
 
You should sit.”
 

While politely stated, it wasn’t a suggestion.
 
Reluctantly, he left the window and moved to the sofa opposite the one where his mother sat.
 
Her back was perfectly straight, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in her lap as if she were posing for a portrait.
 

He didn’t flop onto the sofa, exactly, but he didn’t lower himself quite as she expected him to, either.
 
“What’s on your agenda this morning?” he asked.

Her smile was tolerant.
 
“I’m attending a brunch in the garden with a group from Doctors Without Borders and later this afternoon there’s the opening of the new tennis center.
 
But my first priority this morning is my children.”

“Alessandro causing trouble again?”

“Always.”
 
Amusement flickered in her eyes, then faded.
 
“But at this precise moment I’m worried about
you
, Massimo.”

She expected him to ask why or to state that all was well, but he knew better than to give her such an opening.
 
Instead, he remained quiet as she stared at him and waited.
 
And waited.
 
Though she appeared unruffled on the surface at his prolonged silence, he could tell it flustered her.
 
There was a slight flare to her nostrils, the most miniscule of movement in her hands.
 
Tics only he—and perhaps his siblings—would notice.

“You were out overnight,” she said at last.

“Yes.”
 
He made it a point to frown as if confused.
 
As a royal he didn’t have quite the same freedom of movement as most people, but his mother should realize that twenty-eight-year-old men occasionally stayed out all night and didn’t check in with their parents.
 

“Were you on your boat?”

“Not all night, no.
 
Not the most comfortable place to sleep.”
 

This time, it was her turn to play the silence card.
 
Queen Fabrizia was nothing if not a quick study.
 
He knew she wasn’t going to speak until he explained himself.
 
As she watched him, a curious twitch made the corner of her mouth jump.
 
He knew then that she knew.

It wasn’t that he was out all night, hanging out at a bar or playing cards with friends.
 
It was that he’d mentioned sleep, and comfort, which suggested that he’d been prone in a bed besides his own.
 

Chapter Nine

His mind raced for an explanation that would satisfy her curiosity without confirming he’d had female companionship.
 
Queen Fabrizia was worldly enough to know that her sons were no paragons of celibacy, nor did she expect it; however, she didn’t want them flaunting their sexual escapades and risking the family’s reputation.
 
As each of her sons hit puberty, she’d asked her husband to speak to them about the need for discretion, given their family’s high profile position.

King Carlo’s stern warning:
 
Unless you’re telling us over tea that you’ve met a woman who is above reproach and that you are a couple, and will be appearing together in public as such, your mother and I should not hear of it.

His sterner warning, given out of his wife’s hearing:
 
Keep it in your pants.
 
If you don’t, you’d better not get caught.
 
And for God’s sake, never, ever do it in public, pay for it, or allow it to be recorded.

At fourteen, Massimo’s horror at hearing such frank talk from the king kept him on the straight and narrow, but as Massimo matured he’d watched his older brothers and learned from both their good examples and their mistakes.
 

Then again, to his knowledge none of them had the police show up at the crack of dawn while they were lying naked in bed, recovering from an all-night marathon of body-wrenching sex.

“Will I be seeing you on tonight’s news?” his mother asked, as if reading his mind.

“I can’t imagine you would.”
 
After all, there hadn’t been anyone with a camera at Kelly’s this morning and with any luck, his name wouldn’t appear in the police report.
 
“I spent the afternoon on the boat, then visited Giulia and Guillermo.
 
Had a lovely dinner and bottle of wine while I watched the sunset from their patio.
 
They asked that I wish you and father well.”
 
Let her think he overindulged in the pleasures of Giulia's wine cellar and stayed the night in one of her guest rooms rather than get behind the wheel.
 

Surprise registered in her soft green eyes, followed by genuine warmth.
 
“I haven’t seen them in years.
 
How are they?
 
Healthy?
 
Busy?”

“As ever.
 
Guillermo brought in last night’s sea bass himself and Giulia's countertops were covered with homemade pasta when I arrived.
 
I ate like I haven’t eaten in months.
 
Even had dessert.”
 
Which reminded him that he’d left his sister’s ravioli in Kelly’s refrigerator.
 
With any luck, Giulia would have forgotten about it by the next time she saw Sophia, or he’d have some explaining to do to his sister as well as his mother.
 

“That’s wonderful.
 
I had no idea you’d planned to see them.”
 
She waited a moment, as if contemplating her next words, then stood and walked to the center window.
 
With her back to him, she said, “I know you’ve only been home a few weeks, and I’ve been reluctant to push you into your formal duties here.
 
Your father and I made that mistake with Stefano after he was away and regretted it.
 
But have you given thought to what you’ll be doing next?”

He’d known this was coming from the moment he arrived home.
 
“Of course.
 
There’s not much to do on the boat besides think.”
 

“And?”

“I haven’t made any firm decisions yet.”

She turned away from the garden and gave Massimo the barest tip of her head, making it clear that the mere fact she felt compelled to raise the topic should light a fire under him.
 
“You’ve been through a lot, I know.
 
More than anyone outside the family will ever understand—probably more than anyone inside the family can understand—but unless you’re willing to publicly acknowledge that you were injured in combat—”

“I’m not.”

“—you must act in the manner expected of you as a resident member of the royal household, complete with all the duties that entails.
 
That means making appearances before questions are raised about why you’re not.”

“I understand that, Mother.”
 

“Have you looked at the calendar lately?
 
Independence Day is this weekend.”

He pressed his lips into a tight line and nodded.
 

“You know as well as I do that you can’t be entirely absent.
 
You’re expected in the royal box at the parade, at a minimum.
 
Preferably you’ll attend more of the festivities.
 
The dinner and the royal ball, especially, would be nice.
 
I hate to compel you to do so before you’re ready—”

“I’ll come to the parade.
 
And I’ll look over the list of events and let you know which others I will attend.”
 

He’d heard it from birth.
 
Being born a Barrali meant one had to put duty first and personal needs second.
 
Most of the time he considered it a privilege.
 
While he owed his country a life of service, his position also offered him access to a vast network of business, political, and social powerhouses, people who could make a difference in the world.
 
People who interested him and who challenged him to be a better man, and who’d shown him how he could use his position to benefit others.

But until he figured out the exact path he wished to take now that he was out of the military, he needed to be alone with his thoughts rather than surrounded by the movers and shakers of the world.
 

“Thank you.”
 
She paused for a moment.
 
“After making your first public appearance, you’ll need to take the appropriate steps to fulfill your role here in Sarcaccia, even if it’s gradual.
 
Have you considered which charitable causes you’d like to support?
 
Perhaps one of the children’s organizations or a health-related cause would suit.
 
Of course, I assume you have economic and political interests…are you considering something similar to Stefano’s work on the country’s transportation infrastructure?”

He couldn’t imagine a more snooze-inducing pursuit.
 
“I’ve been weighing my options.”