Slow Tango With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (16 page)

“San Telmo is quite a melting pot.” Emily led the way back inside the living room as Ignacio angled the camera to catch her movement. “Italians made up the bulk of the immigrants here in the 1800s, but many other nationalities have settled here in subsequent years. Now it’s a thriving center for musicians, antique shops, and tango. We’ll learn more about tango tonight. Until then, you have another wonderful apartment to add to your list of possibilities.”

Rita, who stood behind Ignacio, signaled to wrap. “Ten minute break, then we’ll do it again.”

After a moment’s small talk, the two women adjourned to the kitchen while Enrico left to take a phone call from his real estate office.

“How’s the head?” Ignacio asked as he tinkered with his camera. “You spend yesterday recovering from the
Superclásico
?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Spent my time running errands.” Which reminded Vittorio of a tidbit he’d overheard when he’d stopped for dinner at a local bar last night. “How did you guys manage tickets for the match? From what I gather, it’s been sold out for months. Resale prices were through the roof, even for the nosebleed seats.”

“We were lucky enough to be given tickets by the tourist board.”
 

Given the extensive work Vittorio had done with Sarcaccia’s tourist board over the years, the idea intrigued him. “How’d that come about?”

Satisfied with the state of his equipment, Ignacio set down his camera, then lounged on the sofa to wait for the next take. “Once Emily and Rita select a country to feature on the show, there’s a lot of pre-production work, selecting sites to film. We make a point of contacting the national and local tourist boards to let them know we’re coming and they fall over themselves for us. A television show like ours is the best kind of advertising they can get, so they clear the way for us to film in museums, parks, and other tourist attractions. When Emily put La Bombonera on the list of sites we might want to see, we were sent tickets and a press pass.”
 

Vittorio settled into a carved chair near the windows and relaxed into its comfortable contours. “Does the tourist board offer suggestions of places to film?”

“Very good ones, at times. Sometimes we take them, sometimes we don’t. Depends on our needs, the theme of the show, what we’ve covered in earlier episodes…you catch my drift.” A wry smile slid across the cameraman’s weathered face. “The Winstons—the couple we were originally going to film for the finale—wouldn’t have done so well with the match. If we’d featured them instead of you, I’d only have filmed a couple minutes of the game from the press location at the side of the field and saved the tourist board the cost of the tickets. We’d have used a short clip in the episode and taken the Winstons to a modern art exhibit instead.”
 

“And highlighted the Argentinian passion for art and architecture over
fútbol
?”

He placed a hand over his heart. “Exactly.”

The information slipped into Vittorio’s mental files as Emily and Rita emerged from the direction of the kitchen. Though Emily appeared her usual self, Rita seemed preoccupied. Ignacio picked up on it as well, sending Rita a discreet, meaningful frown. Rita gave a faint shake of her head just as the real estate agent returned from his call and asked if they were ready to do another walk-through.

 
The second pass went smoothly. Vittorio acted as if he were seeing the apartment for the first time. When they finished, Enrico handed him information on additional properties and thanked Vittorio for taking the time to tour the apartment.
 

Emily urged everyone outdoors to allow the real estate agent to close the apartment and the makeup artist to meet the car that would take her to an afternoon appointment. Once they exited to the street, she said, “We have a few options for filming tonight, Bob, but I want to get your take on what will make you the most comfortable.”

Hearing himself referred to as Bob still struck him as ludicrous.
Roberto
he could understand, but
Bob
for a man with his apparent heritage and accent? Rita’s forehead creased at Emily’s use of his name, but since no one else seemed to find it odd, he played along. “Tango is on the schedule, right?”

“It is,” Emily replied. “Our first option is to see a stage show. They’re frequented by a lot of tourists and we have access to good tickets and permission to film. Our second is to watch tango at one of the
milongas
. They’re social events where both locals and tango-focused tourists go to dance. There’s a certain etiquette involved for the dancers, though different locations have different levels of formality.”

“But don’t worry,” Rita interjected with her usual playfulness, “they’re all incredibly sexy.”

“True,” Ignacio said on a grin. “Which is why you get Mike on the camera tonight instead of me.”

“At least that’s what we tell Mike. It’s good for his ego.”
 

Emily ignored Rita and Ignacio’s banter, keeping her focus on Vittorio. “Our third option is to attend a seminar this afternoon where you learn the basics of tango from a local expert, then we’d combine that with some film of locals at a
milonga
.”

Though the third option sounded like an adventure, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be captured for all time looking like a fool at a dance lesson. He’d suffered through plenty of dance tutoring throughout his teen years and was relatively competent—his parents had insisted, given that he’d attend and host balls as the future monarch—but the tango was the rustiest part of his skill set.

And if he ever were found out, the press would run that footage over and over again.

“Then there’s a final option.” Emily glanced at Rita before she said, “We attend the seminar, get a crash course, then go to what’s known as a
practica
—a public practice session—where you’d actually get out and dance. Since there are a lot of beginners, it’s more forgiving than dancing at the
milongas
. Now, we can still observe at a
milonga
or attend a stage show afterward, but this would give us more flexibility in what we air.”

“And our female viewers would love it, which would help the ratings.” Rita actually wiggled her eyebrows, which earned her a look of faked exasperation from Ignacio and a flash of the real thing from Emily.

“It’s entirely up to you and your comfort level,” Emily told Vittorio. “We’ve made arrangements that allow us to work with whatever you’re willing to give us. For our part, we’re very appreciative of your willingness to appear on the show on such short notice and give us so much of your time.”

A taxi stopped at the side of the street to pick up the makeup artist, who gave Rita a quick hug before she stepped into the vehicle. Vittorio used the momentary distraction to decipher what was happening between the staff members. He sensed that Emily’s expression of gratitude was as much a message to Rita and Ignacio as it was a thank you to him. An uneasy feeling slithered along his spine.
 

Could it be possible they knew his identity? If so, they certainly would’ve checked in with the network about how to handle it. Emily’s subtle
no
signals to Ignacio and Rita as they’d filmed in the apartment could mean she didn’t want them to let on. And it would certainly explain their sudden deference to his wishes.

“Since I’m apparently in the driver’s seat” —he looked to both Rita and Emily for confirmation— “I’d like a little more information before I decide.”

“We’ll answer whatever questions we can,” Emily assured him.

“Tell me about the phone call.”

Chapter Eleven

Emily’s head jerked back. Though Victor’s question was asked in a level tone, the hardness in his amber gaze suggested he believed she was hiding vital information. It left no doubt in her mind that he was used to commanding people and getting exactly what he wanted from them. But what could he possibly think she discussed that would involve him?

“I realize you three have only known me a few days,” Victor continued, “but it’s obvious that phone call threw all of you for a loop.”

Emily knew it was too late to cover her surprise at his question, but she made the attempt anyway. “It was a simple call about programming. Completely expected.”

“If it was so simple and expected, why all the odd looks between you? There’s more to it than you want to say.”
 

Rita let out an exasperated sound before turning to Victor. “The network released the list of shows it expects to renew for next season. We weren’t on it. That’s all.”

A strange look flickered over his face, as if Rita’s revelation was the furthest thing from his mind. He glanced from Rita to Emily. “Does that mean you’re being cancelled?”
 

“No,” Emily was quick to tell him. “Not at all. It’s an early list. It would’ve been nice to be on it so we’d know where we stand, but we weren’t expecting it.”

Rita hmmed her agreement. “Not many shows make the early list. Thankfully, not many shows are outright cancelled this soon, either—”

“Including us,” Emily finished. “Which means the network is waiting to see the numbers on our last few episodes to decide if we have the viewership to justify another season. I’m confident we will.”

Victor looked at her askance. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“It’s the nature of the business. We’re used to it.” Thankfully her voice sounded cheerful. It wasn’t his problem to tackle; it was hers and Rita’s. “So what say you? Stage show, lessons, what’s your pleasure?”

He shaded his eyes against a slant of late-morning sun. “A croissant. Would any or all of you care to join me? I spotted a promising café just around the corner.”

“I need to head back to the office,” Ignacio said. “Rita? Emily?”

Rita checked her watch. “Depends on what we’re doing this afternoon. Maryam and I need to notify the venues of our plans and send Mike ahead to do his thing. And I’d like to get an afternoon nap if I can. If we do a
milonga
it can go until the early morning hours. And if not, I promised a cousin I’d call about catching a late dinner.”

“All right. You two call a cab back to the office,” she told them. “I’ll take Bob for a late breakfast, discuss the options, then call you with a decision.” Victor had a mission. What it was, Emily could only guess, but given what happened with the man on her doorstep last night she didn’t want to risk any hints in front of Rita and Ignacio.
 

Agreed on the plan, Emily and Victor made their way to the café while Rita phoned for a taxi.

“You didn’t eat breakfast,” Victor said quietly as they approached the corner. He walked with his hands in the front pockets of his light, khaki-colored slacks, his face revealing nothing.

“What makes you think that?”

“Perfect lipstick.”

“Having a professional makeup artist will do that.”

“So will skipping breakfast.” He paused at the café entrance to wait for the hostess. “Your lipstick was immaculate when you came back from that call, before the makeup artist checked you. And I noticed an untouched cup of fresh coffee on the counter. Rita pushed it in your direction, but you left it.”

A bent, gray-haired hostess approached. They followed her through the narrow restaurant to a tiny wood table etched with scratches and cigarette marks that evidenced decades of use. Victor ordered croissants and two coffees before the hostess could shuffle away, then turned to Emily. “Now, tell me I’m wrong.”

She wanted to protest, but he wasn’t wrong. She’d been too anxious about the network call and nailing the apartment walk-through to eat. Instead, she asked, “Why are you so concerned?”

“Because I know what you’re going through.” His hands covered hers on the tabletop. Afraid of being seen, she turned to glance at the street, but he assured her Rita and Ignacio were long gone. “I told you earlier that I have a job where I manage a good number of people. I understand how hard it is to keep everyone around you feeling secure when you know the situation is anything but.”

Against her will, a hard lump formed in her throat. She willed it back, but the effort only made her eyes burn. She was not a crier, damn it, and she would
not
cry in front of this man; not only because she’d spent nearly the whole night lying awake, reliving the blissful experience of being held in his strong embrace and wondering how it’d feel to have his arms around her all the time, but because travel show hosts didn’t bawl in front of a guest.
Any
guest. Even one who’d kissed her senseless.

“Be honest with me. You were bothered not to be on that list, preliminary or not.”

“Of course, but—”

“Were you on it last time around? Or did you have to wait?”

“We were on it our first season, but had to wait at the end of last season. And we ended up renewed.”

Long, strong fingers flexed around hers before he released her. “I suspect you weren’t compelled to take the risks you had to take this time. Approaching me blind, scrambling to finance an extension using your personal—”

“I told you, I believe in
At Home Abroad
and the quality of what we’ve produced. The finale will be fabulous.”

His brow puckered. “Fabulous or not, it needs to draw viewers. And before you can increase your viewership, you have to impress the network executives with what you’ve created so they feel it’s worthwhile to invest in advertising it.”