Slow Tango With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (30 page)

When she’d awakened, she’d wiggled tighter against him, reached for the back of his thigh, and sighed. If he’d have died and gone to heaven in that moment, he’d have had no objections.
 

He allowed his eyes to drift closed, to imagine she was once more in his arms, in his bed. If only he could turn back the clock to that morning, before he knew her full background. When he’d seen only her zest for life, borne out by the joy he witnessed in her face when she listened to the crowd singing at the
fútbol
match or when she danced in his arms. The passion with which they’d made love.

He’d been completely taken by her ability to surround herself with smart, talented, likable people and by her fierce drive to make a success of herself. Her instinct to protect those who worked for her. Her graciousness and generosity.
 

Driving a hand through his thick, overgrown hair, he swore aloud. He still couldn’t conceive a person like Emily working for
Today’s Royals
. It would be like his mother working for a tabloid.

The thought sent a guffaw rumbling through his body. Emily
was
a lot like his mother, come to think of it. Emily was deeply emotional, yet she hid her emotions when necessary and projected a sense of tranquility that calmed those around her. She was a natural leader, one who worked efficiently while juggling the multiple projects that would achieve her greater goal. Yet through all her daily stresses, she expressed her appreciation for all those around her, just as his mother made it clear to every palace employee that she cared about their well-being. His mother’s idea of purchasing a new kitchen for her retiring head chef was exactly the type of thing Emily would do if she had the resources.

Fabrizia also loved her family fiercely. She would do anything for her children—even cover up one’s disappearance, should they need a mental break—and looked at her husband with both admiration and desire in her emerald gaze, even after forty-plus years of a marriage that had seen its ups and downs. She was loyal to a fault. And, above all, she was protective.

Vittorio whipped off the covers and stretched his aching muscles. Now that the cogs of his mind were spinning, sleep was impossible. Wearing only his boxers, he strode through Alessandro’s apartment. The layout was identical to that of his and his siblings’ palace apartments. Each consisted of a master bedroom, bath, and walk-in closet at the rear of the space. The bedroom suite was accessible through a door at the back of an expansive, fireplaced living room that occupied the majority of the square footage. Windows stretched from floor to ceiling and overlooked the palace gardens, providing a spectacular view and flooding the living room with light when the heavy draperies weren’t drawn, as they were now. A library and a smaller bathroom were connected to the living room through a short hallway, while a minuscule kitchen sat on the opposite side of the main room. While the decor was ornate, in keeping with the scale of the grand palace, it wasn’t a space meant for the public eye. Personal photos of Alessandro and his friends, taken on various trips around the world, topped the corner desk. Several were snapped at parties, with copious amounts of alcohol and scantily dressed women in evidence, while others showed the men in their climbing gear. A book on Tibet and another on Egyptian archeology rested atop the coffee table alongside an antique Turkish urn that contained God-knew-what. A carved wooden statue with grotesquely out of proportion female anatomy sat on the coffee table’s lower level shelf.

He and Alessandro might appear identical, but their tastes were far from it.

Vittorio locked the main door to the suite to keep any of the staff from inadvertently walking in on him before he made his way to the kitchen. Though Alessandro had stayed in Vittorio’s own apartment for the duration of their switch, the staff kept the kitchen stocked with the bare essentials in the event the wayward prince returned: bread, milk, cheese, cereal, fresh fruit, and several varieties of cold cuts. He opted for the cereal. On a hunch, he sniffed the milk before pouring it over the flakes, then promptly emptied the container in the sink. He could eat it dry. He grabbed the bowl and spun toward the living room only to be faced with a smirking Alessandro.

“Well, don’t you look like hell.”

“How’d you get in here?” It came out with bite, giving away Vittorio’s shock at his brother’s noiseless approach.

“My apartment. I have a key.” Alessandro leaned against the door frame and aimed his gaze at the bowl. “You’re not going to throw that at me for entering my own residence, are you?”

“No onions. You’re safe.”
 

“Good. Bad enough seeing you in your underwear and with that growth on your face. That’s hideous.”

“You don’t look like you’ve showered or shaved, either.”

Alessandro ran a hand over his chin, which bore only a day’s worth of stubble. “Mother told me to see you first thing.”

“I doubted she meant to come now.”

“I thought it better to duck in before the day shift arrives. No one saw me enter.” Alessandro pushed off the door frame with his shoulder and sauntered to the living room, where he sat on the sofa instead of flopping, as was his tendency. Despite Vittorio’s comment about his twin’s grooming habits, Alessandro appeared more regal than usual. Perhaps a few months walking in Vittorio’s shoes imbued Alessandro with new habits.
 

Vittorio took a moment to pull on pajama pants, then rejoined his brother in the living room. Once they worked out the logistics of a switch and talked about the crown prince’s schedule for the week, Vittorio set down his half-eaten cereal bowl and studied Alessandro. “What will you do now that I’m home?”

“No plans.”

Alessandro always had plans. “Surely you’ve been itching to get out of the palace?”

“Can’t do that when I just arrived home, though, can I?”
 

“I suppose not.” Vittorio hadn’t considered that the return of “Alessandro” would tie his twin to a number of engagements as the country demanded to see their wayward prince.

A sound that was half-huff, half-laugh escaped Alessandro. “I’ve been asking myself, ‘What would Vittorio do?’ for so long now, I’ve not thought about what I’d do when you return. After I’m free to leave again, I mean. It’s gotten to be habit, acting like you. Extremely boring, but habit.”

“What would you have wanted to do six months ago?”

His lower lip twitched, then he grinned. “My choices would’ve been the blonde, the brunette, or the redhead. All of whom would have perfectly round, perky breasts, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And they wouldn’t expect a damned thing from me but a one-night stand. Maybe two if I’m feeling generous.”

The image of Emily sitting astride him flashed through Vittorio’s mind, sending an involuntary shudder of pain rippling through him. To cover it, he forced a lighthearted, “Your ego is out of control.”

Alessandro knew him too well. “You’re still a wreck about Carmella, aren’t you?”

“I’m not a
wreck
. And I’m over Carmella, at least as much as a person can get over something like that.”

“Then what happened in Argentina? Or should I say who? Did you meet someone? Is that why you stayed away so long?”

He wasn’t going to share with Alessandro. With anyone, if he could help it, though that depended on what Emily did now that she knew his identity and had hours upon hours of film to share with the world.
 

Vittorio leaned forward, placing his forearms on his knees. “I have a better idea. Let’s discuss what that irresponsible Prince Alessandro has been doing the last few months. We need a story to share with the press, one that can’t be proven wrong.”

“One that explains a five-month absence.”

Vittorio caught the undercurrent in his brother’s tone. “You did a very good job while I was away.”

“You were gone a long time. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You’re the one who suggested I go.” He held up a hand before Alessandro could make a derisive comment. “But I know you imagined days or weeks, not months. Frankly, so did I, and I should’ve come home sooner.” Though if he had, he wouldn’t have met Emily. “Thank you. I won’t forget it.”

Alessandro merely nodded his acceptance. “I assume you have an idea or two about what we’ll say?”

He’d thought of little else, since everything now depended on Emily. He wanted to believe she’d keep his secret, but he’d believed a woman had his best interests at heart before and been burned. In this case, it wasn’t a film career at stake. It was the livelihood of an entire staff. And what Emily might choose didn’t constitute a crime. He’d put himself in the position of vulnerability.
 

“Unfortunately, there are still loose ends in Argentina.” He ignored Alessandro’s inquisitive look and said, “For now, we say that you spent your time traveling extensively, primarily in South America, and you intentionally kept a low profile because it allowed you to see the world in a different way than if you’d traveled as a prince. While you enjoyed yourself, you were also working on a special project for the Crown at the behest of your brother, Vittorio. That project is still underway and details will be released as soon as your brother gives you the word. That will throw the attention back to me.”

“And what is this project?”

“Details will be released.” When the time was right.
 

“You’ve become almost as intentionally vague as I am.” Alessandro barked out a laugh as he said it, then reached to his pocket for his cell phone and began punching in numbers. At Vittorio’s questioning look, he explained, “The sun is up and staff members are arriving. We won’t be able to remain unseen much longer. Time to fix your hair. You can also tell me what happened to the back of your head. That’ll need to be disguised.”

“You’re not calling our barber.” He couldn’t risk having anyone outside the family—correction, anyone
else
outside the family—catch on to the switch.

“I’m calling Sophia.” He made a scissor action with his fingers, then said into the phone. “Your brother’s home. Why don’t you visit him in his apartment once you’re dressed? He’d love to see you. And tuck your scissors into your bag.”

Alessandro listened for a moment, then grinned. “Yes. You have your work cut out for you. As do I.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Cold rain pummeled the New York streets, rendering the sky, buildings, and Emily’s mood the same depressing shade of gray. She and Rita had spent the morning with the film editor, watching the final cut of the two episodes that would precede the finale. Mike and Ignacio had done a spectacular job capturing the quiet beauty of Córdoba’s waterways and Jesuit architecture in the first episode, then the vast scope of Buenos Aires’ museums and cathedrals in the second. The real estate guests had been fantastic as well. The couple searching in Córdoba located the perfect home in which to retire, with easy access to grocery stores, restaurants, and hospitals, and in a community where they felt comfortable. The Buenos Aires episode had featured a young woman who’d first come to Buenos Aires with a study abroad program, then decided to return following her college graduation. She’d been searching for a small apartment to match her tight budget, but ended up with a more spacious place by finding a local graduate student with whom to share.

Rita tossed a pile of napkins in the middle of the table where Emily waited with her salad, then took a seat with her ham and cheese sandwich. Long hours in a dark room watching film had mentally exhausted them both. Dodging puddles in order to find a late lunch didn’t help matters.

“We’ll need to redo the voiceover at the end of the Córdoba episode, but other than that, we’re done,” Rita said once she’d had a few bites of her sandwich. “We can knock that out this afternoon, then tackle the finale.”

“Sounds like a plan.”
 

“We really nailed those two episodes. Viewers are going to love them.”

Emily nodded. She couldn’t keep her mind off the finale. For the last six weeks, ever since she’d arrived back in New York, she’d been plagued by thoughts of what might happen when it aired. No one knew the twins switched places. News that Prince Alessandro returned to Sarcaccia hit the European papers on the same day Prince Stefano’s bride-to-be, Megan, visited an upscale wedding gown shop with their daughter, Anna. The photos of Megan and Anna exiting with smiles on their faces drew attention away from the missing prince’s homecoming. It was three more days before Prince Alessandro was seen in public. He told reporters that he’d been traveling and working on a project for his brother, Vittorio, the nature of which he’d reveal when, in his words, “the time is right and all has come to fruition,” promising the reporters, “I think you’ll like it.”

Other than bandying about theories regarding where the prince might’ve traveled, the story died within a few weeks as the countdown to the royal wedding—the first in a generation in Sarcaccia—fascinated the nation. The only item that bumped nuptial talk from the country’s front page was the opening of Carmella Rivas’s final movie. Prince Vittorio flew to Paris for its premiere and was captured outside the theater stating that he hoped many people would see it, as he believed it to be her finest work. He took the opportunity to mention the memorial fund he’d established with the late actress’s family and the mental health counselors the fund provided free of charge to those contemplating suicide.