Slow Tango With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (38 page)

“I’d love children. But I don’t require them to be happy.” And he meant it. “I do, however, require you. I’m going to kiss you now. I want you to kiss me back.”

Her lips parted as she searched his face. He could read her well enough to know she still worried about the future. True to his prediction, she asked, “But then what?”

“Then I’m going to unzip your dress very slowly and very carefully so I don’t damage it, because it’s beautiful and I want to see you in it again. Then I’m going to make love to you. Probably more than once. I’m going to ask you to stay the night. And I’m going to ask you to be my date to a royal wedding in a few weeks. Not for the show, but for you. We’ll have the time of our lives. Then I’ll ask you for another date and another, for as long as you’ll say yes.”

“Yes.” Her face crumpled and she slid her arms around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes.”

A few minutes later, after he’d thoroughly kissed her, he did exactly as promised, spinning her around and gently easing the zipper of her dress toward the small of her back. As he placed his lips to the soft skin along her spine and slid his hands inside the fabric to push it open, she said, “Do you know when I was first attracted to you?”

“Tell me.”

“When I saw you at Café Luchana writing in your newspaper.”

He laughed as he lowered the dress to her ankles, then helped her step out of it. “You wanted me for my real estate?”

“No. I knew you were different because you were reading a real newspaper instead of holding the latest electronic gizmo, and it looked like you were doing the crossword, which meant you had brains.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” He laid her dress over the chair as she spun to face him. “No crossword. Not at that particular moment.”

“I’m only disappointed that you’re wearing more clothes than I am.” She reached for his tie and slowly unlooped it from his shirt collar before tossing it over her dress. “Because in addition to having a fine set of brains, you’re very easy on the eyes. And I’m very, very much in love with you.”

He wanted to close his eyes and collapse in a mixture of relief and bliss. Instead, he bracketed her waist and drew her gorgeous body flush to his. Lowering his mouth to within an inch of hers, he murmured, “Prove it.”

And she did.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Emily leaned her head against Vittorio’s shoulder and sighed.
 

“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” he asked.

“Nope. I’m in my happy place.” She smiled as the band played a kicky pop number that sent Stefano and Megan’s daughter, Anna, and a few of her friends onto the dance floor amid squeals of delight. This, she thought, was the way family should be.

Stefano and Megan’s wedding had been straight out of a fairy tale. A Rolls Royce brought Megan to Cateri’s famous cathedral, where she walked down the aisle on the arm of her father. Anna had served as flower girl. Afterward, an open-top carriage drawn by four horses took the newlyweds on a circuitous route through the town’s medieval center, past cheering crowds, to the palace. The couple made an appearance on the narrow balcony that surrounded the palace clock tower and shared a kiss for the throngs of onlookers and television cameras gathered at the palace gates.

Before the ceremony, Emily had taken the
At Home Abroad
cameras through the decorated cathedral, given her viewers an overview of its history, then briefly interviewed a tuxedoed Prince Stefano, who outlined the elements of a traditional Sarcaccian wedding even as he readied for his own.

The palace reception, however, was strictly for family and friends. Stefano had surprised Anna by flying in some of her former schoolmates from Barcelona. Several of Megan’s past coworkers were in attendance, as well. Emily had spent a hilarious half-hour listening to Dominic, the recently retired palace chef, debating the proper preparation of various seafood dishes with Santi, the head chef at the Barcelona hotel where Megan used to work. Never had she met two men who talked more with their hands or laughed so uproariously.
 

“I despair of ever hearing a tango,” Vittorio murmured as he planted a kiss on top of Emily’s head. They’d danced numerous times, but the laid-back vibe of the reception meant a tango was unlikely, despite the glorious surroundings and talented musicians.

“That’s all right.” She sat up and grinned at Vittorio as a thought occurred to her. “You know, it’s a very good thing you got so mad at me that night in the alley.”

One side of his mouth cocked up. “And why is that?”

“Because now this is our first real date.”

“I’ll alert the press.”

“Oh, I suspect they’ve already got it covered.” They’d both seen the cameras aimed in their direction as they’d entered the cathedral together.
 

“Speaking of news” —Vittorio’s voice dropped— “I’ve heard a bit. I hate to bring it up here, when we’re having such a good time, but it’s about Carmella’s boyfriend.”

That caught her attention. “What is it?”

“He was arrested in Spain on charges of tax evasion. The authorities are also looking into allegations from one of his business partners who claimed to have been cheated.”

Emily absorbed that. “How do you feel about it?”

“It’s hard to say.” He shifted in his chair, then made a face at Alessandro as Alessandro grabbed their sister Sophia and spun her around the floor to the wild music, despite Sophia’s protests. “I’d hoped never to think of him again. But if he was stealing from others, then yes, I’m glad he’s been stopped.”

Emily reached for Vittorio’s hand. “You’ll never have to go through anything like that again.”

“I know.” He brushed her lips gently with his, then said, “And I have other news, if I can trust you to keep a secret.”

“I don’t know” —she let her voice go intentionally wicked— “can you?”

“Massimo and Kelly are planning to announce their engagement as soon as the mania surrounding this wedding dies down.”

“Really?” She’d only spent a brief time around the pair, but they struck her as a couple very much in love and well-suited to one another. “That’s wonderful.”

“I think so, too.”

The song wound down and the kids started to clear the floor. As the band began the next song, Vittorio straightened, then rose from his chair.
 

“Where are you going?” she asked, but in the next breath, she realized what was happening. The first strains of a tango were being played. And Vittorio was about to play, as well. A few couples had migrated to the floor, including Massimo and Kelly, to enjoy the dance. But Vittorio skirted the floor and perused the women in attendance before looking back to Emily with
el cabeceo
. She gave him a look of mild interest, then turned away. They had fun with stolen glances, then he pegged her with a sultry look of invitation that took her breath away. She remained riveted, her eyes on his, until he came to stand in front of her. Slowly, she stood and took his hand. When he spun her onto the floor, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. She let Vittorio and the music guide her, matching his pauses, sweeping her foot to caress the floor, then following the pressure of his hand. Nearby, she heard a whistle that only could’ve come from Alessandro.

“I think we’re making a scene,” she whispered.

“No talking until we’re between
tandas
, remember?”

“We don’t know how many songs will be in this set. My guess is that this is the only one.”

“Not if they keep going like that.”

He spun her so she could see the opposite side of the floor, where King Carlo and Queen Fabrizia danced a tango as sensual as any she’d seen in Buenos Aires. Every eye in the room was riveted on the pair, who were so circumspect in public Emily never would’ve believed what she was seeing if it wasn’t right in front of her.

“Wow,” she whispered as Vittorio guided her through the next crescendo in the music.
 

“Guess they’re happy about the wedding,” he murmured. “Or something.”

“They’re very—” she struggled for the right word. It seemed wrong to describe them as sexy to their own son. Sultry and hot were right out, as well.

“I know what you mean. No need to describe it,” he said.
 

“I suspect the acorn didn’t fall far from the tree.”

His grip tightened on her as quiet laughter shook him. As the first tango morphed into a second, he steered her off the dance floor.

“I know I’m not supposed to protest, but shouldn’t we finish the set? I thought that was the tradition.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” A moment later, he’d scuttled her through the crowd, then ducked through a small door to the side of the ballroom.
 

“Where are we going?”

“This is a service hallway. The staff use it to move between sections of the palace during big events so they’re not seen. And this” —he pushed open a second door to reveal a curtain, then lifted the curtain aside— “is a hidden entrance to the palace library, where we can have a moment alone.”

Emily drew in a sharp breath. She thought she’d seen it all today, but this room topped everything. Though the palace’s grand ballroom lived up to its name and Cateri’s cathedral had been steeped in history, the darkened library had a magical quality. Ancient hardwood floors had been topped with Persian rugs that softened the sound of her footsteps as she made her way to the windows. “I can see the whole garden from here.”

“Turn around,” he urged. “You like?”

“Oh, Vittorio.” Thousands of books lined the floor to ceiling shelves. While several sections contained books that appeared centuries old, most of the shelves were filled to bursting with modern works. Paintings hung in the gaps between the shelves, but rather than musty portraits of Vittorio’s ancestors, richly colored Impressionist works brightened the space. Even at night, with a single lamp projecting light from one corner of the room, the canvases took her breath away.
 

“I had a feeling you’d like it in here.” With a hand to her lower back, he guided her past one of the library’s two seating areas toward the far end of the room from where they’d entered. “Look closely at the shelves here. Eye level.”

She leaned in. “Travel guides.”

“And in the center?”

A thick book on Buenos Aires. She pulled it from the shelf, surprised to find it so light in her hand.

“Open it.”

She looked at Vittorio to gauge his intentions, but he gave her nothing more than a raise of his brows. Slowly, she opened the book. It was hollow inside, the pages cut out to create a compartment that held a key.

“You never asked me if I bought an apartment in Buenos Aires,” he said.
 

“I completely forgot.” She lifted the key from the book, then set the book back on the shelf. “I assume from this that you did?”

Again, he only raised his brows. The devil. “Which one did you get? Puerto Madero?” When his expression didn’t change, she shook her head, dismissing it. “No, in the end I bet you went for the traditional place in San Telmo. The one with the chandelier from the old mansion.”

“The Sarcaccian chandelier, you mean?”

She laughed, remembering. “I’d forgotten it was from Sarcaccia! I can only imagine what went through your mind when I talked about it on camera.”

“I was certainly amused. But no, I didn’t buy either of those places. I bought something else entirely.” A wicked glint entered his eyes. “I bought a hotel.”

She nearly dropped the key. “You…what?”

“I bought that little hotel where we had our one-night stand. I told you I wasn’t the one-night stand type. Well, I bought the place when I discovered that the owners wanted to retire. I kept the staff, installed a new boiler since the old owners couldn’t afford to, and now we have a place to stay whenever we’re in Buenos Aires. In fact, I talked to Rita this morning and confirmed that you’ll be done shooting this season well before Christmas and won’t need to start planning season five—”
 

“I’ve barely started season four!”
 

“—until mid-January,” he finished. “So the week after Christmas, I reserved that same room for the two of us. We’ll have all the privacy we want for that second one-night stand I ruined back in March. If you’d like, perhaps we can fly up to Oregon afterward. I’d love to meet your family. That is” —he wrapped his strong fingers around hers, which still contained the key— “if you’ll accept this key as my first-date gift to you.”

She suspected it was the first of what would be many wonderful surprises she’d receive from Vittorio. Who received a hotel as a gift? And what prince would speak with such excitement about the possibility of going to Oregon? “This is the strangest and sweetest thing anyone has ever given me.”
 

“So you accept?”

“I most certainly accept.” She angled her head to smile at him. “Though you do realize that we’re well past a one-night stand already?”

“Shhh.” He lowered his mouth so it lingered a breath from hers. “Just kiss me. Then dance with me. Then stay with me.”

She would. Forever. “I love you, Vittorio Barrali.”

“And I love you more.”