Читать книгу Scandals Of The Royals: Princess From the Shadows - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 9

“WHAT do you mean she’s gone?” Prince Rodriguez Anguiano looked down at Eduardo Santina, King of Santina, and his future father-in-law, and swore he saw sweat beading on the older man’s brow.

The king was known for being formidable, tough and unbending. Watching him sweat was unexpected. And more than a little bit interesting.

King Eduardo cleared his throat. “Just that. Sophia is gone. She left with a maharaja.”

Rodriguez felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “A maharaja? Is marrying a prince not enough for some women? They feel the need to pursue a more… exotic title?”

King Eduardo’s face darkened, color creeping into his cheeks. “She has done so without my permission.”

“I’m assuming, since my intended fiancée has run away with a maharaja, the wedding is off?” The king only looked at him and Rodriguez felt a vague sense of relief wash through him. He had been prepared to do the marriage thing, but truly, he hadn’t been looking forward to it. In his estimation it was a ball and chain situation, and he didn’t know anyone who would willingly shackle themselves in that manner. Yet people did seem to get married. It was the heir factor, one he couldn’t ignore forever, but for a while longer, maybe.

Sophia had been pretty enough, a beautiful brunette with a real classic beauty. But even that would get old after a while. Now he could go back to Santa Christobel and celebrate with a blonde. Maybe a redhead. Maybe both. Not that he usually went in for that sort of thing but he’d had six long, unheard-of months of celibacy so that he could present his future bride with medical proof of his good health. And now that there would be no wedding, it had just been six months of physical torture.

“Father?”

Rodriguez turned, his ears always tuned in to sultry, feminine tones. But in this instance, the tone did not match the looks. One of Eduardo’s other daughters was standing in the entryway, sleek brown hair hanging just beneath her chin. All no-nonsense and practical, as was the rest of her attire.

Wide-leg beige slacks, a white button-up top and metallic ballet slipper-style shoes. She looked like she’d stepped out of the pages of a business-casual catalog. She was tall, slim, only a couple of inches shorter than he was, and her face was pleasant enough, but with none of the flash and paint he was accustomed to seeing on a woman.

“Sorry,” she said, inclining her head. “I didn’t realize that you were busy.” She turned to go, and for some reason, he was sorry to see it.

“Carlotta.”

She paused and turned back again. This time he noticed how green her eyes were. “Yes, Father?”

“Stay for a moment.”

Carlotta gave him a brief icy look before turning her focus back to her father.

“This is Prince Rodriguez Anguiano. Your sister Sophia’s fiancé.”

She looked at him again, her expression blank. She was strange, contained, demure almost, and yet he could sense something beneath it. Something she seemed determined not to reveal.

“Charmed,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Though I don’t know that I’m Sophia’s fiancé any longer. As she’s run off with the maharaja.”

Carlotta blinked owlish green eyes at him before shooting her father a worried look. That’s where her emotion was, reserved for the old man. She seemed to fear him, or at least feel nervous around him. Rodriguez couldn’t even find the slightest bit of fear in himself. The king posed no threat to him. A lion who was all roar and no maul. He knew the other kind, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate to tear out your throat. It made it very hard to take a man like Eduardo Santina seriously.

His daughter, on the other hand, seemed to feel differently.

“She did not ‘run off’ with the mahar—with Ashok,” Eduardo said.

“I don’t care if she walked, ran or flew in his private jet. The bottom line is the same. I am out a fiancée, and we seem to have no more marriage bargain,” Rodriguez countered.

Carlotta shifted on her sensible shoes. “Can I go?”

“No,” her father said.

“I don’t really care what you do,” Rodriguez threw in, mildly amused by the whole situation. What adult woman asked her father for permission to do anything? Obviously not his ex–intended bride, Sophia Santina. But apparently Carlotta Santina was another matter.

Carlotta’s eyes narrowed slightly in his direction, before flickering back to her father. “I need to call Luca before…”

“It can wait, Carlotta. Do me this one favor,” Eduardo bit out roughly, the strain of the situation not well hidden.

Carlotta seemed to shrink and Rodriguez felt his stomach turn sour. Dios, but he hated men like that. Men who used their strength, their power, over others like that. Over their own children.

“I’m done here, actually,” Rodriguez said. “If you have no bride for me, I have no reason to stay.” Unless one of the maids is looking to get lucky.

“Tell me, Rodriguez, did you have feelings for Sophia?” Eduardo asked.

“You know I didn’t. I didn’t even know her. I won’t insult either of us by pretending otherwise.”

“Then it was her name you needed? Not her?”

He couldn’t care less who he married so long as she could produce heirs and do a nice royal wave from a balcony. “You know that to be true.”

“Then I do have a bride for you.” Eduardo turned his dark eyes on Carlotta. “You can have Carlotta.”

Carlotta blinked hard and looked from Rodriguez back to her father. She was certain her ears couldn’t be working right, because she had thought she’d heard her father give her away. Like she was a thing. A parting gift for the visiting prince.

Are you shocked? He already believes you gave yourself away.

She shook the thought off and continued to stare at her father, letting the silence fill the room until it became oppressive.

Finally, Rodriguez laughed, a short, harsh sound. “A trade?”

“A way to keep our bargain, Prince Rodriguez.”

Carlotta shook her head, and she knew her eyes were probably comically large in her head. She closed her mouth. She hadn’t realized it had dropped open.

She’d been completely floored by her sister, sweet Sophia, running away from her arranged marriage to Rodriguez, especially as it was so important for Santina and Santa Christobel to forge an alliance. She’d been the first to warn her sister about the unflattering headlines. Princess Sophia Joins Mile-High Club.

But she hadn’t realized that she would get dragged into the whole debacle. And certainly not to this degree.

Rodriguez flicked her a dismissive glance. “I have no interest in taking a wife who nearly faints at the thought of becoming my bride. I’m certain I can find someone my mere presence does not offend. We have no deal, Eduardo.”

He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Carlotta alone with her father. It was a new kind of silence that filled the room now. One bursting with rage, combined with a kind of leaden disappointment that she could feel down in her soul, weighting her, climbing in her throat, threatening to strangle her.

She knew this feeling. Had felt it before. In this very room. In this very spot.

Nearly six years ago she’d been here. In her father’s office. Her knees locked, her feet glued to the carpet, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her entire body shaking, a cold sweat covering her back, her neck.

I’m pregnant.

They had been the two most terrifying words she’d ever spoken in her life. And directly after them had come the most sickening minute of silence she’d ever endured.

Until now.

“Father, I …”

“Carlotta, after all I have done for you,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment, “you cannot do this for me? For your country? You brought so much shame upon us, all of us. The people of Santina, your family.”

“I … I only came in to tell you that I have to return tonight.” She couldn’t deal with her father’s words. They hurt too badly. They rang too true. “Luca needs me and … and then you throw a prince at me! A marriage proposal. I don’t …” She swallowed, trying to suppress the panic that was starting to rise in her. “What do you expect of me?”

Her father looked down at his hands, folded in front of him on his neat, expansive desk. “I had hoped that you would understand how important this was. I had hoped you would understand your duty. After all our family has endured recently in the press, thanks to your brother. After the way they publicized your shame.”

Carlotta felt her face grow tense, needles of icy cold rage dotting her cheeks. Luca wasn’t her shame. And he never could be. Even if the press had been determined to make him so.

The Sole Santina Bastard. A favored headline at the time of Luca’s birth. She could only thank God they didn’t know the whole story. That they didn’t know the half of the sins she was capable of committing when she let the hold on her control loosen.

And Father is the only reason they don’t.

That brought the guilt. Right on time.

“I have always believed that you would do great things, Carlotta,” he said, his voice softer now. “This is your chance to prove me right.” He looked up at her, his dark eyes shining, and she felt her stomach tighten. “You are my most beloved daughter. I did everything in my power to protect you, to keep the press from finding out the details surrounding Luca’s birth. Is it so much to ask for this?”

She felt like she was choking, as if her throat was getting tighter with each word her father spoke. Yet another reason she avoided Santina. Her family. The obligations of being a princess. The horrible, crushing guilt.

Not for the first time, she felt like coming home had been a mistake. She didn’t know where she fit anymore. She’d been on the fringes of the glamorous engagement party, not entirely able to join in with her family. Not able to join in with her brother Alessandro’s new in-laws, the Jacksons, and their carefree, crass style of behavior. In a way she almost envied the Jacksons. They didn’t have to worry about how they were perceived. They didn’t seem to worry about anything.

Yes, but you do.

It was easier when she was in her home on the Amalfi Coast. When she was just Carlotta, Luca’s mum.

But that was a dream. A dream she’d escaped to when she’d been pregnant, alone and scared. Heartbroken. Hounded by the press.

She’d been weak then. But she could never have come out of it remaining weak. It was either grow a spine or melt into a puddle and die. And for Luca’s sake, melting had never been a viable option. She’d had to find inner strength, and she’d found it quickly.

Still, facing down her father brought back the girl she’d been. The one who had wanted to please him so badly. Who had only wanted to do right. With everything that was going on, Sophia’s very public fall from grace, Alex’s marriage … maybe it was her chance to grab a little redemption. To be the daughter her father seemed to believe she still could be.

“What is the precise nature of your agreement with … with Prince Rodriguez?” she asked, licking her suddenly dry lips.

“Anguiano needs an heir,” said Eduardo. “His father is dying. As good as dead. Incapacitated and in hospital. It’s time for Rodriguez to take the throne of Santa Christobel, and that means he needs a wife.”

“And what’s in it for us? For Santina. I mean, I understand it in a general sense. But if I’m actually going to … marry Prince Rodriguez, then I need to know exactly what we stand to gain.”

“Can you imagine it, Carlotta? What such an alliance could bring? Ease for educational programs between the nations. Trade. A valuable ally to stand with should conflict ever arise. All cemented by marriage. Children. It is unfathomable in its value.”

“Gems,” she said softly, a realization washing over her. “They have diamonds. Ruby mines too. A host of other natural resources.”

“It cannot be overlooked. They are a wealthy nation. And that makes them even more valuable. Sophia knew her duty. She has abandoned it. But I trust you, Carlotta. I trust that you will do what is right.”

What was right? She had tried to do what was right for most of her life. Barring one giant mistake, she always had. It had always been her goal. To be the kind of daughter her parents deserved and desired. She didn’t know if she could take it this far though.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pictured her house on the beach. The quiet. Her son running through the halls with his arms full of stuffed animals that had most definitely seen better days. Things were simpler there. She didn’t have to work so hard to be the Carlotta that she was expected to be. The one she feared deep inside she never truly could be.

But while she had left palace life behind, she hadn’t left her title. She hadn’t truly shed her duty.

That was bred into her. A part of her. Even if she tried to ignore it.

And then, there was her father. Who had never given up on her. Not even when she’d let him down, dragged the Santina name through the mud. Put them on par with the kind of tabloid fodder he despised.

For all the cruel words her family had bandied around about her older brother Alessandro’s future in-laws, the very same could be said about her. It had been said about her, in bold print, on newsstands all around Santina.

Scandalous. Immoral.

Her family, her father, had never thrown those words at her, but she knew it had been thought. How could they not think it? She had. Worse, she knew it was true. A lifetime of keeping her passionate, exuberant nature on a tight leash, and in one great fall from grace, all her efforts had been reduced to nothing. She had tainted her family name, had brought them ridicule, the disgust of a nation who saw her as a clear sign of the degeneration of the royal family.

The question was, how badly did she want redemption? Enough to marry a total stranger? The prince of a country she’d never been to? The man her sister had been engaged to, until she’d broken it by hooking up with Ash on his private plane.

She looked at her father. He had aged in the past few years. She hadn’t been around to see it. She wondered how much of it was her fault. How many lines on his face were from dealing with her transgressions.

It made her sick to think of it.

But she could be the one to fix things here. The one to save the day. To be the daughter her parents had imagined she would be. It was almost embarrassing that she wanted it so badly. That she cared so much. But she did. She needed to look at her father and see something other than disappointment in his eyes.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

Rodriguez reclined on the bed, his shoes consigned to the floor, along with his tie. His plane would be ready soon, and then he would be leaving Santina, and with it, the little melodrama that the Santinas seemed to be living.

He didn’t waste his time on this sort of thing. He lived. He didn’t regret. He didn’t worry. He didn’t think more than he had to. Not about anything beyond the here and now anyway.

There was a soft knock at the door and he wondered if it was a maid, then chuckled at where the thought took him. It really had been too long since he’d had sex. He’d been expecting to pick up a fiancée so he’d imagined his celibacy wouldn’t have lasted beyond tonight.

“Sì?”

The door opened, and it wasn’t a maid. It was Princess Carlotta Santina, still in her drab outfit, her lips pursed tight. She didn’t look like she was here to alleviate him of his celibacy either.

“I thought we might have a talk.” No, definitely not.

“Did you?”

She nodded, the setting sun filtering through the window shimmering over her straight, glossy bob. “I thought, since my father just tried to … use me as a stand-in for my sister, we might …”

“I’m actually done with that now.” He really wasn’t in the mood for whatever kind of rant she’d come to throw at him. Or was she here to apologize? The way she’d looked at her father, the way her shoulders had folded in, her hands clasped tight in front of her, almost like a shield. Like she feared him … she would come and apologize.

“I’m not,” she said, the slight steel in her tone surprising him.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. My father explained the situation to me more fully. I … I knew that you and Sophia were engaged, in a sense, but I did not know the specifics. I don’t live in Santina so I’m not really in on everything that goes on here and Sophia didn’t … she didn’t really say much of anything about you. I only got wind of how big of a deal it was when the story broke about Sophia being caught with Ash on the plane.”

“That’s because I’ve barely met the girl. No reason for her to talk about me.”

Carlotta cleared her throat. “Yes, well … the girl, is gone.”

“With the maharaja.”

He saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “Right. With Ash. Alex’s friend. And you still need a wife.”

“Need is a strong word.”

“Do you or don’t you?” she asked.

“Eventually.”

“How soon is this eventually you speak of?”

“Truthfully? The sooner, the better. This will be a time of transition for my people.” He thought of the responsibility, the weight of the crown. It was heavy on his shoulders. Already he’d moved back into the palace in Santa Christobel. He felt like it would choke him, being inside those four walls again. “Anything that can be done to ease their fears at this time would be welcome. Marriage, my marriage, would help with that.”

They wouldn’t be mourning his father, that was for sure. Carlos Anguiano was not much loved. And while Rodriguez had essentially been running Santa Christobel for the past several years, his father had remained the figurehead.

“It would mean a new start for my people. A fresh beginning,” he said.

“Well then, I guess I have good news for you.”

“What is that?”

“I haven’t run off with a maharaja, so … I happen to be available to marry you. At your earliest convenience.”

It was a rare moment that found Rodriguez Anguiano speechless.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“I’ll marry you.”

“What happened to the emphatic no from earlier?”

“I was shocked. In shock. I wasn’t prepared for something like that.”

“To be offered up as a replacement wife in your sister’s absence?” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing quickly.

“I wasn’t … exactly expecting that, no. I thought I’d come to the party, have a couple of drinks and go home. Wasn’t really anticipating acquiring a husband.”

“And yet you have changed your mind?” he asked, pacing in front of her, adrenaline surging through him, joining the unrest he’d already felt being contained in the walls of the castle in Santina. That he’d been feeling since he’d boarded his private plane, on his way to collect what could only be described as a ball and chain.

“We need this, don’t we? The marriage I …” He watched her throat convulse as she swallowed. “I have always known that I would face an arranged marriage of some kind.”

She spoke the truth. From the cradle they’d all known their marriages would likely be arranged by their parents. Because duty came first, the allegiance to the family name. To Santina. Alex had long been promised to Anna, a woman more than suitable to be the future queen of Santina. But that was before he’d gone rogue and set his sights on Allegra Jackson. And of course Sophia had been promised to Rodriguez. Natalia’s engagement was in the process of being arranged. She didn’t know about Matteo, but it was less urgent now that Alex was formally betrothed.

Before Carlotta had … Well, if not for Luca her father would have likely arranged a marriage for her years ago. As it was, she had been sort of taken out of the “dynastic union” running when she’d had her son.

Well, apparently not really out of the running. She was good enough to play second string. Good enough to marry the renowned rebel prince of Santa Christobel. A man who lived dangerously and loved often. Well, not loved. He made love often, according to the tabloids. A new woman on his arm every weekend to accompany him to Europe’s most exclusive parties. Fast cars, fast dates.

The kind of man who represented recklessness, lawlessness, total disregard for honor. A man who served his own passions. The kind of man she hated. The kind of man she was so easily drawn to.

“As have I,” Rodriguez said, his dark eyes unreadable, the little curve of his mouth still present, like it had been earlier. It was a kind of ever-present near-smile that made it look like he was mocking her. It made her stomach feel like it was being squeezed tight by an invisible fist.

She cleared her throat. “So, while I hadn’t really penciled a wedding into my day planner, it’s not a … it’s not a total surprise.”

What was her other option anyway?

Well, there was staying in Italy. That was a good thought. Hiding. But she didn’t know if it served any real purpose. The only person it really helped was her. It allowed her to lick her wounds in private. It allowed her to hide Luca from royal life. Something part of her wanted to do, but something she also knew wasn’t fair. He was a Santina. He was a royal. It was a part of him, and it didn’t do him any good to force him to deny that part of himself. No matter how much simpler it would be to just raise him as an ordinary little boy. Who wasn’t tabloid fodder. It wasn’t reality.

“I don’t suppose you really had other life plans either,” she said.

“I don’t plan. I live.”

“Well … I suppose that means you don’t have a woman back home you’re dying to see. Someone you’d prefer to marry.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Carlotta, I prefer not to marry. But I need an heir. One that isn’t a bastard.”

She flinched when he spoke the word. She hated that word. One used to label an innocent child, to make them suffer for the perceived sins of his parents. Did Rodriguez know about Luca? He had to know. So, he’d chosen the words to wound her.

“Why?” she said. “Do you have many? Children, I mean.”

“Me? No. I always use protection.” Such a throwaway statement. Spoken like a man who never thought about anyone but himself.

She gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t always work.”

“True. But in the event that a pregnancy had resulted, you can bet the woman involved would have told me. I’m rich. Titled. She would have wanted her piece.”

“You would have owed her a piece,” she said. “At minimum.”

“I’m not arguing that. My point is that, whether I want marriage or not, I need it.”

“Preferably to me.”

He looked at her, his dark gaze dismissive. “Because of connection to this family.”

“I didn’t seek to imply otherwise. It’s the only reason I would marry you.”

“Because your father told you to. That’s the reason.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “He has good reasons.”

“Fine. But you’re still doing it because he asked you to.”

“And your father has nothing to do with any of this?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, the light in his eyes turning black, deadly. “My father can hardly lift his hand anymore. He is weak. What I do, I do for my country.”

“Same goes for me. But my family is Santina.”

“Thank goodness mine is not Santa Christobel. Santa Christobel is better than the Anguiano legacy has been thus far. But I intend to do better.”

“And I intend to … be a part of it.” It was strange, lobbying for something she wasn’t certain she wanted. But she needed it. Everything else aside, her father was right. She had made mistakes that had cost the family. And he had covered for her. Had done everything in his power to keep her from being utterly humiliated and exposed.

In the scope of things, this wasn’t so very much to ask.

“Does it get boring?”

“What?” she asked, trying to ignore the glint of humor in his dark eyes. It made him seem … attractive. Well, he was attractive, glint or no, with his golden skin and dark hair that was much too long to be considered respectable for a man of his station. Chiseled jaw, a body that looked as though it would be hard like iron. It wouldn’t be impersonal or cold like metal, though. No, he would be hot….

She blinked, trying to reroute her thoughts. She didn’t do the man thing. Not anymore. Just acknowledging the speed and ease with which he aroused her was … horrifying. Even more horrifying was the strength of it. Why was it so hard to be good? To be the woman she was supposed to be?

“Being this noble, does it get boring?”

“Yes. It does. Which is why I practice it in small doses.” And throw it off altogether sometimes …

“Good to know that not even you are always respectable.”

“Not even close.” But she tried. She’d tried all her life. To ignore the fire that seemed to burn so close to the surface of her skin. To be the demure princess she was expected to be. It had been a battle all her life. One she’d lost completely when she’d met Luca’s father. A lifetime of practiced restraint reduced to nothing in just a few short weeks.

He inclined his head. “All right then, Princess Carlotta, you have yourself a marriage bargain. My plane leaves Santina late tonight and I intend to take my future wife with me.”

“I … I can’t leave from here. I can’t leave tonight.” Luca was still in Italy, with his nanny. So were all of her things. Her real things, not her princess trappings.

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t live here at the palace. I don’t even live on the island. I live in Italy. My home is there, my … everything.” She didn’t know what stopped her from saying something about Luca. Maybe because he hadn’t mentioned him. The whole thing seemed so mercenary. So cold. Adding him to it … it just seemed wrong.

“Fine. We’ll stop in Italy on our way to Santa Christobel.”

Oh, yes, and pick up her five-year-old with Mr. Tall, Dark, Sexy and Imposing standing in the doorway with that mocking grin of his. No thank you.

“I can make my own way to Santa Christobel,” she said archly. “I need time to prepare.”

“Have a lover you need to cast off before we get married?”

She nearly snorted. She’d lived the past few years completely abstinent after only one, near emotionally fatal affair. “Oh, yes, a stable of them. You?”

“I don’t intend to cast anyone off.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t intend to cast off any lovers just because I’m getting married.”

Her stomach twisted. Men. They really were all the same. Cheating, lying jerks who only cared about pleasing their sex drives. “I hope you don’t think you’ll be in my bed then. I don’t share.”

A slow smile spread over his handsome face, teeth bright white against his tan skin. “I do.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t ask for what I don’t give.”

“Fidelity?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I ask for fidelity.” I’ve never gotten it, but I’d like it. “And if you’re going to be in my bed, you won’t be in anyone else’s.” She couldn’t believe she was even talking about beds and sex with a man she’d only just meant.

It was making her face hot, and not, she suspected, from embarrassment. From that nearly six years of celibacy maybe. From the thought of a man’s hands, his hands, on her skin again. Kissing. Caressing.

She shifted and tried to ease the knot in her stomach with a deep breath. That was one part of marriage that wouldn’t be so bad.

Unless he’s actively sleeping with other women the whole time.

Yeah, that was a definite no-go for her. And anyway, contemplating sleeping with him was … he was a stranger and it was bad with a capital B.

“We will discuss this no more. Not now.”

She raised her brow. “Excuse me?”

“It is immaterial. Fine details you and I will work out later. For now, the real question is, will you marry me?”

He didn’t get down on one knee or anything, thank goodness, because that would have been just too much. He stood in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest, a knowing smile curving his lips. He exuded confidence. Charm. That kind of cocky, arrogant sexiness that said he knew just what he could make a woman feel.

He wasn’t the first man she’d met who exuded those things.

He took a step toward her, his dark eyes trained on hers, and for a moment, it felt like the world had closed in on them. So that it was just the two of them.

Rodriguez didn’t touch her, he didn’t even make a move to touch her, and yet she felt like he had. Could feel the warmth coming from his hard body and she wasn’t afraid of him putting his hands on her, she was wishing he would. Aching for it.

“A simple question, a simple answer,” he said. “Yes or no?”

She met his dark gaze, her heart hopping in her chest like a caged bird making a bid for freedom. She opened her mouth to speak but her throat was dry. She swallowed, trying to find her balance, her confidence.

Trying to find the woman that knew all about men like him, who knew that charm was nothing more than smoke and mirrors; that sex, no matter how fulfilling or meaningful she might find it, was nothing more than a little bit of amusement for men like him, and that they would leave the woman to pick up the check. A week’s worth of fun for them, could mean a lifetime of payment for the woman involved.

It had for her.

And she would never be that stupid again. She would never again buy into the kind of sweet lies that could be issued from wicked, sexy mouths like his. Not even if she was married to the charmer.

Married. Was she really going to marry him? Could she really go back to her father and tell him she’d decided not to?

“Yes,” she said, the word weak, breathless. She cleared her throat. She didn’t do weak and breathless. Not anymore. She’d made the decision, she would stand strong in it. “Yes, I will marry you.”