Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (29 page)

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Massimo had never been the type to avoid people.
 
Situations, yes, when avoidance kept conflict from escalating and allowed tempers time to diffuse.
 
His parents had always encouraged waiting out anger and saving certain conversations for times when all parties could speak reasonably.
 
More than once his mother said that it saved friendships, marriages, and even lives.
 
But Massimo never avoided people.
 
Especially when he wasn’t even angry.
 

With Kelly, the opposite was true.
 
He was becoming more and more attracted to the woman with each passing hour as he listened to her banter with April.
 

Despite Kelly’s tempting, near-constant presence in his apartment the last week, he had yet to spend a moment alone with her.
 
She’d floated in and out of his bedroom sorting through boxes, carrying shelving samples, and arranging the shirts from his closet on a rolling rack in his bedroom so he’d have access to them during the renovation, but others were always there.
 
Workmen removed the carpeting, April tore out the old hang rods, and painters arrived to smooth the walls and repaint them.
 
Even when Kelly asked him the occasional question about whether a particular object stowed in one of the boxes should stay or go, his responses were limited to the expected yes and no answers.

All the while, Massimo busied himself knocking off items on his mother’s checklist.
 
He’d met with the stylist his sister hired, using the time to talk over preferences and have his measurements taken.
 
After that, two decorators his mother recommended and three possible personal assistants met with him in his library for interviews.
 
Though the decorators were way off the mark—the portfolios of designs they’d shown him didn’t come close to his taste—two of the three assistants held promise and he’d arranged second interviews with each of them.
 
When he wasn’t occupied with interview preparation, he’d spent time in the garden reading more of the briefs.
 
Slowly but surely, he was re-acclimating to life in the palace, making it his new normal.
 
Though he still craved time alone, he hadn’t felt the urge to take Gaspare on any long drives or boat excursions.
 

Much as he knew no one would mind if he took an hour here or there, he found Kelly’s presence invigorating.
 
Even if he wasn’t alone with her, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“I have another for you, sir.
 
This is Armani.”
 
The stylist, a British man in his late sixties or early seventies who looked as if he’d walked right off London’s Jermyn Street or Savile Row, shifted clothing along a rack in the main room of Massimo’s apartment as Kelly’s laughter reverberated from the direction of the closet.
 
He raised a well-groomed gray eyebrow in the direction of the sound as he presented a midnight blue pinstriped suit for Massimo’s approval.
 
To the older man, the laughter was inappropriate for the setting.
 
No doubt he found it took away from the solemnity of a royal household.
 
But to Massimo, it was as if Kelly stood before him in the shower all over again, massaging shampoo through his hair while teasing him about his water-loving dog.
 
The echo chamber quality of the closet wasn’t far from that of her villa’s bathroom.

Her laughter—along with that of April, the workmen, and everyone else who met with Kelly during the last few days—brought energy to what could have been a rather dull few days.

He inspected the suit and nodded.
 
“Thank you, Robert, I’ll try that one.”

“A solid choice, sir.
 
Now, if you will, I have a selection of shirts and ties to show you that work well with either this or the two Tom Ford suits.”

Massimo gestured to the sofas, where the suits he’d selected earlier were on display.
 
As stern and proper as Robert might be, Massimo liked the man.
 
Sophia had chosen well.
 
Robert was efficient and had excellent taste.
 
Nothing he chose was too staid—despite the appearance of Robert himself—nor was it too edgy to be worn by a royal on public occasions.
 
And everything he’d presented so far fit Massimo like a dream.

As Robert laid out the shirts alongside the suits so Massimo could inspect the various combinations, he said, “If you don’t mind, I took the liberty of selecting an outfit for you to wear to this afternoon’s parade.
 
Queen Fabrizia indicated that you plan to attend.
 
However, she was not certain whether you were attending tonight’s banquet.
 
If so, I’d be happy to suggest clothing appropriate for that event, as well.”

“I’m not certain I’m attending yet, myself.”
 
He’d planned to decide once he’d made it through the parade.
 
“But I’d appreciate having something ready, just in case.”

“Of course, sir.”
 
Robert returned to the rack and selected an elegant black suit with a barely-there jacquard print.
 
“This should work well for evening.”

“Excuse me?”
 
Kelly rounded the corner from the bedroom into the main room, her gaze sweeping over Robert and the vast selection of clothing.
 
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have a question for Prince Massimo, if he’s available for a moment.”

Massimo took in the surprising sight of her curve-hugging white top, beige linen skirt, and chocolate-colored sandals.
 
The outfit wasn’t as formal as what one usually wore when in the palace.
 
Neither was the top cut for climbing closet ladders or sorting through boxes, given that if she leaned too far forward, he’d have an excellent view of her cleavage.
 
He imagined she’d chosen it because she’d limited her packing to vacation wear, rather than work wear.
 
Lucky for him.

He doubted Robert approved, though if the man had an ounce of testosterone in his body, he should.

“Did you need me to look at something?”
 
Massimo asked once he’d gained his tongue.

“Not yet.
 
The closet’s a disaster at the moment.”
 
She moved close enough for him to notice the tendrils of hair falling from her casual ponytail, no doubt the result of a work-filled morning. “I was wondering if you’d hired a decorator yet?”

He frowned at the unexpected question.
 
“No.
 
Did you need an opinion on some aspect of the closet?”

“Not an opinion so much as permission.”
 
Her gaze slid across the room to the massive mahogany bureau on the far wall.
 
“I noticed that the first day I was here.
 
Are you using it for storage?
 
Is it a piece you plan on keeping in this room?”

“I have no plans and have nothing in it.
 
Why?”

“If the decorator didn’t want to use it here, I thought it could work in the closet.
 
But I’ll wait until you hire someone.
 
I don’t want to step on toes.”

He couldn’t imagine the gigantic piece in his closet.
 
It didn’t seem close to the streamlined cabinets Kelly had briefly described as a possibility for the design.
 
On the other hand, he couldn’t imagine a decorator wanting to keep any of the furniture currently in the living room.
 
“Since there’s no decorator yet you get first dibs.
 
Have at it.”

Her eyes lit as she strode to the bureau and ran her hands over it, feeling the surface before opening the drawers and inspecting them one by one.
 
She pulled out her measuring tape and ran it along the top, then checked its height.
 
“I think this could work.”
 

“Glad it can be of use.”
 
He had zero attachment to the piece, but hated to see an antique being relegated to storage.

“Thanks.”
 
As she turned back toward the closet, he realized it was the longest conversation they’d had since he’d hired her.
 
Unable to leave it at that, he said, “You know that the Independence Day parade is this afternoon, right?
 
Are you planning to go?”

She stopped near the fireplace and tilted a look at the windows.
 
“With weather like this, you bet.
 
April says she knows a spot near the review stand where we can watch.”

She wouldn’t be far from where he and his family would be watching the festivities.
 
“Perhaps I’ll see you there.”

After she’d gone, Robert asked, “I assume that is the source of the, ah, giggles, sir?”
 

Robert’s delicate phrasing made Massimo grin.
 
“It is.”

“I can understand why she is in your employ, sir.
 
She has beautiful” —he took a long breath and glanced at the bureau, then in the direction she’d gone—
 
“taste.”

 
So the man had a good supply of testosterone after all.

“As do you, Robert,” Massimo replied as he was handed a white button-down shirt, a green and yellow patterned tie, and a pair of finely tailored, yet comfortable light gray slacks to wear to the parade. “As do you.”

Chapter Seventeen

A cheer rose as the wrought iron gates fronting Cateri’s royal palace swung open, the raucous sound moving through the palace courtyard like a series of ocean waves cresting, then crashing to shore.
 

At a signal from the head of the ceremonial guard, Massimo joined his sister, parents, and older brother Vittorio and exited through the gates for their annual walk to the reviewing stand where they’d watch the Independence Day parade.
 
A tradition started by King Carlo’s grandfather, the two kilometer walk generated almost as much excitement as the parade itself.
 
Members of the royal family took the opportunity to greet their countrymen in person and wish them well.
 
As always, the Barrali family sported the national colors of green, yellow, and white.
 

The anticipation for the crowd lay in which royals would make the walk in any given year.
 
Either the king or queen, usually both, made appearances, but their offspring were always a question mark.
 
In order to keep the mystery, only the security detail was told ahead of time who would participate.

Once through the gates, Massimo shielded his eyes to take in the incredible sight.
 
Low barricades lined either side of the cobblestone street with police posted every few meters along the way.
 
Behind the barricades onlookers stood two to three rows deep as far as the eye could see.
 
Children in strollers commanded the area in the front, many grasping ice cream cones or cotton candy.
 
A few of the strollers even had Sarcaccian flags mounted to the handles.
 
From the upper floors of the buildings on either side of the road, residents waved and cheered.
 
His heart swelled with the sound.
 
Near the parade route itself, he suspected the crowds would be larger and even more boisterous.
   

Yesterday, when he’d told his mother he’d join the group walking to the parade, he wasn’t certain it was the right thing to do.
 
Now he knew.
 
This was where he belonged, showing his pride for his home country and assuring its citizens that his entire family treasured and appreciated both the country’s rich history and its people.
 
Soaking in the uplifting, festive atmosphere.
 

“Big turnout this year,” his sister Sophia murmured beside him.
 
“Guess because the sun’s out.
 
No rain until tonight.”

“Or because they haven’t seen Massimo in awhile.”
 
Vittorio nodded to one of the guards standing at attention beside the gate, then smiled and waved to the crowd.
 
Speaking just loud enough for his siblings to hear, he added, “You’ll have to make up for the fact that Bruno’s out of the country and Stefano and Megan decided to meet us at the reviewing stand rather than walk so they could spend the morning with Anna.”

“You saying they’d rather see Stefano than me?”
 
Massimo retorted.
 
“I’m hurt.”

“I’m saying they were hoping to see Stefano and Megan.
 
All that starstruck love makes for great photo ops.
 
You, dear brother, have no beautiful woman to escort you.
 
No tale of love and loss and redemption to set the tabloids ablaze.
 
Instead, they have to settle for you, a boring military guy with a buzz cut.
 
And I suppose for Sophia.”

“Thanks for the lovely compliment,” Sophia deadpanned.
 
“By the way, what were the bookmakers’ odds on Alessandro joining the walk this year?
 
Three to one?
 
Four to one?”