Authors: Anita Hughes
“You have to come back to Rome,” Amelia insisted. “Elspeth said she’d give me twenty-four hours to find you until she tells your father.”
“I am going back to Rome,” Sophie said slowly. “I was leaving this afternoon.”
“That’s wonderful,” Amelia beamed. “Philip is waiting outside.”
“You don’t understand.” Sophie sat forward. “I lay in bed at night and thought about all the things I could do for the people of Lentz: build a state-of-the-art hospital, create an opera program for children, grow organic vegetables.
“I suddenly had all these ideas and it’s because of Theo. When I’m with him I feel like I can do anything.”
“Love makes you believe you can accomplish anything,” Amelia murmured.
“You told me but I didn’t believe you,” Sophie nodded. “It’s the greatest feeling in the world.”
“What are you going to do?” Amelia asked.
“I’m going to tell my father I’ll be the best queen Lentz ever had,” Sophie declared. “But I’m going to pick my own husband.”
Amelia gasped. “What will he say?”
“If he trusts me to rule the country, he has to trust me to marry the right man.” Sophie bit her lip. “I want a husband and children and I won’t live a charade.”
“What about Prince Leopold?” Amelia asked.
“He’s one of the wealthiest princes in Europe.” Sophie waved her hand. “Girls will line up to be his wife.”
“I’ll tell Philip to make room in the backseat.” Amelia smiled.
“What if Theo doesn’t forgive me?” Sophie’s mouth trembled.
“You’re not going to find out playing hide and go seek with Gloria.” Amelia stood up. “You have to ask him.”
They drove silently back to Rome with Philip’s hand resting on Amelia’s knee. Amelia glanced at the villages with outdoor cafés and wished they could stop for a pizza margherita and a bottle of limoncello. But she felt Sophie dig her fingers into the back of her seat and knew they had to hurry back to the Hassler.
Philip pulled up in front of the hotel and Sophie jumped out. Amelia turned to Philip and hesitated.
“I should stay with her, she thinks Theo will be furious.”
“Go on.” Philip nodded. “Let’s meet for dinner.”
“Seven o’clock at Rosati?” Amelia’s shoulders relaxed.
“I have to go home and beg Signora Griselda to iron my sheets.” Philip kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Someone told me they’re lumpy.”
Amelia strode through the black and gold lobby and approached the elevator.
“Good afternoon, Miss Tate,” Ernesto called. “How was Portofino?”
Amelia pictured the green cliffs and wooden fishing boats. She saw the brightly colored apartment buildings and whitewashed villas. She remembered the scent of bougainvillea and hibiscus and fresh ground coffee.
“It was wonderful, Ernesto.” Amelia smiled. “It’s the most beautiful place in Italy.”
She opened the door of the Villa Medici Suite and put down her suitcase. She flipped through the script and read her lines in front of the mirror. She pictured Philip’s dark eyes and narrow cheeks and realized Sophie was right.
Suddenly she felt like she could do anything. Her eyes were brighter and even her smile was wider. She couldn’t wait to get back on the set and play Princess Ann.
There was a knock on the door and she got up to answer it.
“The nurse said Theo wasn’t at the clinic.” Sophie entered the marble entry. “But I saw his Fiat in the alley.”
“He could have stepped out for lunch,” Amelia suggested.
“He never eats lunch unless we’re together.” Sophie sat on an ivory silk sofa. “How can I make him understand if he won’t see me?”
Amelia studied Sophie’s pale cheeks and white lips. She grabbed her straw hat and put on her sunglasses. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
She slipped out a side door of the Hassler and hurried down the alley. She entered the clinic and sat on a red vinyl chair. She heard the bell tinkle and saw the nurse with her metal clipboard.
“Can I help you?” the nurse asked.
“I need to see the doctor.” She twisted her hands.
The nurse ushered her into a small room and Amelia sat uncomfortably on the wooden table. She heard the door open and saw Theo’s blond hair and green eyes. He wore a white coat over blue jeans and had faint stubble on his chin.
“It’s you.” He folded his arms. “What do you want?”
“Sophie had a bad asthma attack,” Amelia explained. “I gave her her inhaler but it’s not helping, I’m very worried.”
“Where is she?” Theo clutched his clipboard.
“At her suite at the Hassler.” Amelia bit her lip. “Her breathing was ragged and her cheeks were white as paper.”
Theo put down his clipboard and ran out the door. He raced down the alley and entered the gold revolving doors. Amelia followed him into the lobby and watched him disappear into the elevator. She waited until the doors closed and then she pressed the button to the seventh floor.
* * *
Amelia stepped out of the marble bathtub and walked to the closet. She had an hour until she met Philip and wanted to wear something glamorous and sexy. She flicked through cotton dresses and linen capris and found a lime green chiffon dress with a scooped neck. She paired it with gold Gucci sandals and a gold necklace. She snapped on her Cartier watch and added a few gold bangles.
She gazed at the vanity with its double marble sinks and white fluffy towels and jars of lotions and creams. Soon shooting would wrap and she’d go back to Los Angeles. She pictured Philip’s dark eyes and white smile and shivered.
She was going to tell him she didn’t mean to lie about who she was. It all started because she was exhausted from jet lag and had had too little to eat and too much champagne and wanted to explore Rome. She never meant it to go this far and she’d never lie to him again.
There was a knock on the door and she crossed the living room to answer it.
“I don’t know what you did but I could kiss you.” Sophie burst into the room. She wore a white linen dress with a silver belt. Her hair was knotted in a low bun and her mouth was coated with shimmering lip gloss.
“You look like you belong on the cover of
Vogue
.” Amelia smiled, admiring her large blue eyes and thick dark lashes.
“I was curled up on the sofa reading
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
when Theo rushed into the suite.” Sophie sat on a royal blue sofa and tucked her feet under her. “He took my pulse and stroked my forehead. He thought I had a terrible asthma attack.”
“Is that so?” Amelia grinned.
“I tried to correct him but I burst into tears,” Sophie replied. “By the time I stopped crying he was holding me in his arms and kissing me.”
“Tears and diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” Amelia murmured.
“He said he should have known I was a princess because the first time he saw me he knew I was special.”
“Go on.” Amelia nodded.
“We talked about his dreams of building an orphanage and the responsibilities of being a princess,” Sophie continued. “We’re having dinner tonight at La Pergola.”
“I’m glad,” Amelia replied. “You are perfect for each other.”
“I’ve never been on a real date; what if he wants to do more than kiss me goodnight?” Sophie asked.
“You’ll get the hang of it.” Amelia smiled. “You’re doing great so far.”
“I hope so.” Sophie sighed, gazing at the silver tray of fresh scones and strawberry jam. “Since I fell in love I’ve barely had an appetite.”
Amelia slipped on her sunglasses and gathered her purse. She imagined Philip waiting at Rosati and thought Sophie was right. Suddenly her stomach clenched and she wasn’t hungry.
Philip crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it in the metal garbage can. He walked around his desk and poured a cup of black coffee. He sniffed it and placed it next to his laptop.
He had come to the office, determined to write the next article about Amelia. He kept picturing her in the Hotel Splendido. He saw her yellow dress and bare legs and white sandals. He remembered her slipping the key in the lock and inviting him into her room. He pictured her firm breasts and milky skin and wondered how could he possibly expose her in
Inside Rome
. He gulped the bitter coffee and felt his head throb.
“You look like you’re dreaming about a college cheerleader you had a crush on.” Adam entered the room. “I thought Yale cheerleaders were flat chested and wore glasses.”
“I never went to football games.” Philip closed his laptop. “I spent my time in the library.”
“I got invited to the soccer World Cup by Sergio Levente.” Adam poured a cup of coffee.
“Sergio Levente, the media magnate?” Philip asked.
“He read the piece about Princess Sophia and is interested in backing
Inside Rome.
” Adam sipped his coffee. “But he won’t invest unless we keep our circulation up.”
“I’m working on the articles.” Philip grimaced.
“You need to step up the schedule,” Adam replied. “Get Amelia Tate to marry you by next week and I’ll pay you twenty thousand dollars.”
“Twenty thousand dollars,” Philip spluttered.
“If Sergio invests I’ll be able to hire a staff and cover Florence and Venice and Naples,” Adam mused. “We’ll change the name to
Inside Italy,
one day it might be
Inside Europe
.”
“I’m meeting Amelia at Rosati’s in an hour.” Philip glanced at his watch.
“Buy her a dozen roses and a bottle of perfume.” Adam reached into his pocket and took out a wad of euros. “And get better coffee. This shit will stunt your growth and put hair on your chest.”
* * *
Philip crossed the Piazza del Popolo and approached Rosati’s. He glanced inside and saw Amelia sitting at the window. She wore a green dress and her hair was pinned back with a gold clip. Her eyes sparkled and her mouth was coated with shimmering lip gloss.
“These are for you.” He smiled, giving her a bouquet of yellow roses.
“They smell wonderful,” Amelia beamed. “I was starving, I ordered a plate of pancetta and a bottle of Chianti.”
“I wanted to change but I got stuck at the office.” Philip glanced at his creased shirt. He gazed at Amelia’s gold necklace and leather sandals and wished he’d put on a sport coat.
“You love the newspaper, don’t you,” Amelia mused, tearing a baguette.
“My office is the size of a sardine can and Adam can be abrasive.” Philip grinned. “But he’s passionate about what he does.”
“You never told me why you left the
New York Times,
” Amelia said.
“They kept hiring young kids and giving them big titles and little money.” Philip frowned. “They folded my entire department into two guys straight out of journalism school.”
“I’m sorry, that must have been terrible,” Amelia murmured.
“I would have stayed even with a pay cut, it’s all I ever wanted to do.” Philip shrugged. “All the papers were being choked, why would anyone pay to read the news when it’s free online?”
“I hardly ever read the paper.” Amelia sipped a glass of Chianti. “But I promise to buy
Inside Rome
every morning.”
“What did you do before you came to Rome?” Philip asked, eating ham and mozzarella wrapped in a fig leaf.
“I was premed at USC,” Amelia replied. “My father is a surgeon and my mother is an anesthesiologist. I thought everyone’s parents wore beepers and worked holidays and weekends.”
“What happened?” Philip asked.
“I loved math but hated biology.” Amelia shrugged. “I’m lucky, I could have spent eight years in medical school and then discovered I wasn’t meant to wear a white coat. My parents love what they do but I didn’t want to work in a hospital and sleep on an iron cot.”
“What did you do instead?”
Amelia ate a bite of pancetta and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Suddenly her cheeks were pale and she took a deep breath. “There’s something I…”
“There you are.” Max burst through the door. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Adam told me you were here, you have to help me.”
“We’re having dinner,” Philip exclaimed, spilling his wine on the tablecloth.
“It looks delicious.” Max glanced at the platter of soft cheeses and basket of olive bread. “But if you don’t come with me I might be dead, and it’s hard to enjoy a decent Burgundy when you’ve got tire treads on your forehead.”
“What’s going on?” Philip frowned.
“Let’s go out the back and I’ll tell you.” He ducked behind the table. He bowed to Amelia and smiled. “My apologies for borrowing your boyfriend, I promise to return him. In the meantime try the swordfish in a lemon sauce, it’s the chef’s specialty.”
* * *
“What the fuck are you doing?” Philip stormed when they entered his apartment. They had raced through the Piazza del Popolo to the Via del Corso. Max kept running until they climbed Philip’s stairs and closed the door.
“I went to Lara’s seventeenth-century palazzo, I wanted to tell her in person that I’m back with the countess.” Max poured himself a glass of scotch. “The maid asked me to wait in the entry and I was surrounded by naked statues and frescoes of Roman feasts. Lara walked down the stairs in a red silk dress that was so tight I could barely swallow.
“I told her she was stunning and deserved someone who adored her. As I was leaving I saw a guy with gray hair drive up in a Maserati. He followed me out the gate and chased me through Rome.” Max downed the scotch. “I finally pulled into the alley and hid the car in Signora Griselda’s carport.”
“The countess’s Alfa Romeo is in Signora Griselda’s carport?” Philip exclaimed.
“I didn’t know what to do with it, I couldn’t make it disappear.” Max poured another shot. “If Lara’s husband caught me he’d wrap the fender around my neck.”
“When will you stop chasing married women?” Philip paced around the room.
“I’m done with that,” Max insisted. “I’m faithful to the countess.”
“What about the count?” Philip asked.
“Mirabella says he’s sixty and spends all his time at his silk factory in Umbria.” Max shrugged. “He’s glad the countess and I are together, it keeps away the gigolos.”
“We’re both in trouble.” Philip sighed, pouring a glass of scotch and swallowing it in one gulp. “I think Amelia was about to reveal her identity.”