Scandal With a Prince (14 page)

Megan’s voice was simultaneously chastising and understanding as she said, “Anna, honey, that’s not really a fair question.”

“I’d have said yes,” Stefano replied.
 
He suspected that Anna didn’t really want to know his thoughts on becoming a parent, but whether he considered her a mistake.
 
“Truth is, I’ve always wanted kids.”

“But you don’t have any.
 
Other than me, I mean, and I don’t count.”
 
There was no accusation in her tone.
 
Her manner remained straightforward as she shook Parmesan cheese onto a fresh slice of pizza.
 
“You aren’t even married.”
 

“No, I’m not married.
 
But you
do
count.
 
At least as far as I’m concerned.”

That earned him a merry laugh.
 
“If you want kids so much, how come you’re not married?
 
Most people who have kids get married.”

This time Megan let the question go, though Stefano could feel Megan’s uneasiness with both her daughter’s blunt tone and the direction of the conversation.
 
It didn’t bother him as much as it might.
 
Instead, he found himself drawn to Anna’s straightforward nature.
 

“I’m not married because I haven’t met the right person.”

“In other words, my mom wasn’t the right person.”
 

Chapter Ten

She may have been
.
 

He studied Anna for a moment, trying to determine whether her statement was one of hope, of accusation, or of simple fact.
 
It was impossible to know, yet he suspected his response could make or break the girl’s first impression of him.
 
He knew it shouldn’t matter—kids’ opinions changed with the wind, and now that he knew of her existence, he planned to build a long-term relationship with her—yet he found he truly, deeply cared what Anna thought of him today.

 
“Your mom and I never had the chance to find out,” he finally said.
 
“Sometimes that happens in life.
 
When it does, you do the best you can if you’re fortunate enough to get a second chance.
 
Your mom and I can’t change the fact that I didn’t know about you” —he shot a glance at Megan— “which wasn’t anyone’s fault.
 
It just happened.
 
But now that I do know, I’m here.
 
That all right with you?”

She looked him up and down, as if she could read his mind by scrutinizing him, then gave a firm nod.
 
A moment later, she said, “You know my mom made me see you today, right?”

Megan pinned her daughter with a glare. “Anna, you know that’s not true.”

Anna groaned.
 
“Well she
would’ve
made me, but I said it was fine when she asked so she wouldn’t
have
to make me.
 
I wasn’t sure if I’d like you or not, and I was afraid if I didn’t then my mom would get all upset and everything would suck.
 
Um, stink.
 
But so far, this has been more fun than I thought it’d be.
 
You’re okay, Stefano.”

Stefano bit back a teasing response, suspecting Anna might not appreciate it.
 
“Glad to hear it.”

“Me, too,” Megan replied, turning to Anna to add, “though I wish you’d use more appropriate language, honey.
 
We’ve talked about using ‘sucks’ more than once.”
 
She stood to clear the table, causing Anna to grab the final piece of pizza from the center of the table before her mother removed the tray.
 
Stefano pushed back to help, but Megan waved for him to remain seated.
 
“It’s only a couple of plates and the salad.
 
You and Anna keep talking.”

He paused, ensuring she truly had it handled, then relaxed in the chair once more.
 

“That really was incredible pizza, Anna.
 
Thank you.”
 
He gestured toward the slice still on her plate.
 
“The crust was delicious and I could tell the mushrooms and peppers were fresh.”

“Mom and I bought them yesterday afternoon at a market off La Rambla called La Boqueria.
 
It’s been around for hundreds of years.
 
The stalls have fresh fish, eggs, veggies, spices, even soap and candles.
 
There’s a guy who makes pizza that’s almost as good as mine, and one stall has a dozen different kinds of ham hanging from the ceiling, which is creepy but cool.” She held her hands over her head as she spoke, as if showing off varieties of ham.
 
“I didn’t even know there was more than one kind of ham until we moved here.
 
Oh, and there’s a great place to get breakfast if you’re at the market early.
 
They cook it right in front of you and if you go more than once, they’ll remember your name and what you ordered.
 
My mom usually gets espresso and an omelet, but I like the toasted cheese sandwiches.”

“I’ve heard of La Boqueria.”
 
The sprawling covered marketplace was a favorite of both tourists and locals.
 
Photos of the lively vendors hawking their products regularly appeared in travel magazines.
 
It struck him as a wonderful spot for strolling and people-watching.
 
“Sounds like you visit fairly often.”

“Tons.
 
My favorite stall sells fruit juice smoothies.
 
They sound boring, but they’re not.
 
The owners mash the fruit with ice in gigantic blenders early in the morning, then stack the smoothie cups in long rows by flavor so it looks like a rainbow.” Her gestures became more expansive as she grew more and more excited by her own description.
 
“My favorites are strawberry guava and banana coconut, but they have every flavor you can imagine.
 
I swear, it’ll make you hungry just looking at them!”

“Hearing you describe them makes me hungry and I just ate.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, a wicked smile slowly spreading across her face, as if she’d trapped him.
 
“You should go with me.
 
I’ll show you all the best stuff, then we can have smoothies for dessert.
 
Want to?
 
It’s not far.”

Warmth spread through him.
 
He’d love to have Anna show him the market, if only such a thing were possible.
 
La Boqueria was a tourist mecca and the local media knew he was in town.
 
Though he could sometimes negotiate public areas unrecognized while away from Sarcaccia, in this particular case he didn’t stand a chance.
 
“I appreciate that, Anna.
 
Unfortunately—”

“Anna, you’re going to the beach with Julia and her mom later this afternoon, remember?”
 
Megan’s interruption was so smooth, Stefano doubted Anna grasped that her request could be problematic.
 
“But maybe another time.”
 

“Oh, shoot!”
 
Anna sprung from the table, eyes widening.
 
“I totally forgot!
 
Julia’s mom called this morning while you were in the shower and asked if she could pick me up at two instead of three-thirty and I told her I thought that’d be fine.”

Megan glanced at the oven’s digital clock.
 
“Anna, it’s nearly two now.
 
You’re just remembering this?”

“It’s okay.
 
My stuff is packed.”
 

Irritation flashed in Megan’s eyes.
 
“That doesn’t make it okay.
 
You have a guest—”

A triple chime sounded.
 
Megan shook her head at Anna as she crossed the room to a small, wall-mounted intercom where the kitchen ended and the entry hall began.
 
“Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Hallberg,” the front desk clerk’s voice came from the speaker.
 
“I have Julia and Marta Pettite here for Anna.
 
Should I send them up?”

Megan glanced toward Anna and Stefano, shooting daggers at her daughter.
 
“Anna’s already on her way down.
 
If you could ask them to wait in the rotunda by the center table, she’ll be there in just a minute.
 
Save them the elevator ride.”

“Will do.”

She thanked him, then waved for Anna to grab her gear as she clicked off the speaker.
 
As the girl scooted into one of the two bedrooms off the living area, Megan called, “Hurry!
 
And next time, Anna, remember to give me my messages.
 
I would’ve told you that you couldn’t go until later.”

“I will!
 
Sorry!”
 

When Anna emerged from her room, Megan checked the bag for a swimsuit, towel, hat, and sunscreen.
 
She pulled a few Euros from a drawer in the living room’s bureau and tucked them into a zippered side pocket.
 
“That’s for water and a snack.
 
Do you have your cell phone?”

She patted her pocket.
 
“Yes, Mom.”

“Okay.
 
Hustle down and thank Julia’s mother.
 
Is she still bringing you home at six?”

“She said she’ll call.
 
We might go out to dinner on the way home because she says it’s too hot to cook.”
 
Anna had the smarts to look sheepish.
 
“If that’s all right with you.”

On an exhale, Megan replied, “All right.
 
Whatever’s easiest for Julia’s mom.
 
But if Mrs. Pettite doesn’t call me, then I expect you to do it as soon as you know your plans.
 
Understood?”

“Understood.”
 
Anna slung the straps of her beach bag over her shoulder and headed for the door, then spun around and beamed at Stefano.
 
“Thanks for coming to lunch.
 
That was cool.
 
Think you’ll be back here anytime soon?”

He couldn’t help but return her impish grin.
 
“If you’d like.”

“Definitely!
 
I will
so
take you shopping.”

“In that case, it’s a date.”
 
He’d figure out a way.
 

“Can you bring a picture of the clock tower when you come?
 
Oooh, or pictures from inside your palace?”

“Anna!”

“Fine.
 
I’m going, I’m going.”
 
She tilted her head back and rolled her eyes, then walked to the door with exaggerated footfalls as if belabored by her mother’s chastisement.
 
“Bye!
 
Oh, and Stefano, you can take the leftover pizza if you want.
 
It’s okay with me.”

Once the door clicked shut, Megan leaned her head back and stomped in a circle, mimicking Anna’s march to the door.
 
“Is this what you expected when you asked to meet her?”

“No.
 
“He laughed at Megan’s spot-on impression.
 
“But I can’t say I’m surprised, either.
 
She’s a pistol, isn’t she?”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.
 
I would’ve said ‘handful’ rather than ‘pistol.’”
 
She moved to the sofa, eyeing him as she eased into one corner and folded her legs beneath her.
 
Her red toenails peeked out over the sofa’s edge. “Handful or not, I love her to pieces.
 
I couldn’t imagine my life without being caught in her whirlwind.”

The description stunned him, momentarily catapulting him back to his own youth.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, then corrected himself.
 
“It’s only…that’s exactly the way my mother used to describe me.
 
She told people I was like a whirlwind moving through the house.
 
Not because I was messy, but because I was so active I wore out both her and the nanny.”
 
He could still picture the way his mother would sit on a garden bench and watch him whenever he could convince his siblings to join him in a race through the palace gardens.
 
By mid-afternoon, his mother’s eyes always drifted closed, yet Stefano would beg and beg her to wake up and watch him run.
 
“When I came home during one of my college breaks, she said it had been too quiet without me around.
 
She’d gotten used to finishing each day with the satisfaction of having survived a storm.”

“Are you saying I have you to blame for my perpetual motion machine?”

“I suppose.”
 
He moved to take a spot beside Megan on the long beige sofa.
 
There were bright orange throw pillows in the center which he moved aside so he could sit knee-to-knee with her.
 
“I’m not handy in a kitchen, though.
 
Her pizza really was quite good.
 
Better than most restaurants serve, even in Sarcaccia or Italy.
 
She has real talent.”