The Prince's Nanny

THE PRINCE’S NANNY

Chapter One

The lake country in Italy with its shimmering waters and mountains silhouetted in the distance is said to be the ideal place to relax and commune with nature.  Not for Sabrina West, on her way to a job as nanny to a prince’s children.  She was far from relaxed.  Her stomach was in knots and she gripped the railing of the ferry boat with stiff cold fingers despite the warmth of the Italian sun.  Instead of gazing at the snow-capped Alps in the distance, or at the elegant villas that lined the shore, the way the other tourists were doing, she kept her eyes on the crowd of people waiting on the dock in the tiny harbor of Catarcia, wondering if her new employer, the Prince of Savoy, would be there to meet her.

Since she’d never seen a real prince before, how would she know him?  Unless he was wearing a crown tilted rakishly over one eye and a velvet smoking jacket like the ones in fairy tales.  Or would this example of modern royalty appear in casual designer jeans on a Vespa to mingle with his subjects?  Maybe he’d send a servant in a limousine to whisk her away to his villa where she’d be greeted by his majesty with gratitude and appreciation and introduced to the twins who were really adorable and had only been vastly misunderstood by their previous nannies.  Dream on, she told herself.  Grim reality would intrude only too soon.

“So far you have failed miserably,” the prince had said in his deep accented voice when he called the nanny agency last week.  “You have one more chance to find me a nanny…or else.”  She knew what that meant.  Or else he’d go through another nanny agency to find the one perfect woman to take care of his daughters for the next year until the girls went to the prestigious International Academia in Florence.  When it was obvious no such perfect person existed.

In the past few months she’d sent six nannies, one after another, all experienced, all calm, dedicated and they came back, one after another, complaining that the prince was cold, arrogant and distant, although incredibly gorgeous.  As if that mattered.  And the twin girls?  Equally difficult, and in addition, mischievous, and out of control.

Then her step-mother Bettina, Sabrina’s boss and the owner of the agency stepped in with her usual take-no-prisoners attitude and decided to send Sabrina.  In fact, she’d already informed the prince.  Startled by this sudden decision, Sabrina dropped a stack of file folders on the floor.  Bettina insisted.

“You are experienced,” she said, “and you’ve handled the prince’s account since Day One.  If anyone knows what he wants, or doesn’t want, it is you.  I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.  As I recall, you actually took a course in Italian once.”  Bettina gave her a tight smile.  “That should come in handy.”

Sabrina didn’t remind her it was only a short course and she was hardly fluent.  It was only a dream, learning Italian so she could actually go there.  One she’d given up long ago.  But her stepmother had made up her mind.  Never mind that Sabrina didn’t want to go.  She’d vowed never to work as a nanny again after the heartbreak the last time she filled that position.  Even if it meant a free trip to Italy, to see the historic sites and try out a few Italian phrases.  Working for a disgruntled prince and his spoiled daughters was not the vacation she’d imagined when she’d read those travel articles and memorized those useful phrases.

 “I don’t need to remind you how much you owe me,” Bettina continued.  “Who hired you right out of college when you couldn’t find a teaching job?  Who paid your tuition at the Nanny Institute?  Who made it possible for you to buy your own bungalow?  Shall I go on?”

Sabrina shook her head.  She knew she had no choice.  No mention was made of Sabrina’s father, Bettina’s third husband, whose entire estate went to his widow enabling her to start her nanny business on San Francisco’s elite Telegraph Hill.

At the airport Bettina reminded Sabrina what was at stake.  “Our entire connection with upper-class European society could be in jeopardy if we fail to supply the right nanny to the prince.  Word would get around.  Maybe it already has.  We must do what we can to shore up and salvage our reputation.  Or else.”

And if she didn’t?  Would it be so terrible if she was fired and Bettina replaced her in the office with one of her own daughters, either Mindy or Jessica?  It meant Sabrina would be job-hunting all over again when the post with the prince was over in a year.  Maybe then she’d find a teaching job.  If she lasted a year.  If she lasted beyond a day which was doubtful considering what she’d heard about the man.

  Even though her step-sisters had never worked an honest day in their lives, Sabrina knew Bettina would not hesitate to dump her as punishment for a job she couldn’t do and hire them.  Worse than being fired was failing.  That’s what would hurt her self esteem and that’s what she dreaded.  That fear motivated her like no other.

“I’ll do my best,” she assured her stepmother.  At this point she had no choice.  The question was, was her best good enough?  In any case, it was chance in a million to make a fresh start and see something of the world.  Italy at last – with its Roman ruins, ancient history, romantic castles, sunny beaches and luscious cuisine.  And more important, a chance to make a difference in two children’s lives.  She would prove to Bettina and herself that she could take on a challenge and prevail.  Demon children?  Difficult employer?  Bring them on.  She’d dealt with a wicked step-mother and nasty step-sisters for years.  A prince and his little daughters would be easy by comparison.  No need to be nervous, she told herself.  But she was.

 Sabrina tried to picture the handsome prince on the dock holding a sign that said “Villa Corona” or “Welcome, Sabrina West.”  She imagined him smiling at her, saying “Thank God you’ve come.  You’re the answer to our prayers.”  Then he’d sweep her away to the villa in his vintage Maserati where the girls were waiting with bouquets of flowers from the garden to welcome her.

More likely he was in his castle doing whatever princes do, perhaps training his falcon or counting his money or ordering the servants around.  And the devilish twin girls who needed a nanny?  They were probably stuck in the palace classroom studying English or learning new ways to torture the new arrival.

As the ferry got closer to the dock, the clouds that had been building since Sabrina left Varenna opened up with a loud crash of thunder, forked lightning and a drenching rain.  Just enough precipitation to soak her completely before it stopped as suddenly as it began.

As she walked along the dock, pulling her damp suitcase behind her, she saw him just as he saw her.  It was him.  It had to be him.  Now she knew she’d seen him before.  Just as the boat rounded the shore of Lake Como she’d looked up at the most spectacular villa she’d ever seen, so elaborate with turrets, terraces and gardens it rivaled any hotel or palace she’d ever imagined.  There on the balcony was a man, this man, tall, imposing, with aristocratic good looks she could see even at a distance.  He was looking at her through binoculars and now she knew why.  He was sizing her up, deciding how best to deal with her, how long to keep her on before letting her go.  And she was thinking, who is this gorgeous man who made her heart beat faster, and her knees go weak.  Could he be the man she was destined to work for?

Up close he was even more imposing.  He stopped dead in his tracks as if he intended to block her from going any further.  He might want to, but she would not let him fire her on the spot as he’d done to two other nannies before they’d even set foot in the villa or met the twins.

From the look of him, he’d been caught in the brief shower just as she was.  His shirt was stuck to his skin revealing muscles she didn’t know princes had.  His dark hair was slicked back from his face which made his hawk-like nose and prominent cheek bones more striking.

“You must be Ms West,” he said, taking her suitcase out of her hand.  “I am Vittorio Monteverde.”

“How do you do, Mr. Uh….…uh…Prince…”

“No titles,” he said, shaking his head as if she’d made an egregious error in protocol.  “Everyone calls me Vittorio.  We no longer have a royalty in Italy. My title is only an honorific.  It means nothing anymore. In 1945 the people of this country voted to have a republic and we renounced all claims to the throne.  Our palace was given to the state and is now an historic site in Florence.”

“I know but I thought…”  Did he really expect her to call him Vittorio?  Her employer and the father of her charges?

“You thought I enjoyed being treated like a prince with underlings bowing and scraping?  I don’t.  That’s for fairy tales and those days are gone for good, thank God.  Some of my relatives have had a hard time adjusting and continue to cling to the past.  I have chosen to move on.  I work, I earn a decent living and I live a comfortable life.”  When he paused, she noticed he didn’t say “a happy life.”  Was a comfortable life enough for a wealthy prince?

“You’re wet,” he said, his eyes taking a tour of her body, and lingering on her wet shirt which stuck to her breasts which by now must be all too visible under the thin fabric.  A shiver went up her spine, not only because of the drops of moisture that clung to her skin, but from his dark penetrating gaze that seemed to see right through her shirt.  She wasn’t used to being stared at.  She wasn’t used to standing on a dock soaking wet being examined by a future employer as if she was a new race horse he was evaluating.  No wonder the others didn’t last.  But she would.

She was in Italy on the shores of the beautiful Lake Como.  Where the rich and royal and even movie stars  vacationed, a stunningly beautiful place she never thought she’d see.  But she
was
here and not as a tourist.  Better than being a tourist, she had a reason to be here, children who needed her care, and she would not leave without another very good reason, like being fired.  Not until she’d eaten Italian food, practiced speaking Italian, seen something of the country and met some real Italians besides a prince who rejected his royal stature.

“My first question, Ms West, is what makes you think you will succeed when all the others have failed?”

  She took a deep breath.  “Well, for one thing, I have experience.  I’ve seen the nanny business from both sides of the fence.  I’ve actually been a nanny and as you know, I have worked in the office placing nannies as well.  In that sense, I am uniquely qualified.”  She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile while inside she was filled with nagging doubts.  Why would she succeed when all others had failed? 
Because she had to. Because she really was qualified.  Besides, she’d come all this way and she was not going home – not yet.  Not until she’d given this job her best shot.

“I assure you I am well prepared for the job as well as being certified.  Please don’t judge me by my appearance.  I wasn’t expecting the rain.  Nannies come in all shapes and sizes,” she said.  “Some carry umbrellas which I should have done, and wear stout shoes.”  She glanced down at her sandals which were also thoroughly soaked.  “Obviously I am not one of those.”  She tried another smile but this time her mouth just wouldn’t cooperate.  At least she wasn’t crying or begging him to give her a chance.

He stared at her, probably trying to reconcile the woman on the phone who’d failed to provide him with a decent nanny with the drowned rat who stood before him as his new nanny.

“I wasn’t expecting so much rain,” she said, hoping to change the subject.

“And I wasn’t expecting you.  Until your employer called and told me you were on your way.  So we’re even.”  Again the eyes lingered on her wet clothes and hair.  Disapproving, no doubt, but his gaze was cool and gave nothing away.  “These storms happen every day.  The cliffs and the mountains rise to over five thousand feet trapping the hot air below.” He gestured toward the sheer sheets of stone in the distance.  “Regular thunderstorms build up around the lake all summer.  Unlike the tourists, we residents look forward to these dramatic performances courtesy of mother nature.”

She wondered where she fit in, neither tourist nor resident.  But then she’d never fit in anywhere, not since her father died when she was ten years old leaving her with two step-sisters and a step-mother straight out of a Grimm’s fairy tale.  “It was a very spectacular scene, seeing the heavens open up like that,” she said.  “I had seen pictures of the lake, but I…”