CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Emma headed downstairs tentatively, not sure what would be expected of her this morning. There were still many guests at the palace so she wore a dress and spent time on makeup, hoping to look appropriately royal.
She still hadn’t even read all her fifty-three text messages. She had read enough to glean that the National Enquirer had put her and Darias on the cover with the garish headline “Jersey Girl Nabs Euro King.” So all her former coworkers, her best friend from elementary school and her mom’s neighbors had all learned of her whereabouts at the supermarket checkout counter.
She hadn’t dared try to find the article.
Of course Darias was nowhere to be found, and she had to negotiate her way through a crowd at the buffet breakfast. “Thank you! The ceremony was very moving, wasn’t it?” The small talk exhausted her. She’d never really needed it in her life before and didn’t have practice.
She finally managed to gather herself a plate of sautéed ham and eggs and little brioche things, and make her way to an empty table—there were at least twenty small tables set up for guests near the usual big one—when she heard Liesel’s voice behind her. “Good morning, Queen Emma.”
“Good morning,” she replied evenly, barely looking up. She was starving, and the ham smelled amazing.
To her dismay, Liesel sat down opposite her. “A Jersey girl—what does this mean?” She lifted a penciled brow. Great. She’d read the article.
“I think it’s a type of tomato. My mom grew them.” She attempted a smile.
Liesel frowned. “Your father died of a drug overdose. How tragic.”
Uh-oh. Just how much information was in the article? Her stomach shriveled with worry at the reminder that Jonas was still missing on the streets of New York. “Yes. I was very young. I missed him a lot.” No need to mention that he’d never actually lived with them.
“And this brother of yours? Tell me about him.” Liesel tented her hands and rested her chin on them.
Emma’s heart sank. Now she did wish she’d read the article. She didn’t really want to reveal any more than Liesel already knew. “He’s young. What have you heard about him?”
Liesel pursed her peach colored lips. “That he was swept into some kind of drug rehab place the moment Darias proposed to you. He’s a drug user like his father.”
Emma listened. Wondering how to respond. Did she know Jonas had left The Fountains? “He’s been under a lot of pressure lately. Our mom died of cancer.”
“So I read. The Leone family has never previously found itself the subject of the National Enquirer.”
Emma’s heart sank at the thought of how happy Liesel would be on the day that the end of her marriage to Darias was announced. She could already hear that pinched mouth uttering the immortal words “I told you so.”
“I haven’t read the article.” She hated how reedy her voice sounded. “I’ll have to look it up later.”
“I’d recommend that.” Liesel fixed a pale, steely gaze on her for the longest second ever. “The article did also mention that you were a school teacher like the much-loved Princess Diana.” Her voice rose to a mocking tone at the princess’s name. “And I think we all know what happened to her. Her husband didn’t really love her. He was in love with someone else all along.” The last words were whispered so low they sounded almost like a hiss. Liesel rose to her feet and walked away.
Emma resisted the urge to breathe an audible sigh of relief, then glanced around her to gauge how many other people might have heard their exchange. Luckily, everyone around her was eating and talking. She glanced down at her plate, dismayed that her ravenous appetite had completely vanished.
Was Darias in love with someone else? Someone he couldn’t marry because of royal protocol? She hadn’t seen any obvious candidates in her quick Internet tour through his past, but that could be because there were pictures of him with so many different women.
Insecurity reared its ugly head. Of course she didn’t expect him to actually love her. She was just a Jersey girl, after all. The term made her want to shake her head. What was wrong with being from New Jersey, for crying out loud? Nothing. That’s what.
She stabbed her ham with her fork and cut it, then tried to eat it, but it tasted like paper now that she wasn’t hungry. Maybe she could find some way to keep busy, preferably away from the prying eyes of all these people trying to find fault with her. She could feel their gaze on her and she’d never felt more self-conscious in her life. Not even during the wedding when she knew everyone was staring at her.
She glimpsed Darias on the far side of the room. Her heart leapt for a second, then she realized he was probably busy and wouldn’t relish being interrupted. Things were way more awkward now that she’d slept with him. At least before she knew where she stood. Now she had blissful moments where she felt like his real wife, followed by grim reminders that she was essentially a paid companion.
He looked up and their eyes met. For a second she was embarrassed at being caught staring, but he started to walk toward her, so she made another attempt at eating her breakfast.
He pulled up a chair and leaned in. “I’m going to join the Cross of Blood.” He spoke so low she barely heard him over the hum of conversations around them.
“Why?”
“It’s the only way I’ll find out whose in it and what they’re really up to. The attacker from yesterday said that his goal was to make me join.”
“Then aren’t you playing into his hands?” The idea horrified her. What if they just wanted to get him alone in some remote country house so they could.… Her mind boggled with hideous images.
“I don’t see another route. It’s a closed group. Influential people, aristocrats, very exclusive. They’ve been around for hundreds of years but there so cloaked in secrecy that no one outside of it seems to know what its all about. I need to find out what their purpose is. If they killed my father and grandmother—which right now I firmly believe they did—I need to find out why and bring the killer or killers to justice.”
She swallowed. “I certainly understand your motivation, but it’s too dangerous. Are you going to be armed?”
“I’m sure that if the Cross of Blood wanted me dead they’d figure out a way to do it right here, right now, in the palace dining room.” He glanced up from their hushed conversation. “So I can only assume that they have other intentions for me. I’d be a coward if I didn’t try to find out what they are.” His dark eyes flashed with determination.
“How do you join?”
“Good question. I think I’ll have a chat with Lorenzo Aldobrando.”
“You should ask Beatriz if she learned anything from him.”
“I did. She was infuriatingly mysterious. But that’s not so unusual for her. I hardly imagine she’d let herself be seduced by the scion of one of our oldest rivals.”
“Isn’t that how they used to settle disputes in the old days?”
Darias’s eyes narrowed. “Perish the thought.”
By the next day most of the guests had left and the palace started to sink back into its quieter rhythms. Darias approached his mom about his intention of moving to the castle, and to his surprise she was warmly enthusiastic.
“It is the ancient seat of our kings.” Carolina looked up from signing thank you notes for the lavish gifts she’d been given at the coronation. “I think it’s only appropriate that you follow your grandmother’s lead and take up residence there. I’d imagine you’ll want some renovations. She could be very old fashioned about some things.”
“It’s fine for now. And Emma and I will enjoy the privacy afforded by a smaller household. Of course, we’ll come visit you all the time and you’re always welcome to come over.” Emma loved how he always worried about his mom’s feelings.
“I do appreciate that, my love. And I especially look forward to helping out when you have a new baby.” She smiled in happy anticipation.
Darias’s face fell fast, as did Emma’s stomach. It had never crossed her mind that anyone would start hinting they should have a baby. And Darias looked appalled by the idea.
“Uh, Emma and I want to enjoy marriage and settle into our new lives for quite some time before we—”
“We’re not quite ready yet.” She joined in, hoping to make him sound more authentic. She hated the idea that his mom was dreaming of cute baby outfits and first words and had no prospect of getting them. One more thing to feel bad about when their one-year term ended.
She’d miss Carolina, too. It was still kind of weird calling her Mama on the rare occasions when it was totally unavoidable, but in some ways Carolina had already come to feel like a second mom, especially now that her own was gone. She was such a warm and kind woman, and still very beautiful, that Emma couldn’t help hoping she’d find a new man and fall in love again, rather than trying to live vicariously through her children—which was usually a recipe for disappointment.
Speaking of which, she wondered if they’d found Jonas yet. Probably not. They’d have called if they had, wouldn’t they? She walked to the side of the room, picked up her phone and scrolled through her messages, then cursed herself for having missed several new ones, partly because she had so many unread ones still sitting on her phone that she couldn’t bring herself to read and respond to.
“Jonas found. Undergoing detox. Please call.”
“Please excuse me.” She walked outside the palace drawing room and called back. “It’s Emma…Leone.” Okay, that was weird. “Jonas Ricci is my brother. Is he okay?”
“Please hold for a moment.” The receptionists tense voice sent Emma’s pulse into overdrive. Had something happened to Jonas? She paced back and forth on the shiny marble floor.
“Ms. Leone, this is Doctor Fleiss. I’m afraid Jonas is rather ill. He had ingested a cocktail of substances, and we haven’t yet unraveled what they are. He was unconscious when he was brought in.”
“Oh, no! Has he regained consciousness?”
“Yes, but he’s acting delirious. We’ll know more as the drugs leave his system. You do know that he left of his own accord?”
“Of course. I know it was his own fault.” Were they going to kick him out? She couldn’t stay there in Altaleone if he would be released on his own—obviously very stupid—recognizance in New York. But how could she leave?
She was in a really difficult and pointless situation if Jonas refused to stay in rehab. And what had he done to himself? Would he even recover? “Can he stay?”
“Of course. We’ll update you with his progress but do call any time.” The words were welcoming but the tone rather dismissive. After she hung up Emma found herself shaking so hard she could barely hold her phone.
“What’s the matter?” Darias’s concerned voice startled her.
“It’s Jonas.” She glanced toward the drawing room doorway. It was bad enough that his family had learned her brother was a junkie; they didn’t need to know this latest wrinkle. “He got out of The Fountains and took drugs. He’s back there now but very ill.”
“You want to go to him, don’t you?”
She bit her lip. “He doesn’t deserve anyone to care about him. I tell myself that, but he’s my brother…you know?”
“Of course.” Darias put his hands on her shoulders. “We can fly to New York together.”
“What? You’ve only just been crowned king. I’m sure that would cause kind of a scandal.”
“We don’t have to tell anyone the reason. We can blame my art career.”
“Which would be a whole other scandal.” She wanted to laugh. “Who ever heard of a king who makes art?”
“It’s hard to imagine I’m the first.” He looked rueful. “I suppose the other ones were wily enough to do it in secret.”
“Let’s wait and see how things pan out. He’s detoxing—again—and I guess once the drugs are out of his system they can see how much damage has been done.” She said a silent prayer that Jonas hadn’t used all nine lives that he seemed to have. “It’s not the first time he’s nearly killed us with worry. He had a motorcycle crash when he was eighteen and broke his back. It was the prescription painkillers that got him started on drugs.”
“Poor baby. You’ve been through a lot. I wish I could just lift all your burdens.” The affectionate term touched her. So far he’d certainly done his best to make her life smooth and easy, even if it wasn’t really her life at all.
Then Darias frowned and she wondered what he was thinking. “Perhaps Jonas should come live here for a while. It’s very unlikely he’ll be able to find drugs in Altaleone, and we’ll have all the family and staff to look after him.”
Emma stared. “Here? To the palace?” He had to be kidding. “I’m sure your Aunt Liesel would love that.” She spoke quietly so as not to be overheard by the sharp-tongued woman.
Darias laughed. “I’m sure she would. She might scare some sense into him. But seriously, think about it. In a situation like this it’s best to be surrounded by family.”
But they’re not his family, she wanted to protest. She couldn’t bring herself to, though. It was the most warm, generous and caring offer she’d ever heard in her life.
Shame she’d never take him up on it in a million years. Darias didn’t know Jonas. Her brother was a loose cannon who’d have no trouble telling Liesel that she looked like a weasel in a wig, and he wouldn’t hesitate to lift priceless objects from the palace collection if he thought he could get away with it.
And even if Darias thought there were no drugs in Altaleone, Jonas would be sure to find some anyway. He had a real talent for it.
She sighed. It was horrible to think such negative thoughts about her own brother, but she knew that at this point his only real hope was effective professional help. “That’s the kindest offer I could imagine, but I know he’s better off at The Fountains. It’s a physical addiction. They have drugs and therapy to help him get past that. If he comes here now, he’ll still be in the grip of it.”
“I understand.” He stroked her back softly, so tenderly she could imagine for a moment that he truly loved her—that they really were family. “What can we do to take your mind off it? Shall we choose some things for our new home from the local stores?”
“Okay.” She managed a shaky smile. “That sounds nice. I think I need some air.”
They spent the afternoon strolling through beautiful old Casteleone, choosing luxurious bedding from one ancient—yet very chic—store and towels and bathroom effects from another. They had lunch at a lovely outdoor café and shared a pastry while walking under an avenue of trees.
“It’s a tough life, this royal thing,” she joked, as she dusted pastry crumbs off her hands. “I don’t know how you’ve managed for this long.”
His mouth tipped into his familiar wry smile. “I’ve done my best to avoid it by living overseas, but I guess now I’m stuck with it. Unfortunately I’m expected to buy expensive things often to support the local economy. Speaking of which…”
And the next thing she knew he led her to the jeweler and bought her a gorgeous gold necklace with a tiny dove charm. She held her breath as he fastened it around her neck. “It was prettier before I put it on you,” he said softly. “Your beauty rather eclipses everything around it.”
“Flatterer,” she teased. “If you talked like that in New Jersey, you might get a drink thrown at you.”
“Maybe I’ll have to try it some time.”
It was hard to imagine her and Darias in New Jersey, though she couldn’t figure out why. Surely they’d go to New York together sooner or later, even if just for his art. She could take him to visit her old neighborhood.
Or not.
“I want to paint you tonight.”
“I’d like that.” She relished the idea of being all alone with him in his private studio, away from prying eyes. “You need to set up a studio in the old castle.”
“Truth. Let’s go buy some supplies.” And they headed off down another cobbled street toward an old art supply shop with a bowed glass window.
I’m living in a fairy tale, she thought, climbing the worn steps to the store.
“Darias!” A woman’s voice made them both turn. “I have something for you.”
She was tall, with long dark hair falling past her shoulders, dressed in a fitted yellow dress that made her look like a supermodel from the 1960s.
“Gemma.” He sounded stunned. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.” The stunning woman didn’t even glance at Emma. Was this the long-lost love that Liesel hinted at?
Of course it isn’t. Don’t be ridiculous! Get over yourself and…
She stiffened as the woman gave Darias a warm kiss on the cheek. He hesitated for a moment before pulling back. “Gemma, meet my wife, Emma.”
Emma tried to force a smile to her lips. It was creepy how their names sounded similar. Emma thrust out a hand to shake, but the other woman didn’t move. She had a small package in her right hand. Emma pulled her hand back.
She didn’t say nice to meet you, because for some reason—that she couldn’t quite put her finger on—it wasn’t.
“Gemma and I have known each other since we were both knee-high.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding or the coronation. I was on assignment in Kabul.”
“Gemma’s a foreign correspondent for a big Paris paper,” Darias explained. “You’d have been bored by it, anyway. You never did like big occasions. Is this a wedding gift?”
She laughed. “No. And open it in private.” She thrust the package at him. It was wrapped in black paper with a white ribbon. “I’ll catch you later.” She turned and left while Darias was still examining the package. He finally looked up to see her long, tanned legs striding away down the street.
“She was always a handful.” He looked wistful.
Emma battled the green monster writhing to life inside her. “I wonder what she gave you?” She hoped he wouldn’t really open it in private. She was burning to know what was in it.
“I don’t know.” He weighed the box with his hand. “Too heavy to be cuff links.”
“You should open it.”
He lifted a brow. “I’m not so sure. I think I’ll wait.”
Emma could visualize a sex toy or a framed naughty picture of Gemma or— Her imagination was running away with her. “Okay. Shall we go in?” She looked back at the art supply shop, which Darias seemed to have forgotten about.
He stood, turning over the package in his hands. “I’m too curious.” He plucked at the ribbon. Emma’s heart rate quickened as he pulled the ribbon off and slid a finger inside the paper. She tried not to lean in and peek.
He pulled back the paper and opened the box.
A blistering expletive fell from his lips before he clapped the lid back on like all the evils of the world might escape. “Let’s go.”