CHAPTER TWO
Not surprisingly, Emma had no trouble convincing the brothers to eat out with her. While they walked the two blocks to the restaurant, she wondered silently what else she could do in the evenings to supplement her meager teacher’s income when she got fired from this job. She knew Keane had hired her entirely for her looks, but this was ridiculous. Was he going to blame her if she made their biggest client angry by refusing to marry him?
“Why did your brother borrow money?” Darias watched the waiter fill their glasses with red wine. His brother Sandro pored over the menu.
Emma hesitated. This was her personal business. On the other hand…“Drugs. He’s an addict.” Perfect, really. He’d hardly want a royal wife with a junkie brother.
To her surprise, his eyes filled with compassion. “You probably aren’t helping him by funding his habit.
“I know, but what am I supposed to do? Let him get his kneecaps broken?”
“Sometimes people have to hit bottom before they can find their way back up again.”
She shuddered. “I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t hit bottom too hard. He’s the only family I have left. If I could just convince him to go to rehab.…” She took a sip of wine, then regretted it when the acrid taste burned her tongue.
His eyes brightened. “I know the owner of the best rehab in the city. The Fountains. We could book him in today.”
“We? You don’t even know him.” This man was too much.
“It’s perfect, don’t you see? Your brother goes to The Fountains—which is very expensive, and I will pay every penny—and you come to Altaleone for a year. In a year’s time, your brother will be clean and sober, and you can come back to New York with a nice big bank account and start over.”
“It’s an excellent plan,” said Sandro, who was almost as annoyingly good-looking and self-confident as Darias. “And I can vouch for Darias. He’s a man of his word in every way.”
“Except that he’s planning to live a lie for a solid year.” She looked right at Darias while she said it. “Is that really how you want to start your reign as king?”
His brows lowered slightly. “Of course not, but my main concern right now is helping my mother through a terrible shock. Altaleone is a very small country. You’d have few public appearances and official duties. The year would be over before you know it.”
“I have a career!” she protested. “I spent years working for my degree, and I’m finally a teacher. I love my work. I don’t want to leave it to go live in some fantasy fairy tale for a year.”
Sandro laughed. “A lot of people would love the chance to live in a fantasy fairy tale.”
“Not me. If things look too good to be true, they scare the hell out of me. I was thrilled that my brother hadn’t asked me for money for six whole weeks. Turns out he was borrowing it from the mob.”
Darias cocked his head slightly. “The Fountains has a ninety percent success rate. I don’t think anywhere boasts better results.”
She’d heard of The Fountains. Of course it had never crossed her mind that she’d be able to afford to send Jonas there. Not that he’d agree to go, of course.
Darias leaned toward her, fixing her with his dark stare. “Do you want to look back a few years from now and realize that you had a chance to send your brother to the best rehab facility in the world, and you turned it down?”
She swallowed. He had a point. “But I don’t know anything about pretending to be queen. I’m from South Orange, New Jersey. I barely know which fork to use.” She gestured at the forks on the white tablecloth.
Darias snorted. “That stuff is easy. You can pick it up in an afternoon. It sounds crude, but you look the part and that probably is more important than anything.”
Her back stiffened as his eyes traveled over her face and neck. “Won’t they be expecting you to marry an aristocrat?”
He shrugged. “Beauty trumps titles. And even royal families aren’t as old fashioned as they used to be. Look at William and Kate in England. She’s not an aristocrat.”
Emma felt her chest grow tighter. “One year exactly?” Twelve months. Was it really that long? “And you’d pay for my brother to stay at The Fountains for that entire time?”
“As long as he needs to be there. And I’d pay you one hundred thousand dollars up front on the signing of the contract, to do whatever you like with, and another hundred thousand at the end of the year. In the meantime, all your expenses will be taken care of and you’ll have a generous allowance for clothing, entertainment, anything you want.”
She felt ill. Was she seriously considering this? From what she’d read and heard about Darias he seemed like a decent guy. Heck, a lot of women would probably kill for this opportunity. A hundred thousand dollars was a lot of money. It would take her years to save that much at her job. Not that she could ever manage to save anything with Jonas borrowing and wasting every cent she earned. And she’d be getting two hundred thousand in total—and living for free for an entire year.
And Jonas—if he could get off drugs it would transform both of their lives.
“You’d have to keep it a secret from everyone, even your parents.” Darias looked so calm. “You’d never be able to tell them the truth.”
“My parents are both gone.” It was hard to say, even now, when her mom had been dead almost a year. “My brother is my family. I couldn’t tell him the truth either?”
“You could just tell him that you fell madly in love with me.” The twinkle in his eyes showed that he found the situation amusing. “Do you think he’d find that hard to imagine?”
She looked at Darias, gorgeous, rich, royal and dangerously charming. “No. But what if he won’t go into rehab? I couldn’t leave unless he was safely there.”
“I’ll talk to Licia, my friend who owns it. I’m sure she’ll have a solution. They kidnapped Katie Reese when she was at her lowest, and now she’s up for a Tony. I know they pride themselves on working miracles.”
Emma let out a long, slow breath. One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. She’d survived hard times for a lot longer than that.
“You’re thinking about it.” Darias looked pleased. The waitress came over, and he shocked her by ordering for all three of them—in Italian. “I didn’t want you to be distracted by another decision. Trust me, I will take care of your every need during this one year.”
“That’s a big promise.” How did he know what “needs” she would have? She certainly didn’t.
“I don’t shirk my commitments. That’s why I need a wife on short notice. Do you think I really want to leave New York City and go live in an ancient castle? It’s my duty. You can trust me to do my duty to you.”
“You don’t even know if I’m crazy.”
“Are you crazy?” He didn’t look that worried.
“Aren’t we all deep down? I mean, why does a wealthy prince feel the need to make art? That seems rather eccentric.”
He laughed. “I suppose I prefer to think of myself as creative, but eccentric will do. Do you have any eccentricities?”
“I don’t have time for eccentricities. I work full-time teaching fourth graders, then I work at the gallery three evenings a week. If I can buy groceries, keep my apartment clean and catch a few moments to escape into a book, I count myself lucky.”
“In Altaleone you’d have time to pursue your interests.”
“I’m not even sure I have any interests.” She didn’t want him getting the idea that she was some kind of mysterious damsel with hidden depths.
“Maybe you’ve just never had the luxury of enough time and resources to find out.”
The waiter bought their food, a gleaming slice of meat among brightly colored vegetables, with a side of pasta in fragrant pesto. Her stomach growled. She’d only had time for a granola bar at lunch. “This looks wonderful. But what if I was vegetarian? You didn’t even ask.”
He frowned slightly. “If you were vegetarian, surely you’d have told me.”
“Are you kidding? I’d be too intimidated.”
“Nonsense. You radiate a quiet confidence that can be seen for miles. Doesn’t she, Sandro?”
Sandro looked up from his plate and nodded in agreement. “You already look like a queen, too. That goes a long way.”
Emma frowned. “What does a queen look like? I’m picturing an elderly lady with a bouffant hairdo and a Hermès scarf.”
“That does sound somewhat like my grandmother Queen Sofia.” His dark eyes filled with sadness. “Who died a few days ago. But my brother means that you are naturally regal in the way you carry yourself. You are tall, with strong but elegant bone structure and the kind of beauty that has inspired artists throughout the ages.”
He spoke softly, and his words had the effect of making heat rise to her cheeks. Which was just annoying! People had been telling her for years that she was pretty, but that didn’t butter any biscuits where she came from. All it did was invite unwelcome attention from unsuitable men. She downplayed it by never wearing makeup and keeping her hair in a ponytail most of the time. “I guess I should thank you for the compliment. But how come you’re the heir? You’ve mentioned your mother. Why doesn’t she inherit?”
“My father would have been the one to inherit. He was next in the royal line, and in the event of his death the crown passes to the next blood relative in the Leone line—me. My father was found dead on the same night as my grandmother. Don’t you watch the news?”
“No. I don’t have time. I figure if a war breaks out someone will tell me. What happened?”
“No one knows exactly.” His face darkened. “My grandmother was suffocated. My father was stabbed through the heart with an ancient dagger.”
Her eyes widened. “They were murdered.”
“It appears so, though some are saying it was part of a ritual. The circumstances are…mysterious. The police are still analyzing the evidence.”
“That’s horrible. And sounds dangerous. Are you worried they’ll try to kill you, too?”
“I find worry to be a waste of time. Perhaps for the same reasons you don’t bother to watch the news. Why give energy to something that isn’t important to you? I do, however, intend to find out exactly what happened and who is responsible. Every moment I spend in New York is time where the trail grows cold.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I have a commitment to Keane Moss. He’s represented my paintings for five years, and I owe him a lot. I’m here to open this show, which has been in the works for over a year, and then I’ll be leaving.” He paused and his gaze trapped hers. Then he reached across the table. Her skin stung with awareness as he wrapped his fingers around her hand, which had been resting by her water glass. “And I sincerely hope that you’ll come with me.”
Her phone pinged. “Excuse me.” She was glad of an excuse to snatch her hand back. Already her heart beat faster and her breathing grew shallow. She pulled her phone from her purse and her heart flew to her mouth when she saw Jonas’s name next to an all-caps message.
NEED MORE $. FORGOT ABOUT INTEREST. HAVE UNTIL TOMORROW. CALL ME ASAP. LOVE YOU.
Her heart sank. There seemed to be no end to the trouble her brother could get into. And she’d already have to wait for her next paycheck just to make her rent. People said she should serve him some tough love, but how did she do that when he was all she had? “One hundred thousand, up front, you said.”
“Yes.” His eyes brightened. “And another at the close of the year.”
“How can you be sure The Fountains will take my brother?”
“Let me call Licia.” He whipped out his phone, explained the situation, and booked Jonas in—starting tomorrow at nine A.M., without even consulting her. Then he hung up and pocketed his phone. “It’s all arranged.” The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at his arrogant mouth.
Her brother at The Fountains tomorrow morning. This could be the big break that turned everything around for him. She’d have enough to pay off whatever stupid debts he’d racked up and money to save. She could put her stuff into storage for a year and give up her apartment, which was drafty and noisy, anyway.… “I’d need to see the contract. The one between us.”
He pulled his phone out again and pushed a button. “Greg, can we meet tonight?” He explained the situation to his lawyer and made plans for them to head straight to his office, despite the late hour.
She wanted to protest that she should go back to the gallery first, but Keane probably needed her to keep Darias away until the show was rehung, which might take another hour or two.
She swallowed hard. One year. And it wasn’t like she’d be in prison. She’d get to see another part of the world. “I’ve never even left the U.S.” It felt important to make it clear to him that she was not as sophisticated as she apparently appeared.
“Then it’s about time you did.” He paid the bill with an air of satisfaction. “The gallery opening is tomorrow night, and we can leave for Altaleone first thing in the morning.”
They split from Sandro, and Darias drove her to his lawyer’s midtown office in his big Mercedes G-Class SUV. Already she felt like she was being whisked off to…something. Riding up in the mirrored elevator, she felt self-conscious—dressed like a kid in the black jeans, black T-shirt and black Converse sneakers that were her unofficial uniform at the gallery. Darias wasn’t formally dressed, but expensive Italian designer casual was a whole different groove.
The young lawyer maintained a poker face as Darias described his outrageous plan. He did take a good long look at Emma, though, and she felt as if her skin might peel right off under his cold, analytical gaze. “It’ll take me an hour or so to research a couple of matters and get something typed up.”
Darias took her to a nearby bar, where she stuck strictly to plain tonic water. She was a lightweight at the best of times and wanted to read—and sign—the contract with a clear head. Her brother had called her three times and left messages while they were in with the lawyer, and she finally called him back.