Chapter Five
Holding onto the edge of the cable car, I laughed. “But if that happened, we’d all be caught in the flowing lava.”
Mario frowned. “And it would all be your fault.”
Loud rumbling sounded. Were we really in danger?
Mario pointed to the vehicles below speeding away from the volcano. “They’re the smart ones. You really are a wild child.” However, his grin took the sting from the name he called me. Somehow, it sounded better than when my folks called me that.
Soon we were almost a mile further down, thank goodness. As we got out of the cable cars, scarlet streams of lava flowed down the sides of Mount Etna. Using my long-distance lens, I tried to take a picture, but Mario hustled me and Ernesto into a limousine. It was going so fast, I didn’t get a very clear picture. More lava came down, the driver sped up, and my heart beat faster. By the time we had gotten two miles away, the rumbles were still very loud, and large chunks of molten rock were flying from the top.
A couple of bread-loaf sized ones landed on the ground only fifty yards away. I gasped. We could get hit.
Now, my pulse raced, and my heart pounded. I leaned against Mario, comforted by his strength. However, he couldn’t stop one of those large rocks from landing on the car. And our driver wouldn’t have much room to evade one if he could manage to guess where it was going to land.
Maybe if I concentrated on taking more pictures, I could stop being so afraid. With fumbling fingers, I took pictures as fast as I could. I hoped to get a lot of great shots through the window, because the mountain kept spewing lava and throwing rocks.
Then I realized Mario had been holding my shoulders, steadying me so I could concentrate on holding the camera still. “Thanks for supporting me,” I said.
“My pleasure,” he replied. “Holding you is a delight.”
I could kiss that man, but of course I wouldn’t do it now. He was just being protective of me. After all, as a prince and a football star, he must have plenty of women wanting to be kissed and more, not only in Monterra but all over Europe.
I had his attention now, and I wanted to keep it as long as I could. Expecting to win his heart was hopeless. Thank goodness, I hadn’t mentioned my opinion of most sports stars. He might be well paid, but he was brave and kind and he’d protected me from harm again. Without his urging me to leave, I might have stayed on the rim even longer and been fried. I wondered if lava burns were treated any differently than house fire burns. Probably not. Flesh and skin got destroyed no matter how it was burned.
Our limousine made it back without any casualties. Soon we were buckled up in Mario’s plane again. However, the control tower made us wait two hours before allowing us to take off. I pulled out my notebook, set down my impressions of Mount Etna, and started a rough draft of my article. The blue Mediterranean Sea looked calm now. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Back to Paris?”
Mario shook his head. “Monterra.”
“Wait a minute. I thought we were going back to Paris. I still have places to visit, and my clothes are all there.” He sure was ordering me around without asking my preferences.
“Monterra has plenty of nice shops. We can pick up something there and arrange to have your belongings sent there.”
“But I can’t afford to buy more clothes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the bills. You can send in your article and pictures after we get there. I thought you’d like to see the palace. I can have my aunt invite you for tea.”
“That would be nice,” I said, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. Did I want to be moved around and controlled like he was doing? I’d worry about that later. Now I needed to get busy writing my article about Mount Etna so I could send it when we arrived in Monterra, a place I hadn’t intended to visit when I’d planned my trip.
Several hours later, we landed at the Monterra Airport. He taxied to a hangar off to one side. The name above the door said, “Prince Mario’s Hangout.”
“That’s an interesting name.” I said.
“Prince Dante has a club with his name on it. This is my place.”
An attendant in a gray uniform with purple stripes walked up. “Shall I park it in the hangar, Your Highness?”
“Yes, Flavio. Thank you.”
Mario led us out to his Ferrari.
“You left it in Paris. How did it get here?”
“Ernesto arranged it. I’m taking you to the newspaper office in Imperia. I know a reporter there, but first I’ll stop off at my brother’s place. He has a computer you can use to write your article.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” He was being very helpful.
Mario drove us to a condominium complex. “This is my brother’s place. Armando and Danielle stay here, but we’ll stay at a hotel. He walked over to Ernesto. “Would you please make hotel arrangements for us?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Ernesto said and pulled out his phone. “Please wait in your car until I check the place out.”
After he’d made the arrangements and surveyed the building and Armando’s apartment, Ernesto led us inside. At the door, Mario entered a security code and opened the door. The penthouse apartment was decorated in black and white. The living room alone was bigger than my apartment in Texas. I set my purse down on the black leather sectional with nothing but a few burgundy cushions for color. A huge TV screen encased by a built-in bookcase held a stereo music system and leather-bound books.
A wall of glass gave me a great view of the city. Outside, squirrels scampered between trees across manicured grass bordered with flowers. The palace walls rose over the trees beyond it.
“Come,” Mario said. “I’ll show you the computer.” Ernesto sat on the couch, while the prince led me along the hallway to a smaller room. The plush carpet felt soft even through my sturdy hiking shoes. Inside the small office, a state-of-the-art computer sat on a desk. After he showed me how to open the computer, I typed in my article, edited it, and looked over my pictures. I ’d gotten some good ones. I especially liked the one with a rock heading toward the car. Even though the car wasn’t in the picture, it looked as if the rock was coming right at you. I included that with the article, printed out a copy, then copied both onto a thumb drive I’d brought with me.
Half an hour later, Mario drove me to the office of the Monterra News and introduced me to Danielle Dawson, a smiling strawberry blonde who let me use her computer to send my article and pictures to The Dallas Morning News travel department. She was quite gracious, and I thanked her for her help. When I showed her my pictures, she nodded. “I had a similar experience after visiting Mount Vesuvius. It was frightening, but at least I didn’t get too close. Were you scared?”
“A little, but Mario urged me to leave in time.”
Mario laughed. “She was so enthralled, I had to drag her away.”
Half an hour later, as I was checking in at a hotel, a tone sounded from my phone. A text message appeared from Danielle. “I’m forwarding a message from The Dallas Morning News. It said, “Received your pictures and first-hand story of the recent eruption. We have many articles on hand. We’ll let you know.”
Mario looked at me questioningly. “What did it say?”
“They’ll let me know.” I showed him the text.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I read your article. It was great. If they print it, I imagine your parents and your siblings will be proud of you. I know I am.”
He picked up the phone and pushed a button. “I’d like to speak to Queen Aria.” After he hung up, he smiled. “We’re all invited to tea at the palace tomorrow.”
“I’d love to go, but I don’t have anything to wear.” Mario took my hand and squeezed it. “Come. Let’s get settled at Hotel Garibaldi. It was named after the man who unified Italy in the late eighteen hundreds.”
“I would have thought that happened much earlier, like it did in other countries.”
“There were many separate provinces fighting among themselves, but Garibaldi pulled them all together. Luckily, Monterra, with its fine cadre of soldiers, has been left alone to rule itself. We like having a king and queen. However, some citizens have been pushing for a democratic government like the U.S.”
I remembered the conversation I’d overheard between Gino and the other man. “At least you don’t have all the hubbub we do in election years and the stalemates when Congress can’t agree. However, I prefer it to a dictatorship.”
“Monterra isn’t like that at all. The king is a good ruler and popular with most citizens, as is Crown Prince Dominic, or Prince Nico, as he is called.”
Luckily, I was able to pick up a nightgown at the hotel gift shop. The next morning, Mario took me shopping, and insisted on buying me a nice pink dress and a pair of white heels. That afternoon, I wore it and hoped I looked nice enough to meet Queen Aria.
After Mario drove us to the palace and parked in the courtyard, I stepped out to view the palace. Up close the pink granite building was huge.
We ascended the marble steps as two Royal Guards snapped to attention beside the door. A twelve-foot high door inlaid with a cream-colored marble crest swung open to reveal a wide foyer with gray marble tile with streaks of white, pink, and a darker gray.
We followed a servant to a large room with ornate crystal chandeliers hanging from a ceiling that must be twenty feet high. Tapestries featuring sword battles and sailing ships hung on the walls of the room big enough to hold three Olympic pools with room to spare.
Mario said, “This was the original great room in feudal times, but the queen prefers a more modern dining room. Come, I can’t wait to show off my pretty companion to the family.” He winked at me.
Had he really said that about me? I couldn’t help smiling.
A servant ushered us into a room with antique French Provincial furniture. A silver service sat on a walnut coffee table. On a tray sat a plate of scones with bits of orange peel and cranberries. A silver bowl held thick cream.
Queen Aria sat on a brocade loveseat with rose and yellow flowers intertwined with green vines. Mario introduced us.
Now I floundered. Should I bow or curtsy? Humming birds swirled in my stomach. If I even managed to do that gracefully, how low should I go? Could I do it without my knees shaking? Chickening out, I bowed my head low. “I am very pleased to meet you, Your Majesty.”
She smiled. “Please have a seat.” I couldn’t believe I was actually having tea with a real queen. Nervous, I perched on the edge of a chair. Queen Aria poured tea into dainty porcelain cups. “Will you have sugar, lemon, or cream?”
I opted for sugar and lemon. Mario passed me a filled teacup on a saucer. A servant passed the tray with scones, croissants, and whipped cream.
The scones tasted delicious. I took a sip of tea and set the cup down. “Thank you for inviting us.” What could I talk about with a queen? I know. She was a mother. “Tell me about your children.” I was going to ask what their special strengths were but thought better of it. We might be here all afternoon.
Queen Aria smiled. “Prince Dominic, we call him Nico, is married to Kat. Prince Dante has a club in the basement, called Dante’s Inferno, which is quite popular with the young folks.”
“That sounds like an interesting place,” I said.” I’d like to see it.”
“Perhaps I can take you there sometime,” Mario said.
“Dante is engaged to Lemon,” the queen said. Both Kat and Lemon are very sweet girls. Violetta is my oldest daughter. We keep careful watch over Chiara, and Serafina, as they were captured by activist Vito Campo.”
The queen waved a hand toward Mario. “I am so grateful your brother, Armando, was able to rescue them. That disgusting man, Vito, has been banished from the kingdom, but we can’t be too careful.”
I remembered the conversation I’d overheard between Mario’s friend, Gino, and the other man, who was probably his brother. Had Vito actually entered the kingdom? I hoped the guards at the border stopped him. I didn’t get a good look at him, but they seemed to have the same build. Maybe Vito could pass as Gino. Remembering all the illegal immigrants making their way into Texas, I wondered if Monterra had a problem, but decided it might be considered rude to ask.
“Your country seems to welcome tourists,” I said.
The queen nodded. “We have a flourishing tourist business. The celebrities like it because we don’t allow paparazzi to follow them. I despise tabloid writers.”
“Kelly only writes travel articles,” Mario said. “She just sent one about the Mount Etna eruption to The Dallas Morning News.”
The queen looked at me. “You must be quite a talented young lady.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said. “It must be interesting for the citizens to see movie and television celebrities moving about like ordinary people.”
The queen sipped her tea, then set her cup down. “If we find out one of our favorites is coming, we quietly invite them for tea. The ones I’ve invited seem to enjoy visiting our palace.
Before we left, I bowed and thanked the queen for tea and scones.
She smiled. “You’re quite welcome, my dear. I’m pleased my nephew has such a delightful companion.”
I pondered her use of the word companion. Mario and I followed the butler over plush carpeted hallways, past numerous elaborately framed portraits of past kings and queens. The hall was lit by miniature candelabras with electric lights that caused the crystal pendants hanging from them to sparkle.
I thanked the butler for showing us around and followed Mario and Ernesto outside.
Mario’s Ferrari sat in the courtyard, ready and waiting. Ernesto motioned for us to wait on the doorstep. He walked around the courtyard, looking at everything. He even stepped into the garden and looked around.
Apparently satisfied that no dangers lurked, he said, “Please enter your vehicle, Mario. Will you drive, or shall I?”
“I’ll drive.” Mario strode to the vehicle and held the passenger door open. “Kelly, please sit in front.” I walked over and climbed in.
Ernesto opened the back door and slid inside.
Mario drove past the gatehouse and waved to the guard. “I’ll show you some of the interesting places in our capital city.” He drove past a park with a gazebo and pointed out the white marble civic center. “That’s where the police station is and where city meetings are held. There’s also a library, complete with a computer center where citizens can do research if they don’t have access at their homes. Monterra believes in furthering education for everyone.”
He pointed to a large building with two bigger-than-life angels holding trumpets ready to blow. “That’s our theater for music events and plays.”
“Wow, the designer must have seen pictures of the Bass Performance Hall in Fort Worth.”
“My father, King Dominic’s brother, designed it. He studied pictures of opera and performance halls all over the world before creating it. The acoustics are so good, you can hear the music well even in the upper balconies. He even received an award for excellence in designing a public building.”
“So,” I asked. “are you going to specialize in buildings like your father’s style?”
Mario shrugged. “Well, I definitely won’t be copying Gaudi’s fanciful style. My father has been commissioned to design similar buildings in Barcelona, but I’d rather develop my own style.”
He pulled up in front of our hotel. I reached for the door handle. He shook his head. “Please, let me be the gentleman and wait until I open the door. However, I’d like you to wait a few minutes. There is something I’d like to discuss with you.” He took hold of my hand and kissed my palm. I felt a slight tingle. What was it with this man? I felt something almost every time he touched me.
He smiled. “There is something I’d like to ask you.”
I waited, wondering. Was he going to ask to kiss me out here in front of Ernesto and everyone? I hoped he was more romantic than that.
His brown eyes looked serious, maybe even anxious.
“Kelly, I would like you to check out of your hotel in the morning.”
Now what? Surely, he didn’t want me to spend tomorrow night with him at his brother’s apartment. Again, I waited.
“I lived in Monterra’s capital city until my dad sent me to Ajax to train for football, but I’d like to invite you to visit my family in Barcelona.”
Relieved, I nodded. “I’d like that.” But then I started to wonder. Mario must really like me if he planned to have me visit his family. Did an invitation to visit his family have the same significance it did back in the states? Since it had happened so quickly, I could hardly assume that it did.
Later, at the hotel I found my belongings I’d left at the Paris hotel had been placed in my room. I didn’t have a lot to pack, but I kept folding and refolding my clothes, hoping they wouldn’t get too wrinkled. I wanted to make a good impression on his family. It didn’t take long to check out. Soon, Ernesto and I were seated in Mario’s plane. This time, we flew over the Carrera Mountains. He pointed out areas of light-colored stone. “That’s where the best white marble is cut. My father has designed homes with fireplaces made from Carrera Marble.”
The next morning, as we got out of the plane after landing in Barcelona, I asked, “Are you taking me to a hotel first? I want to shower and dress up if I’m going to meet your family.”
Mario looked at me. “You look fine to me. After all, you dressed up to meet Queen Aria.”
The breeze was teasing my hair. “I at least need to comb my hair.”
“You can do that in the car. My mother will insist you stay with us in their house.”
Mario’s brother, Prince Armando, tall, tanned and good looking with dark hair, met us outside the airport with a limousine. He shook my hand and said, “You’ll be able to meet our whole family. Our sister, Isabella, is back from her latest vacation. She will have pictures of the Taj Mahal.”
Prince Armando helped Ernesto load our bags into the back of the limo. “I won’t be staying long. I can’t wait to get back to Imperia and Danielle.”
I remembered meeting her at the newspaper office. Mario held the door open for me as I slid into the car. He climbed in beside me. I hoped I’d make a good impression on his mother. “Mario, tell me what your parents are like.”
“My father works long and hard as an architect. Mom’s a good wife. She supports my father by staying at home, except when working for her charity organizations, and taking care or the house.
Prince Armando held the car open for me. “Mother’s cooking your favorite spaghetti bolognaise.”
“It’s delicious,” Mario said. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
When Prince Armando pulled up to a sprawling house made of brick and marble with floor to ceiling windows, I was hesitant to get out, but after I did, Mario put his arm around my waist and smiled at me. That felt good, but what if his parents didn’t like me? Smoothing down my pink dress, I stepped out and stood up straight. I’d be poised and pleasant, no matter how they acted.
Mario pulled me closer. “They are sure to like you, just as I do. I’ve never met a woman so pretty, so smart, and so adventurous. I like the way you take on new activities even though you’ve never done them. I’ll have to tell them about that great article you wrote on Mount Etna. Did you bring a copy? I want to show it to them.”
I nodded. “They might not find it interesting.”
“Don’t worry. I know they will. Now come meet them.”
Ernesto followed behind us and set down the bags.
His mother opened the door. She was perfectly made up and gorgeous. I wondered if she’d been a model at one time. She didn’t look old enough to be the mother of two sons as old as Mario and Armando. Her look was cold, but her voice as she invited us in sounded smooth and polite if not warming.
Mario introduced her as Princess Elizabetta Fiorelli.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. She smiled and nodded but didn’t suggest I call her by her first name or even Princess Elizabetta.
She looked me over, then said, “You have red hair, just like Mario’s last girlfriend. I believe hers was a lighter shade, not so brash. Unlike a redhead’s reputation, she had a lovely laidback temperament. She always agreed with Mario’s suggestions for their evenings together. As a count’s daughter, I’m sure she’d been taught to be agreeable since she was old enough to hold a fan.”
I couldn’t believe his mother was rude enough to say all that. She must have taken an instant dislike to me, or maybe she wanted to keep her son close to her. Either Mario saw his last girlfriend differently, or the woman was a chameleon, putting on an act to please people she wanted to impress. If she really was a such a pussycat, Mario wouldn’t have alluded to her so vehemently. I stole a look at him. His expression said he viewed her differently, but he politely kept silent.
His father shook his son’s hand. “Well, introduce me to this lovely young lady.”
Mario introduced me to Prince Arturo Fiorelli. Mario said I was smart, willing to take chances, and an excellent writer. I couldn’t help smiling.
The elder Prince Fiorelli nodded. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Mario has told us about you and what you’ve been doing. I hope he wasn’t hurt during that altercation with a purse snatcher, but he’s always been gallant when a lady needs protecting.” He pointed to our bags. “Ernesto, just set them down. You may take them upstairs later.”
The aroma of beef and tomatoes wafted from the kitchen. We sat down to dinner, and a maid poured wine in our glasses and served us from platters she carried. I didn’t care for the wine. It was very dry, but I drank it anyway to be polite. The food was delicious as Mario had promised, especially the crunchy Italian bread.
After dinner, we sat in the living room, and the maid served coffee. It was very strong, so I added lots of sugar and cream. Mrs. Fiorelli eyed me. “I think coffee is best enjoyed without adding much to dilute it.”
She met my gaze, as I tried not to choke on the coffee.
“Well, Miss Chandler, do you have a profession?”
“Yes, ma’am. I am a librarian.”
“Does that require any college studies?” she asked.
“Yes, I have a bachelor’s degree, and I’m working on a master’s degree in library science.”
“I see. Do you have brothers or sisters with professional jobs?”
I couldn’t help bristling. “Libraries are important for people who can’t afford to buy many books and for people to do research. They are pillars of an educated society.” Now I was sorry I hadn’t insisted on staying at a hotel. I hoped this visit wouldn’t be long. I wasn’t sure how much of his mother I could stand.
“Cataloging books seems rather boring.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “Actually, I mostly manage the library but to answer your question, my sister, Tiffany, is still in college, and my brother is a lawyer.”
“Well, at least he is a professional who can be looked up to,” Mario’s mother said.
“What did you major in for your undergraduate degree?”
“Literature. I studied classical writers, operas, and Greek plays. I also read the Iliad and the Odyssey.” I admit she was getting to me, but I didn’t really need to add that I’d read Homer.
His mother frowned. “Why don’t they teach something modern? Surely, there are productions by good playwrights you could study.”
I twisted the fabric of my dress, then stopped. I didn’t want his parents seeing how uneasy I was in their company. “Actually, ‘West Side Story’ was a movie made as a modern version of Romeo and Juliet. I studied that also.”
Mario caught my eye. “It’s quite nice outside. Kelly, would you like to go for a walk?”
Relieved, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Yes, I’d like that.”
“Ernesto will accompany us, of course.”
“Before we go,” I said, “Mrs. Fiorelli, would you be so kind as to show me where to sleep?”
His mother glared at me. “You may address me as Your Highness.” She rose. “I will show you.” She led the way. Ernesto carried our bags, and Mario followed us up the grand stairway. Its polished wood shone from the light of the chandelier hanging over the hallway.
I clutched the banister, also polished to a golden sheen, and made my way up the steps. On the landing, his mother opened the door to a bedroom. “This is Mario’s. I’ve kept his trophies just where he left them. That’s his favorite blanket on his bed. He always sleeps here when he visits. I want him to feel this is his home, even though he mostly stays with the team or spends his free time at Armando’s apartment in Monterra.”
I peeked in. Football trophies lined the top of a bookcase, filled not with books, but action figures. Apparently, Mario wasn’t much of a reader. A large teddy bear sat on the couch. Mrs. Fiorelli picked it up and held it close. “This was his favorite toy when he was a boy. I keep his room just like it used to be when he lived here as a child.”
“Mother,” Mario said, “I was sixteen when you moved here and already staying at Ajax football academy. I never lived here as a child.”
“Well, I tried to recreate the same place you lived in as a child,” she said. She led us into another bedroom with a four-poster bed covered with a beige silk spread. Matching draperies hung at the windows, and my feet seemed to sink in the soft carpet. The painting over the bed looked like an original Van Eyck. “This is where you’ll stay. We eat breakfast at eight, but if you wish to sleep in, I’m sure our maid will fix you whatever you like to eat. Within reason, of course. She isn’t up to Eggs Benedict or elaborate crepes like they might serve in Paris, where you’ve been.”
Ernesto set my bag down.
His mother pointed to a door. “All the bedrooms have a bath attached. I’m sure you’ll find it stocked with soap and lotions. Please feel free to use any you find.”
Mario took my hand. “Kelly, are you ready for that walk now? I’m looking forward to having some time alone with you.”
The way he said my name and the way he smiled at me was endearing. “Yes,” I said. I was so ready to leave the cloying atmosphere of the house. I wondered if Mario welcomed his mother’s possessive attention. He might be a prince, but was he tied to her apron strings? And since I wasn’t popular with his mother, I probably needed to cool any attraction I had. Besides, I’d soon be heading back to the States, regardless of how things went with Mario.