11. DANTE

The sound of my aunt’s voice is more effective than a bucket of ice water, shocking me back to reality and surprising the blood right out of my throbbing cock.

Amanda gasps and nearly falls out of my arms. God, how could I have been so irresponsible?! We’re outdoors in the middle of the day! Thank God the twins happened on when they did instead of now.

That’s right, Dante, conveniently avoid the real reason this was such a ridiculous risk. Imagine trying to pass off another woman as your wife less than two weeks after fucking a virtual stranger in your garden! The media would have a field day, not to mention the chancellor.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Amanda as we scramble to get our clothes back on. “I shouldn’t have done this. It was reprehensible of me.”

“You weren’t doing it alone,” she breathes, clasping her bra and covering up her breasts. Her stunning, alabaster breasts.

Snap out of it!

Amanda manages to get her outfit back in place as I finish buttoning my shirt. Thank God I don’t have any royal functions today; otherwise, I’d be trying to tie a bowtie right now, too. At least my raging hard-on has finally gone all the way down.

She smooths her hair with her hands; luckily, she never wears make-up – it would be gilding the lily, as far as I’m concerned – so she needn’t worry about any smudges.

“How do I look?” she asks, eyes pleading.

Like I imagine an angel must look.

“Fine,” I say. “And me?”

She swallows hard.

“Same.”

“All right. Follow my lead.”

I check the lane to see if Isabella is near. We’re in luck; the coast is clear, so I take Amanda’s hand and we step into the courtyard mere seconds before my aunt rounds the corner and discovers us.

“There you are!” she cries. “Didn’t you hear me calling?”

“Hmm?” I say, turning to face her. My elbow is in one hand, supporting my chin in the other. “Oh, hello, auntie.”

Amanda smiles, hands clasped in front of her.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” she says sheepishly. “The prince was indulging my curiosity about this particular statue of Minerva. I didn’t know it existed.”

Isabella is the embodiment of the term “handsome woman.” Still very attractive in late middle age, but her features are more angular than softly feminine. It gives her an air of power and sophistication. I imagine Amanda is somewhat intimidated, despite the excellent act she’s putting on.

Hell, I’m intimidated and I grew up with the woman.

Isabella smiles and waves a dismissive hand. “No matter,” she says. “And you are?”

“Where are my manners?” I say. Where, indeed. “Duchess Isabella Steiger, please meet Amanda Sparks, from America. She’s in charge of planning my birthday celebration. Amanda, Isabella is my maternal aunt, the former regent of Morova.”

They clasp hands. “I’m well aware of your contributions to Morova,” Amanda says. “There are many who say you held the kingdom together during its greatest challenge.”

Isabella bows humbly. It’s an act – my aunt is about as humble as a professional wrestler – but she’s very good at it.

“Maria has told me all about you, dear. I’m sure Dante’s fate is in capable hands.”

She turns to me. “Assuming my nephew is kind enough to show up, of course.”

I favor her with a wincing smile. Isabella has never been one to dance around the point.

“I’ve learned my lesson, auntie,” I say, dripping with contrition. “I will not leave the palace until after the ceremony. This I swear on my honor as the defender of the realm of Morova.”

“Mm-hmm.” I don’t have any tricks she doesn’t know. “Just be there on your birthday, defender of the realm.”

It dawns on me that she was searching for me earlier, and I use it as a way to distract her from wondering why Amanda and I were out here alone.

“What can I do for you?” I ask. “You were looking for me; I assume you needed me for something?”

“Yes,” she says, looking as if she just remembered that herself. “I’m trying to find the family sword.”

Ah, yes. That fucking sword.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” says Amanda. “Maria mentioned to me that Signore Ferrare has the sword. I actually need to keep track of it myself, as it plays a key role in the birthday ceremonies.”

“Well, then,” says Isabella, cocking an elbow. “Shall we track down Carlo together? It will give us some time to discuss Dante’s birthday.”

And it will give Amanda an opportunity to get away from the boss who just mauled her in a courtyard.

“By your leave?” Amanda asks, unspoken volumes in her eyes.

“Of course,” I say, bowing. “We’ll, uh, talk again soon.”

She takes Isabella’s arm and they amble their way out of the courtyard towards the main gardens.

And that’s all we’ll be doing – talking, I tell myself as they disappear from sight.