28. DANTE

It’s come down to this: the world-renowned Prince Dante, monarch of Morova and executor of the Trentini fortune, is bargaining with a pair of ten-year-olds. Over a Disney movie.

“You can watch it again tomorrow,” I say. “Once is enough for tonight.”

The sun has long since set outside the window of my television room, leaving us in the dark except for the glow of the hundred-inch screen on the wall. The twins are sitting between Amanda and me on the wide, low-backed sofa that serves as our theater seats.

“But Lion King is our favorite,” Oriana whines.

“I’m like Simba!” Vito shouts. “I can’t wait to be king!”

“Then you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” I say, plucking the remote control from his butter-soaked little hand. The popcorn was Amanda’s idea, and it was brilliant.

She’s brilliant.

As if to make my point for me, she grabs Vito around the torso and starts tickling him like mad.

“How many times do we have to tell you?” she hollers as Vito shrieks. “You’ve never going to be king, you little street urchin!”

“Tell me why!” cries Oriana, eager to get in on the fun.

“I told you a hundred times!” I say, gripping her sides and poking my fingers gently into the muscles along her little ribs. “Because I bought you both from the gypsies!”

The storm of giggles goes on and on, until they finally drop onto their backs, breathing heavily. Vito drops his head into Amanda’s lap and looks up at her.

“Are you going to move in here with Uncle after the wedding?” he asks.

“Why yes, I am. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes,” the twins say in unison.

“Which is why Amanda gets to stay while you two go off to your rooms to bed,” I say, dropping Oriana onto the sofa beside her brother.

Vito opens his mouth to complain but I silence him with a raised finger.

“The sun is down, the moon is high,” I say.

They both look at the floor.

“And off to my waiting bed go I,” they recite glumly. It’s a ritual I’ve been sending them to sleep with since they could talk.

“And in the morning, if you’re good,” Amanda chimes in.

The twins look to her with hopeful eyes.

“You can have some breakfast… uh, fud,” she finishes.

They stare at her, uncomprehending.

“Sorry,” Amanda says sheepishly. “Food doesn’t really rhyme with good…”

They roll their eyes comically as they march over to me, each planting a kiss on one cheek.

“Goodnight, Uncle,” they say.

To my surprise and her delight, they do the same to Amanda.

“Goodnight, Amanda.”

A shimmer of tears lights up her eyes in the glow of the television screen as the children head off to their own chambers on the other side of the hall.

I slide next to her on the sofa and wrap an arm around her shoulders. Sometimes I think this all has to be a dream, that it’s impossible for this crazy American cowgirl to have become such a key part of our lives in such a short time.

Then again, Emilio pointed out that the gods seem to be fond of monarchs.

“That was amazing,” Amanda says, swallowing hard.

“I know I’ve been saying this a lot lately, but get used to it. They adore you.”

“And I adore them. Times a million.”

She reaches up and clasps the hand wrapped around her shoulder, snuggling in closer.

“Are you excited to see your father in the morning?” I ask.

“You know I am,” she says with a wide grin. “We haven’t been in the same room together for months.”

“Any last-minute advice for me before I meet him?” I wince to show I’m properly concerned.

“He has guns. Lots of them.”

I nod. “Right. I’ll warn Marco.”

“He acts tough, but he’s a pussycat. Someone once said that having daughters softens a man. I think having to raise a daughter alone softened him even more.”

“Right,” I say. “Pussycat with guns.”

She elbows me softly.

“Keep in mind that this pussycat can carry a seventy-five-pound calf under each arm.”

“Good lord. I spend an hour a day in my private gymnasium and I’m not entirely sure I could pull off that feat.”

Amanda turns towards me and slides a hand under my shirt.

“Don’t think I don’t appreciate that,” she says, stroking my abs. “But you’re built for looks. Dad is built for work.”

I feign shock. “Are you implying that I don’t work?”

“Hey, if the shoe fits,” she says. “Or in your case, the ceremonial sword.”

That sword. I never gave it a second thought until it suddenly reappeared and turned my life upside down. At first, I thought it was some ancient curse being revisited on the family.

Now I don’t want to think about what might have happened if it hadn’t turned up again. If I hadn’t met this incredible creature in front of me, running her fingernails along my torso.

“I’m not going to sit here and be insulted simply for having the good sense to be born into a royal family,” I say.

“Oh yeah?” she smiles. “Then what are you gonna sit there and do?”

I caress her ivory cheek with my palm and draw her face to mine, planting a slow, deep kiss on her delicious lips.

“That’ll work,” she sighs. “But I think maybe we should end it there. Is that okay?”

“Is everything all right?” I ask.

“Everything’s perfect,” she says, giving me another peck. “But with Dad coming tomorrow, I’ve got a lot on my mind. And to be honest… I’m worried that if we start, we won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to stop.”

She glances down at the stiff bulge under my pants and bites her lower lip.

“I know I won’t be able to stop,” she says. “And that would violate the decree.”

“No one needs to know,” I offer. “You’ve already passed the test.”

“We would know. And if, for some crazy reason, we ever ended up having to take a polygraph, well… it’s not worth the risk. The stakes are too high.”

I sigh. “You’re right. The wedding is only a few days from now. Only an animal can’t control himself for a few days.”

“I don’t know,” she says with a lusty grin. “You were definitely an animal in the jet.”

I need to put the brakes on this now, before my cock snaps through my fly and takes on a life of its own.

“Let’s focus on something else to help cool things down,” I say, shifting in my seat to get my erection in a more comfortable position.

“Definitely,” she says, frowning. “Serious stuff. There’s a wedding going on. Lots to talk about.”

“My bachelor party, for instance.”

Here eyes narrow. “Is that so?”

“Emilio offered to organize it for a few nights from now. Knowing him, he’ll probably kidnap me and fly me to some unknown destination to meet our regular crowd of reprobates. In my jet, of course.”

Amanda’s look is suddenly serious.

“It won’t be anything… y’know, crazy, will it? I mean, you do have a reputation.”

“I won’t let it be,” I say, taking her hand in mine and kissing her delicate palm.

“You promise?”

How can I convince her? Even now, she has lingering doubts about who I was before we met. My tabloid image isn’t an easy thing to erase.

Then it hits me.

“What if I were to invite your father along?”

Her eyes sparkle. “Really? You would do that for me?”

“Of course. What better way to get to know each other than with some drinking, gambling and cigars?”

“Those are definitely three of his favorite things,” she says with a laugh. “He’s quite the shark on poker night down at the American Legion hall.”

It could actually be fun to show him some of the European games. I’d provide the stakes, of course. Ike Sparks won’t have to worry about paying for anything again in his life, if I have anything to say about it.

“There’s only one problem,” Amanda says. “His wardrobe is, let’s say, limited. As in a half-dozen plaid shirts and a few pairs of jeans.”

I snap my fingers. “He needs a tux for the wedding anyway, so we’ll use that as an excuse to get him some new clothes.”

Next thing I know, her arms are around my neck and her sweet lips are pressing against mine again. We explore each other for a few wonderful moments.

“Thank you,” she says. “You don’t know how much this means to me. I know it will be a pain in the butt dragging him around with you guys.”

“From what you’ve told me, I highly doubt that. I’m looking forward to it.”

She grins and pats my leg as she rises to leave.

“We’ll see if you’re still saying that after you meet him in the morning.”