43. AMANDA

I think Dante got the better part of the in-law deal. He got my dad.

I got Isabella.

“How’s your fish, darling?” she asks, pointing her fork at my plate.

“It’s amazing,” I say. “Chef Carina is a genius.”

“Mm,” she grunts. “Mine is dry. I told Maria not to hire her, but she doesn’t listen to me.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just smile and nod. I wish Dante were here.

We’re on the main terrace that overlooks the lagoon and the beach. It’s a beautiful piece of architecture, but to be honest, I’d much rather be down at the lake with the children.

“Have you and Dante given any thought to children?” she asks

A moment of panic stabs through me – can she read my mind?

“I think we’re just going to focus on the twins for now,” I say. “It’s important that we have a solid relationship with them before we think about adding to the family.”

“Well, you don’t want to wait too long,” she says. “Looks don’t last forever, believe me. Best to take care of things when you’re young.”

“I don’t understand.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile.

“Darling, I know you have grand dreams for the future. And who knows? Maybe they’ll come true. But it never hurts to have insurance.”

“Insurance?”

“Children, Amanda. It’s how women who marry into royal families ensure their status. That way, when – I mean if – they get divorced, they still have those blood ties to the monarchy.”

What is she talking about?

“That’s a bit cynical, Auntie, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she says. “I’ve always been a realist. Comes from losing my husband so young, I suppose. I can only judge by what I saw with my sister and Nero.”

“But… they had a storybook romance,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, if you believe the breathless coverage by the newspapers.”

“You’re saying that wasn’t a true portrait?”

“Darling, I know you’re not that naïve. Royal marriages aren’t like commoner marriages. Even when they marry for love, as I’m sure you and Dante did, the responsibilities that come with the title can drag you down. Not to mention the constant glaring eye of the media.”

Now that I think about it, three of Queen Elizabeth’s four children ended up divorced. It’s not an encouraging statistic.

“Lia and Nero were far from a perfect couple. It wasn’t uncommon for me to pass by their quarters and hear the sound of vases being smashed against the wall.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

“My dear, if the walls of this old palace could talk. I’m amazed none of the staff ever wrote a tell-all book.”

“Does Dante know about this?”

“No,” she says, looking alarmed. “And you shouldn’t tell him. Poor child was only ten when they died, he shouldn’t be burdened with the knowledge that they weren’t happy. I don’t know what kind of ideas he has about marriage – he’s never really been around a proper one.”

“What about his sister and brother-in-law?” I ask. “Adriana and Albert looked after him for almost a decade.”

“Yes, and they sacrificed their own family because of it. Adriana didn’t become pregnant with the twins until she’d been married for over ten years.”

Isabella leans in and lowers her voice. “She never told me in so many words, but I’m almost positive they were unplanned.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked by a bull. Does Dante know all this? How could he not, when he grew up around all of it?

“I’m sure that’s why poor Dante grew into his playboy lifestyle,” she says, sipping her wine. “Without a strong male role model, he simply didn’t know how to treat a woman. I think it’s a curse we’ve seen many times among royals.”

She’s right. Tabloid covers have been plastered for decades with stories of royal men who’ve cheated on their princesses.

But Dante’s not like that. His image was crafted to protect the kids. Maria told me as much.

“I think he’s more resilient than you give him credit for,” I say. “He’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman with me, and I plan to be with him for a very long time.”

“Yes,” she says. “I’m sure Diana felt the same way about Charles. But good for you, darling. I admire your optimism.”

She talks more about something, but I don’t hear it. All I can focus on is Diana’s face. That sweet smile always seemed to be masking the hurt behind her eyes.

Is that what the future has in store for me?

“This cake is dreadful,” Isabella mumbles. “I really need to speak with Maria about the kitchen.”

“I’m sorry, Auntie, will you excuse me? I’m afraid I have to run.”

“Of course, darling. What’s so urgent, if I might ask?”

“Dante and I are taking my father and the children to Rome,” I smile. “We’re going to show them the ruins. My dad’s idea of historic is something that’s a hundred years old; I can’t wait to show him what a few thousand looks like.”

Isabella smiles. “He’s a unique man, your father. I’ve never met anyone like him.”

“Funny,” I say. “Dad said the same thing about you.” But not in a good way.

“Don’t let me keep you, then,” she says. “But do think about what we’ve discussed here. I don’t want to frighten you, not at all. But I want you to go into this with your eyes open. The life you lead now is not like life on the ranch back in Missouri.”

“Montana,” I say absently.

“Yes, of course. Arrivederci, darling.”

As she walks away, my eyes wander to the enormous diamond on my ring finger. He wouldn’t have given me his mother’s ring if he weren’t serious about our marriage. Right?

Or is that just another Trentini tradition that’s been drilled into him?

I hear a ding from my purse and take out my phone to see a text from Dante: Getting ready to leave. Hope you survived lunch. RU on UR way?

Just leaving I text back.

As I drop my phone back in my purse and head back towards the palace, I can’t help wondering how many other women have the number I just texted to.