FOR ONCE, ANTONIETTA was up long after the Silibri sun.
Dizzy from lack of sleep, they had crashed at dawn.
Last night Rafe had hit the proverbial snooze button on his mental alarm.
This morning Antonietta had hit the real one.
Outside the warm bed the room was cold, so it had been easy—too easy—to give in to the arm that pulled her into his warmth and drift back to sleep.
‘Shall I open the drapes for you, Signor Dupont?’
The sound of Francesca’s voice jolted Antonietta awake, although her eyes did not open. Rafe’s hand tightened on her bare arm and she lay as if set in stone, with her heart fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest.
‘No,’ Rafe said. ‘That will be all.’ And then he added, ‘Thank you.’
Antonietta heard the bedroom door close and it felt like for ever until the main door opened and shut. Only then did she sit up and let out a low moan. ‘Francesca knew I was here.’
‘Of course she didn’t. You could have been anyone,’ Rafe said. ‘The lights are not on...’
‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘Francesca is the manager. She doesn’t bring guests their coffee—not even royal ones. She knew I was here...’
‘How?’
‘She’s been checking on me.’
Antonietta climbed out of bed, pulled a throw from the top of it and wrapped it around her. ‘That day when she suddenly came to check your suite with me...’
‘You’re reading too much into things,’ Rafe said with stoic calm even as she dashed into the lounge.
‘No, Rafe, I’m not.’
Francesca knew—of that Antonietta was certain.
‘Did you fold my uniform after you removed it from me?’ Antonietta asked as he joined her in the lounge. ‘Did you carefully place it over the chair?’
His hand came down on her shoulder and he turned her to face him. Of course he had not.
He wrapped her in a strong embrace. Her head was on his chest and she listened to the steady thud, thud, thud of his heart and wished hers could match it.
‘I will speak with Nico,’ Rafe said.
‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘I don’t need you to do me any favours. I will handle it myself.’ She pulled her head from his chest.
‘You don’t have to.’
‘Of course I do.’ She removed herself from the haven of his arms. ‘How can your intervening possibly help? You weren’t the one caught—that was me...’
‘Antonietta...’ Rafe attempted reason. ‘It was both of us.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘You can sleep with whomever you choose, Rafe.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘And from everything I’ve heard you frequently do.’
‘Don’t do this, Antonietta,’ Rafe warned. ‘Don’t turn this into something cheap.’
But in her head Antonietta already had.
She had struggled to justify sleeping with Rafe even to herself, while all the time knowing that it could go nowhere. In the cold light of day she saw it was impossible to defend it now—especially to others.
She showered quickly and then dressed in her uniform, and came out to find Rafe lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, looking grim.
‘I don’t blame you,’ Antonietta said, ‘I should have set the alarm...’
‘Why does blame have to be apportioned?’ Rafe asked.
‘Because we are in Silibri,’ Antonietta said. ‘Finding someone to blame is our national sport.’
‘Antonietta,’ Rafe said. ‘I won’t let you lose your job because of me...’
Damn, he hadn’t even told her he was leaving today.
‘I’ve lost more than my job to you, Rafe.’
‘You speak as if you were an unwilling participant.’ His voice came out defensive and derisive, as it tended to when he was feeling caught out.
‘I’m talking about my virginity,’ Antonietta replied, loathing her own tone, but she felt caught out too.
He didn’t know what to do as she flounced off. His immediate thought was to call Nico and put in a word, but he knew she would hate that. Or he could head down and apologise to Francesca...
Rafe felt as if he was back at school.
And then the weight of his own problems arrived at his door.
Antonietta would have barely made it through the cloister when there came a heavy knock.
It was his RPO, looking grim. ‘You are to call the palace.’
‘I have already spoken with the King,’ Rafe responded tartly. He did not need to be told again that it was time for him to leave.
But he had not understood the message.
‘It is the Queen who wishes to speak with you.’
Rafe could not remember a time when his mother had requested to speak with him, and for a moment he felt ice run down his spine. It must be bad news. His mother never called. Not during his schooling, nor when he was injured.
So rare was this request that by the time he had been put through to the palace Rafe had almost convinced himself that his father must be on his deathbed and he was about to become King.
Not now, Rafe thought. Not like this.
‘Rafael.’
His mother’s tone gave him no clue—it was brusque and efficient as always.
‘I spoke with your father at length last night.’
‘He is well?’ Rafe checked.
‘Of course he is.’ Marcelle sounded irritated. ‘Rafe, I understand you are involved with someone?’
‘Yes.’
‘I have heard your father’s poor advice to you.’
For a second he thought he had an ally. That possibly his mother was on his side. But this was not a gentle lead-in. There was no preamble with the Ice Queen.
‘End things with her and do it immediately.’
‘That’s your advice?’
‘Of course,’ Marcelle said. ‘Or would you prefer your father’s suggestion to keep her on call? It is doable, of course,’ Marcelle said. ‘I should know.’
Rafe drew in a breath and found that he was holding it. His mother had never discussed his father’s ways. At least not with Rafe.
‘You took her to Capri?’ Marcelle checked.
‘I did.’
‘You can take her there again...’
Rafe frowned.
‘But I will tell you this much, Rafe,’ his mother said. ‘Your wife must never set foot on that island.’
Rafe had always found his mother cold. In that moment he knew she burnt with humiliation and pain.
‘I would never do that to my wife.’
‘Good,’ Marcelle said. ‘Because right now your future wife is being chosen and your engagement is to be announced on New Year’s Day. Do as I suggest, and end it with this woman cleanly and quietly. Leave her in no doubt that the two of you are completely through.’
* * *
For Antonietta it was quite a walk of shame to Francesca’s office.
Yes, she had lost more than her virginity to Rafe. She had lost her pride. For there was little pride to be salvaged when you were found in an eminent guest’s bed. But more than that she had lost her heart to Rafe, and that was the part that hurt the most.
It came to her then that this would never have happened had she not been falling in love.
She pressed her eyes closed on that thought as she knocked at Francesca’s door.
‘Come in.’
Francesca’s voice was hostile and so were her eyes as Antonietta stepped in and closed the door.
‘Are you here to deliver your resignation?’ Francesca asked.
‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘I am here to apologise. I know it looks terrible, but—’
‘Don’t make excuses,’ Francesca broke in. ‘It is forbidden for staff to fraternise or offer favours to guests for reward. Signor Caruso is very clear on that fact.’
‘Yes, but I was not offering favours. Aurora knows and—’
‘Oh, that’s right—you are friends with the boss’s wife.’ Francesca again cut her off. ‘Very well. You can tell your friend that Nico shall have my resignation by lunchtime.’
‘No,’ Antonietta protested. ‘Why would you leave because of me?’
The very thought that Francesca would resign over this appalled Antonietta, who knew the manager loved her work. Francesca worked both day and night, greeting their most esteemed guests, ensuring that every detail of their stay was perfect. She couldn’t understand why her actions might force Francesca out.
‘If I’d wanted to be a madam then I would have applied for a job at Rubina’s.’
Rubina’s was the bordello in the next village.
‘I am not a whore,’ Antonietta said. ‘I am not being paid or anything like that...’
‘Oh, please,’ Francesca sneered. ‘I don’t believe you for a moment.’
‘But it’s true,’ Antonietta insisted, and then admitted a truth she had been trying to resist until now. ‘It has nothing to do with money. I love him.’
There was silence from both of them at the enormity of her words, for Francesca knew that Antonietta was not one for passionate declarations.
‘Oh, Antonietta...’ Francesca sighed. ‘You foolish, foolish girl.’
But she said it kindly, and Antonietta knew that Francesca really cared. In truth, she ached for a more mature woman’s advice. ‘Why foolish?’
‘I thought that you at least knew what you were doing and that it was a business arrangement.’
‘You’d rather that he was paying me?’
‘Yes,’ Francesca admitted. ‘I’d rather that than you give your heart to a man who is using you.’
‘But he isn’t using me.’
‘No—you offered yourself to him on a plate.’
She had.
Antonietta’s eyes screwed closed as realisation started to hit and she recalled that first night, outside her cottage, and her reaction to her very first kiss. Take me to bed. It had felt at the time as necessary and straightforward as that.
‘Sit down, Antonietta,’ Francesca said gently.
She offered tissues, and poured water, and then pulled her chair around so she sat next to Antonietta.
The older woman took her hand. ‘I won’t tell anyone, and neither will I lose my job over this, or you yours, but there is a condition.’
‘What?’
‘You are to go and tell Signor Dupont—or rather, Crown Prince Rafael—that you have kept your job only on the condition that, after your conversation, you will never speak to him again.’
Antonietta swallowed.
‘You are not to be in his suite and he is not to come to your home. There will be no more contact between the two of you.’
‘But—’
Francesca spoke over her. ‘And after you tell him that I can guarantee that within hours he will leave. Crown Prince Rafael was not expected to stay here for even a few days. I was told that as soon as he was even partway healed he would grow bored and fly out.’
‘He didn’t leave, though.’
‘Of course not. He was getting sex and nightly entertainment. Tell me, Antonietta, why would he leave?’
‘It wasn’t like that—’
‘It was exactly like that, and I should know,’ Francesca said. ‘I was taken advantage of by a man a year after my husband left me. I’m guessing that you were lonely?’
Antonietta opened her mouth to argue, but the truth was she had been lonely—desperately so. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But Rafe did not take advantage of that fact. I was complicit.’
‘You were out of your depth,’ Francesca countered. ‘He is a notorious playboy. Have you not seen him in the scandal rags?’ Francesca answered her own question. ‘Of course not—you wouldn’t read them. But, Antonietta, not all gossip is bad. It can serve as a warning.’
‘I doubt I would have heeded any warning.’
Antonietta thought back and knew that there might have been a group of protesters on the lawn that first night, as she had walked to his suite, and they could have been holding placards attesting to his reputation, and still she would not have let go of his hand.
‘He told me from the start it could go nowhere...’
‘Of course not.’
‘Even before I knew who he was.’
‘And now that you do, be the one to end it.’
Francesca gave her shy and somewhat naive chambermaid a little cuddle, and felt angry on her behalf—and not just with Prince Rafael.
‘Antonietta, for what it is worth, I will not tell your mother.’
‘I don’t care any more.’
She would have dreaded that a short while ago, but no longer. She had spent these last years frozen at age twenty-one, desperate to reclaim their approval.
‘I cannot keep apologising for being me.’
‘No,’ Francesca said. ‘And neither should you. I think your parents’ treatment of you has been terrible and I have told your mother the same. We are no longer speaking.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No more saying sorry,’ Francesca said.
‘One more apology,’ Antonietta replied.
In the last hour she had learnt many lessons, and she now felt all of her twenty-six years. She knew that Francesca was being stern out of kindness and to protect her.
‘I will always be Aurora’s best friend, but I will never use that friendship again. At work, I answer only to you.’
‘Thank you,’ Francesca said.
It felt right. And for a moment the world felt a lot better than it had in recent years. But now came the hard part. The hardest part.
To let Rafe go with grace and not let him see the agony in her heart.
* * *
Antonietta knocked on the door, and instead of being called to come in, or using her swipe card, this time Rafe opened it.
He wore black jeans and a black shirt and was unshaven, yet somehow he seemed so immaculate and regal that Antonietta wondered how she had not known he was royal on sight.
‘Come in,’ Rafe said. ‘How did you get on?’
‘Okay, I think,’ Antonietta said.
And because she felt as if her knees might give way she chose to take a seat opposite the chair on which Francesca had folded her uniform dress, on the sofa on which they had made love the previous evening.
‘I have assured her that it will never happen again.’
‘You are hardly going to make a habit of sleeping with the guests.’
‘I think she understands that it won’t happen again. And I won’t be coming to your suite again.’
Rafe actually opened his mouth to dispute that. To wave his royal wand, or rather have things smoothed over, but to what end?
He was leaving, and it was far better to end it now. Cleanly. He did not want to follow his father’s example.
Rafe glimpsed it then—a future for them of the kind his father had described. He could return to Silibri at every whim. Take out a permanent lease on the August Suite...
No. Better he followed his mother’s example and killed this now.
Or let her think that she had.
‘Perhaps that would be for the best.’ His voice was steady and he watched her rapid blinking.
‘So I’m dismissed?’ Antonietta could not keep the hurt at his cold reply from her voice.
‘You are the one saying that you won’t be returning to my suite,’ Rafe pointed out. ‘You are the one saying that you cannot see me any more.’
‘Yes, but...’ She had hoped for some protest, some indication—any indication—that this was hurting him even a fraction of how much it was killing her. Yet he seemed unmoved.
‘I told you this could go nowhere.’
‘You did, but...’
That but again. He could hear her attempting to defend them. Worse, he was still glimpsing that future.
And so he killed it, with brutal but necessary words, for he could not drag it out any longer. ‘I am to marry,’ Rafe said. ‘My engagement will be announced in the New Year.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘At least I have the difficult conversation, Antonietta. At least I don’t run from it.’
‘That’s unfair.’
‘Why? Would you prefer it if I just take off and leave and then write you a letter in a few months, explaining my actions? Would you prefer that I return in five years and expect to resume where we left off?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So what do you want, Antonietta?’ he asked. ‘You tell me that you are no longer coming to my suite and yet you secretly want me to dissuade you?’
‘No!’ she protested, but that wasn’t quite true. ‘Perhaps...’ she conceded.
Her honesty floored him and made it hard to remain cold, for he could see the confusion in her eyes.
Cleanly, Rafe.
He didn’t want it to be over, though. And neither did she.
‘One moment.’
He went into the bedroom and from the dresser there removed a slim black velvet box. Then he returned to the lounge and handed it to her.
Antonietta opened it with some difficulty, for she could feel him watching her. She refused to gasp, but held her breath when she saw the gorgeous pendant, with a stone so bold and blue that for a moment she could imagine she was back in the Blue Grotto.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but I cannot accept it.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘No.’ She held out the box to him but he refused to take it, so she placed it on the desk. ‘Rafe, I don’t know its value, but I am certain that sapphire would buy me a house—not that I would ever sell it.’
He did not tell her that it was a rare blue diamond. Instead he let her speak.
‘But how on earth could I keep it?’ She looked at him. ‘When my life moves on, am I to wear it for special occasions? Perhaps on my wedding day?’
His jaw ground down.
‘No,’ she answered her own question. ‘For that would be crass. So just on dates, or birthdays, or whatever? Or do I buy a safe? And when my lover asks how I came upon it do I tell him that for a few nights I slept with a prince?’
She looked at him, this girl with the saddest eyes, but still there were no tears.
‘I don’t think that would go down too well.’
She held it out but still he did not take it from her.
‘Please, Rafe, don’t mark the end of us with this.’
‘Take it, Antonietta. Sell it if you have to.’
‘I already told you—I refuse to be your whore.’
She stood and placed the box on an occasional table.
‘I’m going.’ No more kisses, no promises, just one plea. ‘Don’t get in touch with me. Don’t enquire about me from Aurora or Nico. Don’t keep me on a thread.’
And so he did what Antonietta wanted and what his mother had suggested—he pushed them to the point of no return.
‘That’s very conceited of you, Antonietta. I won’t even remember your name by the middle of next week. Certainly I won’t be looking you up for a replay. You weren’t that good.’
Ah, yes, Antonietta thought, he warned me how cold he would be at the end.
But she had so little to compare this with—so little to go on apart from her heart, which was braver than she. So she walked over to him and looked up to meet his eyes.
And as it turned out she could have the difficult conversation.
‘Liar.’
She was met with silence.
‘I’m going to get on with my life now.’
She walked out of his suite and there, waiting in the cloister, was Francesca.
‘I’m proud of you,’ Francesca said.
‘So am I,’ Antonietta admitted.
And so too was Rafe.
* * *
‘I hope you have had a wonderful stay,’ said the concierge.
‘Indeed,’ Rafe replied, and handed Pino a handwritten note of thanks, as a royal prince was expected to do to someone who had taken such care to ensure his every demand had been met. ‘Thank you for your help. The running route you suggested was most excellent.’
‘It was a favourite of mine.’
‘Was?’ Rafe checked.
‘I used to walk there with Rosa.’
Ah, yes, Rafe recalled that Pino had lost his wife earlier this year. What was it with this place? Usually he did not get involved in staff’s lives or dramas.
‘It’s still beautiful,’ Rafe said.
‘Not without Rosa,’ Pino responded, and held out his hand to the Prince. ‘It’s been a pleasure having you at the Old Monastery, and I know we are all looking forward to your return.’
But he would not be returning.
Like Pino, the thought of being here without his love meant Silibri had lost its charm.
Love?
Instantly he refuted that. His life would still be beautiful without Antonietta, Rafe told himself. He would return to his country and marry a suitable woman, if it pleased the people, and then he would have the power he required for the changes he craved.
He would no longer be the reckless Playboy Prince.
And Antonietta would move on with her life.
* * *
She had been expecting that sound.
Chi-Chi was eating a guest’s grapes in one of the standard suites as Antonietta switched off the vacuum. She could hear the whirr of the rotors in the distance and headed to the window.
First she saw Pino and one of the bell boys, carrying luggage, and then she saw Rafe, running across the ground and bounding up into the helicopter.
‘He’s leaving, then,’ Chi-Chi said with a distinct lack of interest.
Antonietta didn’t have the energy to respond, and she watched as it lifted into the sky until it was just a tiny black dot on the horizon.
Without his ‘amusement’ Rafe had not even seen out the day...