“ARE YOU SURE you’re all right, sweetheart? You haven’t been yourself since we left New York.”
That was because she’d left part of herself behind. Noting the worry in her father’s eyes, Arianna replaced the thought with a smile. “I’m fine, Father. Just a bit jet-lagged from the time change, that’s all.”
Her acting skills needed work because her father did not look convinced. “I wish you would tell me what is going on. You know Armando and I would do whatever we can to help.”
“I know.” Sadly, there was not much they could do.
After they had left Max, she’d told her father to head straight to the airport rather than stop to retrieve her luggage. The few pieces of clothing she left behind weren’t worth the hardship of visiting Max’s apartment. There was no way she would be able to maintain her composure while being assaulted by memories. While it had only been a few days, in her mind it felt like a lifetime. There’d been such an overwhelming sense of rightness to sharing breakfast with him, or sitting next to him on the sofa.
If her father had suspected the yearning behind her suggestion, he said nothing.
She hadn’t told him about the baby yet, either. Almost did, on the plane, but she changed her mind at the last minute. In spite of everything, she felt as though Manolo deserved to hear the news first.
Hugging her midsection, she wandered from her seat on Father’s sofa to the large bay window. Corinthia was readying for the holidays. The grounds crew was hanging garlands of evergreen along the palace walls. The interior had already been decorated. The tree had been erected in the archway and candles had been placed in the windows. Next door, in her mother’s music room, a large spray of green sat atop the grand piano.
As they did every year, the designers had outdone themselves. The palace was a Christmas wonderland of red, gold and purple.
It all paled in comparison to cheap store-bought garlands and a misshapen piece of plastic.
And tomorrow, when Father lit the palace tree and announced to Corinthia that the holidays had begun, it, too, would be lacking because it wasn’t a snowy afternoon in Rockefeller Center, and Max wouldn’t be standing behind her.
Oh, Max. She pressed her forehead against the glass. Marry me. His words refused to leave her alone. Every time she thought about the baby or Manolo, there they were, clear and strong. Marry me.
Why did he have to say anything? Why couldn’t he have remained silent and simply let her go, instead of teasing her with an unachievable fantasy?
The soft knock on the door made her stomach drop. Fate had arrived. Taking a deep breath, she recovered her composure in time to see her brother’s secretary, Rosa, step inside. “I’m sorry to bother you, Your Highness, but Signor Tutuola is here to see Princess Arianna.”
“Manolo?” Her father’s face brightened at the announcement, making her anxiety worse. “That is a surprise. How did he find out you had returned?”
“I called and asked him to come,” she told him.
Her father smiled. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased to hear it. I always thought the two of you made an attractive couple.”
“I know.” Even now, there was a smile on Father’s face, eclipsing the concern that had been there the past thirty-six hours. She could but imagine how happy he would be about her and Manolo marrying.
Her father happy and her child’s life scandal-free. That’s why she was doing this.
“You can send him in, Rosa,” she said.
When Father said they made an attractive couple, it wasn’t parental bias. Manolo Tutuola was a handsome man, more runway model than industrialist. His sandy brown hair was perfectly styled, as was his closely cropped beard. When they first met, Arianna had been impressed by his sense of fashion. In a room full of men in dark suits, his flashier, continental style stood out.
That was before she’d learned what the right man could do with a simple dark suit.
Manolo flowed into the salon, and immediately bowed to her father. No extended hand for him. His protocol was flawless.
“It’s good to see you again,” her father said, nodding in return. “Arianna just told me she asked you to pay us a visit.”
“And I was thrilled that she did. I’ve missed you,” he said, bowing in her direction. She could see him struggling not to frown as he took in her dark hair. “You look lovely, as always.”
Arianna nodded in return. She had bags under her eyes and was not wearing an ounce of makeup, not to mention that she had a foreign hair color, all of which left his sincerity open to question. “Father, would you mind if Manolo and I had a few moments alone?”
“Not at all, sweetheart. I need to speak with Armando before our meeting with the minister of finance anyway. Manolo, it is good to see you again. Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to talk afterward.”
“I’d enjoy that, Your Majesty. Would you please give Signor Baldecci my best as well? I found the interview he gave the Italian press to be quite insightful.”
“I will be sure to let him know. I will see you later as well, sweetheart.”
As her father leaned in to kiss her cheek, Arianna couldn’t help but think it a seal of approval. “Have a good meeting, Father,” she said with a smile. Manolo bowed his goodbye.
Once the door shut, he turned to look at her again, his dark eyes shining triumphantly. “I’m glad you called, Arianna. I was afraid you were going to let our misunderstanding drive a wedge between us.”
“Would that be the misunderstanding where you slept with another woman?” she admonished. Crossing her arms, she marched back to her place at the window.
“I told you, Maria is just a friend who needed a place to stay. I was helping her out of a difficult situation.”
“And I suppose her panties happened to appear in your bed completely by accident.
“Our laundry...”
“That’s enough, Manolo.” Did he really expect her to believe he was playing the Good Samaritan? A real Samaritan did not limit his good deeds to models and aspiring actresses.
He might as well learn right now that she would not be patronized. “I spoke to Maria, and I know all about your extracurricular activities. Frankly, I find your behavior, and your lies, adolescent at best.”
One could call the added comment adolescent on her part as well. Considering how the man had humiliated her, however, she was owed at least one insult. The sight of his face darkening with embarrassment left a warm feeling.
It was a short-lived victory at best. Before she had a chance to say another word, he’d crossed the room to join her. “Not so childish that you didn’t call and request that I visit,” he replied. “Is that because you missed our...closeness as much as I did?”
She shivered as he ran an index finger along her arm. Not a good shiver, like the ones that traveled through her whenever Max came near had been, but rather a cold tremor that left a sour taste behind.
“I have missed you, Arianna,” he whispered. “More than you can imagine. Just the other night I was thinking of you... How lucky I was to have you in my bed. A poor, humble servant.” Lifting her hand, he brushed his lips across her knuckles.
Throughout, Arianna kept her eyes on his face and noticed that his eyes never once changed expression. There was no sign of sincerity. There wasn’t even a flicker of desire. At least not on an emotional level.
No wonder instinct told her something was off about him. The man was a total phony.
“I didn’t call because I missed your bed,” she said, snatching her hand back. “I called because you and I needed to talk.”
“All right.” Taking the rejection in his stride, he leaned against the window molding. The shoulder pads of his jacket shifted, giving him a cockeyed posture. “What did you want to talk about?”
Time to bite the bullet. Arianna breathed in deeply. “I’m pregnant.”
For several seconds, Manolo said nothing. “Does your father know?” he asked finally.
“Not yet. I thought...” The words tasted stale on her tongue, forcing her to swallow and start again. “I thought we could tell him together.”
“Yes. That makes sense. Good thinking.” He paced away, toward the center of the room. “He’ll be displeased that we took so long to tell him, of course, but I can say you were afraid something was wrong, and didn’t want to get his hopes up until you knew everything was going to be all right.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “How far along are you anyway?”
“Nine and a half weeks.”
“Great.” Resuming his pacing, he began working something out in his head. “It’ll be tight, but we should be able to fit in a wedding. You will definitely need to watch your diet. Plump up too much and it will show in the photographs. Although, the right designer gown should be able to camouflage any protrusion.”
Camouflage? Gown? “Surely, you’re not talking about having a state wedding.” Considering the circumstances, would it not be better to have a small, family-only ceremony?
“Of course we’re having a state wedding. We are Corinthia’s most prominent couple. We can’t marry with anything less than pomp and circumstance. What would people think?”
“That you wanted to keep things intimate?”
He waved her answer away with a scoff. “Are you serious? Intimate is for commoners. A royal wedding is supposed to make a statement.”
Wasn’t he making a statement already? Arianna’s insides deflated. She perched on the windowsill, and wondered how long it would take for her to shrivel up and die. Not once had Manolo expressed any interest in the baby itself. He didn’t even ask about her changed appearance. In fact, so focused was he on the logistics of their prospective union that she could have left the room without him noticing.
She didn’t expect him to greet the news with hearts and flowers, but surely he could show some curiosity about his child.
“I heard the baby’s heartbeat.”
Manolo barely looked up at her announcement. “Good for you.”
“You don’t care how it went?”
He stopped his pacing to look at her. “I am sure if there was a problem, you would have told me. By the way, if we are smart, we will have the palace press office drop a few hints to the papers about an engagement. It is important that we avoid looking as though I had to marry you.”
“Even though you did,” Arianna muttered.
“Yes, but the world does not need to know that. I do business with a number of conservative countries. I do not want to give them the wrong impression.”
By all means, let them protect his reputation.
Look at him, she thought, ratting off tactics like a man planning an acquisition. Wasn’t he, though? Had he not won the lifetime rights to the royal family? The prize he worked so hard to attain with his charm and ingratiating behavior?
She was wrong about there being no emotion in his eyes. They gleamed with triumph.
Marry me.
She closed her eyes as Max’s final plea mocked her. This was what she wanted, she reminded herself. A marriage that wouldn’t haunt her with if-onlys. There would never be any doubt as to Manolo’s feelings toward her. Or lack thereof. It was a cold and lonely future, but what did it matter? Without Max, her future would be cold and lonely anyway.
Suddenly, she saw herself ten years down the road, angry and alone with a child desperate for its father’s attention. That was the future she was creating for her child. A life full of misery for both of them. Two unhappy people living for duty. No love. No warmth besides what they gave each other.
She thought of a woman living a joyless Christmas and a son longing to buy a tree.
Her child deserved better.
“I can’t do this,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I can’t.”
Manolo stopped his pacing and stared at her. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he’d forgotten she was in the room. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “What is it that you cannot do?”
“Marry you.”
“Don’t be silly. You and I are having a child. We have to marry. Your father would expect no less.”
“My father will have to understand.” At least she prayed that he would. Either way, the die was cast. Having spoken the words, there was no way she would take them back. No way she wanted to. Free of responsibility’s mantle, she felt lighter. Truer to herself. “Because there is no way I am marrying you. Not now, not ever.”
“But...” When she looked back, she would probably chuckle over the stunned expression on Manolo’s face. He looked as though he had been struck. This was a man who was used to succeeding. “But the baby.”
“I would never keep the baby from its father. You may have as big a role in its life as you wish. Always. Just not as my husband.”
“Hardly see the point otherwise.”
The words were barely a whisper as he ran a hand over his face, but they were loud enough for Arianna. Her child definitely deserved better than this man. Filled with the rightness of her decision, she drew herself to full height and gave Manolo the most imperial glare she could muster. “You may go now. My secretary will keep you informed of the baby’s progress.”
Leaving him in the living room, she turned and disappeared into the music room.
* * *
She decided to play Chopin’s Nocturne in C minor. The desolate-sounding concerto seemed an appropriate choice for a woman who had dismissed the father of her unborn child, was about to shame her family and was in love with a man who didn’t love her back.
Mostly she played because of Max. Playing piano no longer reminded her only of her mother. Memories of playing in New York joined the mix. When her hands drifted over the keys, it was his smile of approval that she pictured. That smile was the moment when everything had begun to change. When the nerves that had been plaguing her started to shift into something more.
As for sending Manolo away, the moment she heard him mutter those words, she knew she’d done the right thing. Just as she refused Max’s proposal because she didn’t want to spend her days wishing he loved her, she could not marry Manolo and subject their child to the same fate. Better to live in disgrace than let her child be raised by a man who didn’t love it.
Finally, she knew the answer to her no-win situation. Too bad she had to break her heart to figure it out.
Which brought her thoughts full circle back to Max. Closing her eyes, she ran through every detail of their week together. The way his voice rumbled in his chest when he stood close. How the snow dotted his hair with tiny drops of water. The warm, safe feeling she got whenever he wrapped his arms around her.
Then, after she’d remembered everything, she folded the memories up into a tiny square and forced them into the back of her mind. From here on in, she would use what was left of her heart to be the best mother possible.
“It is good to hear music in these rooms again.” At the sound of her father’s voice, she opened her eyes. He stood in the doorway.
“It has been a long time since you played,” he said. “Such a sad song, though, for this time of year.”
Arianna switched to a carol, one of his favorites. “Better?”
“Much,” he said, coming to stand behind her. She felt him press a kiss on top of her head. “It’s good to have you home.”
“It’s good to be home,” she replied, smiling. On the inside, however, she was far from cheerful, knowing this was nothing more than a brief moment of tranquility. She’d postponed the inevitable long enough.
Meanwhile, her father sat down on the settee a few feet away. It was the same piece of furniture she had sometimes napped on while her mother practiced. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father unbutton his jacket and settle back against the cushion.
“How was your meeting with the financial minister?” She didn’t really care; it was a way of avoiding the subjects she should be discussing.
“Very well. Armando has developed a real knowledge of fiscal policy. He’s going to make a very good king when I decide to step down.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Her brother took his position as heir apparent as seriously as she took her own as princess. More, actually. He would never have run off from his responsibilities. Even during the darkest days of his grief, he managed to fulfill his duties.
Had he been in her shoes, Armando no doubt would have married Manolo, too.
Her father made himself more comfortable. “I am surprised to find you alone. I assumed Manolo would be with you when I returned. Did something happen?”
Arianna’s fingers slipped, and she hit a wrong note. Fortunately, Father didn’t notice. “It was good to see him,” he continued. “For a while, I thought the two of you might be having problems.
“Or are you still?” he asked after a pause.
It was time to stop running. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her hands on her skirt and turned to face the one man whose opinion had always meant the world to her. “Manolo and I are no longer seeing each other,” she said.
“Oh.” The corners of his mouth turned downward in disappointment.
Arianna bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Father. I know you liked him.”
“Very much,” he replied. “I had hoped... That is, Manolo had hinted the two of you...”
“Manolo might have hoped,” she said, shaking her head. “But no.”
“Really? Here I thought you were fond of him.”
“I tried to be.” Lord knew she tried.
It was clearly not the answer her father expected, because the lines on his forehead grew more pronounced. “What do you mean ‘you tried’?”
“I knew how much our being a couple meant to you. I wanted things to work out between us so that you would be happy, but in the end...”
Rising from the bench, she walked to the left-hand side of the room, where there hung a series of seventeenth-century panels by an artist whose name she never could remember. “Manolo isn’t the man we thought he was.” She told him about Maria and the other women. “He was more interested in currying your favor than he ever was in courting me.”
“That—” Behind her, she could hear the settee cushions crinkle as her father’s posture stiffened. “I treated him like a member of this family, and this is how he pays me back? By mistreating you? If I had known...”
There was another pause, and a few moments later, he was on her side of the room, drawing her into a hug. It felt disingenuous accepting the embrace, but Arianna relaxed into it anyway.
“This is why you went to New York, isn’t it?” he asked. “Because of Manolo?”
“Yes...” She broke free of his arms. “And no.” There was only one way to deliver the news, and that was as quickly as possible. With her hand on her stomach for strength, she looked him in the eye and said, “I’m pregnant.”
You could hear a pin drop. Arianna watched as her father’s expression changed from disbelief to the anger and disappointment she’d been dreading. Seeing it stabbed as deeply as she knew it would, and she ached to take it away.
“Pregnant,” he finally repeated.
“I’m sorry, Father.” It was the best she could do. Tears threatened to burn her eyes, but she blinked them away. Regardless of how badly his disappointment hurt, she needed to stay strong.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice said Max would be proud of her for doing so.
Letting out what sounded like a low growl, he started pacing. “Manolo. He knows?”
“Yes, he does. And before you say anything, I have already told him that I would not marry him. I can’t. Not knowing the kind of person he is.”
She held up her hand before her father could interject. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve let you down, and I know it breaks with every tradition Corinthia has ever had, but please understand. I can’t let my child grow up with a father who only loves himself. If I can’t have a marriage like yours and Mama’s, then I don’t want any marriage at all. I would rather leave Corinthia than—”
“Leave Corinthia? What are you talking about?”
“To avoid a scandal. I know tradition expects me to—”
Her father stared at her in disbelief. “And you think I would ask you to leave Corinthia because of that?” he asked. “Never.”
“But, the baby would be...”
“My grandchild. And you would still be my daughter. I will admit, this is not the path I expected your life to take, but I would never want you to spend your life married to a man you didn’t love.” Drawing close, he cradled her face in his hands. “Your happiness is far more important to me than any tradition or scandal that might erupt. Surely you know that.”
Your father would want you to be happy. That was what Max had said.
She closed her eyes before the tears could break free. “I’ve been so stupid,” she whispered.
“No, my darling daughter, I am the one who was stupid for letting you think even for a second that you had to sacrifice your happiness,” her father said, gathering her in his arms.
With his arms tight around her shoulders, Arianna finally let loose the tears she’d been fighting. Outside in the courtyard, the workers were hollering about the decorations; she could hear them through the window. At the moment, though, all that mattered was that she had been afraid for nothing. She cried a little harder, this time for her foolishness.
“It’s all right,” her father said. He rubbed small circles on her back. “The three of us, you, me and Armando, we will deal with Manolo and any scandal he might cause. Because you are right. You should not settle for anything less than what your mother and I had.”
At that, Arianna had to sniff back a fresh batch of tears. Beautiful as his words were, they made her feel more foolish. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” she said, breaking out of his embrace once more.
“Why is that?”
Suddenly, the commotion she’d heard outside grew closer. No, this was a different commotion, coming from the corridor outside the salon. “Is someone arguing with Armando?” she asked. The two of them headed into the salon, just in time to see the door fly open.
“Call the damn national guard if you want. I’m going in there,” the intruder barked.
Arianna gasped.
There, in the doorway, his coat half off his shoulders, stood a wild-eyed Max Brown. “You and I need to talk,” he said.