HOLIDAY ROYALE (8 page)

And then they both turned and went back to where Vesuvia was laughing and tossing her head in front of the red car.

Dami wrapped an arm around Lucy’s shoulder, drew her close to his side and spoke softly in her ear. “We want to keep the Montedoro in the news. Unfortunately, that means I have to try to say yes to any and all shameless photo ops whenever the car happens to be involved.”

Lucy didn’t like it. And it annoyed her that she didn’t like it. She kind of did feel jealous after all. Ugh. Jealousy was not in her plan.

Dami did the loveliest thing then. He pressed his lips against her hair, just above her right ear. “Luce? Are you all right?”

Really, she had to stop crushing on him. It just wasn’t fair, wasn’t part of their arrangement. She put on a bright voice. “Of course. I get it.” And she did. He and Vesuvia might or might not be through, but pictures of them together would fuel rumors about them and their stormy relationship. The pictures would make all the tabloids—and the Montedoro would be in all the pictures. “Go ahead with your photo op. I’m just going to look around the other exhibits a little.”

He pulled her close again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His lips were warm and soft and a thrill went through her. She felt the affection in that brushing caress. At the same time, she couldn’t help thinking,
Oh, Dami. On the forehead? Way to make me feel like a child.

Still, she met his eyes one more time and smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world. And then she left him so he could go and pose with his ex.

She headed for the Hall of Tapestries, trotting as fast as her mermaid hem would allow, determined to make a quick escape from the South Gallery. But she wasn’t quite quick enough. As she passed under the wide arch that got her out of there, she spotted Noah and Alice coming straight for her.

They saw her. What else could she do but deal with them? If she took off running, Noah would assume there must be something bothering her. And then when he got into the gallery and saw Dami and Vesuvia together, he would guess what that something was.

He might get mad about it in his protective big-brother way. Or he might just feel sorry for her because she’d been crushing on Dami and look where that had gotten her. Neither of those possibilities was acceptable. Okay, maybe she wasn’t gorgeous and sophisticated with perfect breasts and legs for days. She had other things going for her. Among them her pride.

No way Noah was going to see her suffering over Dami—not that she
was
suffering over Dami. She wasn’t.

Not much, anyway.

She waited, smiling sweetly, as they approached her. And then she stood there for five full minutes chatting with them, telling them how impressed she was with the car Dami had helped to design and how she couldn’t wait to check out more of the museum.

Then Noah said, “Where is Damien, anyway?”

She gestured back toward the gallery behind her. “Major photo op with Vesuvia.”

Alice said, “That’s right, Vesuvia’s the spokesmodel for the Montedoro.” She lowered her voice to a just-between-us level. “They signed her for the job before she and Dami got completely on the outs.”

Completely on the outs.
That sounded kind of good—not that it was anything Dami hadn’t already told her.

About then, Rule, who was second-born of Damien’s brothers, came toward them with his wife, Sydney. Alice waved them over. Lucy was able to say a quick hello to the prince and his wife and then move on. She tried to go with dignity and slow steps, her head high.

The Hall of Tapestries took her back to the grand entry in the center of the villa. Rooms and other hallways branched off the entry like the spokes of a wheel. A curving staircase soared up behind the information desk. The main directory told her there were three stories of galleries to explore.

She began with the north wing on the ground floor, in the three galleries dedicated to textiles and clothing. First off, she found a gallery full of beautiful examples of Montedoran clothing through the years. There was an excess of what she thought of as the Little Dutch Girl look—blousy homespun shirts with snug lace-up bodices worn over them and full embroidered skirts, layers of lacy petticoats beneath and frilly aprons on top.

The next room had the finery that the princely family had worn. The exhibit spanned hundreds of years, with examples of clothing worn by many generations of the Calabretti family. The gowns were spectacular, some of them sewn with pearls and semiprecious stones. The lacework, even yellowed with age, stole her breath.

The
wedding gown was there, the one Princess Adrienne had worn when she’d married Dami’s dad. Lucy had been drooling over pictures of that famous dress long before she was old enough to hold a needle and thread. The gown held pride of place in the center of the exhibit, in a tall glass case. Lucy stood and stared at it for a long time.

It really lifted her spirits to see it close up, the impossibly perfect embroidery, the exquisite lace, the thousands of sewn-on seed pearls. Looking at Princess Adrienne’s wedding dress reminded her of the great adventure that lay before her as a designer. It made her remember that her life was rich and full and good. That she was
not
going to be jealous of Dami and his ex—or if she was, a little, it was okay. Even the unpleasant emotions were part of being alive and she would take life over the alternative any day of the week.

Warm hands clasped her waist. Dami. “How did I know I would find you here?”

She’d been so transported by the legendary wedding dress that she hadn’t seen his faint reflection in the glass of the protective case. But she saw him now. She turned to him and brought her palms up to rest on the satin lapels of his jacket. “I can now say I’ve seen
the dress
in person. Not to mention generations’ worth of serious Calabretti style. I’ve also already checked out the various examples of traditional Montedoran dress.”

He still held her waist and his eyes gleamed down at her. “Are you saying you’re ready to move on?”

She hooked her arm in his. “Where to next?”

He took her back to the main entrance and up the stairs to the Adele Canterone Exhibit. For an easy, companionable hour they admired the art of Montedoro’s great Impressionist painter.

They ran into Noah and Alice again on the way out.

Alice said, “Come back to the villa with us, you two. We’ll share a late supper.”

Lucy instantly suspected that Noah might be up to something. She gave him a long narrow-eyed look.

Noah was all innocence. “What? Good company, something to eat. Is that going to kill you?”

Lucy couldn’t help grinning. “Fine.” She glanced at Dami, who nodded in agreement. “We would love to come.” Then she teased her brother. “Because I can see you’re on your best behavior.”

Noah made a growly sound. “Do I have a choice?”

And Alice answered sweetly, “No, you do not.”

So they went to the villa and shared a light supper, the four of them. Overall, it went pretty well, Lucy thought. Noah and Dami seemed fine with each other. If there was tension between them, it didn’t show. They talked about Montedoro and also about some business deal they were working on together.

And the coolest thing happened just as they were leaving.

Alice took her aside. “I know you’re going to be busy with school and everything. But is it possible you might be able to design my wedding dress? It’s just the design I would need, by mid-February if you can manage it. Then I’ll have it made.”

Lucy grabbed her and spun her around and they laughed together. “Are you kidding? I can do that. And absolutely, yes. I would be totally honored—and do you have ideas about what you want?”

“A thousand of them. I’m counting on you to focus me down.”

Then Noah butted in, wrapping an arm around Lucy. “When you come home for Christmas, you two can get to work on it.”

Noah knew very well that she planned to stay in New York for the holiday. Still, he’d been a sweetheart all night, so she made an effort to answer patiently. “Noah, we’ve been over that. I’m having my first Christmas in my own place, remember?”

He opened his mouth to start telling her all the reasons she really needed to come to California.

But Alice grabbed his arm, pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “I love you. Shut up.”

And miracle of miracles, Noah actually did shut up. And he did it without looking the least pissed off.

* * *

Damien had a car waiting at the curb outside the villa. They rode back to the palace in comfortable silence.

He was having a great time. Being with Lucy really worked for him. She saw beauty in everything and she wasn’t afraid to let her enjoyment show.

He couldn’t help comparing her to V, who’d been just next door to manic during the photo op. All flashing eyes and flying hair, hanging on him for the cameras, she’d hissed in Italian that she was furious at him for not taking her calls. She’d sworn she’d never forgive him. He’d reminded her softly that it was over. She’d given him a melting look for the photographers’ sake while calling him any number of unflattering names under her breath. All he could think of was getting the hell away from her.

As it turned out, Lady Luck had his back on that score. The ad people had said they wanted a few more shots just with V and the car. He’d slipped away. And things had improved dramatically when he found Luce in the north wing of the museum, gazing with stars in her eyes at his mother’s wedding gown.

A few minutes after they left Alice’s villa, they arrived at the palace. A guard let them in.

Dami said, “I’ll walk you up to your room.”

And she took his arm and begged so prettily, “Please. Can’t we just go to your apartment and talk for a little while?”

It wasn’t a good idea. He knew that. True, in the darkest hours of the morning before, he’d been weak, he’d indulged himself and imagined that becoming her lover was inevitable.

But he’d had time to see the light since then. She mattered too much to him. He couldn’t bear to lose her. If he took her to bed, there would be bad feelings when it was time to move on. Someone would be bound to get hurt. Someone always did.

Therefore, he’d circled back around to his original plan. He would show her a memorable weekend, minus the part where they ended up in bed together. She understood that their making love wasn’t a given. She’d said it herself: they would see how it went. He planned to see to it that it went nowhere.

“Dami.” She tugged on his arm. “What
are
you thinking about?”

He studied her fabulous elfin face. “That you remind me of a princess from a Montedoran fairy tale.”

She colored prettily. “Thank you.” And then she commanded, “Take me to your apartment.”

He opened his mouth to remind her that it had been a long day, but somehow what came out was, “Yes, Your Highness. This way....”

In his rooms, they went straight to the kitchen. She asked for hot chocolate. He made it the way they did in Paris, chopping bars of fine-quality bittersweet chocolate and whisking the bits into the heated milk, stirring in brown sugar and a few grains of sea salt.

She admired the Limoges demitasse and sipped slowly. “Dami. Your hot chocolate is even better than your coffee.”

He poured himself a cup and sat down opposite her.

And she said, “I probably shouldn’t admit this. It will only prove all over again how gauche and immature I am....”

He set down his cup. “You’re not. Admit what?”

She sucked her upper lip between her neat white teeth, then caught herself doing it and let it go. “When you went to pose for those pictures with Vesuvia?”

“Yes?”

“I actually got jealous.”

As a rule, when any woman mentioned jealousy, he tended to get nervous, to feel hemmed in, under pressure. But with Lucy he only felt flattered at her frankness. And a little bit guilty for deserting her. “I shouldn’t have left you....”

“Oh, don’t you dare apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong— Well, except when you kissed me on the forehead. That made me feel about five.”

“It was a kiss of affection.”

“I know. Still. Five.”

“Fair enough, then. No more kisses on the forehead.”

“Cheek, temples, ears, lips... Well, just about anywhere is great. But not smack-dab in the middle of my forehead.”

Kissing her just about anywhere sounded way too appealing, and he probably shouldn’t be thinking about that. “All right. Not on the forehead.” He found he needed to be sure she had it clear about V. “And about V?”

She was midsip. She swallowed fast and set down the cup, big eyes getting bigger. “Yeah?”

“Nothing to be jealous of. I meant it when I told you that Vesuvia and I are over.”

She turned the painted gold-rimmed cup on the delicate saucer. And then she sipped again. “You were, um, exclusive with her for quite a while.”

“Yes.”

“But you have such a rep as a player, as someone who never makes it exclusive with any woman....”

“I was exclusive with V.”

“Why?”

He looked into his cup of chocolate and then back up at her. “You are
very
nosy.”

She nodded, a sweet bobbing motion of her pretty head. “Yes. I am. I know. But only because I’m your friend and I want to understand you better.”

He believed her. And so he explained, “When I met V, I was looking for the right wife. I wanted someone suited to me. At first V behaved reasonably for the most part. She’s bright and beautiful. I thought we could make it work together. I was attracted to her.”

“You loved her.”

“Love wasn’t really the issue.”

“But when you get married, love is
always
the issue.”

He gave her his most patient look. “No, Luce. Not always.”

“So then why did you choose her?”

“I found her attractive and intelligent. I thought we had a lot in common. She’s descended from a very old Italian family. We know many of the same people. I never proposed marriage to her, but V understood that I needed to marry and she told me more than once that she wanted to be my wife, to be a princess of Montedoro.”