Scandal With a Prince (3 page)

A billion-dollar family fortune did that, even if the crown didn’t.

"Please, my love," came a deep male voice close to her ear, "tell me I made your mouth water this evening.”

At the hushed request, Megan twisted in her seat to face Santi, the hotel's head chef.
 
He crouched behind her, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief as he scanned the room to assess the guests' satisfaction with his creations.
 

"Everyone’s thrilled with your menu," she whispered back.
 
"Of course my mouth is watering."
 
Though not at the food—she'd hardly touched her dessert, enticing as it was—but at Stefano.
 
It galled her that after all these years she found him both intimidating and exciting, and not necessarily in that order.
 

“Good, good.
 
When the dinner plates came back to the kitchen, I feared the waiters had scraped them clean rather than the guests.
 
The staff, they fear damage to my pride.”
 
Santi’s accent thickened as he searched her face and added, “So tell me, why do you ignore my mandarin cake when I know it is your favorite?
 
I come all the way from the kitchen to see your reaction, only to discover my beautiful dessert still sitting before you.
 
It cannot be female concerns over fitting into your gown, because you are perfection tonight.
 
Breathtaking.”
 

She patted the older man's arm.
 
Such a flirt, though he had a beloved wife and six children at home.
 
“First, while I adore your mandarin cake, your chocolate is my favorite.
 
And second, I ate far too much of the main course and need time to digest. You spoil me."

“Impossible.
 
It was only halibut.”
 

“No dish is ‘only’ with you, Santi.
 
It’s why you were hired.”

Santi ignored the compliment and swirled a beefy hand in front of her face.
 
“Your expression says that something is amiss.
 
Tell me.”

She shook off his words even as he said them.
 
“You know better than that.
 
It’s only that duty calls before dessert.
 
I need to ensure the fireworks team is ready before we send the guests upstairs."

Santi gave her an exaggerated look of doubt, then made her promise to meet with him in the next few days to share any comments she heard about the meal.
 
"It's good for business to know what our guests desire,” he explained quietly.
 

"It's also good for your ego.”

He shrugged one shoulder, the casual gesture in contrast to the sudden seriousness of his gaze, which traveled beyond her.
 
“I was not expecting royalty tonight.
 
But if I can satisfy him…well, again, it would be very good for business.
 
It is good that he is here.”

His words were a revelation.
 
She needed to view Stefano much as Santi did, not as a powerful man to be feared or as the sexy father of her child to be desired, but as a business prospect.
 

“I’ll get feedback once the speech is over, then meet you tomorrow afternoon to discuss everything."
 
She grinned at the chef.
 
"If it makes you feel better, why don’t you send a few slices of leftover mandarin cake up to my suite?
 
I’ll enjoy it when this is all over, and you know Anna would be over the moon.”

He waggled his eyebrows to indicate that he'd already done so.
 
At that moment, the manager finished his dinner speech to thunderous applause, so Megan excused herself and slipped out the ballroom doors while Santi returned to the kitchen.

Once free of the dining room, she paused to inhale deeply of the lobby’s fragrant blooms in an effort to clear her head and focus her energy on making the rest of the evening a success.
 
She could dwell on her run-in with Stefano tomorrow.
 
Resolved, she removed a stray cocktail napkin from one of the lobby tables, tossed it into the trash, then crossed to the elevator and punched the button for the roof deck.
 
Halfway up, she bit back a curse and hit the button for the twentieth floor.

While she'd done what she could to protect herself, she needed to protect Anna.

The door to her suite flew open at the same time she slid her key card into the lock.
 
A smiling face greeted her.
 
“Mom!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at Anna’s exuberance.
 
“What in the world are you doing?”

“I heard the elevator ding and figured it was you.
 
Santi sent us a ton of dessert!”
 
Anna let go of the door to race toward the suite’s small kitchen.
 
“Come see!
 
Or did you have some already?”

Sure enough, the dark granite countertop was covered in beautifully plated slices of white cake topped with Santi’s signature mandarin orange sauce and garnished with strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.
 
“Santi deserves a thank you note later,” Megan informed her daughter.
 

“I know.
 
I’ll write one tomorrow morning.”
 
Anna climbed onto one of the barstools at the counter’s edge and eyed the cake. She tucked her thick hair behind her ears, then looked up, her green eyes pleading.
 
“Grandma said I could have a slice after I finish my homework, but it’s going to take forever.
 
Do you think I could have half a piece, since my homework’s halfway done?
 
It’s not even due until Thursday.
 
Please?”

“I’m not going to overrule Grandma,” Megan said.
 

“Ha!” Bill Hallberg’s voice came from the sitting area around the corner from the kitchen.
 
“Told you, Anna.”

“But Grandpa—”

“Oh, fine,” Megan’s mother, Joan Hallberg, said as she walked into the kitchen, waving a dismissive hand in her husband’s direction.
 
“Anna, since your mother’s here, you may have a slice.
 
But take it to the table.”

“The coffee table?”
 
In other words, where she could see the television while she ate.

“I suppose.
 
But you’ll need to take a slice for your grandfather, too.
 
If you don’t, he’ll steal most of yours.”

Beaming, Anna leapt from the stool, grabbed two forks, then dashed to the sitting area with a plate in each hand.
 

“You notice that she took the two biggest pieces, didn’t you?”
 
Megan said to her mother.

“She takes after her grandfather that way.
 
It’ll keep them happy.”
 
Joan frowned as she studied her daughter.
 
Lowering her voice, she asked, “What’s going on?
 
I didn’t expect you back here for hours.
 
Well after we were in bed, at any rate.”

Megan sucked in a lungful of air.
 
After ensuring that Anna couldn’t hear her, she said, “He’s here.”

“Who’s—?”
 
Joan’s eyes widened as she realized only one man could elicit such a response from Megan.
 
“You’re kidding me.
 
Him?
 
Of all the nights and all the places in the world.”

“That was my reaction.”
 

“Oh, Megan.”
 
Hurt and worry creased her mother’s brow.
 
She reached out to rub Megan’s shoulder.
 
“You didn’t see his name on the guest list?”

“Mahmoud Said brought him.
 
Apparently Mahmoud works with King Carlo on charity projects and he wanted a member of the Barrali family to see the hotel’s facilities.”

“Have you spoken?”

“Only briefly and in public.
 
But Mom?
 
He remembered me.”
 

The older woman dropped onto the barstool Anna just vacated, her eyes reflecting the same shock Megan felt at Stefano’s familiar greeting.

“I know.
 
I can’t believe it, either,” Megan continued.
 
“He flirted with me.
 
Asked me how I’ve been since Venezuela.
 
Very lighthearted.”

“Then he hasn’t learned about Anna.”
 
Joan sighed.
 
“Now is not the time, either.”

“Definitely not.”
 
Megan bit her lip.
 
“I know I promised Anna you’d take her to the roof for the fireworks, but I think it’s too risky.
 
If Anna sees me and the prince hears her refer to me as Mom—”

Joan reached across the counter to place her hand over Megan’s.
 
“Your dad and I will take her to the pool level to watch.
 
We’ll tell her the outdoor patio there will give us a better view than the roof.
 
She won’t have to try to see over the heads of all the adults and she can wear her pajamas if she wants.”

“You don’t think she’ll argue?”
 

Joan shrugged.
 
“If she balks, your father and I will say that since we’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, we wanted to turn the fireworks display into a private goodbye party for the three of us.
 
We’ll make it sound like it’s a big surprise for her.
 
You know how kids are at this age.
 
How you explain something is as important as what you explain.”

“That’s brilliant.”
 
Megan squeezed her mother’s hand.
 
“Devious, but brilliant.
 
Thank you.”

“I’m more worried about you than Anna.
 
Be careful tonight, all right?”

Megan nodded, then let go of her mother’s hand.
 
She was about to call out a goodbye to Anna and her father when Anna came bounding back into the kitchen.
 

“Forgot the napkins!”
 
Anna held out the front of her shirt, which bore a dollop of frosting.
 
“Grandpa wouldn’t let me lick it off.”

“Good for Grandpa.”
 
Megan ruffled Anna’s hair while Joan used a damp paper towel to clean up the spot.
 
After all traces were gone, Megan told her daughter, “I have to go back to the party.
 
It’ll be very late when it ends, but I promise to look in on you, all right?”

“Okay.”
 
Anna foraged through a nearby cabinet for the napkins, but paused to smile at Megan.
 
“Hey Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Your dress is really pretty.
 
You look like a princess.”

Megan’s heart squeezed as she replied, “Thank you, sweetie.”
 

Behind Anna, Joan put a hand over her mouth.
 
Megan couldn’t tell whether her mother was hiding an expression of dismay or of humor at Anna’s compliment, so Megan focused on her daughter, reaching past her to locate the napkins.

She’d told Anna about Stefano last year, when Anna started asking pointed questions about her parentage.
 
Thankfully, Anna hadn’t latched onto any princess fantasies; she threw the term around as readily as any other girl her age and without thinking about the fact that had her biological parents married, she would be a princess.
 
Anna had also been surprisingly understanding of the need to keep the information to herself.
 
She’d asked occasional questions about Stefano over the weeks following that discussion, but they’d been asked in the same manner as other topics that piqued her curiosity on a daily basis, such as why her school colors were maroon and gold, or why Megan chose to buy fresh fruit at one stand rather than another.
 
Eventually, she’d dropped the topic altogether.
 
She was far more interested in her friends, her classes, and the impending visit from her grandparents.

Megan handed the napkins to Anna, who was still eyeing the dress.
 
“My goal is to look like the type of person who can be trusted to handle organizing a big event, one like tonight’s party, that might cost a company a lot of money.
 
Think I accomplished that?”

“I guess,” Anna replied, making a face.
 
“I mean, you could wear jeans and I’d trust you.
 
But maybe rich people trust someone who’s dressed like they are?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.
 
I was thinking more along the lines of looking professional.
 
But you may be right.”

And perhaps that’s why Stefano looked at her tonight with such interest.
 
He’d been alone, far from his social circle, during their time in Venezuela.
 
If he’d wanted companionship, he didn’t have much choice but to grab any old girl, no matter what she wore or what the balance in her bank account.
 
But once Stefano returned to Sarcaccia, he’d been surrounded by others like him.
 
Wealthy businessmen like Mahmoud.
 
Women dripping in jewels like that cat-eyed brunette in the red gown or his aristocratic ex-fiancée.
 
The A-list actresses, catwalk models, and other females who’d entered and left his life in the years since his brief engagement ended.