Slow Tango With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (31 page)

She’d watched the clip of his brief interview numerous times. Vittorio had been respectful, saying nothing but the best about Carmella, her family, and the film, though it had been produced by the very man who’d conned him. Emily couldn’t imagine the internal pain it must’ve caused Vittorio. As unfair as Vittorio was to her when they’d parted, as angry and hurt as she’d been when she’d turned and stalked back to her bed and breakfast, she understood his reaction when she’d accused him of being the prince and asked if his ex-girlfriend was Carmella Rivas. He’d left his wounds exposed and she’d poked at them. He’d lashed out. She’d lashed back.

But then he’d followed her.
 

She’d felt his presence and resisted the urge to turn around, deciding it was up to him to approach her with an apology. He didn’t. But when she stood at the top of the stairs at her bed and breakfast and punched in the entry code, she caught sight of him down the street. Even from a distance, she saw the pain and wistfulness in his gaze and the set of his shoulders.

She’d pretended not to see him. She’d collapsed onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering what possessed him to agree to do the show. Not that she wasn’t grateful—who knows what she and Rita would’ve done at the last minute otherwise—but the risk he’d taken was huge. And then to kiss her, to make love to her, to cradle her foot in the palm of his hand and give her a slow, sensual massage while she wore his shirt and drank his wine…she’d crumpled the bedsheets in her fist and cried—big, messy, breath-strangling tears—for the first time in as long as she could remember.

Over the last few weeks, seeing his face in the news reports with his jaw clean-shaven and his hair cut short enough to eliminate the waves made her ache anew. And with every charity appearance, state visit, and volunteer hour he gave, she realized he’d said yes because he truly cared about those around him. He’d understood what she was trying to do when she’d wanted to use her savings to finance an extended stay in Buenos Aires to wrap the show.
 

He’d taken the risk for her because he’d felt it was the right thing to do.

“And then we finish with the segment where the elephant crushes the tango dancers. That will really boost our ratings. Elephants always do.”

“Uh-huh.” Emily took a bite of salad, then paused and looked up at Rita. “Wait. What?”

“I knew you weren’t paying attention.” Rita’s brows drew together. “What’s going on, sweetie?”

“You did not just use your mother voice on me.”

“I most certainly did.”
 

“Don’t. I’m fine. Just distracted from a long day.” Emily blotted her mouth with her napkin, then forked another bite of salad. “All right. Let’s talk finale.”

“Let’s. I’ve been meaning to ask you…have you heard from Bob?”

She snorted at Rita’s use of the name Bob. “No, why would I?”

“So we’d know if he ever decided on an apartment, for one.” Rita set down her sandwich. “But judging from the guilty look on your face, it’s apparent you thought I was asking for another reason. That’s what’s distracting you, isn’t it? Something happened between you and our mystery man.”

“Rita—”

“We’re going to be staring at him onscreen for the next few days while we do the video and sound editing. You can come clean now, while we’re alone, or you can come clean later.” There was a hardness in Rita’s dark gaze she’d only seen once before, when Emily shared that she was considering leaving
Today’s Royals
despite the fact she was about to get a plum assignment interviewing a member of the British royal family.
 

“I can’t talk about it.” But suddenly, she wanted to. She’d kept it bottled up for weeks, and there wasn’t a soul she could trust more than Rita. “Not here. My place after work if you can make it.”

“Done.” Rita picked up her sandwich and said, “We’ll stop at the liquor store on the way. I suspect I’ll want a martini for this.”

* * *

Six hours later, Emily had second—and third, and fourth—thoughts about inviting Rita to her apartment as she turned the key in her door. Rita deposited the bag of takeout Chinese food on the counter and searched for plates and napkins while Emily busied herself locating a corkscrew for the wine they’d purchased in lieu of making martinis. While they prepped the food, Rita prattled about her daughter’s new boyfriend, a Scot her daughter met while studying abroad in London.
 

“I don’t know how serious they are,” she finally said. “Distance makes it tough. But who knows? From all she’s said, he seems like a great fit for her.”

“She’s a bright girl. I’m sure she’ll make good decisions.” Emily finally located the corkscrew in the back of a drawer, then went about opening the wine.
 

“And so will you.” Rita scooped generous portions of food onto two plates, then carried them to the table. “So tell Momma Rita all about your troubles.”

“You’re the worst.” Emily poured the wine, then set the bottle on the counter and shook her head. “And you’re the best. That’s what makes this so damned difficult.”

Once Emily brought the wine glasses to the table and raised hers in a toast to their finale, she told Rita, “Before I say a word, I need to know that what I tell you won’t leave this room.”

The older woman waved a chopstick in the air before digging into her food. “Like I’m going to blab to the staff about your love life. Haven’t done it before, wouldn’t do it now.”

“This is more than that.”

Rita paused with her noodles halfway to her mouth and met Emily’s eye. “All right.”

“We share a lot, but to share this would put a huge burden on you. It’s knowledge you’ll want to share.”

“A bigger burden than knowing why Paul left you? I’ve kept that to myself for years. Haven’t even told my husband. And you know, it’s something your friends would want to know. They care about you, and they’d give you support.”

“I know that, but it’s not a matter I want to discuss.” She let out a long breath, then said, “Neither is this, but I need to tell someone.”

Rita sucked in her lower lip and set down her chopsticks. “Your cancer isn’t back, isn’t it?”

That elicited a smile. “No. I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Thank God.” Rita waved for her to continue. “In that case, anything you have to tell me pales in comparison. I can handle whatever it is and keep it quiet.”

All afternoon Emily had debated how to tell Rita…and what to tell her. She’d come up with a million different openings, none of which she liked. But now, with Rita’s caring, curious gaze upon her, she simply blurted, “You know Bob’s real name isn’t Bob.”

“We discussed that the afternoon of the tango lesson. A man who looks and speaks like that isn’t a Bob. Maybe a Roberto, but not a Bob.”

Emily nodded. “Do you think anyone else on the staff questioned his name?”

“I doubt they thought about it one way or the other. Mike and Ignacio certainly didn’t. They’re oblivious to that kind of thing. Maryam might’ve, but if so, she didn’t say anything. No one else had as much contact with him as the two of us.” Rita took a sip of wine, then regarded Emily over the top of her glass. “I’m beginning to suspect that you had plenty of contact.”

She nodded. Plenty, but not enough.
 

“First time since Paul?” At Emily’s second nod, she whistled. “Long time, then.”

“His name is Vittorio. Vittorio Barrali.”

“Vittorio Barrali? I swear, I think I know that name.” Subtle pleats appeared on Rita’s forehead as she set down her wine and took a bite of her noodles. Then her eyes widened. “Emily!
Prince Vittorio
? From Sarcaccia? But he didn’t look like…how could he possibly—”

“Now do you see what I mean by burdening you with knowledge you’d want to share?”

“
Today’s Royals
.” The words came from Rita like a curse. “Maryam and I talked about you working there and how much you loved it. He asked us about it. Oh my gosh. I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe…you’re saying I’ve met a prince?” She put her hand to her forehead. “I’m such an idiot. And you walked right up to him in a café and asked him to be on our show!”

“I had no idea who he was, only that he looked familiar to me. And he had no idea I used to work for the magazine. But that afternoon you and Maryam discussed the magazine and he started acting odd, I figured it out.” She gave Rita a quick overview of what she’d discovered and that it was Vittorio, not Alessandro, who was gone for so long, though the Barrali family had led the world to believe it was Alessandro.

“It’s completely believable,” Rita said when Emily finished. “I’m not surprised they’ve actually gotten away with it. Prince Alessandro is always traveling, going on hiking trips in Nepal or Bhutan for weeks at a time. And the two of them are as identical as twins can get. But why would Prince Vittorio ever take off for so long when” —she set down her chopsticks as her mind connected the dots— “it was because of that ex-girlfriend, wasn’t it? Carmella Rivas. Was he still in love with her?”

“You still keep up on all the royal gossip?” Emily had stopped following it after leaving the magazine. Work consumed nearly all her waking moments. On weekends when she could get away, she’d visit with her parents. But even those occasions were few and far between, given her travel schedule. She didn’t spend much time watching television or perusing gossip sites.

“On occasion. It was all over the news when Carmella Rivas committed suicide. Horrible for her family. Have you seen any of her movies?” When Emily indicated she hadn’t, Rita continued, “Stunning woman, and a very talented one. When you saw her on screen, she completely became the character. See
Murder One West
sometime. You’ll forget you’re watching a movie and believe you’re watching a true story.”

Which was likely why Vittorio hadn’t caught on to the scheme Carmella and her producer boyfriend had concocted.
 

“Was he still in love with her?”

“I don’t think so, no. But her death was hard on him. I think it’d be hard on anyone.”
 

“He confided in you?”

More than you know.
“A little.”

“Oh, sweetie. You’re in love with him.” Rita sat back in her chair and put her steepled fingers to her lips. “You’re in love with a prince.”

“Shut up. No.” She downed the last of her wine and gave Rita a bashful smile when the older woman promptly refilled her glass. “All right, maybe a little. It doesn’t really matter. He’s not in love with me.”

“You didn’t see how he looked at you.”

“Nor have I heard my phone ring.” She pushed down her disappointment at the thought. It wasn’t as if she were expecting him to contact her once he left Argentina, especially given the way they’d left things. “Regardless, I’ll get over it. And now that you know, we need to talk about the finale.”

“We certainly do. I can’t believe we have a finale featuring a crown prince.” She let out a low whistle. “An ungodly sexy crown prince, even with that beard and the longer hair. I still can’t get over how different he looked. But now that I know who he is, I can see it.”

“And viewers would see it, too, if we told them.”

Rita lapsed into silence. They had a huge decision to make, and now it weighed on both of them, rather than simply on Emily.
 

Quietly, Emily said, “You see why I had to tell you? What we do in that editing room will have a profound impact on the show.”

“If we were to reveal it, the network would promote the daylights out of the finale and our ratings would go through the roof. Renewal wouldn’t be an issue. It’d even get covered on the news.” Rita leaned forward and pushed her noodles around her plate. “Wouldn’t endear us to the royal family, even if we’re respectful in how we present him. And even if we go with the palace’s claim that it was Alessandro traveling in South America, rather than Vittorio. On the other hand, if we say nothing, there will be a viewer out there who’ll figure it out. They’d think it was Alessandro, but the result would be the same. Big ratings. And a pissed off family, even if the guy agreed to do the show knowing the risks.”

Emily slugged the rest of her wine and set her glass on the table, putting her hand over the top so Rita wouldn’t refill it. “Exactly my thoughts. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t.”

“I can’t believe he did it.” Rita gave her a sad smile. “I think he was really taken with you.”

Not taken enough. Not enough to believe she wouldn’t betray him. Then again, given the horror he’d experienced with Carmella, why would he?

Because you’re not Carmella.

“I’m willing to do whatever you think is best,” Rita said at last. “I assume you’ve been thinking about which way you want to handle it?”

“I’ve hardly thought of anything else.” She shoved her dinner plate out of the way and propped her elbows on the table. “I’ve come up with a third option, but it won’t draw the same ratings and it’ll mean a ton of work for the two of us.” She blew out a breath and studied her friend. “Do you think you can you convince the network to let us air the finale live?”

“Live?” Rita’s expression carried the same incredulity as her voice. “How?”

“We splice in our footage with an end-of-season party. We can use the top floor reception room at the network. Make it festive, decorate it with all things Argentina. I’ll act as host, introducing the different segments from a stage at the party and hitting on our theme of passion. But we’re going to do some massive editing first. By we, I mean you and me, not the editing guys. I don’t want anyone to see this before it airs.”