The Keys' Prince (The Royal Heirs) (18 page)

Stella would finally, very soon now, be his wife. There wasn’t anything he’d ever wanted more.

He checked his tie in the gilded mirror that had once belonged to his great-great-grandfather, making sure that it was perfectly straight. There was no sense in setting off his mother by something as simple as a slightly crooked tie. There’d be more than enough to get her going tonight, especially since Uncle Carlos was joining them for dinner.

Judging from the brief phone conversation he’d had with the Queen three hours ago, letting her know that he and Stella were back in the palace, she was as uptight about the evening ahead as he was. If there was one thing he shared with his mother, and there wasn’t much, it was their joint disdain for Carlos, his father’s younger brother.

What was it about his father’s generation of the Magnus family that was so screwed up? Thinking about his father and his siblings, Dario could honestly say that there wasn’t a single one of them—his father, his Uncle Carlos or their twin sisters, Beatrice and Benita—he liked. All of them were cold individuals with very calculating personalities, always on the lookout for a new way to make each others’ lives miserable.

Carlos was, by far, the worst. He set the horrible standards that, luckily, none of the others could come close to matching. What made Carlos so bad was that he was as smart as he was evil—a very dangerous combination. He not only had the willpower to do his family harm, he had the brains to make his nasty plans work.

Dario’s father had always remained one step ahead of his little brother. But Dario was worried that, over the past year, as the King’s health declined, so had his ability to fend off his brother’s attacks. Dario knew without a doubt that, his father never lost the courage or determination to fight his brother every backstabbing step he took. But, in the end, the King didn’t have the strength to stop him.

Dario wasn’t sure why his father and uncle had started their life-long feud. And now that his father was gone, he probably never would know. He could ask Carlos. A lot of good that would do, though. Dario couldn’t believe a word the man said—one thing he actually agreed with his father about.

Checking his watch again, he decided that being five minutes early wouldn’t matter to Stella. Hopefully, she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her, which would make the task of convincing her to stay in his suite much easier.

Following a quick tap on the elaborately-carved oak door that separated his suite from hers, he went in her apartment, thinking he’d grab a seat along the windows facing the gardens and wait on her to finish up.

What he didn’t expect was to see Stella waiting for him in a gown that would turn every head in his mother’s great dining hall.

“You look stunning, baby,” he said, walking towards her in what felt like slow motion, as if he were still in one of the thousands of dreams he’d had of such an occasion.

The more he looked at her, the more he realized that stunning didn’t come close to describing how beautiful she was. She elevated the Armani gown from gorgeous to ethereal. He’d selected it as one of a dozen possibilities she could go with for the evening. But he’d have bet money that this was the one she’d pick, and he took pride in knowing the woman he loved so well.

The color was a frosty lilac, a perfect match for the tie he’d decided on. Lilac had never looked so good. The cut had the crisp, clean lines Armani was famous for but with an edgy neckline that plunged almost to Stella’s navel, wreaking havoc on Dario’s composure.

Maybe he hadn’t made a wise choice after all. Hell, all he’d be thinking about during dinner was the private dessert he’d planned for his bride-to-be afterwards.

If he could manage to take his eyes away from the revealing, sequined top of her gown, he’d be forced to keep from drooling over the sexy side slit in the gossamer, chiffon-like skirt that cascaded over her hips and flowed in mesmerizing swirls around her never-ending legs.

“You like it?” She asked taking a delicious spin in front of him.

The breeze she stirred swept the skirt far away from that sexy-as-hell slit, giving him a nice peek of her beautiful toes peeking outside the glittering straps of her Brian Atwood stilettos.

“Like it? I liked it when I picked it out as an option for you. Now that I’m seeing it on you, I love it,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

Breathing in a deep sense of satisfaction, he caught notes of the alluring scents of her mint and rosemary shampoo. He was glad she still used the same kind. It was a scent that always reminded him of how wonderful it felt to hold her close.

“You are the sweetest,” she said, looking pleased with his compliment.

Her joy tickled him. Nothing ever made him happier than knowing he’d made her happy.

“What I am, baby, is the luckiest man in the world,” he said, kissing her nose and then her forehead before reaching down to grab her evening bag, a crystal-studded number he knew she’d love.

“Well, you are about to be a king, so I suppose that makes you lucky,” she said, teasing him as she reached up and straightened his tie, which suddenly he didn’t care about at all.

The thought struck him, however, that if he kept messing it up, she’d have to stay close enough to fix it, which was more than worth risking his mother’s irritation.

“I’m lucky because I have you by my side,” he said, never more sure of himself or his feelings. “Nothing else matters to me.”

“We are both lucky then,” she said, looping her arm through the elbow he offered her. “And this time, nothing is going to break us apart.”

“Agreed, baby. But what do you say we have some fun while my family does their best to ruin us?” He asked, for the first time in ages feeling that he was on top of the world and deserved to be there. That was the effect Stella had on him. She made him believe he really could be a happy, confident and competent king.

“Game on, King Adonis,” she said, moving toward the door.

He laughed out loud then whispered in her ear, “You can call me Dario.”

“But what if I have other names for you?” She asked, tapping his backside with her bejeweled bag.

“Later tonight, I’d love to hear every one of them,” he said, leading her out the door of their sanctuary, toward the dining hall and to God only knew what kind of royal hell.

• • •

Stella couldn’t keep tremors of dread from rocking her to the core. The closer she and Dario got to the palace’s formal dining hall, the worse she felt.

She knew she looked the part to be the woman at Dario’s side, but when it came to facing his family again after all of this time, she hadn’t yet found her mojo.

If she were being realistic, she probably didn’t have much to worry about when it came to coming up with conversation starters. Either Dario’s mother or his rotten uncle would soon say something that empowered her inner lioness. But when they did, they wouldn’t shake her. There was nothing they could say or do this time around to tear her and Dario apart.

Stepping into the great dining hall, she took a deep breath, doing her best to relax amidst the dramatic setting. She’d been in this hall at least a dozen times, but it never ceased to send chills surging up and down her spine.

Over the years, the room must have soaked in the cold, dark energies of the people who regularly inhabited it. Stella could actually feel the staggering weight of bitter feelings and debilitating jealousies pushing down on her shoulders. It was as if she should immediately open up all of the windows, offering what little respite she could.

Scarlet red, velvet drapes seemed to drip with the fiery ill will of the Magnus family who were beginning to take their respective places around the solid, reclaimed pine table. There were place settings for thirty-six people, each, for the most part, to be filled by someone with great angst regarding the remaining thirty-five relatives seated around them.

Not even the silver service and fine china or the fantastical Swarovski crystal chandelier could make up for the disturbed energies radiating from each person who entered the room.

When Carlos made his grand entrance, the fire place even hissed and spit. Fitting, Stella thought.

The only noticeable change in the nasty vibes circulating the room was when Dario’s beloved cousin Alberto, Carlos’ son, and his intended Sophia Fordham joined the party. Luckily, Dario had insisted that Sophia be seated to Stella’s left and Alberto to his right. They were at least surrounded by the only two friends they had in the room.

Stella had never been so relieved to be next to someone she barely knew. With Sophia though, it felt like they’d known each other forever.

As if the room needed more darkness, it wasn’t long before the palace staff announced that Queen Meredith was about to enter the hall to take her seat at the head of the table.

Without so much as looking at Carlos, Beatrice and Benita, or any of their children, except for Alberto, who at least got a very stiff, but polite nod, the Queen swept the length of the room, stopping only when she reached Stella.

Lucky her, Stella thought, giving herself a quick pep talk. The Queen knew by now that Stella would more than likely replace her as the most powerful woman in Kristianico. On that realization alone, Stella forced herself to stand firm.

“Welcome back, my dear,” Queen Meredith said inclining her head as if to indicate that now would be a good time for Stella to curtsy.

With the Queen’s nose aimed at the ceiling, Stella got a good look at her cheek, thanks to a brilliant shot of light from the chandelier. She saw the edges of a bruise that the Queen had obviously tried to hide with an extra-thick concealer.

The Queen, catching Stella silently examining the unfortunate mark, quickly slid her hand over the bluish imprint as if she were making sure that a stray strand of hair hadn’t slipped out of her elegant upsweep.

Due to the Queen’s awkward reaction and the fact that Stella could feel all of the eyes in the room on them, she pretended she hadn’t seen a thing. Instead, using the perfect form she’d mastered years ago, she curtsied.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. It feels good to be back in Kristianico, although I wish it weren’t for these circumstances. My condolences for the loss of your husband.”

“Thank you. But we all knew this time would soon be upon us. And we’ve prepared well. Kristianico is in fine hands with Dario.”

“Your Majesty,” Dario said, bowing to his mother before gently kissing her cheeks. “It’s good to be home. And yes, I’m prepared to lead Kristianico, as is my duty.”

The Queen simply nodded her head, as if he were just another loyal subject, and moved to her place at the head of the table. If the woman ever showed one ounce of compassion or emotion, Stella would be shocked. She’d never in her life seen such an ice queen, no pun intended.

How could someone be that miserable and shut off from his or her feelings? It’s no wonder the room was so full of tension. This monarchy—this family—was built on it, from the top down.

If these walls could talk, Stella mused, there wouldn’t be one single person left with an appetite. She actually felt sorry for the palace chefs. There was no way anyone felt comfortable enough in this dining hall to eat well.

Except for the small talk, good-natured conversations and laughs that she, Sophia, Dario and Alberto carried on, no one spoke a single word until both the first and second courses were finished. Not until one of the chefs rolled in a cart filled with several meat options and began carving a gigantic roast of prime beef did Carlos crack the ice that held firm despite the roaring fire in the middle of the room.

“So, Dario, you’re ready to rule Kristianico? Is that what you told our fair queen?”

“I am. And yes, I’ve made my intentions clear to The Queen,” Dario said, answering his uncle with a direct look that Stella knew was meant to pack his answer with much more than words.

“I take it you see no problem with the fact that you still remain heirless? Or that you’re not betrothed?” Carlos asked, looking over the rims of his glasses, which sat crooked on his pointed nose.

With his beady black eyes always narrowed to slits and his permanent sneer, Carlos looked every bit as menacing as the worst of Hollywood villains. It was all Stella could do to keep quiet, knowing the storm was just about to get ugly between Dario and his uncle.

“You’re correct for once, Uncle Carlos. I see no problem at all. And in case you haven’t read the papers or seen the news lately, unless you’ve changed and now care enough about such matters, please let me reintroduce you to Stella Anastas who, rumor has it, will be your future queen. If I’m lucky enough that she’ll have me,” Dario said, taking Stella’s hand in his and squeezing it so tight she thought she might have to find a way to wiggle out of his grasp.

Recognizing her distress before she could finish trying to discreetly pull her hand out of his, Dario let her hand go limp in his and looked at her, his eyes telling her how sorry he was if he’d hurt her.

She squeezed his hand in return, hoping her love and understanding would transfer from her palm to his, encouraging him to forget about her and continue the good fight against Carlos.

“Oh, I’ve read the papers and seen the news, my dear boy. But need I remind this family that you two weren’t as strong as you thought the last time you led us to believe that you were considering marriage. You expect us to believe that you’ve got what it takes to keep Kristianico strong when you don’t even have the courage to stand up for each other?” Carlos finished his assault with a wicked laugh that sliced right through Stella’s nerves.