The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One) (16 page)

He wanted to punch the man for the first time, which was saying something, considering how many times Etzio had played the intentional cock block.
 

They stared at each other for a full thirty seconds. Salvadore wondered whether steam was coming out of his ears, because his blood felt as though it had reached boiling. Etzio did not get to talk about Maggie that way, as though she couldn’t make decisions for herself, as if she would need protection from him.

As if the servant was the only person in the car who cared for Magdalena. No.

“I’m simply reminding you that this may not fall into the category of only your business, Your Highness. If things go awry.”

“My father has been far more patient with you overstepping your bounds than I will be, should you choose to keep it up,” Salvy growled as the driver pulled open his door from the outside. “Magdalena Rossi and I are friends, and I plan to continue to see her in that capacity.”

Etzio startled at his tone, which even Salvadore recognized as imperious. He usually took care to not sound as if he wielded royal power—at least outside the bedroom—and treated his staff more like friends or family than servants.
 

But fucking Etzio needed to be reminded that that’s
exactly
what he was. Nothing more. Not to him.

Certainly not if he was going to lecture him about Maggie.
 

“Very good, sir,” the man said quietly, confusion and something else, something like surprise, in his expression.

The quick walk between the car and the house made it easier to breathe, and by the time he strode into his brother’s study, Salvadore was feeling calmer. He might have overreacted, but damn. It sounded as if the King, and Etzio, and everyone else expected him to take advantage of Maggie, to break her heart. And that pissed him off.

Because it might have been true or because it wasn’t, he couldn’t be sure.

“Ah, little brother. You’re just in time.” Nico closed the doors on the antique liquor cabinet, a bottle of scotch in one hand. The label promised it was at least thirty years old, which meant they were in for an afternoon of serious discussion.

Normally, that would have sent him running or reaching for a bottle of pills to get him good and numb for the process, but not today. Today, he welcomed the chance to focus on what his life could look like here in Cielo.
 

“I’ll take a double,” he rasped, still working on controlling his emotions as he sank into one of his brother’s favorite, deep leather chairs. It was Etzio and his damned, out-of-line lecture that had him out of sorts.

“You okay?” Nico set two cut-glass tumblers on the low table between the chairs and poured two fingers of perfectly aged, golden liquid into them. He nudged one toward his brother. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night. Of course, knowing you, that could be a good thing.”

Salvy grunted. “You would think.”

“What’s got you so uptight?”

“Etzio. Man doesn’t know where the line is, at least not with me.”

Nico sipped his scotch, taking a moment to study his younger brother over the rim of his glass. “He’s loyal as a dog, you know that. And he’s pretty focused on what’s best for the family. You’ve aged the man two decades since he’s been trying to keep you in line.”

“Well, Father could have called him back anytime.”

“Hmm.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes. Nico checked his phone, his concentration revealed in the wrinkle on his forehead. Salvy scanned the room, a study in blatant masculinity. The furniture was leather, his brother’s desk was large and made of polished, dark mahogany. The cabinet held old liquor and the shelves were crowded with books, all free of dust. None of them wore jackets, but Salvy knew from previous explorations that there were not popular thrillers or crime fiction among the titles. They were all either classics or volumes upon volumes of family history and genealogy.
 

“Sorry. So, you’ve found a woman to pass the time with here in Cielo. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. At least if you’re sleeping with her at your place, the press shouldn’t get ahold of it. Unless she talks.”

The sour taste was back in his mouth. “That is not the issue.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Nico looked as though he wanted to ask how he could be so certain, but pressed his lips together and thought better of saying anything at all. Questions about women rarely went answered, and the two brothers had such vastly different approaches, they’d learned long ago that little could be gained from discussing it.

“Well, then tell Etzio to mind his own business. I’m sure it’s not the first time.”

“Indeed.” Salvy sipped his drink, letting the warmth spread through his limbs. “Was there something specific you wanted to discuss, or were you merely looking for some brotherly bonding?”

Nico laughed. They both knew that he wasn’t much into the latter, even though they’d been close since they were boys without really trying. “There was something, and I hope you’ll be more open to thoughts from me than Etzio. Because it was Father who asked me to have you around for a chat.”

“Oh, Lord. About what this time?” He’d figured that the ball would get the King off his back for a few weeks, at least.

“He’d like you to be more involved in the crown’s politics while you’re in country. Take charge of a charity, work on infrastructure, sit in on parliament sessions, something of that nature.”

“That all sounds terrible.” Except it didn’t. It sounded like a lifeline out of idleness, but he wasn’t ready to admit any such thing.

“Hear me out,” Nico pleaded. “There are some places where we could really use some more influence, and you’ve never been short on charm.”

“Okay, lay it on me.” Even as Salvy responded the way his brother, and likely his father, expected—with apathy—the truth was, relief flooded him.
 

“We’ve been looking at passing an edict regarding the recent increase in refugee needs. A good number of people are opposed, but we’ve brought in an aid worker from one of our border camps, and she’s willing to do a speaking circuit. I was thinking with you.” Nico made a face. “You can’t sleep with her, Sal, okay?”

Salvy laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m strangely content at the moment.”

He regretted the spontaneous confession as it slipped through his lips. It was as big a surprise to him as it was to Nico, but as he let it sink in, it felt honest. He hadn’t thought about texting Valla since Maggie had waltzed back into his life days ago, and he hadn’t been back to see her since the other night.

“Well, you should know that raises my curiosity quite a bit. But I won’t ask you about it. I suppose I can wait and find out at the ball with everyone else.” He refilled their glasses. “What do you think about the publicity tour regarding the refugees? I’m thinking a goodwill message, to let people know that our family is behind offering more assistance.”

“Sure, that sounds good.”
 

“Okay. I’ll put the two of you in touch.” Nico’s voice tightened as he stared down at the drink in his hands. “I know you’re not excited about all of this, but maybe Father is right. You might think of yourself as a spare, Sally, but anything can happen. Just because I’m young, it doesn’t guarantee I’ll be around forever.”
 

It was no secret that Nico still mourned the loss of his wife, three years later. In his worst moments, his brother confided that he knew in his heart he would never find love like that again, and how scared it made him to think of raising Elisa alone. To know he would walk through life without a partner by his side.
 

The depth of his brother’s loss was hard to grasp, because even though he had the experience of losing Mother to draw from, even Salvy realized it wasn’t the same. Saying goodbye to parents, even earlier than expected, is something children are prepared for. Losing Genie at the age of twenty-eight had been a shock from which Nico hadn’t recovered.
 

“You’re not going to die,” Salvy told him, his own throat tight, even though neither of them could know it was true.

For the first time in his life, he worried about what might happen if something
did
happen to Nico. If his father was gone and the people of Cielo didn’t trust him to carry on the Piacere legacy with the kind of dignity and competence his family had ensured for generations...

Would they trust Luca?
 

The prospect curled his hand tight around his glass. In that moment, he understood all of his father’s fears. The reason he’d called him back here and had thrown down the gauntlet.
 

Salvy wasn’t sure how easy it would be for him to change, even if he decided he wanted to try. He had nothing to offer, no experience in politics or ruling. The people had no reason to trust him, and this ball and farce of a marriage would only cement that fact in the minds of their subjects.

“Maybe not. But thanks for agreeing to take care of Chesapeake while she’s rallying the troops.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Yeah, that’s her name. Apparently her parents were world-traveling hippies and they conceived her in America. It’s unfortunate, but she’s smart, she’s dedicated, and she works her ass off in several of our outreach programs abroad. You might have to smooth over her edges with the press and the commoners, though. She has a bit of a tendency to shoot off at the mouth.”

Salvy felt his eyes bug out. “And you think
I’m
the right person to handle her?”

“You’re not to handle her at all,” Nico reiterated.

He rolled his eyes. “Hands off the do-gooder. No problem. They usually don’t have much time for men like me, brother.”

“You never know. You smile and show those dimples and women’s clothes just fall off.” There was a bit of wistfulness to Nico’s observation.

It confused Salvadore. “You look exactly like me, sans dimples. You’re the future King of Cielo, not to mention you’re an
actual
grownup. Please, don’t tell me you think you’ll have trouble finding a queen to stand at your side, should you desire one in the future.”

“You know I don’t, even if there are days I’m lonely.” Nico sighed. “I’m afraid that once Father gets you into line, I’m going to land in his crosshairs next. Honestly, maybe Elisa could benefit from a mother. Goodness knows I’m doing a terrible job with her.”

Salvy set down his drink. “You’re not doing a terrible job with her, Nico. She lost her mother, she was high-spirited to start with, and she’s as lonely and as lost as you are. You should spend more time with her.”

“He’s been hinting that he’d love to arrange a marriage between Illaria Grimaldi and myself, if I were to consent,” Nico said, as if he hadn’t heard his brother. “That a stronger alliance with Monaco would benefit all of us.”

“Our royal bank accounts, to be sure,” Salvy murmured, switching gears but unsure what to think. “You’d be okay with that? A political marriage?”

Nico shrugged, looking exhausted, now. “I’ll never have what I had with Genie. So, if Father thinks having a woman at my side will ease a transition when the time comes, I don’t see the point in fighting him.”

For his part, Salvy thought that was depressing as hell. Even if it was essentially what he planned to do in a few weeks—marry a girl his father approved of, simply to get the King off his back.

But he wasn’t Nico. Nico was like Magdalena—they believed in love, the true kind. The real kind, the sort that lasted, that changed lives. It hurt to see his brother give up on that, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Salvy wondered how likely it was for a person to find the sort of love Nico had with Eugenie more than once.

Once seemed impossible enough.

Maggie’s face floated in his mind, her dark eyes full of playful desire. They saw in him more than he was—the man he could have been, not the one he’d turned into, and for the first time, he wanted to believe it wasn’t too late.

The brothers spent another twenty minutes catching up, finishing off two more glasses of scotch. Nico pried, looking for more information on the woman he’d brought back to his house the night before, but Salvy refused. The staff knew, which meant all Nico had to do was ask, but Salvy wouldn’t be the one to betray Magdalena’s trust. He’d done that once, and he’d lost her for ten years.

He only had two weeks. He wouldn’t do anything that cost him a single hour.

Chapter Twelve

Magdalena

Her phone dinged with a message, finally distracting her from the half-finished serving outfit in front of her. She vaguely recalled the tone going off several times since she’d last checked it, but she’d been too focused on her work to take a break.
 

She realized now that she’d also forgotten to touch base with Juliet today and, with guilt twisting her belly, spit out a mouthful of pins and grabbed her phone. There was a text from Juliet, along with more than ten from Brigida and Barty.
 

The one about her father took precedence. Once opened, all it said was
Call us. No matter the time.