The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One) (20 page)

“I want you to say it,” he breathed. “Say you’re in, Magdalena. That I can have you.”

Her heart stuttered at the request, seizing at the command, at the need in his blue eyes as they held steady on her face. “I’m in. You can have me,” she repeated, marveling at the whimper in her own voice. What was he doing to her? How would she ever recover?

“And what else?” His fingers stroked her in a way that made it hard to think, her skin on fire and desperation rising in her blood.

“I want you inside me, Salvy. Now.”

He wasted no time in obliging her own command, slipping through the wetness he’d created as he grabbed a fresh condom and rolled on top of her. The weight of him felt delicious, so unlike the panic that had woken her, and she curled her nails into his back, forgetting those worries.
 

With Salvy’s lips on hers, his hardness deep inside her, and the pleasure rolling through like a storm on the edge of erupting, it was easy enough to believe she’d made the right choice.
 

Chapter Fifteen

Salvadore

Salvadore felt like a caged lion after Maggie left for work. He was supposed to meet the Chesapeake woman for lunch so that they could go over their appearances over the next week, but he needed to do something now.
 

He dialed Nico, Magdalena’s confession about the tactics of this Matrigna Holdings company boiling his blood.
 

“Please don’t tell me you’re backing out,” his brother started after his secretary put the call through.

“What? No.” Salvy frowned. “I was wondering if you’d found any more information regarding that real estate company you’d been looking into.”

Nico paused, and Salvy imagined his brother leaning back, rolling his eyes heavenward as though trying to recall the conversation in the car the week before. “Oh. No, but I gave the King all of the information I had and he decided it’s nothing we need to get involved in.”

“What if I had information that might change that?”

“Such as?”

“Nothing I can prove, at least not at the moment, but I’ve heard from a trusted source that the company—Matrigna Holdings?” His brother made a noise in affirmation. “Is blackmailing citizens into selling their land. Cheap. Criminally cheap.”

“The report I gave Father mentioned the cheap buyout prices people were taking, but I couldn’t figure out why. If it’s blackmail, that makes sense. But do that many people really have secrets they’re not willing to tell?”

Salvy thought about Maggie and her father, and how little they had. How much it would hurt to lose the house they loved, the little cabin where they’d lived together as a family, then just the two of them. “I don’t know. I’m sure some people are simply taking the money and running. But where are they going to go? Do we have that much rental housing?”

“Those are all good questions, but the King didn’t seem moved.” Nico frowned. “Even when I told him that I suspected Luca owns the parent company. Once he owns more than we do…I don’t know. What’s he planning?”

“An excellent question.” Salvy’s mind raced with possibilities. “He wants the crown once Father is gone, but to do that he has to get both of us to abdicate.”

“Or to die.”

“Let’s assume he’s not willing to outright kill us. He’s got plenty of ammunition against me. Moral objections that could be raised about my fitness to rule—”

“Which is why this come to Jesus is so important for you.”

Salvy sighed. “I’m aware. I think I’ll talk to Father anyway, to see if any of this new information might move him to at least let us look a little deeper.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

They hung up a moment later and Salvy strode across the room.

“James!” he barked as he opened the front door. Too loudly, it turned out, since the man stood to the right of the door.
 

“Yes, sir?”

“I’d like to see the King. What’s his schedule look like this morning?”

“I’ll let you know when I bring your coffee in a few minutes.”

“Fine,” he growled, not making eye contact.

It was only a little more than two minutes before James knocked, then entered with a tray of coffee and the answer to his question. “The King has a nine a.m. and an eleven, both expected to run long.”

“But now?”

“You have a small window, if you don’t mind popping in.”

“Thanks. If you want to radio ahead and let him know I’m coming, that’s your prerogative.”

“Wait, sir…”

James’s voice trailed off as Salvy left his house without drinking his coffee, deciding to walk the short mile to the palace and his father’s office. The morning air was cold in his lungs. It felt good, and fresh…like a new start, even if it wasn’t the one he’d grown up imagining.
 

His father wasn’t in his office, so Salvadore stalked the halls to the royal bedchamber. He found his father at a small table inside, staring out the windows at the frosty morning while the steam from his cup of tea curled toward the ceiling. The scene was so peaceful, so picturesque, that he almost hated to interrupt it.

“Salvadore?” his father said, surprise evident in the raise of his bushy, white eyebrows. The King glanced at a clock on the wall. “It’s not even eight in the morning. Are you quite well?”

“I’m fine.”

“Would you like some tea?”

“Sure.” He preferred coffee; a habit he’d picked up on frequent visits to America that he found it hard to break.
 

“Sit, son. I won’t have you hovering over me before I’ve finished my breakfast. Have you eaten?”

Salvy did as his father asked, taking the chair opposite and gazing out over the land. It was beautiful, their county. The lakes in the foreground, the snow-tipped mountains in the distance. It was as good as anyplace else in the world to settle down, and better than most.
 

“No. I’m not hungry.”
 

That much was true, even if he did usually eat as big of a breakfast as he could get his hands on. It helped dry up whatever was still sloshing around in his stomach from the night before, for one thing. But he’d been that way even before the partying.
 

This morning, though, his nerves were too taut to think about eating. His stomach hurt just thinking about putting tea in it, never mind anything more substantial.
 

He wondered again, for the tenth time since he woke up this morning, what was happening to him?

Things had changed so drastically in such a short period of time; it was only two weeks ago that he’d woken up in Vegas to a gorgeous, naked woman and YouTube videos of him helicoptering his penis in the Bellagio fountains. Then, as ever, Etzio’s disapproval.

All of those things, in one way or another, had become normal for him.
 

This…feeling out of control, not knowing how to play his hand or even what cards he held, it was all strange and unsettling. Add not feeling like eating breakfast to the list.

“Well, I’m going to have an omelette. I’ll order you one, too, in case you change your mind.”

The King went to the door, his robe trailing him, and spoke quietly with the man stationed outside. Salvy waited, wondering if coming to his father was a mistake.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re here sooner or later, but how about we go with sooner? I’ve got a meeting with an envoy from Monaco in an hour and I’d like to be prepared.”

Monaco. Salvy frowned, thinking about what Nico told him regarding the arranged marriage. That was none of his business, though, and not the reason he’d come.

“I wanted to ask for your thoughts on the real estate situation in Cielo.”

The King’s lips turned down, a wrinkle of concentration appearing on his forehead. “Are you talking about the company intent on buying up most of the private landholdings, or something more generic?”

“That. Matrigna Holdings. What do you know about them?” Nico thought Luca was behind the whole thing, but Salvy had trouble believing the King would be so willing to look the other way if he thought that were the case.

“Not much. Nico has been briefing me, but so far, it seems like they’re operating above board so there’s not much we can do about it.”

“Really? Because it seems like it would be a bad idea to suddenly be the minority landholders in Cielo. Being the crown, and all.”

“I don’t think they’ll convince that many people to sell.” The King waved a dismissive hand, sipping his tea and glancing down at the stack of newspapers in front of him.

“They will if they blackmail them,” Salvadore said, then regretted the tidbit right away.

The King’s head snapped up, his icy blue eyes sharp as a hawk’s. “Do you have any proof of these allegations?”

“No.” He couldn’t bring up Maggie or the King would have questions. “Rumors, nothing more. But I think it would be worth checking into, especially if we could save our subjects from humiliation and the loss of the property they’ve saved and worked for their entire lives.”

His father watched him for a long time after Salvy finished talking. His eyes were appraising, his mouth set in a thin line, but what he decided was impossible to guess. “I think it’s noble of you to care, Salvadore. Odd, but noble. Your brother has been looking into this for a while, and if he says there’s nothing prosecutable going on, I tend to agree with him. He’s the one who’s been here, working for the crown’s subjects while you’ve been galavanting around the world and spending our money on booze and women. And probably abortions, I don’t want to know.”

Shame tickled his face, making it hot. Another first.
 

There was no way to defend himself without bringing Magdalena into the conversation and he wasn’t ready to do that. He’d promised her that their fling wouldn’t affect her future employment with his family and he intended to keep his word.

“How is Magdalena doing with the preparations for your ball?” The King blanched over the last word, clearly still annoyed at the existence of the entire event.
 

Join the club.

The mention of Magdalena startled him, as though his father could read his mind now as easily as he had when Salvy was thirteen. Although, strictly speaking, it wasn’t hard to read the mind of a teenage boy. It was all sex and food. Occasionally friends.
 

“She’s doing a great job, from what I can tell. I don’t spend that much time in the workshop since they’ve finished the concepts and have gotten down to the nitty gritty.”

“Hmmm. That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“What does that mean?”

The King shrugged. “That you’ve been in the workshop quite a lot. And in the kitchen together, as well.”

“It is my ball, and she wanted some advice about Elisa’s costume, since your granddaughter refuses to wear a gown. And she won’t remember to feed herself.”

Salvy refused to look away first, but the battle of wills lasted longer than made him comfortable.

“Do not ruin things for that girl, Salvadore. She’s worked hard, and she’s going to face enough opposition keeping her father’s clients the way it is. The last thing she needs is a scandal.”

First Etzio, and now this? He supposed he should have expected the lack of faith.

Still, it made him worry. Controlling his father’s reaction was one thing, but the public? Time had proven he had no influence over what the press printed about him or his sex life. He’d never cared until now.

“I’m not going to ruin anything for Magdalena, Father. We’re friends, remember?” Salvy tried to keep the guilt from his face, but suspected his father glimpsed something more than mild interest. “It’s nice to see her again, that’s all.”

“Make sure it stays that way,” the King grunted, finally dropping his gaze when a knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

Salvy breathed out, trying to force himself to stop sweating as the servants brought in more tea, two omelettes, toast, and croissants. There had to be a way to bring up the promises he’d made about the ball without putting his father on the defensive.
 

“Was there something else?” King Alfonso asked, fork poised over his plate.
 

The second omelette, a ham and swiss, his favorite, steamed on the plate in front of Salvy. His stomach clenched and he pushed it away.
 

Contrition. Groveling. Those were things his father understood.

“I’m regretting the decision to hold this ball,” he began, testing the waters.

The King snorted. “Well, I should hope so. Not that you’re unaccustomed to looking ridiculous, but this is a new level, even for you.”

Salvy closed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t defend himself. Not now. “Yes, well…I was wondering if there might be a way for you and I to negotiate the marriage part of the bargain we made. If I can prove to you in other ways that I’m keen to change both my image and my involvement, I mean.”

“I don’t see how that would be possible, son. The fact that we’re holding this ludicrous ball in the first place is your doing, and proof enough that you’re not taking my demands seriously.” He glowered, spearing a bell pepper with his fork.