The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One) (29 page)

“Let me know when it’s done.”
 

“Will do.”

They shook hands and Salvy ducked back into his car, ignoring the reporters outside who had somehow found out he’d been here the better part of the afternoon and evening. They had a million questions about what sort of legal help he needed, why they’d gone to see a judge, and the details of the cease and desist to Matrigna Holdings. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised since things like that were public record.
 

Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing, for people to hear about it now. It meant Matrigna had nowhere to hide, and no way for the public to accuse the royal family of being unaware of what was going on in Cielo.

But it also meant there would be one angry King waiting for him back at the palace.
 

Chapter Twenty-Two

Magdalena

She supposed she should be thankful for all there was to do at the house. It kept her from thinking too hard about what Prince Salvy had said to her in the kitchen four nights ago. It had helped her to ignore the alternating pangs of anger and regret as she and her father packed their every possession into boxes and moved them into a storage unit, then made their way to the countryside to take Juliet up on her offer to let them stay until they could figure out something else.

Her father’s secret was an assault charge—on Juliet’s ex-husband, after he’d nearly killed her. It was something anyone could understand and forgive, but it had happened so long ago that it would be news all over again. He hadn’t wanted to relive it.

At least people wouldn’t have to know about her weakness for Salvadore. Along with that, Maggie hoped that what happened that night at the Matrigna offices would forever stay hidden.

It was the night of the ball, and since they were all settled in Juliet’s house and there was nothing left to pack or clean or really say, Magdalena was struggling not to think about what the night would mean for Salvy.
 

Lucky for her, Juliet’s niece, Amalia, had arrived earlier in the day and decided to come and sit with Maggie in the living room. Juliet was puttering around the kitchen, baking some of her niece’s favorite foods since this was the first time she’d been back to Cielo in almost three years, and the sounds of her using a mixer and humming as she banged pots and pans against the stove and countertops provided a strange comfort. One of the country’s favorite gossip shows played low in the background.

Amalia was younger than Maggie by a year or so, and she was a beauty. Tall, lithe, with the carriage of a woman with both confidence and breeding, the exterior package made her easygoing, fun personality an unexpected delight.

“Ow, shit!” Amalia exclaimed after stubbing her toe on the edge of the sofa. She flopped onto the worn cushions and rubbed her foot, expression pinched. “That smarts.”

“Are you okay?” Maggie asked, trying to pull her mind from Arcobaleno and the ball. Away from the desperation on Salvadore’s face when he told her that he wanted things to be different.

“I’ll survive,” Amalia said with a wry smile. “When you’re as accident-prone as I am, you get used to little annoyances.”

Juliet popped into the doorway between the rooms, her cherry-patterned apron and her left cheek dusted with flour. “Would you two like some tea?”

“Sure, thanks Auntie J.” Amalia winked at Maggie. “I’m going to make Magdalena tell me all about this ball we’re both missing out on tonight.”

To her surprise, Maggie found that she
wanted
to talk about the ball—about all of her hard work, and how beautiful the gowns would be, and about Elisa’s specially designed little outfits. So she did, leaving out any reference to the reason for the event or the man who had set it all in motion.

“I think I’ve been gone too long, because all of this sounds terribly exciting and romantic. Tell me again why you’re not going?”

“It’s only for ladies of high birth and their families,” Maggie explained, on autopilot. It made no difference that she had been invited by Prince Salvadore himself.
 

“Right, but Auntie J said you’re friends with the royal family. You grew up with them, and you pulled this whole thing together in three weeks. Don’t tell me they didn’t invite you or it’s totally going to ruin the chivalrous image I have of them in my mind.”

Maggie paused, not wanting to lie. After everything, she thought the Piacere family were good and decent rulers—or she had, until they’d refused to take action on this Matrigna thing.
 

Everyone made mistakes. Matrigna was good at hiding their tracks; maybe she couldn’t blame King Alfonso for not wanting to get involved without any real proof of wrongdoing.

Salvadore was another story.
 

“Why are you frowning?” Amalia’s eyes were wide. “Are they dicks? Tell me. No, wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Her back and forth made Magdalena laugh in spite of her heavy heart, and she shook her head. She could answer the question easily enough and not lie. “They did invite me. I declined.”

“Oh my gosh, why? It’s a royal ball!”

“I was pretty angry over them not helping out with this whole Matrigna mess, especially after I asked Prince Salvadore personally to look into it.” Her face got hot, and she wondered if the word personally sounded as strange to Amalia as it had felt on her tongue. Did it give everything away?

“Maggie loves to stand on her principles, even if it means standing in a country house instead of in the middle of a royal ball in a beautiful dress,” Juliet said, her tone dry as she set a tray with cups and a teapot on the coffee table in front of her niece and Magdalena. “Gets it from her father.”

“Oh, leave her alone, Auntie J. I guess I can understand. It’s just a dance, after all, and with the moving and losing the house, maybe she doesn’t feel like celebrating.”

“Thank you,” Magdalena said, sticking her tongue out at Juliet. The woman pulled a handful of envelopes out of her apron pocket and held them out. “What’s this?”

“Mail from the past couple of days. Your father didn’t have time to open it because we were busy packing, and I’d forgotten, too, until I found it stuffed in the box with the tea kettle a minute ago.”

“Thanks.”
 

Amalia went about making herself tea and Magdalena thumbed through the stack of bills and invoices.
 

She froze at the sight of a business envelope with Matrigna’s return address and both her and her father’s names printed on the front. The date over the stamp read three days ago—one day after they’d given in and signed the papers.
 

“What’s that?”

Magdalena didn’t answer, her hand trembling as she tried to decide whether to open it. The last time she’d done so, naked photographs of herself fell out, and that would be a little hard to explain. This envelope was slim, though, and likely held only a sheet of paper. She didn’t have to share what it said if she didn’t want to—Amalia would understand her desire for privacy.

So, she slit it open with a fingernail and reminded herself to breathe as she pulled out the single piece of paper. The letterhead was the same, but as she started reading, she couldn’t believe her eyes.
 

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to throw up.”
 

Amalia’s voice floated in from the edges of Maggie’s awareness, but it was the familiar touch of Juliet’s hand on her shoulder that brought her around. Maggie looked up, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching the miraculous paper.
 

“What is it, darling?” the older woman asked, her dark eyes snapping and perceptive.
 

“Matrigna is canceling the contract for our house. The funds will be returned within a week of this letter, which was delivered…” she double-checked the date at the top of the letter. “Three days ago.”

“I can’t believe it.” Juliet had gone white. “I’m going to tell your father.”

She raced up the stairs before Maggie could stop her, or even gather together syllables to make words. The letter said only that the company had changed their goals as far as acquiring real estate in Cielo, but that couldn’t be the whole story.
 

“I’m going to get you a glass of water,” Amalia said, a worried look on her face as she shot to her feet and went into the kitchen.

It was over. They could go home, she could keep the workshop. The pictures, her father’s past indiscretion…no one would have to know, and nothing would change.
 

The suddenness with which everything in her world tipped right-side up again left Magdalena’s head spinning.
 

“Um, Maggie?” Amalia said from the kitchen, her voice at an odd pitch. Tight. “I think you should come in here. Right now.”

Magdalena’s rubbery legs responded to the intensity in the girl’s voice, propelling her into the kitchen as quickly as they could. Amalia stood by the sink, a glass of water clutched in her hand so tight its contents were sloshing over the edges every time she breathed. Her eyes were glued to the flatscreen television, still playing Calling Cielo, an entertainment show that masqueraded as news.

The same one that had asked Prince Salvadore about the mysterious woman that may or may not have brought him back to Cielo for this ball and a marriage proposal.

The anchor, a sassy young woman named Julia Fiore, had her serious face on, and since the story wasn’t part of her regular Royal Watch segment, Maggie relaxed the slightest bit.

Until she saw the words scrolling on the banner at the bottom of the screen.

Prince Salvadore Files Cease and Desist on Behalf of the Crown, Stops Thousands from Losing their Property at the Hands of Mysterious Matrigna Holdings.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, grasping for the back of a stool and easing herself onto it.
 

Amalia’s eyes were huge. “He did it. For you.”

“No, not for me. It can’t be for me.” Maggie argued out of habit, or maybe out of fear, since she’d lived with that aspect of her recent relationship with the prince for weeks, now.

The segment ended with Maggie barely hearing any of it, and Amalia muted the commercial. She turned to Maggie, her face bright with glee. “You have to go to that ball.”

“What? Why?” The twist of the conversation confused her. Her brain was still back in the living room reading that letter, and was now trying to comprehend the fact that Salvadore was responsible for giving her and her father their lives back.
 

For giving a good portion of the Cielo people the same thing.
 

Pride swelled in her chest, so swift and powerful that she almost cried out. He had done it. After all of these years, he had taken action as a royal instead of acting like a spoiled second prince, and she wanted to dance with joy. To hug him, kiss his face, do other things that were no longer hers to do.

“Because you’re Cinderella,” Amalia replied, her expression dead serious.

Maggie laughed and laughed. It took her a good two minutes to get herself back under control, and she was still wiping her eyes when she managed to respond. “You’ve been in America too long, girlfriend. Fairytales don’t exist, even if sexy princes do. Prince Salvadore isn’t going to choose a seamstress over a duchess or something similar. He’ll do what’s expected of him.”

“Like he did with Matrigna?” Amalia raised her eyebrows, a bit of triumph in her eyes. “Because that reporter said that up until the cease and desist, the royal family had declined both comment and action on the situation.”

Salvy had gone against his father’s wishes to do the right thing, but that didn’t change anything for the two of them. Did it?
 

He’d said he loved her. That he wanted things to be different but couldn’t go back on his word to the King.

What about now? Shouldn’t she at least go and thank him, apologize for the harsh words she’d said toward his character? Hug him and celebrate?

“I don’t even have anything to wear,” Maggie mumbled. “And it starts in a few hours.”

“Lucky for you, I think I have something that will fit you beautifully,” Juliet said quietly, stepping into the bright light of the kitchen. Her eyes were soft on Maggie’s face, full of understanding as she crossed the room and took Magdalena’s hands in hers. “This is your moment, lovely girl. Don’t pass it up because of fear. Go. Dance. Fall in love, even if you have to say goodbye to it when the clock strikes midnight. Bravery takes many forms, and take it from an old woman—nights like this one don’t come around often. Or even twice.”

Maggie stared at her for several moments, her heart fluttering in her chest. If she went to the ball and saw Salvadore, told him she loved him too, it probably wouldn’t change anything at all.
 

But if she could find the courage to do it anyway, then at least she could say she tried. Maybe that was all anyone could do, in the long run, and the only thing that would let her move on tomorrow morning, when she woke up alone.

She took a deep breath, then blew it out. Allowed herself a small smile and the enjoyment of the tingle of excitement that began at the base of her spine. “Let’s see this dress.”