Slow Tango With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (24 page)

She wriggled and rolled over to face him, unwilling to let it go. “You were hurt, too, weren’t you?”

“We’re all hurt at one time or another. Wouldn’t be human otherwise.”

“No, not like this. I suspect whatever happened to you is the reason you needed a five-month vacation. And to find an apartment far from home to use as an escape.” She flattened her palm against his heart. He couldn’t define it, but her gentle touch made him understand she wasn’t pressing him for information, but conveying her understanding of a painful event. “I’m glad you contacted your family and that you’re going home. I suspect it’ll be as good for you as it is a relief for them.”

“Is this the point where we swap bad relationship stories?”

She gave a minute shake of her head. “It’s the point where you allow yourself to be optimistic about the future and know that, whatever happened, you’re over the worst of it.”

He smiled and closed his eyes. For all her hard-driving work ethic, Emily was a nurturer first.
 

“I was deceived by someone I’d come to trust.” Love wasn’t the right word, though he’d felt a great deal of affection for Carmella. He stroked the lean muscle and fine, downy hair on the back of Emily’s arm as he spoke, drawing more comfort from the act than he gave. “I ended the relationship because it wasn’t what I thought it was.”

Emily was silent for a long moment before asking, “Do you think it was more painful because you lost the girl, or because you felt you’d used bad judgment?”

He opened his eyes, surprised by her question. It was an angle he’d never before considered. “Probably both. I mourned the loss of a person and a relationship that never really existed. But I was also angry at myself for not being smart enough to see I was being used.” Very angry. “It’s taken a long time to get past it. In retrospect, I don’t think I could’ve predicted the full extent of her deception.”

Emily’s fingertips drifted lower, settling at his waist. “‘Deception’ is a strong word.”

“It fits. She was seeing someone else the entire time. Before she was with me, even. Of course, when I asked her out I had no idea.”

The edges of Emily’s mouth jerked. “And she accepted your invitation anyway?”

“I was in a position to help both her career and her boyfriend’s career. He saw it as a golden opportunity and she agreed. They decided to take their relationship underground so she could pursue me.” The muscles of his jaw tightened. “Turned out to be a smart move on their part. They both saw their careers take off.”

He knew he was being cryptic about his position, but to her credit, she didn’t pry. “I’d say that falls squarely into the category of deception. How long were you together?”

“A couple years, off and on, but we were only serious the last few months.”
 

“Ending it must have been very difficult.”
 

Agonizing was more like it. He’d prided himself on his cautious nature, on always doing what he’d been raised to do—to act in a manner that reflected well on his country and his family—and being confronted with the evidence of her perfidy made him question everything he believed about his ability to make good decisions. His mother had invited him to dinner in her suite. He’d sensed her unease the instant she’d dismissed her staff for the day, insisting that they deserved an evening off and that she and Vittorio would be fine. Her emerald eyes were filled with pain as she confessed that she’d run a background check on Carmella.

He’d reached across the table, putting his hand over his mother’s. He didn’t like it, he’d said, but he wasn’t surprised she’d done it. After all, he was heir to the crown and understood that his mother had only his best interests and those of their country at heart. He’d resumed eating, assuming the subject was closed. He’d been sorely mistaken.

“This was more than a routine check.” The gravity in his mother’s tone made him set down his fork. This time, she was the one to offer a reassuring touch, covering his fingers with hers. “I know you’ve been considering a future with her or I wouldn’t have been so thorough. She’s in the public eye and has an excellent reputation. But I never would’ve guessed…”

When his normally plainspoken mother struggled for words, Vittorio’s stomach had pitched. “Guessed what, Mother?”

She’d told him everything then. A well-known Spanish film producer—one Carmella had introduced Vittorio to on numerous occasions, explaining that the man had backed many of her projects—was also Carmella’s lover. Further digging revealed that they’d been together since before Vittorio and Carmella met. When Vittorio had expressed interest in the young actress, the pair mapped out a plan they hoped would boost both their careers.

“How could you possibly know that?” he’d asked.

“She was seen entering the producer’s apartment wearing a disguise. Given her odd behavior and obvious familiarity with his neighborhood, I kept watch on her for nearly a month. The man I hired to tail her was able to overhear enough conversations that—when put together with Carmella’s and her boyfriend’s bank records—painted an irrefutable picture.”

“And exactly what is that picture?” he’d asked. He hadn’t wanted to delve into how Carmella was “overheard” or how his mother obtained access to the private financial information.

“They knew if Carmella dated you, she’d be followed by the media and photographed. It could raise her profile and help her break out of European cinema and crack Hollywood.” His mother rattled off a number of public appearances he’d made with the Spanish actress over the course of their relationship to make her point, then said, “Being seen with you was the tip of the iceberg. Apparently she and her boyfriend began making promises on your behalf, telling studios that they could guarantee your presence at her movie premieres, even claiming that you were willing to help fund certain projects. They knew that with your name attached, they were more likely to get their projects greenlighted. You mean guaranteed publicity for any film.”

His mind had reeled at his mother’s accusations. “I’ve been to a few of her premieres, but only when it was convenient, given my schedule. I certainly never offered her any financial backing. How could they possibly cover those claims?”

The queen’s mouth had formed a grim line. “Her boyfriend was selling off the gifts you bought her. The painting you sent for her last birthday, for instance.”

“She told me her apartment was robbed.” The painting was stolen, as were several pieces of jewelry and an antique dressing table he’d purchased for her over the course of their relationship.

“He and Carmella were also leaking information about you to the tabloids…for a price. They’ve been using that money to finance their projects and to bring in other investors, claiming the money came directly from you.”

He’d closed his eyes, hating his mother’s words despite knowing in his gut that what she said was true. Carmella had told Vittorio that the producer was an up-and-comer and generating a lot of interest in his projects…and that it was due to his efforts that she was starting to be cast in meaty, career-changing roles. On more than one occasion she’d asked Vittorio if he’d consider investing in the man’s projects. Vittorio told Carmella he wasn’t comfortable putting his family money into an industry he knew so little about. Once, he’d even asked her why the producer needed his money, if he was getting so much interest from regular investors in the film business. Carmella had turned the question back on Vittorio, saying that she was offering him a rare opportunity and had assumed he’d appreciate it. She’d even said she thought he wanted to pursue interests that distinguished him from the rest of his family.

As his mother spoke, he realized that Carmella had been working him, bit by bit, building her film credits and biding her time until she reached a level of success that would enable her to leave Europe behind. Hearing the truth—from his mother, of all people—had left him feeling emasculated.
 

Emily shifted at Vittorio’s extended silence, the subtle dip in the mattress snapping him to the present.
 

“You all right?”

He nodded. “Just remembering. We were supposed to go to a charity auction the night after I learned she’d been lying to me. I called her and said I wasn’t up to being social and asked if she’d mind having dinner at my place instead. The confrontation was less than pleasant.”

“I imagine that’s a kind way of phrasing it.” Emily’s voice was thick. “Did you lose your temper?”

“Surprisingly, no. She was shocked and hurt when I told her I knew, but she didn’t deny any of it.” All these months later, he remembered the icy calm that settled within him when Carmella swept into his palace apartment that night, all smiles. How the chill remained when she fell apart in front of him.

He lifted a lock of Emily’s hair from her shoulder and twisted it around his finger as he spoke. “She insisted that she’d fallen for me during those last few months and that she’d decided to end it with her longtime boyfriend. She claimed she hadn’t yet because she was afraid the guy would be angry and want retribution. That he’d do anything to ruin our relationship and both our reputations if he learned that she’d fallen in love with me.”

Carmella had even collapsed to her knees before him, oblivious to damaging her cream-colored designer dress, and told him with tears running down her face that he meant everything to her. He’d stared down at her and felt strangely detached, as if someone had simply removed his heart from his chest to keep him from feeling anything while the woman crumpled at his feet. He’d even wondered if it was all a show intended to keep him from reporting her and her producer boyfriend to the police, despite the fact bringing her duplicity to light would harm the Barrali family almost as much as it would hurt her. Her agony seemed out of proportion to the depth of their relationship, and it hardened his heart against her.

He’d callously complimented her on an Oscar-worthy performance, which only made her cry harder.

“The thing is, part of me wanted to believe her. I suspected she had come to love me in a way, but I couldn’t look past the dishonesty. Or that she was the type of person who’d gotten into a relationship for career gains—and stayed in it for so long—even if her intent had changed at the end.” He let Emily’s hair fall from his fingers. “I told her to get out and never to contact me again.”

“Given what I know of you, that must’ve been incredibly difficult.” She continued to gently massage his hip as she spoke, her tone one of sympathy rather than pity, for which he was grateful. “I’m sorry, Vittorio.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, too.”
 

A few beats later, she said, “It’s human nature to want to be loved. When someone we care for isn’t being honest, we can’t blame ourselves for not seeing it right away.” The edges of her eyes crinkled as a self-effacing smile crept up. “Took me a while to learn that, of course. A lot like you taking a while to learn to prioritize yourself and enjoy life.”

He smiled at her attempt to lighten his mood. She only knew part of the story…and couldn’t know that there was no way
not
to blame himself for what happened.

“You’re not buying it, are you?”

Emily was nothing if not perceptive. “In this case, she actually may have been in love. But I wasn’t willing to entertain that possibility until it was too late.”

At Emily’s quizzical look, he said, “Our nasty breakup wasn’t the worst of it. Even knowing she’d lied to me wasn’t the worst.” Part of him knew he shouldn’t continue, but emotionally, he needed to share his grief with another human being, one who had no stake in a tabloid-headlining relationship between a prince and an actress. “She committed suicide a few weeks later. Hung herself with a piece of jewelry I’d bought her.” A thick, twisted, golden rope necklace he’d selected because it complemented a gown she’d purchased for an upcoming film festival and modeled for him in the privacy of her apartment. She’d never worn either in public, but several of the articles concerning her death mentioned her unusually formal clothing and the necklace.

The details had gutted him.

Horror and disbelief clouded Emily’s wide eyes. Her hand came to his chest, her fingers fanning out to cover his heart. Seeing her emotional reaction—combined with actually saying the words
she committed suicide
aloud for the first time—sent hot tears springing to Vittorio’s eyes. He willed them back and ignored the lump forming in his throat. “The news hit me so hard I couldn’t think straight. I blamed myself, of course. Never in a million years did I think she felt so strongly she’d believe ending her life was the only resolution. And then it got worse.”

He filled his lungs with air, then pushed out the confession in a whoosh. “She was pregnant. She’d arranged to have a sealed letter sent to me a few hours after her death was discovered. It said she felt terrible about lying to me and that she didn’t blame me for ending things or cutting off contact. That somewhere along the way, her career became so important to her that she lost her sense of self. Then she wrote that she hoped I understood why she couldn’t bring a child into the world under the circumstances and asked me to forgive her.”

Tears turned Emily’s eyes to glassy pools as she curled her fingers into the hair dusting his chest. He could tell she wanted to say something to take away his pain, but knew she couldn’t. “Oh, Vittorio. How devastating.”
 

“It was. It
is
. And I’ll never know the truth, will I? I’ll never know if that child was mine. And I have to assume there was a child….she certainly had no reason to lie at that point….though if the pregnancy was discovered at her autopsy, no one informed me. Not that her parents would have. What good would it do anyone?” He cursed himself for being unable to contain his frustration. A lone tear flowed sideways from the corner of his eye and into the pillow where he hoped Emily couldn’t see it in the shadows.