Scandals Of The Royals: Princess From the Shadows

“I’ll be back in a bit. I’m good at getting ready fast.”

Carlotta walked out of the room, and he felt compelled to watch. The way the loose, gray pants hugged her pert butt when she walked was the biggest tease he’d come across in a while. Because she should have looked plain. Boring. And yet, something about her face scrubbed free of makeup, and her hair so obviously unstyled was … eye-catching. He had to look twice. A third time.

And he’d had to watch her walk—sashay, really—from the room like she was in her finest dress and heels, when she was wearing slippers and sweats. Shockingly, he’d found a lot to look at.

“I like these.”

Rodriguez turned his head, Luca’s little voice as effective as a bucket of cold water in his lap. The arousal that had tightened his gut eased and the tightness in his throat returned.

“Do you?” he asked, assuming Luca meant the churro he was holding up in his little hand.

He nodded. “I like this table too. It’s big. I bet you could fit a really big cake on it.”

Rodriguez looked at Luca, not sure of what he was supposed to say to that. The boy just kind of … chattered. About cakes and crowns and whatever came to his mind. It didn’t make him angry. That kind of thing would have made his father angry. As a result, he hadn’t chattered much, and he’d never been around children who did.

He’d never really been around children at all, not even when he was one.

Dios. He was actually sweating. Small beads of cold moisture forming on his brow, his back. Being near Luca made it so easy to remember …

“I like chocolate cake. With sprinkles. It’s what I had for my last birthday. And I got Sherbie and Sherbet.”

Rodriguez sucked in a breath. “And they are?”

“My owls. They aren’t real. They’re toys.”

“And he thinks I have a funny name,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Are you going to school this year?” he asked. That seemed safe. And normal. Not something random about stuffed animals.

“I don’t know. I was going to, but Mama said that now I might not. I might have school here. Because it’s different to live in a castle.”

Images of his own childhood, lonely, with no one but adults around him. On a good day, a stern nanny or teacher. And then there were days when there was only his father.

“It can be,” he said slowly, his eyes meeting Luca’s. “But it can be fun.” He wasn’t sure if that was true. All of his fun had been away from the castle. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d discovered women here, at a much too early age. They had been a revelation. A way to feel happy.

He frowned. He knew already he didn’t want that for Luca. Growing up fast had been a must for him, but the thought of this boy behaving like he had in just ten short years … that didn’t settle well with him.

He tried again. “If you want to go to school away from the palace, we can arrange it.” Luca nodded and Rodriguez wasn’t at all sure he’d understood what he was saying. “I mean, you can stay here for school if you want.” He looked over his shoulder and at the door Carlotta had walked out of only a few short moments ago. “Or you could go to a class with friends.”

“I think it would be more fun with friends.”

“I’m sure it would be.” Rodriguez couldn’t comment on that for sure either. “We’ll talk to Car—your mama.”

Luca’s nanny, a petite redhead with pale skin and freckles, walked in, a smile on her face. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said, her focus on him, her smile bright. “And good morning to you too, Luca.”

Rodriguez stood, hoping the swiftness of the motion didn’t betray just how eager he was to get out of the room. “Buenos dias. You must be Angelina.”

“I am,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. She was cute. In a flashier way than Carlotta, thanks to her fiery red hair and glittering golden eyes. Not so long ago, a week ago, he would have been tempted to make a pass at her.

But now he thought she didn’t quite measure up to Carlotta’s quiet sophistication. Carlotta was … sleek. Her hair always so neat, except for this morning, her appearance always perfectly pressed. Again, except for this morning. And that added dimension had only made her more interesting. She had layers. He couldn’t remember ever caring if a woman had layers before.

Strange.

“Nice to meet you. I have …”

“The press conference,” she said, moving to the table and sitting right next to Luca. He should have done that. Not sat with three chairs between them as though the boy were a leper.

“Yes. The press conference.” He took one last look at Luca, who had his serious green eyes trained on him. “I’ll … I’ll see you later, Luca.”

Luca brightened, a smile curving his small mouth. “Bye.”

Rodriguez turned and walked out of the room, trying to ignore the uncomfortably tight feeling in his chest.

For Carlotta, the press held about as much appeal as a food-borne illness and all the charming symptoms that came with it. They were, in her estimation, beneath contempt. People who preyed on the mistakes and tragedies of others, weaving them into salacious stories for the consumption of a scandal-hungry public.

Walking into a room full of the vultures was about the lowest thing on her to-do list. Still, she was doing it. In style too. With the kind of heels normally reserved for … well, never. She’d gotten out of the habit of wearing high shoes when pregnant with Luca. Then after he was born, carrying him in heels was about as practical as waddling around in heels with a big pregnant belly.

So, her fabulous, sky-high black stilettos had been on hold in the back of her closet for years, and now, paired with a sedate, but cheery, yellow sheath dress, she was looking quite … well, almost sexy, in an understated way. It was a welcome break from her typically sedate appearance. At least, that’s what she was telling herself.

She took a deep breath and started down the long corridor that led to the room they were holding the conference in. She was confident. Strong. Sexy—at least, she had been in another life, and was trying it out again. She could do this.

She lengthened her strides and tipped her chin up, the razor-blunt edges of her hair skimming her shoulders. Yes, she could do this. She was strong, sexy and in control.

She rounded the corner and ran into Rodriguez’s broad frame, her breasts and tipped-up chin hitting the hard wall of his chest and his neck, respectively.

“Oh, I’m sorry! This is … I’m sorry,” she said, fighting the urge to ramble. When had she become so … not a princess? Just clumsy and coming to breakfast in her sweats and … and she couldn’t do that now. She was in a palace. She was marrying Rodriguez.

She had to change. Again. Just when things had been getting really comfortable it was all changing again.

Oh, no. Not this, not now. Tears were stinging her eyes, her throat tight and aching. This was not the time for an emotional breakdown.

He put his hands on her shoulders, his dark brown eyes meeting hers, sending a little zing of electricity through her. “It’s fine.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t … I don’t really want to do this.”

His brows locked together. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just …” She blew out a breath and waved her hand. “Me. And the media. I don’t like to be in the news.”

He frowned. “Because of Luca?”

“Because of what they did to me when they found out I was pregnant with Luca. Do you have any idea …?” She blinked and looked away. “It was horrible. They followed me everywhere. Crowding me while I ate. I was sick all the time anyway and to have a camera shoved in my face while I was just trying to have a relaxing meal … and there were pictures of me walking with my belly circled, drawing attention to it, along with the flattering headline Who’s the Father? And when they realized we weren’t telling them, they switched to things like Has Princess Carlotta Put on Too Much Baby Weight?”

His thumbs moved up and down, from her satin-covered shoulders down to the bare skin of her arms. “I know. It’s a necessary evil though. The way I can communicate with my people. They’ve written … I don’t even know what all they’ve written about me. Things about my exploits. Most probably true, but not something I want to read in black and white. Not something I’d want my maiden aunt to read.”

“Do you have a maiden aunt?”