A Night Of Royal Consequences

The Browns exploded with excitement, and the next few hours were spent in a fury of mad ideas. Opening a pie and peas shop next to the pub, a sandwich bar to serve the local business park. ‘I want to give my money to you,’ Callie insisted.

‘Not a chance.’ Ma Brown crossed her capable arms across her capacious chest, and that was the end of it.

Callie made up her mind to put some of it aside for them, anyway.

‘You could buy all the rescue dogs in the world,’ one young Brown called Tom said optimistically.

‘Or a second-hand car,’ another boy exclaimed.

‘Why don’t you spend it all on clothes?’ one of the girls proposed. ‘You’ll never get another chance to fill your wardrobe.’

What wardrobe? Callie thought. Her worldly possessions were contained in a zip-up bag, but she smiled and went along with this idea and they all had some fun with it for a while.

‘It isn’t a fortune and our Callie should do something that makes her happy,’ Pa Brown said. ‘It should be something she’s always dreamed of, that she will remember for ever. She’s had little enough fun in her life up to now, and this is her chance.’

The room went quiet. No one had heard Pa Brown give such a long speech before. Ma Brown always spoke for him, if the dogs and his brood weren’t drowning him out.

‘Well, our Callie,’ Ma Brown prompted. ‘Have you got any thoughts on the subject?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Callie said, surprising herself as she thought of it.

‘Not Blackpool,’ Rosie said, rolling her eyes. ‘We can go there any weekend we like.’

‘Well?’ the Browns chorused, craning forward.

Reaching for the television guide, Callie opened it out flat on the table. There was a double-page spread, a travel feature, showing vibrant green lemon groves hung heavily with yellow fruit. A young family of husband, wife and two children capered across the grass, staring out towards unimaginable adventures. The headline read: Visit Italy.

‘Why not?’ Callie said as all the Browns fell silent. ‘I can dream, can’t I?’

‘You can more than dream now,’ Ma Brown pointed out with her usual common sense.

But by this time, Callie was already putting her dream on the back burner in favour of a far more realistic plan. Perhaps a weekend in a small coastal resort nearby. She could look for a job while she was there.

‘Think big. Think Italy,’ Rosie insisted.

‘That would be a proper memory, all right,’ Pa Brown agreed.

Callie stared out of the window at a grey, dismal scene. Like the rented house where she’d grown up, the Browns’ opened out onto the street, but the people passing by outside had their shoulders hunched against the cold. The photo in the magazine promised something very different. Rather than traffic fumes and bed socks, there’d be sunshine and fruit trees. She glanced at the page again. It was like a window opening onto another world. The colours were extraordinary. The people in the shot might be models, but they surely couldn’t fake that happiness, or the sense of freedom on their faces.

‘Italy,’ Ma Brown commented, her lips pressing down as she thought about it. ‘You’ll need some new clothes for that. Don’t look so worried, our Callie. You won’t need to spend much. You can do very well on the high street.’

Rosie clearly had other ideas and frowned at her mother. ‘This is Callie’s chance to have something special,’ she whispered.

‘And she should,’ Pa Brown agreed, picking up on this. ‘Goodness knows, she’s gone without long enough.’

‘A mix, then,’ Ma Brown conceded. ‘High Street with designer flourishes.’ And with that healing remark the family was content.

‘Amalfi,’ Callie breathed as copying the idea in the magazine took shape in her mind. The thought of a short trip to Italy made her head reel with excitement. A change of scene was what she needed before she started the next phase of her life, and the win had made it possible.

‘All that wonderful sunshine and delicious food, not to mention the music,’ Rosie commented with her hand on her heart as she thought about it.

All that romance and the Italian men, Callie’s inner devil whispered seductively. She blanked out the voice. She had always been cautious when it came to romance. She’d had too many duties at home to be frivolous, and too many opportunities to witness first-hand how violent men could be.

‘Come on, our Callie. Where’s your sense of adventure?’ Ma Brown demanded as all the Browns murmured encouragement.

She was free to do as she liked, so why not don a glamorous dress and designer heels for once? A few days of being not Callie was more than tempting, it was a possibility now. Just this once, the good girl could unleash her fun side—if she could still find it.

CHAPTER TWO (#u9c948c99-78d6-5220-9ac7-2d5985e6676b)

HE NOTICED THE woman sitting at the bar right away. Even from behind she was attractive. It was something in the way she held herself, and her relaxed manner with his friend, Marco, the barman. He’d just ended a call with Max, and was in the worst of moods. Max had lost no time in Luca’s absence causing unrest in Fabrizio. Max had been a thorn in his side since they were boys. Thanks to his mischief, Luca should not be visiting his beautiful lemon groves on the Amalfi coast, but should return immediately to Fabrizio, but this was an annual pilgrimage to a place he loved amidst people he cared for, and nothing, not even Max, could distract him from that. Though on this occasion, he could only spare a couple of nights here.

The woman was a distraction. She was watching everyone come in through the mirrors behind the bar. Was she waiting for a lover? He felt a stab of jealousy and wondered why he cared when she could just as easily be waiting for a family member, or for a friend.

He’d dropped by the hotel to invite Marco to the annual celebrations at the start of the lemon-picking season. He and Marco had grown up together, as Marco’s father had worked for the late Prince. Standing at the end of the bar where he could talk discreetly to Marco when he was free, he saw the woman clearly for the first time. She was confident and perky, and obviously enjoying the chance to trial the Italian language. Laughter lit her face when she got something wrong and Marco corrected her.

Feeling mildly irritated by their obvious rapport, he returned to working her out. Her profile was exquisite, though she seemed unaware of this, just as she seemed unaware of the appeal of her slight, though voluptuous body. She was understated, unlike his usual, sophisticated type. He couldn’t help but be intrigued. Dressed impeccably, though plainly for this setting in one of the coast’s most famous hotels, as if she was playing a role, she was almost too perfect. Her red hair was lush and shiny, cut short for practicality, rather than fashion, he guessed. Her eyes were green and up-tilted, giving her a faintly exotic look. A light tan and freckles suggested she’d been here no more than a week and lived somewhere cooler.

This was a lot of thought to expend on a woman who seemed unaware of his interest. Or was she? His groin tightened when she turned to stare at him boldly and was in no hurry to look away.

Interesting.

‘Good evening.’ After politely acknowledging the woman, he gave Marco a look that left his friend in no doubt that Luca wished to remain incognito.

Sensing mischief afoot, Marco grinned. They exchanged the usual complicated handshake, while the woman looked on with interest. She was even more beautiful than he’d first thought. Her scent was intoxicating. Wildflowers. How appropriate, he thought as Marco left them to go and serve another customer. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

She levelled a stare on his face. ‘Do I know you?’

The bluntness of her question took him by surprise, as did her forthright tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marco lift a brow. His friend would call security if Luca gave the word, and the woman would be politely moved on. An almost imperceptible shake of Luca’s head knocked that idea out of court.

‘My name is Luca,’ he told her as he extended his hand in greeting.

She ignored his hand. Intelligent eyes, framed by long black eyelashes, viewed him with suspicion.

‘I don’t believe we’ve met,’ he pressed, waiting for her to volunteer her name. ‘I don’t bite,’ he added when she continued to withhold her hand.

‘But you’re very persistent,’ she said, making it clear there would be no physical contact between them.

Persistent? Outwardly, he remained deadpan. Inwardly, he cracked up. Women referred to his charm and thought him attentive. Clearly, this woman had other ideas. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Fizzy water, please,’ she replied.

Turning to Marco, he murmured, ‘Aqua frizzante per la signorina, e lo stesso per me, per favore.’

‘Sì, signor,’ Marco replied, serving up two sparkling waters.

Her gaze remained steady on his as she took her first sip. There wasn’t a hint of simpering or recognition in her eyes, just that desirable mouth smiling faintly. Even now she’d had time to think about it, he was a man in a bar and that was it. She had no idea who he was, and would trust him as far as a glass of water was concerned, but no further. If she was unaware that his face had been plastered all over the news lately, since he’d ascended the throne of Fabrizio, something big must have happened in her life.

So, beautiful mystery woman, he mused as she returned his interest coolly, who are you, and what are you doing in Amalfi?