Winter Wedding for the Prince Read online

  Clearly, that didn’t stop either of them from doing so anyway.

  * * *

  She was upset with him. Armando could tell because when she spoke, every third or fourth word had an upward inflection. Not that he was surprised. From the moment he made his decision, he’d worried she might see his remarrying as betraying her sister.

  Staring at her back, he wished he knew what she was thinking. But then, she was good at hiding behind things. Her poker face was among the best.

  “You know that if there was any other way...” he said.

  “I know.”

  Did she? Did she know he’d been up half the night weighing options, or that, given his druthers, he would never remarry? He’d had his chance at love. Four wonderful years with the girl of his dreams. If the price for those years was spending the rest of his life in solitude, he’d been prepared. He didn’t mind. After all, if he needed a companion, he had Rosa. She was better company than any consort might be.

  Unfortunately, for men like him, what he wanted didn’t always matter. The mantle of responsibility outweighed personal desire every time.

  Leaving his coffee behind, he joined her at the window. “Corinthia’s almost ready for the holiday,” he said, noting the men arranging greenery outside. “They’ll be lighting the candles tonight.”

  Rosa didn’t answer. She stood with her hands clasped tightly behind her back, stiff and formal, like a proper royal servant, a pose she usually only struck in public. Armando didn’t like it. He preferred the relaxed, irreverent Rosa who kept him on his toes and saved him from drowning in his grief.

  After Christina died, he’d wanted to die, too. What good was living if his heart lay six feet underground? Rosa had been the only one who had been able to break through the darkness that filled his soul. She needed him, she’d claimed, to help her rebuild following her divorce. It was a lie, of course—Rosa was one of the strongest women he knew—but he let her think he believed the excuse. Helping her find a lawyer and place to live gave him a reason to drag himself out of bed that first day. Then, when she became his assistant, there were meetings and charitable initiatives and other projects she insisted needed his attention, and so he continued dragging himself out of bed. Until the day came when getting up was no longer a trial.

  She’d kept him tied to the land of the living, Rosa did. Without her, he would still be lost in his grief. Or rather, lost even deeper.

  Which was why he needed her support now.

  “You never met my grandfather, did you?”

  “King Damian? No.” She wasn’t so annoyed that she couldn’t give him a side-eyed look. Of course she hadn’t met the man. Illness forced him off the throne before Armando was born.

  “He came upstairs to my room one night, a few weeks before he died, and got me out of bed so I could see what it looked like with candles lit in every window. I must have been seven or eight at the time. Corinthia City wasn’t as developed as it is now. Anyway, he told me how all those candles represented Corinthians hoping for the future. ‘One day you will be responsible for those candles,’ he told me. ‘It will be up to you to keep them burning bright.’ I never forgot.” The words were the weight pressing on his shoulders every time he saw a candle flickering.

  He turned to look at his sister-in-law. “Father’s aging, Rosa. I could see it this past month when Arianna disappeared. He’s never truly gotten over Mama’s death...” He paused to let the irony of his words settle between them. The curse of the Santoro men: to live a lifetime of grieving. “And I think he would like to step down, but he’s afraid for the future. It’s important he know that as his successor, I am willing to do whatever it takes to keep those lights burning.”

  “Including political marriage.”

  He shrugged. “Ours won’t be the first royal marriage based on obligation rather than love.” If anything, a man in his position was lucky to have spent four years with a wife he did love. “It would be nice, however, to know I have my best friend’s support. Do I?”

  The clock on the nearby mantel ticked off the seconds while he waited for her response. Unfortunately, her eyes were cast downward. They were the one feature that couldn’t mask her feelings. In that way, she was like her sister. Christina had also had expressive brown eyes. Beyond their eyes, however, the two were dramatically different. Christina had been all passion and energy, with a beauty that commanded attention. Rosa was softer. Whereas Christina was bright like a star, her sister was more the glow of a candle.

  Finally, her shoulders relaxed. “Of course you have my blessing,” she said. “You know I can never say no to you.”

  Armando’s shoulders relaxed in turn. “I know. It’s my charm.”

  “No, it’s because you’re going to be king. I say no and you might have me thrown in the dungeon.”

  “As one does.” He relaxed a little more. Rosa making jokes was always a good sign. “I’m serious, Rosa. Your support is important to me.” Just thinking he might not have it had left a tight knot in the center of his chest.

  A hand brushed his arm. Initiating contact with a member of the royal family was considered a violation of protocol, but he and Rosa had been together too long for either of them to care about rules. There were times, in fact, when he found her touch comforting. Like now, the way her fingertips seemed to brush the tension from his muscles. “You have it. Seriously. I just wish...”

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m being silly. You have my support, ’Mando.”

  “Good.” Although he wondered what she had started to say. That she wished there didn’t have to be a wedding? If so, Armando agreed.

  But there was going to be a wedding, and he was glad to have his best friend’s support.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t change her mind when she heard his next request.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I CANNOT BELIEVE you want me to attend a meeting with you and your future father-in-law. How is that possibly in good form?”

  She had been complaining since yesterday. When he’d said he’d called King Omar, Armando left off that the sultan was in Corinthia and that they were going to meet for lunch the next day.

  “And how is it no one was told of his visit?” she asked as they rode the elevator down to the first floor. “He’s a visiting head of state. There are protocols to be followed.”

  “Since when do you follow protocol?”

  “I always follow protocol when other royalty is involved. Exactly how long has he been in Corinthia?”

  “Since Wednesday. You might as well get used to it,” he added when she opened her mouth to speak. “Omar has decided to personally oversee the resort development.” Such was the major difference between the two small countries. The Yelgierian royal family insisted on maintaining control of everything, while Armando and his father preferred giving their subjects more freedom. “Between that and the upcoming...arrangement...” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word wedding. Not yet. “I suspect Omar will be going back and forth quite a bit.”

  An odd looking shadow crossed her face. “With his daughter?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Armando hadn’t given his bride-to-be much thought. “I imagine she will, considering all the preparations that need to take place.”

  “Unless the wedding is in Yelgiers,” Rosa replied. She was studying her shoes as she spoke, so he almost didn’t hear her.

  “True.” He hadn’t given much thought to logistics. Those kinds of details were usually up to the bride. “But it doesn’t matter to me where the wedding takes place.” Only that it did, and Corinthia’s future was secure.

  The elevator opened, and they stepped out into the guarded enclave near the driveway. Rosa’s sedan had been brought around and sat running by the curb.

  “I still don’t understand
why you need me for this meeting,” she said as a guard stepped out to open the passenger door. “Surely, you can finalize your—” she glanced at the guard “—agreement without me.”

  “I told you, this meeting isn’t about my ‘agreement,’” Armando replied. “I’m meeting with him to discuss the development project.” And perhaps finalize a few details regarding yesterday’s telephone conversation. Sometimes she was a little too astute for his liking. “You know I like to have you with me when I discuss business.”

  He waited until the guard shut her door and they once again had privacy. “Not to mention you are my favorite driver.” The way Rosa handled a car made him feel comfortable. For a long time, just the thought of being on the road filled him with dread. He would hear the sound of an engine, and images of twisted steel filled his brain. But, just like she coaxed him back to the land of the living, Rosa had eased him onto the road.

  Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like without her.

  “So now I’m your driver,” she replied. “If that’s the case, maybe I should get a cap to wear.”

  “And have me listen to you complain about the hat ruining your hair? No, thank you. What you’re wearing will suffice.”

  For a meeting she didn’t want to attend, she was dressed rather nicely. As usual, her brown hair was pulled up in one of those twisty, formal styles she seemed to prefer, but unlike her usual skirt and blouse, she had on a brocade dress with matching jacket. A long one that seemed designed to hide a woman’s shape. She wore those a lot—long, bulky jackets, that was. He wasn’t a fan. It was as though she was trying to discourage attention.

  “When’s the last time you had a date?” he asked her.

  For the first time he could remember, she stripped the car gears. Turning her head, she squinted at him. “Excuse me?”

  The question did sound like it came out of nowhere. It was just that looking at her, and thinking about how she continually hid her assets, had him curious. “I was wondering when was the last time you had been on a date.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “No particular reason. Only that it dawned on me that I can’t remember the last time you mentioned one.”

  This time she downshifted smoothly. “My being silent doesn’t have to mean I’m not dating. How do you know I’m not simply being discreet?”

  “Are you? Being discreet, that is.” The thought that she might be seeing someone and had not said anything irritated him. At the same time, he found it hard to believe a woman as attractive as Rosa didn’t have offers.

  “Isn’t that a bit personal?” she asked him. “It’s called a private life for a reason.”

  “Yes, but you can tell me—we’re friends.”

  His comment earned him a sharp laugh. “You mean like you told me about your plans to get married?”

  “I did tell you.”

  “After the fact.”

  What was she talking about? “You were the first person I told.”

  The car slowed as she looked at him again. “I was?”

  “Of course.” He thought she knew that. “I told you how much your support meant to me.”

  “I know, but I didn’t think...” Was that pink creeping into her cheeks? It was hard to tell, the driver’s side being in shadow. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

  “I am sorry for prying. It was rude of me.” He still would like to know, however. It was protectiveness as much as curiosity. To make sure she chose better this time around. While he didn’t know much about her marriage, beyond the fact it had ended badly, he did know her ex enough to dislike him. Back when Christina was alive, Fredo and Rosa had attended a handful of state dinners. Armando found the man to be a narcissistic bore. He’d decided the man had to be a closet romantic or something, because how else could he have won a woman as soft and gentle as Rosa?

  Then again, maybe Armando’s first impression was right, since she’d divorced him. That Rosa, for her part, refused to talk about the man said as much.

  “The answer is no,” Rosa said, shaking him from his thoughts. “I’m not dating.”

  “At all?” He wasn’t sure why he felt relieved at her answer. Perhaps because he feared a serious relationship might cause her to leave her job. “Surely you’ve had offers, though.”

  Again, she gave a strange laugh, although this one had less bite than the other. “Not as many as you would think. In case you didn’t realize, my job eats up most of my time.”

  Was that truly the reason? The undercurrent in her laugh made him wonder. “Is that your way of hinting you need time off?” he asked. If so, it would be the first. Usually she had no trouble speaking up.

  Another reason to question the excuse.

  Rosa shook her head. “Not at all. At least not right now.”

  They’d reached the point in the highway where they had to choose whether to take the mountain pass or the longer, more circuitous route. Armando gave a slight smile as she turned onto the longer route. By mutual agreement, they hadn’t driven the mountain road in three years. Feeling a warmth spreading across his chest, he reached over and gave her hand a grateful squeeze. Her eyes widened a little, but she smiled nonetheless.

  “The truth is,” she said, after he’d lifted his hand, “I haven’t had a lot of interest in dating. I’m still working on getting to know myself again.”

  What an odd thing to say. Then again, maybe it wasn’t so odd. Certainly he wasn’t the same man following Christina’s death, the hole caused by her absence impossible to repair. No doubt, Rosa’s divorce left a similar wound.

  She’d also lost a sibling. Sometimes, in his selfishness, he forgot that Rosa had suffered as much loss as he had. The idea that she might have been hurting as bad as he made his conscience sting that much more.

  “Aren’t we a pair,” he mused out loud. “Three years removed, and we’re still struggling to move forward without our spouses. What do you think that says about us?”

  “Well, in your case, I’d say it’s because you have a singular heart.”

  “I would think the same could be said for you.”

  “Hardly,” she replied with a bark. “Do not insult my sister by even mentioning our marriages in the same breath. Fredo isn’t fit to carry Christina’s water.”

  On that they agreed, but to hear her say so with such forcefulness surprised him nevertheless. Usually when the topic of her former husband came up, she pretended the man didn’t exist.

  “What did he do to you? Fredo,” he asked. Had he been unfaithful? Armando couldn’t believe anyone married to Rosa would want to stray, but Fredo was a boor.

  She shot him a look before changing lanes. “Who says Fredo did anything?”

  The defensiveness in her tone. “Did he?”

  “Water under the bridge,” was her only reply. “My marriage is over, and I’m better off for it. Let’s just leave things at that.”

  “Fine.” Today wasn’t the day to press for details and start an argument. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still curious, however, or that he wouldn’t try again another time.

  * * *

  Rosa kept one eye on the rearview mirror as she moved from lane to lane. What had she been thinking bringing Fredo’s name into the mix in the first place? Her marriage—or rather, her role in it—was her greatest shame; she would rather pretend it never happened than admit her own pathetic behavior. Especially to Armando, whose pain and loss far outweighed hers. To hear him now, trying to equate the two...

  At least he’d agreed to change the subject. Hopefully telling him she was working on herself satisfied enough of his curiosity. After all, it wasn’t as though she was lying. She was rediscovering herself. Learning, little by little, that there was a capable woman inside her chubby shell. As her therapist one reminded, her value went beyond being her hu
sband’s verbal whipping post. And, while she was still a work in progress, she had begun to like herself again.

  There were days, of course, when Fredo’s insults haunted her, but his voice, once so prominent in her ear, was growing softer. If she learned anything from Christina’s death, it was that life was too short to settle for anything, or anyone. She’d stupidly let herself believe she had no choice when Fredo proposed. Never again. She realized now that she deserved nothing less than unconditional love. Next time, if there was a next time, she wouldn’t settle for anything less. There would be no settling the next time around. She wanted someone who loved her body and soul. Who made her heart flutter whenever she heard his voice, and whose heart fluttered in return.

  She wanted what Armando had with Christina.

  What he would eventually have with his bride-to-be. Sure, Armando’s marriage might begin for political reasons, but time had a way of warming a person’s heart, especially if the person deserved to be loved. Rosa had done some internet searching last night, and discovered Mona El Halwani was a caramel-skinned beauty whose statuesque body weighed at least forty pounds less than Rosa’s. She was exquisite. A walking, talking advertisement for perfection.

  How could Armando’s heart not warm to perfection?

  They left the city behind. The landscape around them began to change revealing more and more of Corinthia’s old-world. Stone farmhouses lined the streets, their window boxes stuffed with fresh greens.

  Seeing the candles in the windows, Rosa couldn’t help but think of what Armando had said about being responsible for every light in every window. Such a heavy weight to grow up bearing—the future of your country on your shoulders. She suddenly wanted to pull over, wrap him in a hug and let him know he didn’t have to bear the burden alone.

  As if those words coming from her would mean anything. Providing solace was his future wife’s job. Not hers. She might as well get used to the new hierarchy right now and just do her job.

  * * *

  An hour later, they arrived at the Cerulean Towers, the luxury high-rise that housed Yelgiers’s development concern. It was as unheralded an arrival as King Omar’s, with only the doorman to greet them.