Page 38 of Royally Roma
“I mean it’s unmanageable, sir. Procuring such a large amount of cash at this time of night just isn’t in the realm of possibility.”
The realm of possibility.
Niccolo had left that realm the moment he’d stepped outside the gate of the Hotel de Russie. Now here he was, standing alongside a dog no bigger than a squirrel in the cool Italian air, his gaze glued to the tiny window, transfixed by the sight of Julia moving about her home.
She reached into a kitchen cabinet for something, moving with feline grace. She brought down two wineglasses, and gingerly set them beside a large baguette and a container of olives. Niccolo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her preparing dinner for her captive as Piero went on about something on the other end of the phone. Then he forgot about Piero altogether, momentarily transfixed by the graceful turn of Julia’s wrist as she untwisted the lid from the olive jar.
He shouldn’t be witnessing these intimacies. He didn’t belong here. This was the realm of impossibility.
“Sir, are you still there?” Piero’s voice was laced with concern.
“Yes, I’m here.”I’m here. Here, in this place where laundry is hung out to dry, flowers are sold on the sidewalk, and a beautiful woman is inside, opening a bottle of Chianti.
As kidnappings went, this one was rather pleasant.
He should hang up the phone and walk right out the door. Julia was fooling herself if she thought she could stop him. He didn’t believe for a minute that she would resort to physical force, some kind of weapon. Unless she had another piece of digital technology to hurl at his head. An iPad perhaps? That might sting a little.
There was nothing real keeping him here. Not one thing.
Yet all the wild horses in Europe couldn’t have dragged him away. “I won’t be returning tonight, Piero. Please extend my apologies to the king, the foreign ministry, my security...to everyone. I’ve been further detained.”
“But, sir, everyone is most concerned for your welfare.Everyone.Once I tell them that you’ve called and demanded a large sum of cash, red flags will abound.”
It wasn’t that large. Honestly. And hadn’t he a shred of privacy? “Then don’t tell them. That’s an order, understood? I don’t want you to breathe a word about this to anyone.”
“You do realize, sir, that if I withhold information from the king’s office I could be terminated?”
Niccolo’s temples throbbed. How many people could he get fired in a day? “Piero, all will be fine. I need you to follow a specific set of instructions, so listen carefully.”
He went down the list he’d composed in his head as, once again, he’d ridden on the back of Julia’s Vespa. Not a list, really. Just two items. Two very important tasks that would fix things. Ways to make amends, so come morning he could leave Rome, leaveher, without the mantle of guilt draped so heavily over his shoulders.
“Is everything clear?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Piero said, no doubt pounding away at his tablet, taking Niccolo’s instructions down word for word.
“Good.” He was suddenly famished, starved for the salty sweetness of Cerignola olives and ruby red wine. When was the last time anyone had served him something so sublimely simple? Never. “Thank you. I shall see you in the morning. And don’t worry, Piero. I’m in no danger whatsoever.”
That might be true as it applied to assassination attempts or an actual abduction. But as he slid his phone back in his pocket and watched the silent sway of Julia’s hips from behind a pane of glass, a dark, aching need moved in him. A senseless passion that was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. And he knew that there were indeed far more dangerous threats to a prince than physical harm.
No danger whatsoever.
Why did he get the feeling that couldn’t be further from the truth?
NICO STRODE BACK INSIDEwith Valentina at his heels, and Julia continued slicing bread, pretending she hadn’t been stealing glances at him out on the porch for the entire ten minutes he’d been out on the terrace.
The moment he was beside her, once again occupying her space, breathing her air, her hands began to shake. The knife trembled in her grasp.
“Let me,” he said, taking the knife from her hands.
“Thanks.” She took a gulp of wine.
“I have good news.” He sliced into the bread with hands steady as a rock.
She wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or relieved at his unruffled tone. “Oh?”
Please tell me two hundred fifty euros are about to drop out of the sky.
“I’ve arranged to pay you everything you’re owed. In cash, as you wish.” The knife paused. “First thing in the morning.”
