Page 4 of Crowning His Innocent Assistant

She had a modern sensibility about her. Curvy and vivacious, and incredibly beautiful as far as Livia was concerned. But the women that Matteo preferred were icy, statuesque. Women who matched up to his imposing frame. Who had the same sort of sophistication that he carried with him.

Yes, those were the women that Matteo loved. Socialites.

Human icicles with platinum hair, wrapped in couture. Livia, for her part, barely came to the middle of his chest. When she wore heels, she could acquaint herself better with the bottom of his chin. She did not possess the sort of vapid wit that seemed to come as a standard feature on those particular models of women. Smiles that would cut with the accuracy of a knife while externally appearing to be the advertisement for a gum commercial. Saccharine and white and altogether pristine.

None of the women were airheads, of course, for if they had been Matteo would not have been able to bear them. But they all did a strange sort of half-giggle, before sharpening their words into spears and aiming them at the unsuspecting targets who truly did think that blondes had more fun and less brain cells.

They were to be commended in that way, Livia hated to admit. For they were women who had managed to take both the advantages and disadvantages given to them by society and turn them into something useful.

Livia had two assets. Two very real assets. The first was that she was stubborn. Utterly and completely. It was that stubbornness that helped her deal with heads of state who were trying to elbow their way into Matteo’s schedule. With ex-girlfriends who wanted an audience with a man that Livia knew didn’t want one with them; with party planners and media personnel; and with any other number of people who had to pass through her in an attempt to get to Matteo.

The second was that she forgot nothing. And so, could remember without fail whether Matteo had actually said he was waiting for a particular person’s call, or suss out if they were lying. She could remember if he had ended things with a particular blonde model or not. If there was credibility to her claim she could be bearing his child based on timing... Yes, she was the keeper of all manner of trivial knowledge and an excessive amount of stubbornness. But none of those things made her think that Matteo had suddenly grown an intense attraction to her. No. But why did he have to be quite so predictable?

She would have been pleased if he would’ve come in and asked her to help arrange a ball. It was that she did know him quite so well, that she was this right about him, that distressed her. Because she knew what he liked, and it wasn’t her. And she had also known that he would go for convenience before he went for anything else.

“You will not be able to retain your position if you do not comply, Livia.”

She looked up at him, at his face that had become so dear to her. At this palace that had been her home these many years. Matteo paid her well. Generously. She did not stay on because she had to. She had also learned any number of valuable skills while in his employ. She had compiled education enough to have several degrees and had vast experience as an assistant. She was discreet and had worked with the highest level of state in Monte Blanco. Yes, she did not fear for her future should she choose to leave. It wasn’t what had kept her here. But this was the end point, she could see it now.

“Then I quit.”

She stood up from her desk and looked down at the planners there. They contained...everything. Every detail about what Matteo would be doing for the next year. Everything planned absolutely down to the minute. Along with what he would wear, whom he would speak to, where cars would pick him up from.

She had coordinated all of it.

Where his private plane would fly, where it would refuel, which places he might pass through to make the most of the political opportunity. Even what she would wear. For she was always on hand at public events. She always wore black. Always blended into the background. She treated herself like a member of serving staff. Hanging at the outside, in case he ever needed her. Unremarkable. Unnoticed. His mouse. A small dowdy creature who might as well live in the walls of the palace for all that he noticed her when he didn’t need something.

And he wanted her to be his wife.

No. Just no.

For living with, and working with, Matteo knowing she could never have him was bad enough. Having him and still not having him would be even worse.

“You cannot quit.”

She shrugged. “I have.”

She would leave those planners. Leave them behind and never look back on them again. Never think about them again. The sudden surge of joy that brought her was indescribable. The only thing that it matched was the moment she had found out that Matteo was no longer going to marry Violet. And she had a feeling that it would be matched by a similar crash when the reality of everything hit her, but for now she felt... New. Empowered. She would not marry him. And she would not be his assistant anymore. Maybe she wouldn’t even stay in Monte Blanco.

That determination had been beyond the girl she had been when he had picked her up on the side of the road. That girl, that creature, hadn’t been able to choose or decide anything. She had been cold and angry and bitter. She had a knife in her boot for the express purpose of stabbing men who had tried to take liberties with her. And she had used it.

And the men had not succeeded.

Starvation had made her mean. And when she had found morsels of food, she hadn’t wanted to share them with anyone. Not even the visibly hungry people she shared the streets with.

That girl had not been able to imagine anything beyond the next sunrise. She had not been able to imagine anything that wasn’t hunger, sadness or desolation.

She had not been able to imagine a future where she had become the personal assistant to the King. And then feel empowered enough in her own self to walk away from that same King, rather than accepting his offer of becoming Queen.

She wished she could go back and tell that Livia. The one that had been on the streets for years after being dumped there by her mother.

Unwanted.

With ease, she could remember the pain, the fear, that she had felt when she had stood alone in that busy carnival, holding a bunch of cotton candy and looking around, sure that her mother must be around somewhere. Sure that she would come back for her. It had taken days for her to accept that her mother had well and truly left her.

On purpose.

In a carnival with a last treat like it might mask the pain of having been abandoned. It hadn’t. Nothing could. Nothing did. She had been on her own ever since, and she knew what it was to be in the care of someone who didn’t truly want you. She knew how it ended.

So yes, all things considered, she would rather die than become Matteo’s consolation wife. Because she would only end up dropped off in the middle of a carnival with cotton candy as a poor substitution for love.

But she wasn’t a child with nothing. And she didn’t need to wait for pity treats. She was a woman. With money. With a mind of her own.

“You cannot leave me,” he said.

“I can,” she said, feeling buoyant now. “I will. And I will not marry you, Matteo. Not for anything.” She collected her coat, and her purse, and then she swept out of the office, a smile curving her lips.

And she had to wonder if Matteo had ever heard of the mouse that roared.

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