Beauty and the Reclusive Prince (14 page)

“No,” Luca said, banging his cane into the floor. “Not one cent for those bastards!”

“But, Papa…”

“I’ll never give in to Fredo’s blackmail. Never.”

There wasn’t much point in arguing with him. They didn’t have the money to pay the fine anyway. She sighed and made plans to attend the meeting. All she could think of was to plead their case with the mayor. Surely he wouldn’t be so hard-hearted as to kick them out of their own restaurant, the only means of survival for their family!

But a little place in her head told her there wasn’t going to be much hope.

“Once your luck starts to go downhill,” Susa intoned gloomily, “it just doesn’t stop until it hits bottom.”

Could Susa be right? Isabella shuddered and turned her head away.

Max sat out on the veranda, staring into the sunset, his eyes clouded, brooding. He’d thought it would be effortless to slip back into his old life, but in actuality it wasn’t. In fact, it was hell on earth. He’d had a certain peace before, but now that was ruined. It sort of reminded him of that old World War I song, “How You Gonna Keep Them Down on the Farm, After They’ve Seen Paree?” He’d found out, once again, what it was to have a warm and wonderful woman in his life, and without her he felt as if a limb had been removed. Twenty times a day he started to call her. Twenty times a day he caught himself in time.

This was very different from losing Laura. That had been so full of agonizing pain and deep, deep guilt, he’d felt as though he’d been torn apart by red-hot pokers nightly—and that had gone on for years. This pain had very little guilt attached to it. Lots of regret, but not much guilt. Laura had been the love of his youth. Isabella was the joy of his maturity.

Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt very guilty about putting memories of Laura to one side while he went about the sweet torture of falling for Isabella. In a funny way, he’d actually thought Laura might approve.

But that was all over now. He felt like a man re-condemned to a life sentence in a cold, lonely prison after he’d had a taste of freedom. It wasn’t pleasant.

He looked at the bottle he’d brought out with him. He’d thought he would spend an evening drinking away his sorrows. But somehow he’d lost his thirst. He knew very
well the bottom of a bottle was its own special hell. He didn’t need another one.

Renzo came out to see if he needed anything, then lingered a moment, and Max could tell he wanted to say something.

“What is it, Renzo? Spit it out, man.”

Renzo coughed. “Sir, I thought I’d mention, I went into the village this afternoon to see Miss Isabella.”

“What?” He turned to stare at the man. “What did you do that for?”

“She had left some cooking equipment that I thought she might be missing, so I drove over to drop it by the restaurant.”

“Oh.” He looked away. He shouldn’t ask. He knew the rules. A clean break was the best way. No, he wouldn’t ask. He drew his breath in deeply, and then the words came out as though on their own.

“How…how did she seem? Is she all right?”

“I don’t know.”

He sat up straighter. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“She wasn’t there. I talked to an old woman named Susa who works for Isabella and her father. She said the two of them were over at the town meeting room preparing for an important meeting where they will have to fight to keep those crooks who run the city council from taking their restaurant away.”

“Oh, no.” Max swore and shook his head. “On what grounds?”

“Something about forgetting to file a permit and the fine being too high to pay.”

He nodded. “A put-up job,” he said bitterly.

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“Poor Isabella.” A slight smile curled his lip. “Good thing she’s got spunk. I bet she’ll be able to save things on her own.”

“You think so, sir?” Renzo said doubtfully.

“Sure. She’s amazing.” He glanced at Renzo, then away again. “It will be interesting to see how she does it. Keep me informed any time you find out anything new. I want to know how this comes out.”

“Very well, sir.” Renzo bowed out, looking puzzled.

Max sighed. He knew Renzo wanted him to ride in to the rescue. Didn’t he understand how impossible that was? If he didn’t get it yet, he would soon. Because Max couldn’t have done anything even if he’d wanted to.

Closing his eyes, he saw Isabella’s perfect face, and he groaned. The image seemed so real. She was saying something, trying to get him to do something, urging him to get up off his chair and…

He couldn’t quite catch what it was, but the image stayed with him into the night, and the dreams he had were even clearer. Isabella needed help. He woke up and stared at the ceiling. Did he have the nerve to do what it would take to help her? That was the part that bothered him. He wasn’t sure he did.

It was late in the afternoon of the next day that he received a visitor he wasn’t expecting. Of course, since he didn’t receive visitors at all, anyone would have been a surprise. But this one was special.

Renzo interrupted him just as he was finishing up some Internet research.

“There’s someone here who would like a word with you,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, wondering if the man had lost his mind.

Renzo hesitated. “Sir, I know this man. He is a very good man. He runs a small tapas stand—”

“Señor Ortega?”

“Yes. You know him, then?”

“Of course.” Max frowned. What on earth could the man want? He thought for a moment. Really, it seemed silly to deny him a short visit. “Send him in,” he told Renzo. “I’ll be happy to see him.”

Renzo looked a bit startled, but readily complied, and in another moment Señor Ortega was in the library and shaking Max’s hand effusively.

“Thank you so much, your honor,” he said, bowing at the same time. “I have a small favor to ask of you. If you would be so kind.”

“Por supuesto,”
Max said, speaking in the man’s own language. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you remember the little girl who was there the last time you and Isabella came to eat at my stand?”

Max stiffened. How could he forget? “Yes,” he said, his jaw tightening. “What about her?”

“Do you remember that she had a bad reaction to your…” He made a gesture to indicate the scarring on Max’s face.

Max stared at Señor Ortega. The man was talking easily about his scars, as though they were just a part of life, not something to be whispered about and avoided at all costs.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I remember.”

“Well, she feels so badly about how she acted. She’s so ashamed. She asks me every day if we will see you again. She wants to apologize.”

Max found himself smiling. “She has nothing to apologize for,” he noted dryly. “I’m the one who inflicted my face on her.”

Ortega frowned as though he didn’t understand and thought the translation in his head must be bad. “I have
brought her here with me. If you would please allow her to come in and pay her respects…”

Max swallowed hard. This was crazy. Was Señor Ortega making the girl do this? Surely she hadn’t really requested this on her own. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I’m afraid I can’t allow…”

But Renzo had already escorted the girl to the library and she was coming in the door at that very moment. Max braced himself. It wasn’t that he was afraid she would scream again. He knew that wouldn’t happen. But if he saw horror in her face, he didn’t know if he could stand it.

She was so pretty, and so small. As she entered her huge eyes turned on him and he saw the involuntary widening as she took in his face. But almost immediately, her angelic smile took over, and he felt a sense of relief pour through his body.

“Your Highness,” she said, with a pretty curtsy. “I am so sorry for scaring you away that day. I cried and cried but my grandfather said not to bother you with such trivial things. But I begged him to let me come to see you again. And here I am.”

Max laughed aloud, suddenly as relaxed and happy as he’d been in a long, long time. Could it be that he really wasn’t such a monster after all? Was there a chance that he could live a somewhat normal life? Why not? If precious little girls could get over his scars so quickly, why not challenge the rest of the world to do the same?

It was over. Isabella sank into her seat at the end of the table and felt as though she were collapsing like a spent balloon. Her father was sitting with his head in his hands and she wasn’t sure if he was crying. Others at the table were shouting and arguing, but she knew there was no more
hope. It was over. The beautiful little restaurant with the special sauces made with
Monta Rosa Basil
was no more. They’d come to meeting after meeting and the result continued to be the same. The mayor, as parliamentarian presiding over this meeting, had finally ruled that her family had to clear out the building in two days.

It was truly over.

Reaching out, she took Luca’s hand.

“Come on, Papa,” she said sadly. “Let’s go.”

He looked up and tried to smile at his daughter. “Valentino is coming soon,” he said, his voice shaky. “Maybe he will think of something.”

She bit back her bitter reply. No recriminations. Reality was what it was. Time to deal with it and move on.

She rose and held out a hand to her father. He looked up but hardly seemed to have the strength to reach for her help. It was truly a sad and hopeless afternoon.

But in that same moment, the double doors to the meeting room swung open abruptly, and a man burst into the room. The reaction swept through the hall like a windstorm. Isabella turned to see who it was, and then couldn’t believe her eyes.

There stood a tall, strong, proud man with eyes as black as coal and a presence that made everyone in the room sit up and take notice. It took her a moment to be certain it was Max, because at first she wasn’t too sure. There was no hesitation about him, no favoring the good side of his face, no reluctance to challenge the crowd with his standing, scars and all. He was here and he was going to make a difference. That much was obvious.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said in a voice that thundered through the room. “I hear you are dealing with a property that I have some interest in, so I decided I’d better be here to help you make the right decision.”

The mayor and some of the councilors, after gaping for a few moments, made obsequious gestures and offered their chairs and generally made fools of themselves, and Isabella watched in wonder. He was more regal, more beautiful than ever. Where had this confidence come from? Had it been there all the time and she just hadn’t noticed?

Max refused to take a seat. Instead, he stood in the middle of the room where he seemed to be in command of everyone in it. He requested that the mayor read the findings to him, and then the ruling. He listened, frowning, and when it was over he said, “I’m sorry, Mayor Gillano, but I don’t agree with your ruling. I have some interest in the restaurant, Rosa, and I want it protected.”

Everyone gaped at him in bewilderment. He stared straight ahead at the mayor and went on.

“You see, I’m about to be linked to the Casali family when I marry Isabella Casali. And she in turn will be a partner with me in my extensive real-estate holdings in the village. I believe I hold the lease on the building where you operate your furniture factory, Mayor Gillano. And the apartment building that you manage, Mr. Barelli,” he added, looking at the mayor’s right-hand man. “Oh, and don’t you rent your stables from me, Miss Vivenda?”

He addressed each council member in turn and it seemed his real-estate manager had arranged it so that he had dealings with every one of them.

“Once Isabella is my bride, she will assist me in deciding which leases we may have to break in order to fulfill some new plans we’re working on for the village.” His gaze swept the room, a slight smile softening the hard lines of his face. “I hope we won’t be inconveniencing any of you, but that is always a risk, as I’m sure you are well aware.”

The murmurs had a ring of panic to them now. Isabella stared in wonder. She wasn’t sure what was happening. Why was Max saying these things? Marrying her? He might have asked first. But she didn’t care. She loved watching him and the way he took charge without regard to his scars or how they affected anyone. He’d been born a prince, raised a prince, and he was finally letting his inner prince out.

But what was this business about marrying her? Was this all a ruse, or did he really have something in mind? Her heart was beating so loud, she had to concentrate to understand what he was saying.

“I’m sure this matter can be settled to the benefit of all of us if you will just rescind your ruling regarding the restaurant Rosa.” His dark gaze touched every one of them in turn. “Surely the fine can be waived, in light of this new information.”

There was utter silence in the room.

He smiled. “Good. That’s settled, then. I expect to see the Casali family back over the stove at their restaurant by nightfall.”

“Oh, I’m sure something can be arranged…” the mayor was sputtering.

“Oh, yes, indeed,” others were saying, suddenly acting as though this had been their intention all along.

Isabella shook her head, her mouth open in astonishment. They all fell into place like bowling pins. The only angry face was Fredo’s scowling in the background. But it seemed his wishes were no longer relevant.

Max turned to look at Isabella. She looked at him. Electricity flashed between them, and as though propelled by it, she rose and flew into his arms. He swept her up into the air, and right in front of everyone his mouth came down
on hers and he kissed her as though this were going to be the last kiss in the history of the world.

“I love you, Bella,” he whispered close to her ear. “I’ve found out I can’t live without you by my side. Would a wedding fit into your plans?”

“Oh, Max,” she sighed, holding him close. “I penciled one in long ago. You’re right in step with the program.”

“Good,” he said, his dark eyes smiling into hers. “You’re my conscience and my courage. I need you badly.”

“I think you’ve got the courage all on your own,” she responded. “The way you came in here, taking charge, ignoring what they might make of your scars—oh, Max, it was masterful.”