“You just want to scare them,” Carolina said.
“Of course I do,” Lorenzo said and wagged his eyebrows. After a handful of cloth napkins were thrown in his direction—a fairly usual occurrence—he grabbed them and set them to the side. “What? If they’re basically my sisters, I should treat them as such.”
Ethan wondered if Lorenzo would treat Anda like that. Would she be embraced by his siblings? His parents?
He looked around the table. Alex had chosen a commoner, the daughter of the Head of the Palace Grounds, who had grown up near the palace but was still miles away from their life. Yet, she was kind, intelligent, had a great smile, and seemed to keep Alex on his toes; she would make an excellent queen one day.
Marcello had found love with English Lady Grace, cultured and refined, and she’d slipped easily into their lives and endless protocol.
Nate had fallen for Charlie, an American-born chef and current Head Baker of the palace. She’d even made part of the damn meal they were eating. Nate loved her and he hadn’t loved anyone for a very long time before her.
How would Anda fit in? Would she put up with Lorenzo’s endless teasing? Or would she put him in his place?
He didn’t know, and he wanted to know. He wanted her sitting beside him, and he wanted to be proudly sitting beside her.
Because he was proud of her, proud of who she was and what she did, and proud she’d chosen him as a lover. He may not know everything about her, but he knew enough to fall in love with her.
Suddenly, he was pissed. Anger at the protocols and family dynamics that kept him from revealing anything about Anda, annoyance at the fact his brothers could love openly but he couldn’t, and aggravation that his family still treated him like a child, Lorenzo one of the worst culprits.
He snapped at his brother. “Show them a little more respect than that, Lorenzo. Hell, you could even show me more respect than that.”
Nate shrugged. “He treats you like that because you’re the baby of the family, kid.”
The ‘kid’ comment made him want to punch Nate in the fucking face. “Just because I’m the youngest in the family doesn’t mean I’m a child. I’m a doctor in the Navy, for fuck’s sake.”
“Language, Ethan,” his mother said, though she said it with a softer voice than she’d used with anyone else.
Though he usually hated being the youngest, it did have its perks; his mother certainly let him get away with a lot. Usually. “Mama.”
“Don’t ‘Mama’ me, Ethan Robert Louis Santoro di Valleria.” All the siblings, not just Ethan, winced at the use of his full name. No one wanted to be ‘full-named’ by their mother.
“We’re all very proud of your accomplishments, but that doesn’t give you the right to be crude at the dinner table.”
His face fell into a sullen expression. “Yes, Mama.”
“Good. Did you make this, Charlotte? It’s absolutely divine.” A chorus of agreement sounded from around the table.
Ethan let the conversation flow around him, something about the ball and the food. He’d been chastised at the table—not the first time—but he felt like a child again. Logically, he knew he’d always be his parents’ child, and their last child at that. Yet, he wanted to be known for the man he was, too.
If Anda were here, maybe her presence would remind them he’d grown up and deserved respect. Joining the Navy hadn’t done it, becoming a doctor hadn’t done it…maybe becoming an agent and dating someone seriously would. That wasn’t the main reason he wanted her here, though. No, he wanted her here because the ache he had was a cavernous ravine, so deep and empty without her, and filled only with missing her.
Could he get away to see her? Vollywood was only an hour from the palace. He could go there and be back before anyone knew otherwise…
…then again, Marcello might find out if he left. It was different in a secluded and secret hideaway like the chalet or a swanky hotel where they could go relatively unnoticed, or the med bay of his ship where he was often left alone. The palace often had too many prying eyes.
As everyone began rising, he stood automatically, quickly realizing that dinner was over and everyone was splitting up for the evening. His father, Alex, and Marcello went one way—he guessed towards his father’s study—and his sisters went with their mother. Lorenzo and Nate wandered off leaving him alone, so he went back to his room as quickly as he could.
He pulled out the secret, highly secure phone he used only to contact Anda and held his breath as it rung her line.
She didn’t pick up, and the ache he felt grew wider.
* * *
ETHAN
Eighteen months ago…
The White Church of Brazenbourg
