As far as disguises go, dying my hair and throwing on a pair of non-prescription glasses are about the most basic things I could do. But the fact that I've not been anywhere near the palace as Valentina Romano since I was a tween has given me a certain level of anonymity that I’ve used to my utmost advantage.
My hands shake slightly as I work, and I force myself to take deep, steadying breaths. I've spent my entire adult life maintaining this identity, and now I'm doing touch-ups in the very palace where the need for it began.
The irony would be enough to make me laugh out loud—if it weren't so freaking terrifying.
I'm behind enemy lines. I need to keep my wits about me at all times.
I set a timer for my hair, kick off my shoes, and sink into the four-poster bed, with its silk comforter and enough scatter cushions to sink the Titanic, careful not to get any of the dye on the covers. Of course, there's a monogrammed cushion with the Royal House of Canossa seal, just in case I forget I'm in Frederic Canossa's house.
I fling that one across the room, watching as it lands on the floor by the sweeping velvet curtains that frame the window.
Don't judge. I've got to get rid of my pent-up emotions in some way, and doing it on a cushion is pretty tame, let's face it.
My phone beeps, and I see my boss’s name flash up on my screen.
Judith Giovanni:
This is the chance of a lifetime, Fabiana. Don’t mess it up.
You’re telling me. This is my moment. My shot. And I'm going to do my darnedest to take full advantage of it.
Me:
I won’t. I’ll get the inside scoop on him, warts and all. You can count on me.
Judith Giovanni:
Good girl. Nail this project and you're off the royal beat for good. I'm thinking investigative journalism, political commentary, whatever direction you want.
My heart leaps. I’ve been pushing my boss for this for years, but she’s kept telling me that I’m invaluable with what I do.
The idea of no more royal weddings, no more charity galas, no more writing about what Prince Max wore to a nightclub? It’s a dream come true. Real journalism.
Carrot officially dangled.
Me:
I won't let you down.
I place my phone beside me and marvel at how fast this all happened. Yesterday, I was summoned to the palace, expecting dungeons, firing squads, or at the very least, a rap over the knuckles for calling his son names. Today, I'm the palace's newest resident, with my very own rooms consisting of a bedroom, bathroom, living room, and a fully stocked kitchenette, where I can't imagine anyone ever cooks.
Even though I need to play nice in the royal sandbox, I'm not going to play their game. They might be paying me to front this Prince Max PR stunt, but I'm going to report him as I find him—which yesterday was as a mixture of a petulant child and just about the most handsome man I've seen in my life.
But no matter what, I won’t be swayed by the prince with his handsome looks and broad shoulders, as so many women before me have been. No matter how much his height lends him an enviable presence someone my sizecan only dream of. The way his rich, smooth voice rolls over me, tickling my belly. The way his chestnut eyes bore into me as though he can see into my soul.
I clear my throat.
Prince Max can be as charismatic and handsome as he likes, but I'm absolutely determined to remain impervious to his charms.
He might not have been the one to force my parents to flee Ledonia, but he's guilty by association.
I check my roots. A few more minutes should do it.
Drumming my fingers on the windowpane, I gaze out at the royal gardens, the very gardens where I remember playing hide-and-seek with children at garden parties.
I remember racing through these very gardens with Prince Max when I was about eight or nine. I was only a year older than him, although he was always taller. Sofia had organized games for us younger children, already taking charge, even back then. She was always meant to be queen. Alex had slunk off with a friend, not enjoying being bossed around by his sister, and Amelia, with her infectious giggle, was so friendly and fun.
Back then, my biggest concern was whether I would get to sneak an extra helping of dessert.
