The Keys' Prince (The Royal Heirs), page 13
What if history repeated itself?
Surely their stars hadn’t aligned, after all of these years, to explode right in front of them once again.
Whatever the answers were, Stella was about to discover them.
Stefan drove through the heavily-guarded outer walls of the palace grounds, then through the gated inner entrance and around to the back door of her new living quarters.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With Tippi’s help, Stella immediately started to settle into the large apartment adjoining Dario’s suite in the palace. She was in no frame of mind to re-connect with Dario’s mother, Queen Meredith, until she freshened up, changed her clothes and relaxed a bit. The stress of this mighty whirlwind was catching up with her, along with jet lag.
Come to think of it though, there really was no such thing as connecting with the Queen. The woman could make a hunk of man cower at her feet. And that wasn’t Stella’s imagination running wild. She’d seen the Queen manage that feat one-too-many times.
Although Stella had never let Her Royal Highness see her sweat, she was always unnerved by her. There was a dark-side, a cold sterility about Dario’s mother.
Stella thought that perhaps her icy aloofness had been born of loss or great sadness. On occasion, she actually felt empathy for her, wondering if the burdens she’d had to bear, living in an arranged marriage to a man who could be even colder than she was, had gotten the better of her. But just as quickly as Stella’s concerns grew for the Queen, the woman’s actions indicated that maybe she was as evil as her husband, King Magnus.
For Dario’s parents, ruling Kristianico appeared to be all about the power and fortune their sovereignty gave them. Their only concerns were maintaining and growing that power and thereby increasing their wealth to obscene levels.
Stella figured that the only reason they’d tolerated her in Dario’s life all of those years ago was because she had billions of dollars more at her disposal than they did. Marrying her would be marrying up the power ladder. As much as that thought probably pleased them, it could also mean that people in their royal circles might interpret that the family’s power would actually go down after the nuptials. It was that fear that had finally won out and turned the family’s tides against her.
How Dario had turned out to be such a kind, thoughtful and generous man was a miracle. A tribute to his personal character and warm heart. The genuine love and respect shown him today by the thousands of people lined up to welcome him home proved how much his people loved him.
That fact, something that should have filled the king and queen with pride and a sense security where the family’s future was concerned, instead frosted them. Their over-inflated egos couldn’t handle that their son was more popular with Kristianico’s people than they were. So, they undermined their own son and the opportunities and advancements he made for himself and their country.
Stella couldn’t imagine what it was like for Dario who was constantly worried about whether or not his own family was out to do him in. Yes, she had the Rat Pack to try to stay one step ahead of, but she’d never had to worry that her own flesh and blood would destroy her. They may have self-destructed, but they’d left her with every resource possible to live a wonderful life.
Stella hoped that, after twenty-five years of his hard work and after seeing the great strides he’d made for his country, Dario’s parents would have softened toward their only child. But it certainly didn’t appear that that was the case. If Dario’s phone calls from the plane were to be judged by tone only, the family war was still on.
Even more stressed out than she was before reliving the royal family’s nightmares she tossed her tote bag onto a gorgeous chaise lounge which was arranged in her private sitting room so that she had a spectacular view of the stunning, English-style gardens behind this wing of the palace. Maybe she just needed to stop thinking about the past, and instead, plan for her future. Better yet, maybe she should live in the now.
“Would you care for some herbal tea or perhaps a glass of lemonade?” Tippi asked, appearing under the arched doorway leading from the sitting room into a large living room and efficiency kitchen.
“Tea would be perfect. Thank you,” Stella said, knowing it was exactly what she needed to try to calm her frazzled nerves before appearing in front of the Queen.
“Peppermint. Right?” Tippi asked.
“Why yes. How did you know?”
“His Royal Highness was kind enough to give me a list of your favorite things,” she said, her confident but sweet demeanor showing how much she respected her boss and took pride in carrying out her duties to his satisfaction.
“He did, did he? And you’re right, that was very kind of him,” Stella said, touched that Dario hadn’t forgotten any of the details that made him such a wonderfully thoughtful man and partner.
A nice cup of peppermint tea would definitely help settle her stomach and gear up for what was sure to be a very interesting evening with Dario’s family.
She sat in the chaise, glad to put up her feet and bask in the late afternoon sun streaming through the large, cathedral windows showcasing the gardens.
Dario was right. She loved what he’d done to the gardens along this stretch of the back wing of the palace. She got up from the chaise and walked to the windows. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken—she pressed her nose to the glass to be sure—he’d had the royal gardeners use one of her designs for a small sitting area toward the far left corner of the walled-in sanctuary.
So that’s why he’d asked for her sketchbook all of those years ago. She used to love to design all kinds of gardens, and Dario had always insisted on seeing each of her ideas. Never once did she imagine that he’d actually bring her creations to fruition.
Curling up in a window seat nestled into a curved bank of three cathedral windows, Stella was momentarily caught off guard by movement she picked up out of the corner of her eye.
Re-focusing her attention to the fountain area in the center of the garden, she saw Queen Meredith approaching a group of five people—a beautiful, dark-haired woman who looked to be about the same age as the Queen, three boys with the same dark hair who very possibly could be triplets, perhaps in their early to mid-twenties and a younger girl, maybe in high school, again with the same beautiful hair. Hair, that honestly, looked very much like Dario’s.
“Your tea, Miss Stella,” Tippi said clearing her throat and setting a fine china teacup on a small, marble-topped table next to the chaise.
“Oh, Tippi, the ‘Miss’ isn’t necessary. Please, call me Stella. And thank you. Thank you so much,” Stella said leaving her seat long enough to snatch-up her cup and hurry back to the window, without looking too ridiculous. “Say, can you tell me who’s in the garden with Queen Meredith?”
Tippi hesitated but then approached the bank of windows. Stella noticed that she positioned herself behind her, as if hoping Stella would block her from being seen by anyone who happened to be looking up toward her windows from the garden below.
Stella wondered about Tippi’s hesitancy to be recognized, but didn’t feel close enough to her to ask about it. Although, if she was Dario’s trusted employee, Stella could trust her too.
“I’m not sure that I’ve seen them here before. Well...perhaps on one occasion, a few months back, shortly after it was announced that the king was ill. But really, Miss Stella, I mean Stella, it’s not my place to know who meets with the royal family. I mean, I usually know who sees Prince Dario. If he chooses to make me aware, that is.”
“I’m sorry, Tippi. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Really, I didn’t. I’m just trying to learn my way around here again.”
“No worries. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re back in the Prince’s life. He’s missed you. That, I know for sure.”
“Why thank you, Tippi. That means a lot to me. And thank you for taking care of him. He speaks very highly of you.”
“He’s a wonderful man, as I’m sure you know. He’ll be a wonderful king, too. We’ve all waited a long time for this moment to come.”
“He will be a wonderful king. You’re right,” Stella said thanking Tippi again before dismissing her so she could take her tea back to the window.
She curled her feet underneath her and propped two gigantic silk pillows behind her back. Tilting her teacup to her lips, she took a sip.
Before she could stop herself, the next swig sprayed out of her mouth and all over the silk pillows.
The beautiful, dark-haired woman, with the four young adults protectively flanking her sides, had just slapped Dario’s mother—Queen Meredith—in the face.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dario paced the small, private hallway that connected his suite to Stella’s apartment. Checking his watch, he saw that he still had fifteen minutes before he was due to escort her to dinner. She’d probably be ready now and waiting for him, but he wanted to give her as much time as he could to settle into her new home.
Coming back to Kristianico so soon after they’d gotten back together was a huge change for her. Although it was exactly what he had always wanted, he certainly didn’t plan on dumping it all on her in a matter of a few days.
Even in death, his father had the worst timing. This is not how he’d planned to convince Stella to give their relationship a second chance.
He looked at his watch for what had to be the tenth time, at least. Great. Another thirty seconds had passed.
He couldn’t stand being this close to Stella yet so far away. Having her in the guest apartment next to his suite wasn’t going to work. They could keep most of her things there to make it appear to the palace staff that they were going about their relationship in the traditional way, but he was definitely going to talk to her about staying in his suite. This was ridiculous.
She certainly wasn’t a guest. She was about to be the new queen of Kristianico. So much for becoming his princess, however. She’d skip that title entirely. His wife. She was going to be his wife.
He repeated the words again, loving how they instantly warmed his soul. The very thought of making Stella a permanent part of his life made his heart beat in a much calmer, even-tempered rhythm.
Stella would finally, very soon now, be his wife. There wasn’t anything he’d ever wanted more.
He checked his tie in the gilded mirror that had once belonged to his great-great-grandfather, making sure that it was perfectly straight. There was no sense in setting off his mother by something as simple as a slightly crooked tie. There’d be more than enough to get her going tonight, especially since Uncle Carlos was joining them for dinner.
Judging from the brief phone conversation he’d had with the Queen three hours ago, letting her know that he and Stella were back in the palace, she was as uptight about the evening ahead as he was. If there was one thing he shared with his mother, and there wasn’t much, it was their joint disdain for Carlos, his father’s younger brother.
What was it about his father’s generation of the Magnus family that was so screwed up? Thinking about his father and his siblings, Dario could honestly say that there wasn’t a single one of them—his father, his Uncle Carlos or their twin sisters, Beatrice and Benita—he liked. All of them were cold individuals with very calculating personalities, always on the lookout for a new way to make each others’ lives miserable.
Carlos was, by far, the worst. He set the horrible standards that, luckily, none of the others could come close to matching. What made Carlos so bad was that he was as smart as he was evil—a very dangerous combination. He not only had the willpower to do his family harm, he had the brains to make his nasty plans work.
Dario’s father had always remained one step ahead of his little brother. But Dario was worried that, over the past year, as the King’s health declined, so had his ability to fend off his brother’s attacks. Dario knew without a doubt that, his father never lost the courage or determination to fight his brother every backstabbing step he took. But, in the end, the King didn’t have the strength to stop him.
Dario wasn’t sure why his father and uncle had started their life-long feud. And now that his father was gone, he probably never would know. He could ask Carlos. A lot of good that would do, though. Dario couldn’t believe a word the man said—one thing he actually agreed with his father about.
Checking his watch again, he decided that being five minutes early wouldn’t matter to Stella. Hopefully, she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her, which would make the task of convincing her to stay in his suite much easier.
Following a quick tap on the elaborately-carved oak door that separated his suite from hers, he went in her apartment, thinking he’d grab a seat along the windows facing the gardens and wait on her to finish up.
What he didn’t expect was to see Stella waiting for him in a gown that would turn every head in his mother’s great dining hall.
“You look stunning, baby,” he said, walking towards her in what felt like slow motion, as if he were still in one of the thousands of dreams he’d had of such an occasion.
The more he looked at her, the more he realized that stunning didn’t come close to describing how beautiful she was. She elevated the Armani gown from gorgeous to ethereal. He’d selected it as one of a dozen possibilities she could go with for the evening. But he’d have bet money that this was the one she’d pick, and he took pride in knowing the woman he loved so well.
The color was a frosty lilac, a perfect match for the tie he’d decided on. Lilac had never looked so good. The cut had the crisp, clean lines Armani was famous for but with an edgy neckline that plunged almost to Stella’s navel, wreaking havoc on Dario’s composure.
Maybe he hadn’t made a wise choice after all. Hell, all he’d be thinking about during dinner was the private dessert he’d planned for his bride-to-be afterwards.
If he could manage to take his eyes away from the revealing, sequined top of her gown, he’d be forced to keep from drooling over the sexy side slit in the gossamer, chiffon-like skirt that cascaded over her hips and flowed in mesmerizing swirls around her never-ending legs.
“You like it?” She asked taking a delicious spin in front of him.
The breeze she stirred swept the skirt far away from that sexy-as-hell slit, giving him a nice peek of her beautiful toes peeking outside the glittering straps of her Brian Atwood stilettos.
“Like it? I liked it when I picked it out as an option for you. Now that I’m seeing it on you, I love it,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
Breathing in a deep sense of satisfaction, he caught notes of the alluring scents of her mint and rosemary shampoo. He was glad she still used the same kind. It was a scent that always reminded him of how wonderful it felt to hold her close.
“You are the sweetest,” she said, looking pleased with his compliment.
Her joy tickled him. Nothing ever made him happier than knowing he’d made her happy.
“What I am, baby, is the luckiest man in the world,” he said, kissing her nose and then her forehead before reaching down to grab her evening bag, a crystal-studded number he knew she’d love.
“Well, you are about to be a king, so I suppose that makes you lucky,” she said, teasing him as she reached up and straightened his tie, which suddenly he didn’t care about at all.
The thought struck him, however, that if he kept messing it up, she’d have to stay close enough to fix it, which was more than worth risking his mother’s irritation.
“I’m lucky because I have you by my side,” he said, never more sure of himself or his feelings. “Nothing else matters to me.”
“We are both lucky then,” she said, looping her arm through the elbow he offered her. “And this time, nothing is going to break us apart.”
“Agreed, baby. But what do you say we have some fun while my family does their best to ruin us?” He asked, for the first time in ages feeling that he was on top of the world and deserved to be there. That was the effect Stella had on him. She made him believe he really could be a happy, confident and competent king.
“Game on, King Adonis,” she said, moving toward the door.
He laughed out loud then whispered in her ear, “You can call me Dario.”
“But what if I have other names for you?” She asked, tapping his backside with her bejeweled bag.
“Later tonight, I’d love to hear every one of them,” he said, leading her out the door of their sanctuary, toward the dining hall and to God only knew what kind of royal hell.
• • •
Stella couldn’t keep tremors of dread from rocking her to the core. The closer she and Dario got to the palace’s formal dining hall, the worse she felt.
She knew she looked the part to be the woman at Dario’s side, but when it came to facing his family again after all of this time, she hadn’t yet found her mojo.
If she were being realistic, she probably didn’t have much to worry about when it came to coming up with conversation starters. Either Dario’s mother or his rotten uncle would soon say something that empowered her inner lioness. But when they did, they wouldn’t shake her. There was nothing they could say or do this time around to tear her and Dario apart.
Stepping into the great dining hall, she took a deep breath, doing her best to relax amidst the dramatic setting. She’d been in this hall at least a dozen times, but it never ceased to send chills surging up and down her spine.
Over the years, the room must have soaked in the cold, dark energies of the people who regularly inhabited it. Stella could actually feel the staggering weight of bitter feelings and debilitating jealousies pushing down on her shoulders. It was as if she should immediately open up all of the windows, offering what little respite she could.
Scarlet red, velvet drapes seemed to drip with the fiery ill will of the Magnus family who were beginning to take their respective places around the solid, reclaimed pine table. There were place settings for thirty-six people, each, for the most part, to be filled by someone with great angst regarding the remaining thirty-five relatives seated around them.
