Cavelli's Lost Heir. Lynn Harris Raye
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Morgan was desperate. She was only supposed to be in Montebianco for two days. She’d been here for three. Her heart beat so loud and hard in her ears that she’d half expected to have a heart attack hours ago. She had to get home, had to get back to her baby. But the authorities showed no signs of letting her leave, and her pleas to speak with the American Consulate were ignored. She hadn’t seen a soul in over four hours now. She knew because she still had her watch, though they’d taken her cell phone and laptop away when they’d brought her down here.
“Hey!” she yelled. “Hey! Is anyone there?” No one answered. There was nothing but the echo of her voice against the ancient stone interior of the old fortress.
Lily sank onto the lumpy mattress in the dank cell and scraped her hand beneath her nose. She would not cry. Not again. She had to be strong for her boy. Would he miss her by now? She’d never left him before. She would not have done so now had her boss not given her little choice.
“Julie’s sick,” he’d said about the paper’s only travel writer just a few days ago. “We need you to go to Montebianco and research that piece she was working on for the anniversary edition.”
Lily had blinked, dumbfounded. “But I’ve never written a travel article!” In fact, she’d never written anything more exciting than an obituary in the three months she’d been at the paper. She wasn’t even a journalist, though she’d hoped to become one someday. She’d been hired to work in the advertising department, but since the paper was small, she often did double duty when there was a shortage.
The only reason the Port Pierre Register had a travel writer was because Julie was not only the publisher’s niece, but her parents also owned the town’s single travel agency. If she was writing about Montebianco, there was probably a special package deal coming up.
But the mere thought of traveling to Montebianco had turned Lily’s legs to jelly. How could she enter the Mediterranean kingdom knowing that Nico Cavelli lived there?
Her boss was oblivious. “You don’t need to write it, sweetheart. Julie’s done most of the work already. Just go take some pictures, write down how it feels to be there, that kind of thing. Experience the country for two days, then come back and work with her on the write-up.”
When she demurred, he refused to take no for an answer. “Times are getting tough, Lily. If I can’t count on you to do the job when I need you, I may have to find someone who’s more willing. This is your chance to prove yourself.”
Lily couldn’t afford to lose her position at the paper. Jobs weren’t exactly thick on the ground in Port Pierre; without this one, she couldn’t pay her rent or keep up with her medical insurance premiums. She could search for other employment, but there was no guarantee she’d find anything quickly. Once she’d gotten pregnant, she’d had to drop out of college. She’d spent the last couple of years bouncing from one low-paying position to another, doing anything to take care of her baby. The job at the paper was a major break and a huge step up for her. She might even be able to return to school part-time and finish her studies someday.
She simply could not endanger Danny’s future by refusing. She’d gone without many things as a child when her mother had been out of work or, worse, had dropped everything to run off with her womanizing father again. Lily would not do that to her own baby. She’d learned the hard way never to rely on anyone but herself.
She had no choice but to accept the assignment, though she’d comforted herself with the knowledge that her chances of actually crossing paths with a prince were pretty slim. She would leave Danny with her best friend, spend two days touring Castello del Bianco, and then she would be on a plane home. Simple, right?
But she’d never bargained on winding up in a prison cell. Would someone call the authorities when she didn’t return? Had they already done so? It was her only hope—that someone would report her missing and the American Consulate would insist upon an accounting of her movements within the kingdom.
A distant clanging brought Lily to her feet. Her heart thumped harder if it were possible. Was someone coming to see her, to let her go? Or was it simply a new prisoner being brought into the depths of this musty old fortress?
Lily gripped the bars and peered down the darkened hall. Footsteps echoed in the ancient corridor. A voice spoke until another silenced it with a sharp command. She swallowed, waiting. A lifetime later, a man came into view, his form too dark beneath the shadows to distinguish features. He stopped just short of the pale light knifing down from a slit in the fortress wall several feet above his head. He didn’t speak.
Lily’s heart dropped to her toes as a fresh wave of tears threatened. Oh God, he couldn’t be here. He simply couldn’t. Fate could not be so cruel.
She couldn’t say a word as the prince—for so she had to think of him—moved into the light. And—oh my—he was every bit as handsome as the pictures in the magazines made him out to be. As her memory insisted he was. His black hair was shorter than she remembered, as if he’d cropped it closer in an effort to look more serious. He wore dark trousers and a casual silk shirt unbuttoned over a fitted T-shirt. Ice-blue eyes stared back at her from a face so fine it appeared as if an artist had molded it.
My God, had she really thought he was just a graduate student at Tulane when she’d met him at Mardi Gras? Could she have been any more naive? There was no way this man could ever be mistaken for anything other than what he was: a wealthy, privileged person who moved in circles so far above her that she got altitude sickness just thinking about it.
“Leave us,” he said to the man at his side.
“But Your Highness, I do not think—”
“Vattene via!”
“Si, Mio Principe,” the man answered in the Italian dialect commonly spoken in Montebianco. He gave a short bow and scurried up the passageway. Lily held her breath.
“You are accused of trying to smuggle Montebiancan antiquities out of the country,” he said coolly, once the echoes from the man’s footsteps faded away.
Lily blinked. “I’m sorry?” Of all the things she’d expected him to say, this had not been even a remote possibility.
“Two figurines, signorina. A wolf and a lady. They were found in your luggage.”
“Souvenirs,” she sputtered in disbelief. “I bought them from a street vendor.”
“They are priceless treasures of my country’s heritage, stolen from the state museum three months ago.”
Lily’s knees went weak. Oh, God. “I know nothing about that! I just want to go home.”
Her pulse hammered in her ears. It was all so strange. Both the accusation and the fact he didn’t appear to recognize her. But of course he wouldn’t! Had she really expected it? She gave her head a tiny shake. No, she hadn’t, but after all she’d been through the last two years, it hurt nonetheless. How could he not look at her and know? How could he not be aware of her the way she was of him?
Prince Nico drew closer. His hands were thrust in his pockets as he gazed down at her, his cool eyes giving nothing away. No hint of recognition, no sliver of kindness, nothing. Just supreme arrogance and a sense of entitlement so complete it astonished her. Had she really spent hours talking with this man? About what?
Without meaning to, she remembered lying beneath him, feeling his body moving inside hers. It had all been so new to her, and yet he’d been tender and reassuring. He’d made her feel special, cherished.
Now, the memory seemed like a distant illusion, made all the more so by his lack of awareness of it.
She dropped her gaze, unable to maintain the contact. His eyes were unusual in their coloring, pale and striking, but that wasn’t the precise reason she couldn’t look at him.
No, she couldn’t look because it made her heartsick for her child. She hadn’t realized it until she was face-to-face