Princes of Castaldini: The Once and Future Prince. Olivia Gates
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“You were always that, Leandro. But you know exactly why I was forced to implement the measures I did in the past.”
“I do know exactly why. I pushed you against a wall.”
“You amassed power too fast, Leandro, juggled overwhelming agendas and goals. You pushed yourself beyond your limits.”
“Oh, so now you’re maintaining that I was having some sort of breakdown at the time? But I was too powerful to risk letting me run around unchecked, so you performed damage control?”
The king gave a grave nod. “That is basically the truth. Though you had worthwhile concepts, you wouldn’t take into consideration the hindrances of reality versus theory, or the suitability of planting what you were proposing in our sociopolitical soil. You wanted your way and you wanted it immediately, and you started acting with a volatility that shocked me for being so out of character. I dreaded your influence on the international community. You had its ears and hearts, and they started pushing for your policies to be installed, at once, for you to take over the crown. I never expected you to turn on me to get it.”
Leandro’s volley was ready, lethal. “And I never expected you to commit an injustice to hang on to it.”
The king didn’t contest the accusation. “It was one of the most difficult choices I’ve ever had to make. With your passion and power, what you were proposing was not so much a succession as a coup. You might think you would have been in control, but Castaldini’s enemies would have capitalized on your revolutionary policies, would have entrenched themselves into the kingdom by invoking the pretexts of globalism. I feared that once you made me step aside, your reign would be the beginning of the end—and that once it ended one way or the other, Castaldini itself would be no more.”
An outcome she’d told him he was capable of causing. And coming from his king, it silenced Leandro.
At last he drawled, “You really believed that? You really feared I’d be the end of the monarchy?”
The king’s gaze was steady. Sad. “Si.”
Leandro inhaled, shook his head. “What’s different now? I’m still the same man.”
“But you’re not the same. Time has tempered you and the brutal prices and constant compromises of keeping your place at the top have taught you the multiplicity of points of view and the paramount importance of implementing what works, not what you personally think is right. I’m sure that now, even though your views remain unchanged, knowing the dangers, you will find a way to make your vision come true while keeping Castaldini sovereign. And intact.”
Silence. It resounded off the soaring domed ceilings. The theatrical-echo effect gave Leandro’s laugh, when it burst from him, the force of a gunshot.
“You’re good. In fact, I think you’re too good to step down now. You’ve got plenty more to give.”
“You’ve always saddled me with worth beyond my true value, an image no one could live up to, and that was why you were so bitter in your disappointment in me. But forty years of tests are catching up with me and I’m holding on only until I can pass the baton. Take it now, Leandro. I have earned my rest. Let me have it.”
Leandro gave him a challenging look. “As long as you’re not talking about the final, in-peace type that involves digging.”
The king smiled. The first real smile she’d seen since his stroke. Leandro’s drollness had that effect. She would have, too, if what she’d witnessed between the two men who meant most to her in life wasn’t threatening to open the floodgates of her control.
Leandro’s smile vanished, but his eyes remained almost…gentle. “Let me make my position clear, my plans clearer. I’ll take care of any immediate threats, even though you make it sound as if I have the damage potential of a nuclear bomb. Then I need to consider your views with fresh eyes. I need to know what taking the baton from you—even temporarily—would mean, to Castaldini and to my other interests.
“But though you’ve managed something I thought impossible—made it almost a…pleasure to see you again—you’ll see me again only if I accept the role of crown prince and/or regent. If I decide not to, I’ll just leave. I would come to say goodbye properly this time, but you pack quite a wallop still, King B, and I’ve discovered I’m still as susceptible to your influence as ever. Seems I am as predictable as Ernesto always laments.”
Then he turned to Phoebe, extended his hand. She clutched it, desperate to reconnect with him, to siphon off the turmoil she could feel roiling inside him, even when he hid it so perfectly.
He pulled her close as he turned to the king again. She gulped as she felt herself melt into his hold. The intimacy in his touch, in the way he hugged her to his side, was unmistakable. He was demonstrating the nature of their relationship for the first time ever.
Self-conscious, tongue-tied at this unexpected move, she met King Benedetto’s eyes as she murmured the greetings she hadn’t had a chance to utter before. Before she had a moment to wonder what the acceptance, the approval she saw in their shrewd depths meant, Leandro said, “I do have to thank you for one thing, though. Knowing your business so well, you sent me Phoebe. She’s the only person who could help me make a sound decision. The best decision for all concerned.”
He exchanged a long look filled with a lifetime of meaning with the king, then gathered her closer to him, turned her toward the door. “That’s one hurdle out of the way, ariana ’yooni.”
A tremor passed through her. He’d called her his silver eyes. Did coming up with another of his unique endearments mean he wasn’t as disturbed as she feared over this face-off?
Then he dropped a whisper in her ear, reminded her of what was coming, sent her world churning. “One more left, then I’ll have you to myself for as long as I want.”
As she walked out with him, she wondered just how long that would be. But did it matter, when she had no choice? And her lack of choice wasn’t because he wasn’t giving her any. If she walked away now, he’d let her and still give Castaldini a second chance. His condition had been just to show her how much he wanted her.
But she didn’t want to walk away. She couldn’t. She’d take anything she could have with him. Even if only one more time.
The real problem would be when she had no choice but to walk away. Again. This time, forever.
Eight
Leandro was used to winning. Maledizione, he’d come to demand nothing less than victory. In anything, over anyone. And he always started by triumphing over himself.
He was losing big-time right now.
His evil thoughts were in control, tossing his emotions wherever they pleased. He threw all his vaunted self-mastery at them, tried to loosen their grip. He didn’t want to infect Phoebe with his tension.
Too late. On the way to their destination, he caught glimpses of them in the massive mirrors placed in strategic spots. He looked like a man with serious damage on his mind. Phoebe looked like a woman walking to the guillotine.
And it was all about that next hurdle, the one that was left in the way before he could have Phoebe to himself. Her sister.
Phoebe had insisted she couldn’t move into his home and call Julia after the fact. She had to inform her sister of her plans, explain the situation and arrange this separation face-to-face.
It was the “arrange this separation” that made him want to haul that tyrant from the chair from which she ruled her sister’s life and shake some consideration for others into her. He would extract Phoebe from her clutches, even if he had to cut off her tentacles while he was at it. He owed that woman a lot of pain.
He believed that a big part of Phoebe’s rejection of him in the past had been caused by true panic at the idea of leaving her sister. He’d scoffed at Julia’s need then,