But the picture could have feasibly been even more valuable than a million euros. And the exclusive story of how his mother had really met her end?
There weren’t enough zeros to put at the end of the number on that price tag.
“Right this way, Your Highness.” The concierge whisked him away to a private room off the lobby.
The décor was posh, opulent to the point of excess. An enormous sofa of tufted velvet sat in the center of the room. Its rich, violet hue was dramatically set off by walls of gold leaf and heavy crown molding. A crystal chandelier bigger than Julia’s Vespa hung overhead. As Niccolo shut himself inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stepping into a gilded cage, a place where he was once again untouchable. The two security officers were stationed right outside. No one could hurt him here. No one could take advantage of his position. In this room where kings, presidents, and prime ministers often sat, he was safe.
And completely and utterly alone.
He sifted through the neatly fanned selection of newspapers on the coffee table. They were all here for his perusal—la Repubblica, Le Monde, theNew York Times, theDaily Mail, and more. To his relief—and mild shock—he found nothing surprising. Other than the mystery surrounding his sudden disappearance and the many appointments he’d missed over the course of the past forty-eight hours, there was nothing. Not even a mention of Cassian’s latest exploits. The fact that he’d gone missing had actually had the added bonus of pushing his brother’s skinny-dipping scandal off of the front page entirely.
He picked up the remote control and turned on the enormous flat-screen television that was situated above the baroque fireplace. A quick scan through the many channels confirmed what the newspapers had told him. The photograph from Julia’s phone hadn’t surfaced. Nor had she spoken to any reporters. Yet.
It was rather like the past two days and nights had been nothing but a dream. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just passing time in his gilded cage, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There was a knock at the door, followed by the appearance of an immaculately attired waiter carrying a large silver tray. “Your cappuccino, Your Highness.”
Niccolo waved him inside. “Grazie.”
He set the tray down beside the mountain of newspapers. Niccolo’s coffee, topped with a pristine layer of foam, rested on a white china saucer. As he reached for it, the waiter pulled a large manila envelope from the inside pocket of his morning coat. “And this just arrived for you via hand delivery, sir.”
Niccolo stared at it for a beat before taking it. Ordinarily, Piero handled his deliveries. But his secretary had yet to return from Julia’s apartment. Since Niccolo had taken the limousine back to the hotel, Piero had been forced to take a cab.
“Hand delivery, you say?” He turned the envelope over in his hand, inspecting it for a return address. Nothing.
“Yes, Your Highness. A young lady left it with the concierge just now. She was quite...adamant... that it be given to you at once.”
Just like that, Niccolo heard the resounding echo of the other shoe dropping. “Tell me about this young lady. Did you see her?”
“Yes, sir, I did. She was quite pretty, although she upset the valet terribly by driving her scooter right up to the door. It seems she was in a hurry.” The waiter clasped his white-gloved hands in front of him. “Will that be all, sir?”
An adamant, pretty woman who drove her scooter like a maniac? “Sì, that’s all I need to know.”
The waiter bowed deeply and exited the room, leaving Niccolo holding the mysterious envelope. The smoking gun. He was almost afraid to open it. What would he find? More intimate photos of himself? A written account of their time together, perhaps, with special emphasis placed on all the salacious details?
He peered inside, and what he saw shocked him beyond anything he’d anticipated. Shocked him, and angered him until he saw three shades of red.
Julia, what have you done?
CHAPTER
TWENTY
“Mi scusi, signorina. Aspetta!” A man dressed in a fancy suit darted out of the Hotel de Russie and made a beeline in Julia’s direction. “Aspetta! Aspetta!Wait!”
Julia ignored him and slipped her helmet in place. She was sure this guy just wanted to yell at her again for illegally parking her Vespa, and she wasn’t in the mood to hear it. This morning had been bad enough already. She couldn’t take much more. Niccolo’s fancy five-star hotel would just have to deal with the fact that her Vepsa had defiled their entrance for a whopping total of three minutes.
“Wait!Per favore.Please.” The red-faced man stopped beside her scooter, panting from exertion.
Good grief, they took their parking violations ridiculously seriously here. “Mi dispiace.I’m sorry. I’m moving the Vespaimmediatamente.”
“No, no, no.” He waved his hands frantically back and forth. “No,signorina. Per favore.The prince wishes to see you at once.”
The prince wishes to see you.
If she hadn’t felt so much like crying, she would have laughed at the absurdity of his words. When was there a time a prince had wished to see her? Never.
“Well, you can tell him that I have no desire to see him.” She fastened the chin strap of her helmet. “Arrivederci.”
