Page 16 of Winter Wedding for the Prince
“Please,” the princess replied. She added an eye roll for good measure. “Don’t go into acting, Rosa. You’re terrible.”
“But I really wouldn’t know,” Rosa replied honestly. “I haven’t met her. She’s very beautiful, though. And her father certainly speaks highly of her.”
“Fathers usually do,” Arianna replied. “According to mine, I am the purest creature to ever walk the earth.” Her grin was nothing short of cheeky as she pointed to her midsection. “I think I’ll wait until I’ve met the woman to see if she lives up to her advance praise. Armando says she’s attending the concert tonight?”
“Yes. She is supposed to arrive late this afternoon.” Rosa had been trying to figure out an excuse to avoid her arrival all week.
“You don’t look happy about the idea.”
“Excuse me?” So much for keeping her thoughts private. She really was a terrible actress.
“No worries,” Arianna replied. “I understand. This is a concert for your sister, and here’s Armando infringing upon her memory by introducing his future wife.”
“No, that’s not the reason.” Everyone was so quick to blame her loyalty to Christina. Armando thought the same thing regarding the shelter party. The simple, shameful truth, however, had nothing to do with Christina.
“What is the reason then?”
Rosa opened, then shut her mouth. What did she say? She couldn’t very well tell Armando’s sister the truth—that she was dreading a night of simultaneous jealousy and embarrassment.
Fortunately the telephone saved her. When she heard the voice on the other end, her eyes widened.
“That was King Omar’s secretary,” she said when she hung up. “Apparently his daughter hasn’t completely recovered from the flu and is feeling too ill to fly.”
“Meaning she’s not coming tonight?”
“I’m afraid not.” Rosa’s stomach took a happy little bounce at the news, even though she knew it shouldn’t.
From Arianna’s expression, she didn’t do a good job of hiding her reaction, either. “Armando will be disappointed,” she noted.
Immediately Rosa was ashamed of herself. “Yes,” she said, “I imagine he will be.” He no doubt meant for this appearance to be Mona’s introduction to the Corinthian people.
“Where is my dear brother, anyway?” Arianna asked. “I came by because I wanted to talk to him about a rumored cut to the arts endowment budget.”
“According to the note he left on my desk, he is at the swimming pool doing laps.”
“Really? Max is swimming laps right now as well.” With surprising spryness for a pregnant woman, the princess hopped off the desk. “I was planning to go visit him after I spoke to Armando. Why don’t the two of us go together and you can tell Armando about Mona’s cancellation?”
See Armando. At the pool. That happy little bounce turned into a shiver as she pictured a muscular and wet Armando emerging from the water like a men’s fragrance advertisement come to life. “I thought I would send him a text...” she started.
“Don’t be silly. I don’t feel like waiting for him to check his messages before talking to him about it. Come down with me, and we will tell him in person.”
This was the downside of working for royalty. It was impossible to refuse when they decided a plan of action. Suppressing a sigh, Rosa pushed to her feet. “After you, Your Highness.”
Maybe she’d get lucky, and Armando would stay in the water while they talked.
* * *
The pool was an Olympic-size addition built in what had been an unused greenhouse on the edge of the palace gardens in the mid–twentieth century. When his children were younger, King Carlos had the aging facility refurbished, transforming what had been a bland indoor pool into a paradise filled with flowers and soothing flowing water. The bamboo and hibiscus served as more than decoration—they created a foliage privacy wall so that the royal family could relax in peace. For as long as Rosa had known Armando, the room had been one of his favorite places. Since moving into the palace, Max, had taken to visiting the pool as well.
A block of hot humid air hit Rosa when she opened the door to the building. It’d been a while since she’d visited Armando in his sanctuary, and so she had forgotten how much of a contrast there was between here and the garden path that connected the two buildings, especially during the winter. She could feel her shirt starting to stick against her skin in the dampness, destroying every bit of flowing camouflage. Wasn’t worth pulling the garment free, either, since it would only cling right back.
