Royal Scandals: The Royal Bastard Part 17

Carlo considered that. "I'm sure it weighed on her to lie to you, to your sister and brother, and to Jack, especially given what I know of her relationship with the man. But she did it to protect you. Let's give her credit for that and let her rest in peace."

Rocco closed his eyes for a beat, then turned and strode to the rear windows, which overlooked the s.p.a.cious stone patio. He could see the fire pit at the far side, its flames dancing in the clear black night. As Justine had said, there was a stunning moonlit view that extended across the Adriatic. Kos's parents had trimmed just enough trees to provide a panorama of the sea while maintaining their privacy. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Rocco spied Justine on one of the roughly-hewn stone benches that encircled the fire pit. She sat with her back to the house and wore a light blanket over her shoulders. She'd propped her feet on the edge of the pit and her head was tipped back as she stared up at the stars.

Quietly, Carlo joined him. After taking in the view, he said, "No matter what happens after tonight, no matter how you and your siblings decide to proceed with whatever information I have given you, I am glad you contacted me. Jack Cornaro will always be the father of your heart. He earned it. But I am your father, too, and I will be here if and when you're ready."

"You're quite the diplomat."

"Years of training." Rocco cast a sideways look at the king and noticed a smile lifting the man's cheeks before he added, "Diplomatic or not, it's a sincere offer."

Rocco nodded. Before he could say anything further, the king said, "My son Stefano worked in Venezuela during his gap year. While there, he became involved with a young American woman. When the American discovered she was pregnant, she tried to reach him. Royal channels being what they are, she had difficulty. When Stefano's engagement was announced soon afterward, she decided it would be best for the child to raise her on her own. She made no further attempts at contact."

"You're talking about Stefano's wife Megan and her daughter Anna."

"Yes. They found each other again, but nearly ten years had elapsed. Ten years where Stefano didn't know his child and the child didn't know him. Watching their reunion has been both painful and rewarding. Ultimately, they have found happiness and value it."

"I'm not a preteen girl."

"No, you're not. But I value the opportunity, all the same. Perhaps more, because the entire time, I knew what I was missing."

A flurry of sparks rose from the fire. Justine reached forward and used a poker to shift the logs, sending another batch of sparks skyward before the flames settled again.

"When the queen visited, she told me that your children don't know about me. Do you plan to tell them now?"

Carlo planted his hands on the window ledge, palms down, hands wrapped around the sill so his fingers pointed back toward himself. The motion unnerved Rocco. It was exactly the way he stood and stared out the window of his villa when he needed to mull over a design problem.

"I told them early this evening, just before I flew here. Fabrizia and I thought that the time had come, given Teresa's death and your request to meet."

It wasn't the answer Rocco expected. "All of them?"

"Yes. My wife and I even called Bruno home from university. The queen let the staff believe we were discussing plans for my new grandson's christening."

Prince Stefano and his wife had a new baby, he remembered. "I imagine that was a rather interesting conversation."

"Interesting is an apt descriptor." The king smiled. "You're quite the diplomat."

Unbidden, a laugh erupted from deep within Rocco's chest. "Touche."

"I told them everything, then left to fly here. I don't know how they'll each react in the long run, but they're good people. Strong. Independent. I can only hope they know me well enough to...well...I don't know. If any of them feel the need to cast blame, it will be at your mother and at me. Not you or your siblings. My guess is that they'll view the three of you with curiosity and will understand that you're all in this together."

Rocco chewed on that for a moment. "Do they want to meet us?"

Carlo let out a sigh that sounded almost like a laugh. "They asked the same about you. I told them we'd take this one day at a time. The first step is for all of you to take the time to reflect on what you really want. No need to make rash decisions. I want all of you to have your questions answered first, and for each of you to come to grips with what you've learned."

"Sounds logical enough."

In front of them, Justine stood and rounded the fire pit to select another log from the bin at the side of the porch and add it to the fire.

"You married well," Carlo said. "When I heard you'd married Justine Flyte, I admit, I was surprised. From what your mother told me about you, the two of you don't seem much alike."

"She's a wild child ski champ and I'm not?"

"You're a man of science. An engineer. Your work is indoors and cerebral. Hers is outdoors and physical."

"We're both driven. Both of us want to make our mark on the world." Rocco's heart swelled as he watched Justine sit to the side of the pit, giving him a view of her profile in the golden firelight. "As for the rest, we balance each other."

"It sounds like a good match. It's the same with me and Fabrizia. I love her more than life itself." Carlo angled his body so he faced Rocco. "You two are separated, I understand?"

"We were working on things when I read my mother's papers." Since then, Rocco had been thinking about his relationship with Justine nonstop. When they'd traveled to Baltimore, he'd told her he never wanted to lose her again. He'd told her he'd be at her events, by her side whenever she wished it. He'd meant it. But when he made those promises, he'd believed the risks were all his. Namely, that his paternity would be revealed.

He never thought the risk would become Justine's. Reading his mother's papers changed that.

Carlo straightened, then folded his arms over his chest. "Judging from the way you looked at each other when I entered, it's apparent you love each other very much. I hope you find a way to reunite."

"Thank you." A weight settled in Rocco's chest as he watched Justine tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It's going to come out, isn't it? If not today or tomorrow, then eventually. It won't matter if you make it back to the palace without being seen. Now that you've told your children-which I don't begrudge you doing-too many people know."

"My family is very good at keeping their own counsel. Living in the palace, it's a necessity." His brows rose. "However, in this instance, I fear you may be right. It would only take one word uttered at the wrong time for questions to be raised," the king said. "The attention would be a lot for you and your siblings to handle."

"I can manage."

"But you worry about your siblings. You especially worry about your wife."

Rocco could only nod as he stared out at the flames. If-when-the truth were revealed in the press, it would harm Justine, perhaps irreparably.

After taking a long look at Justine, Carlo moved to the room's rustic fireplace and took a seat on its edge. "People like to talk about fame. Whether that fame is positive or negative, they say it won't change you if you resolve to stay true to yourself. But until fame happens to you, you can only look on from outside the vortex and speculate about how it affects a person who's trapped on the inside."

Rocco turned his head, curious at the pensive note in the king's voice. "Is that how you feel? Trapped?"

"At times." He shrugged. "Then again, I've been famous from the moment of my birth, so what do I know of life outside the vortex? My wife, however, wasn't famous until our engagement was announced. Fame came fast and furious then, and her learning curve was steep. Being royal isn't flash-in-the-pan fame. It's international, lifelong, and life altering. It's the type of fame that spans both politics and entertainment. The coverage-the intrusiveness of it-can be brutal."

"How did she adjust?"

"I helped where I could. I also had to trust her to know her own limits, when she should try to reduce her exposure and under which circ.u.mstances she could allow herself to be vulnerable." He glanced toward the rear windows, then looked back at Rocco. "Fabrizia and I came to the realization that life is short, and what is most important to us is to protect those we love. Namely, our children. We've done the best we can, but they often get themselves into trouble. We've told them to raise their heads and move on and to consider fame a high cla.s.s problem, one that has its challenges, but that affords us the ability to do our jobs. Without a certain amount of fame, I wouldn't hold the cachet I do when I walk into a room with the goal of convincing a business that they should establish an office in Sarcaccia. Fabrizia wouldn't be able to raise the awareness she does for the homeless or for victims of s.e.x crimes. Prince Stefano and his wife wouldn't have had the ability to turn our country's new conference center into the international draw that it is...which, in turn, benefits our tourism industry."

"You're saying it's all a matter of perspective."

"Most days, yes, that's what I believe."

"And today?"

He shot Rocco a wry look. "Today it's a challenge."

Rocco smiled in return, despite himself. He didn't want to like this man. The world at large adored him, but Rocco knew Carlo wasn't all the public believed him to be. As the king himself admitted, he'd made mistakes.

But, grudgingly, Rocco found himself intrigued by Carlo. He was a man who knew himself, who understood both his good and bad sides and knew how to put them into perspective. Regardless of what had happened between Carlo and Teresa, Carlo had accomplished a great deal in Sarcaccia. He'd improved the lives of his subjects, increasing both educational opportunities and the standard of living on the island while holding inflation in check and maintaining the country's strong traditions. He'd expanded tourism, yet was a staunch protector of Sarcaccia's natural beauty and fought hard to protect its wildlife and natural resources.

After taking another look outside to ensure Justine remained comfortable, Rocco crossed the room to sit beside Carlo. A heartbeat later, an antique grandfather clock in the corner chimed the hour.

"That's my cue." Carlo indicated the clock. "I'll need to leave in the next half hour to fly back to Sarcaccia if I want to enter the palace with the least chance of being seen. Before I wish your wife a good night, is there anything else you wanted to know?"

Rocco shook his head, regretting that their time had come to an end just as he'd started to understand Carlo. They stood, but as Rocco prepared to thank the king for making the trip to Croatia, he remembered. "Wait. There is something. Queen Fabrizia brought a necklace when she came to warn me about the Russians."

Carlo's eyes lit. "Ah, yes. The star sapphire. She told me she gave it to you."

"It's unbelievable. I've never seen anything like it in my life."

The king's deep laugh caught Rocco off guard. "You wouldn't because it's one of a kind. And now it's yours."

"Why?"

"It was your mother's." Still smiling, Carlo wandered back to the windows, glanced out at Justine, then spun to face Rocco. "After Lina and Enzo were born, I designed it with Conti & Fancetti and had it secretly delivered to Teresa. It was my way of saying goodbye to the relationship and of thanking her for bearing three wonderful children. I'd hoped she'd view it as a peace offering and would soften enough to allow me to see you again and to meet the twins, but she didn't. She returned the necklace immediately."

"I don't blame her."

"Neither do I," he said. "It was the misguided gift of a young man who'd suddenly become very powerful and very, very wealthy. The sapphire had been in my family for generations and I thought that by putting it into a necklace, it could be handed down to Lina someday. I wanted her to have a tangible item that would remind her for the rest of her life that she is a Barrali. I'd hoped to give something personal to you and Enzo, as well, but with Teresa's rejection of the necklace, that never happened."

Rocco moved closer to Carlo, stopping short of the windows to rest a hip against the edge of one of the upholstered chairs.

Carlo skimmed a hand over his chin and glanced up at the ceiling, remembering. "It's odd to think about it now. I did it out of a sense of loyalty and love for the three of you, but truly, where would Teresa have worn such a thing? Fabrizia warned me. She told me sending such a gift was ridiculous, but humored me. She understood the intent behind it. Later, Fabrizia rightfully pointed out that the jeweler would recognize it if it were ever worn in public and photographed, so it was for the best that Teresa returned it. I put it in a secured drawer and there it remained. As you can imagine, it's not a piece Fabrizia would choose to wear."

"It's been sitting unworn all this time?"

"My daughter-in-law Kelly wore it to a palace event recently after she found it and showed it to Ma.s.simo, but they didn't know the history of the piece."

Whatever story Rocco had expected the king to tell about the necklace, that wasn't it. He rounded the chair to retrieve Justine's handbag from where she'd left it beside the coffee table. He withdrew the velvet box and turned to Carlo. "You know I can't keep it, either. It must be worth millions."

"I doubt it's worth millions, plural. And what am I going to do with it?" The king's light brown eyes lit with humor. "Justine could find a place to wear it. Surely in your line of work you attend charity events to raise money for hospitals or scientific research?"

"Frequently, yes. But this" -he extended the box to Carlo- "belongs in a museum. Or with your family."

Carlo shook his head and kept his arms at his side. "You are my family. I want you to have it."

Rocco frowned, then slowly returned the box to Justine's handbag. "Fine. I'll hang onto it for now, though it doesn't feel right. If you can think of another use for it-maybe give it to your daughter Sophia or one of your other children-please let me know. I'll get it to you right away. I know you have Kos's contact information, but here" -Rocco reached for his wallet and withdrew one of his business cards- "this is my direct line at the villa."

Carlo took the card and read it before carefully tucking it into his pants pocket. To Rocco's surprise, the king then extended a card of his own. "Call me anytime, Rocco, for any reason. I will always take the call. And if Lina and Enzo should wish to call or meet me, I'd welcome it."

As Rocco accepted the king's card, he marveled at the depth of emotion and sincerity in the king's voice.

"I should say good night to your wife. I'll walk to my car from there." He held out a hand. "Thank you, Rocco. Coming here and seeing you again after all these years...it's my privilege."

Rocco accepted the king's outstretched hand. The simple exchange tightened Rocco's throat, but he managed to keep his tone even as he responded, "I'm glad we met, as well."

Carlo nodded, then pulled in Rocco for an embrace. A cacophony of emotions erupted within Rocco. He'd hated this man for so long, yet the quick, affectionate hug felt very much like the ones he'd received over the years from Jack Cornaro.

The king gestured to the back hall. "This way?"

At Rocco's nod, he said, "Good night, Rocco. I hope we can see each other again," then turned on his heel and disappeared, but not before Rocco saw the tears clinging to the rims of King Carlo's eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Rocco said nothing as he took a seat on the stone bench beside Justine. Sensing his need to simply think, she flipped part of the blanket over him, then scooted closer to rest her hand on his forearm.

The fire had burned down to its last embers, with only two well-blackened logs remaining, when the king had crossed the patio to wish her a good night and thank her for giving him the s.p.a.ce to speak to Rocco. It'd been surreal, having the world-famous king grasp both her hands in his, then offer a warm, genuine smile before he departed. She'd met dozens of famous people in her career, but he had to be one of the most recognizable. She'd managed a few words of semi-coherent small talk before he took his leave.

The sound of the car engine starting out front occurred at the same moment she'd heard Rocco open the back door to join her.

Once the last of the red-hot cinders disappeared, Justine eased away from Rocco to poke at the ashes. Wood smoke lingered in the air, reminding her of peaceful evenings spent at ski lodges surrounded by sky and forest and stars. "Still want to head back to the villa tonight? If not, I'll add more kindling and we can sit awhile. Otherwise, I should douse this."

"Douse it." He levered himself off the bench. "I'll go ahead and lock up, unless you'd like to use the restroom first."

She shook her head, then asked him to grab her bag from the living room. They met at the car, then buckled in for the trip back to Dubrovnik. By day, it was a gorgeous drive, with the road snaking through rural villages as it afforded glimpses of the jagged Adriatic coast. Tonight, however, even with the moonlight, Justine found it difficult to appreciate. Tension rolled off Rocco in waves.

"I liked him."

They were only twenty minutes from the villa when Rocco finally spoke, his voice like sandpaper.

"I'm glad." She reached across the gearshift to touch his thigh. "I know it was difficult, but the risk was worth it for Enzo and Lina. Perhaps for you, too."

"Everything I suspected about my mother was true. I knew it in my heart before he confirmed it." Before Justine could say she was sorry, he continued, "To his credit, the king was gracious about it. He said he couldn't fault the way she raised us, and he answered my questions about the necklace. He had it made for my mother after he ended their relationship."

"After?"

Rocco glanced in the rear view mirror, then moved over to allow a car to pa.s.s. "That surprised me, too. He explained it as a misguided attempt at a combination goodbye and thank-you-for-the-children gift from a man who was still maturing and had more money than he knew what to do with. He said he'd hoped she'd take it as a peace offering and let him visit us. She sent it back." Rocco released a long breath. "Apparently, after their relationship ended, my mother wouldn't allow him to see us."

Justine wasn't sure how to take that bit of information. Rocco seemed deep in thought, though not necessarily troubled...at least not by what he'd learned about his mother from Carlo. A deeper matter gnawed at him.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

"I suspect it's inevitable." He took his eyes off the road long enough to meet her look of curiosity. "He told his children about us. In fact, he says he told them everything right before he flew here."

"Whoa." That likely explained Rocco's distracted mood.

"That sums up my thinking on the subject." He guided the car around a series of turns that put them onto the main road into Dubrovnik. "I'm sure they were as stunned by the information as I was. More, given that they didn't even know I existed, let alone about his relationship with my mother."

"It'll be a lot for them to absorb."

"And there are a lot of them."

A note of resignation in his voice left her cold inside. "You're afraid it's going to come out."

"I can't imagine it not coming out, and sooner rather than later. Too much has happened since my mother died. Too many people know."

"It was hidden for over forty years, Rocco. It may stay that way forty more." At his skeptical look, she asked, "If it does come out, what's the worst that can happen? You've done nothing wrong. Neither have Enzo or Lina. The story will be shocking to those who live in Sarcaccia, but will anyone else really care?"