17. Chloe

CHAPTER 17

CHLOE

I ’m woken at what is deemed an appropriate time and summoned to breakfast. My head is pounding and my stomach churning, and I could have done with sleeping for another seven or eight hours, but it doesn’t look like that’s an option.

A member of staff knocks on my door and asks me to get dressed. I want to say, No, I need to sleep , but I don’t want to be rude. So, I get up, get showered and dressed, and let her lead me down to the dining room.

It’s another grand room, though I suspect not the biggest dining room in the house. The table is laid as if we’re about to have an extravagant meal, so I’m surprised when a waiter brings out a humble selection of breads and pastries for me.

I was expecting excess, but this doesn’t feel too crazy at all.

As I start putting pastries on my plate, Maria appears behind me, startling me when she says hello. I jump, and she apologizes with a laugh. “Nessa didn’t wake you up too early, did she? I told her to let you sleep, but she’s so used to dealing with other royals who will launch the official complaint if the time and plan is not followed to the letter. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” I lie. In truth, I tossed and turned all night, but I don’t feel like getting into that now. “You don’t have any painkillers around, do you? My head’s killing me. Is the jet lag going to be this bad on the way back?”

“When are you here until?”

“I’m supposed to leave on Wednesday. That’s — what…? It’s Saturday now…” I count off the days of the week on my hands, my brain nowhere near awake enough to do that kind of math in my head. “Five.”

“That’s a good length of stay,” says Maria. “You should have plenty of time to see all the things you want to see before you leave, and be rested enough for the flight.”

“Paolo has promised me he’ll take me on a private tour of the country. I don’t really know what to expect from that.”

Maria nods. “He certainly knows a lot of good places. I am sure he’ll be able to tell you everything you could ever want to know about Bellamare.”

I hum in agreement, taking a bite of one of the pastries so I don’t have to formulate words.

Another reason I’m tired is that I stayed way too late on my phone last night, searching news reports about Paolo. All of the translations were crude, but it was good enough to give me an idea of the kind of guy he was when he lived here.

It doesn’t fill me with a whole lot of confidence.

The guy I met was smooth, charming, seductive. The guy that the papers are describing is a dumb child who would strip his pants off in a heartbeat just to make someone giggle.

The Paolo in the papers is crude, stupid, always out partying, and never paying a single second of attention to his responsibilities.

Could that still be who he is?

“Can I sit?” Maria asks.

“Yeah, of course. It would be nice to have the company.”

“I did ring for Paolo,” she says as she sits, “but he must still be asleep. That boy always was late to get out of bed.”

“I was reading some stuff, last night,” I say, figuring that Maria is the best person to ask about it. She probably knows the truth better than a journalist. “Why exactly was Paolo exiled? Was it just because of the partying? Was it just because he was stupid and young?”

Maria sucks in a sharp breath. I brace myself for whatever truth is about to come.

“In a small part, yes,” she says. “If you would like to know the full truth, I will tell it to you.”

I’m not sure that I do, but I’ve started this now. I nod.

“It was such a surprise when he came home and told us all that he had found a wife.”

I finish my pastry, not sure where this sentence is going. Maria continues, “You see, the king and the queen have long had the idea in their heads that if we could only get Paolo to marry a nice woman, then perhaps it would distract his attention from making a mockery of the family. That if some woman would agree to be his bride, perhaps it would calm him down enough to make him grow into a real adult.”

“But nobody wants to do it?” I say, and judging by the Paolo in the papers, I can understand why.

“Quite on the contrary,” says Maria. I raise a questioning eyebrow. “There’s a small country in Eastern Europe called Ralfava. And it was arranged that Paolo would marry the first-born princess of that country.”

“He was engaged?” I splutter.

Maria chuckles grimly. “You see, the main reason he was exiled was because on the day of the wedding, he never showed up. He… oh, what is the English word for it? Oh, yes — abandoned the bride in the church.”

“Jilted,” I say, my entire body freezing up.

“Yes. He jilted her. And not only that, but instead of showing up, he went partying and he got himself arrested. And then, when his father went to get him out, Paolo was told that he wouldn’t be allowed to remain in the kingdom. He was driven to the airport and sent away, forbidden from returning.”

“Forbidden until…” I don’t finish the sentence, letting the obvious ending hang in the air. “Am I doing the right thing by staying?” I ask suddenly. “I only promised I would because he seems so desperate to get back in good faith with his parents. But what if he wants more from me after that? Can I really trust the husband who would do something like that? Is our marriage even real at all?”

Maria doesn’t answer. Instead, she breathes out a long, unhappy sigh.

I reach for another pastry. I’m not sure that I have any option except to keep eating. At least that is something I can control.

At last, Maria speaks again, quietly. “He has never really seemed interested in marriage before. In women? Yes, certainly. But the responsibility of a marriage… Well, you can imagine everyone’s surprise when he came home and announced you.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“I couldn’t believe it, for sure. And then you arrived, and I couldn’t believe it even more — that such a lovely, beautiful young woman would have agreed to be wed our Paolo. And then, of course, I discovered it was all just a trick. A scheme in order to get home to us.”

She reaches out and takes my hand, almost motherly in gentle affection. “I can’t tell you what’s going on in his head,” she says. “But I can tell you that he cares about you. In all the years I’ve known him, which is his whole life, I’ve never seen him show such relentless attention to a girl. I’ve never seen him act like he cares so fiercely. I’ve never seen him defend someone like he has defended you.”

“Defend?” I ask. I haven’t seen anything that looks like defense.

She nods, frowning like she’s confused that I don’t know what she’s talking about. “Yes. Yesterday. In the evening, he told me all about his brothers. How they had taken him aside and started to say such horrible things about you. I have never seen him so angry about something like this before.”

“He was angry? For me?”

“He chose you, Chloe. I do not pretend I know all of the details, and I am not telling you it should be easy. Of course, this does not mean you should forgive him immediately. But at least give him the chance to work for it.”

“Is it worth it?” I whisper.

All this time, I’ve been so focused on the way Paolo has used me, I had convinced myself that that night we shared together, the way it felt, that it was all inside my head. That I had been the one who had got caught up in it, and Paolo’s shows of emotion were an act. That all of his smiles had been working towards a goal.

Could he actually really have fallen for me?

Maria meets my gaze. “I told you last night of the young stupid playboy that he was. If I were you, I would not let him forget it. But he does have a chance to be more than he is. There has always been something buried deep inside his heart that has been screaming to get out. I think perhaps we should let him try to prove who else he can be.”

Long after returning to my room after breakfast, Maria’s words run through my head. Who else can Paolo be?

I think I already know the answer to that question.