the priesthood’s reputation within a week.
For some reason she couldn’t fathom, she felt guilty about laughing. Her father had taught her that the royal family deserved respect, and not only because he had been their exclusive tailor for the whole of his career.
But that wasn’t it. It was her memories of Salvy as a boy—their steady friendship and quiet confidences that had grown into more.
For her, anyway.
But that was a long time ago. She hadn’t seen him in years, and his determination to act as though the people of Cielo didn’t deserve his time or consideration rubbed Magdalena the wrong way. In other countries, the royal family were nothing but figureheads, but in Cielo, they had influence and they wielded it. Second in line or not, she thought he should take his influence seriously.
The rest of them had no way to change things, not really. Anger twisted in her belly at the thought but she tried to smile, not wanting to discuss it with her friends. They only saw Salvy’s pretty face, his chiseled body, his lazy, charming smile… Sure, they had King Alfonso and Prince Nico to take care of things at home, but thinking of Salvy as a “spare” heir was irresponsible.
“So, Maggie,” Camilla started, a sly expression on her face. “Are you finally going to give up the goods on the guy, or what?”
Maggie made a face. “I think he’s given up his own goods, and besides, I keep telling you I don’t know him. Not really.”
The last time she’d seen Salvadore, he’d kissed a visiting princess right in front of her. Super classy.
She wasn’t telling them that, either. As much as she disapproved of the way the younger prince treated his title, she refused to throw more gasoline on the gossip fire.
“You’re no fun,” Donni pouted. She raised an eyebrow at Camilla. “Remind me why we’re friends with her again?”
“Because she’s the one who makes sure we make it home alive,” Emmy pointed out, slamming the rest of her beer.
They kept talking, the talk—at least at their table—finally shambling over to normal conversation like work and which of the guys they were dating had bugged out that week. Maggie sipped her second beer as slowly as her first, finishing the warm remnants a few hours later before she helped her friends into cabs.
Given the confrontation earlier, she decided to take a cab herself, and asked the driver to take her home. Her stomach grumbled the entire way and she regretted not ordering dinner even if no one else had wanted food. Foreign concept.
The small house on the rural outskirts of Arcobaleno was dark; her father would have gone to bed hours ago, and a stab of guilt went through Maggie. She worried he hadn’t found the soup she’d left for dinner, or that he hadn’t been strong enough to heat it for himself. It was the first time she’d left him in the evening for months, and now she wondered why she’d been so desperate for a night with her friends.
Inside, she set her purse and keys on the kitchen table and went to the fridge. Relief coursed through her at the sight of the empty soup container, but was quickly replaced by fear when she glimpsed a white envelope on the table next to her things.
She picked it up, her mouth going dry at the return address: Matrigna Holdings.
They weren’t going to stop until the Rossis, and others like them, had nothing left to call their own. Maggie’s mouth went dry at the thought and she blinked back tears.
The envelope crumpled inside Magdalena’s fist as she crossed the room and chucked it into the fireplace, then buried it under the few remaining coals. The heat fanned over her face and stoked her defiance until it glowed.
There had to be a way to fight the real estate company quietly bullying the people of Arcobaleno into selling off their land to make room for new developments. She needed to figure out what it was, and soon. Her father would not go to his grave without even the meager
For some reason she couldn’t fathom, she felt guilty about laughing. Her father had taught her that the royal family deserved respect, and not only because he had been their exclusive tailor for the whole of his career.
But that wasn’t it. It was her memories of Salvy as a boy—their steady friendship and quiet confidences that had grown into more.
For her, anyway.
But that was a long time ago. She hadn’t seen him in years, and his determination to act as though the people of Cielo didn’t deserve his time or consideration rubbed Magdalena the wrong way. In other countries, the royal family were nothing but figureheads, but in Cielo, they had influence and they wielded it. Second in line or not, she thought he should take his influence seriously.
The rest of them had no way to change things, not really. Anger twisted in her belly at the thought but she tried to smile, not wanting to discuss it with her friends. They only saw Salvy’s pretty face, his chiseled body, his lazy, charming smile… Sure, they had King Alfonso and Prince Nico to take care of things at home, but thinking of Salvy as a “spare” heir was irresponsible.
“So, Maggie,” Camilla started, a sly expression on her face. “Are you finally going to give up the goods on the guy, or what?”
Maggie made a face. “I think he’s given up his own goods, and besides, I keep telling you I don’t know him. Not really.”
The last time she’d seen Salvadore, he’d kissed a visiting princess right in front of her. Super classy.
She wasn’t telling them that, either. As much as she disapproved of the way the younger prince treated his title, she refused to throw more gasoline on the gossip fire.
“You’re no fun,” Donni pouted. She raised an eyebrow at Camilla. “Remind me why we’re friends with her again?”
“Because she’s the one who makes sure we make it home alive,” Emmy pointed out, slamming the rest of her beer.
They kept talking, the talk—at least at their table—finally shambling over to normal conversation like work and which of the guys they were dating had bugged out that week. Maggie sipped her second beer as slowly as her first, finishing the warm remnants a few hours later before she helped her friends into cabs.
Given the confrontation earlier, she decided to take a cab herself, and asked the driver to take her home. Her stomach grumbled the entire way and she regretted not ordering dinner even if no one else had wanted food. Foreign concept.
The small house on the rural outskirts of Arcobaleno was dark; her father would have gone to bed hours ago, and a stab of guilt went through Maggie. She worried he hadn’t found the soup she’d left for dinner, or that he hadn’t been strong enough to heat it for himself. It was the first time she’d left him in the evening for months, and now she wondered why she’d been so desperate for a night with her friends.
Inside, she set her purse and keys on the kitchen table and went to the fridge. Relief coursed through her at the sight of the empty soup container, but was quickly replaced by fear when she glimpsed a white envelope on the table next to her things.
She picked it up, her mouth going dry at the return address: Matrigna Holdings.
They weren’t going to stop until the Rossis, and others like them, had nothing left to call their own. Maggie’s mouth went dry at the thought and she blinked back tears.
The envelope crumpled inside Magdalena’s fist as she crossed the room and chucked it into the fireplace, then buried it under the few remaining coals. The heat fanned over her face and stoked her defiance until it glowed.
There had to be a way to fight the real estate company quietly bullying the people of Arcobaleno into selling off their land to make room for new developments. She needed to figure out what it was, and soon. Her father would not go to his grave without even the meager
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