The Playboy Prince (Piacere Princes, Book One) Read Free Page B

feeling half-exasperated and half-guilty over not wanting to be the new royal tailor. Magdalena had turned twenty-seven on her last birthday and even though her skills were more than up to snuff, she had to wonder whether the fact that she preferred to diverge from traditional fashion trends would play well with the crown.  
    They walked a block and took a seat at an outdoor café, the wrought iron table and chairs as wobbly as Maggie’s heart after the appointment. After they’d ordered, she cleared her throat and went first, hoping to make things as easy as possible.
    “I can take over your clients, but we’ll need to hire someone to do the bookkeeping and answer phones. I can’t do it all.”
    He reached over and patted her arm with a hand that used to be strong. It had always been the two of them—her mother had died and the one stepmother hadn’t worked out—which meant those hands had wiped tears, braided hair, cooked dinner, and bandaged scrapes and cuts. It hurt to see them spotted and withered, to watch him struggle to stop them from jerking. His fingertips were littered with scabs and scars from the slips of countless needles.
    “Are you sure this is what you want, bella mia ? To take over the shop?”
    Surprise slowed her response. “Of course! Why, do you not want me to?”
    It hadn’t been the plan, and perhaps she wouldn’t continue after…after he was gone, but he must know it was the best option for them both at the moment.
    “I do, I do, settle down. I just wanted…I want it to be what you want, that’s all.” He frowned. “You’ll have to love it, because people won’t make it easy. They won’t look at you and see me, they’ll see someone new, someone they don’t know they can trust.”
    “That’s silly. I’ve worked at your side my whole life.”
    “I agree, dear girl. I’m telling you how people are , not how they should be, and if you search your sensible mind you’ll agree.” He frowned. “You’ll have to make your own way.”
    Magdalena pressed her lips together as the waiter dropped fruit and scones off with their tea, and they ate in silence. As much as she wanted to argue with her father, she knew in her heart he was right. She wished the world were different, but until men decided to pull their heads out of their collective asses, she supposed that, like countless generations of women before her, she had to find a way to make the system work for her.
    Which meant continuing to let people think her father was in charge, that his illness was temporary, and she was only filling in. Then, she’d have to hope that people realized the work hadn’t suffered while she’d been doing it.
    They finished breakfast and headed back home, where Maggie figured she would spend the morning finding someone to replace her in the office. They would have to advertise as temporary so word didn’t get around.  
    At home, her father went straight for his easy chair and pulled the worn afghan her mother had made over his frail legs. Magdalena stared into the fire for a moment, thinking about the letter she tossed into it last night, but the morning had tired him.
    She would wait to bring it up another day.

Chapter Three
    Salvadore

    With its heavy velvet drapes, oversized wooden furniture, and rich color scheme, the King’s office was arranged to be at least as intimidating as the throne room. Too bad royal intimidation of all means and measures had ceased to be effective years ago, at least as far as encouraging Salvy’s compliance was concerned.
    Keeping subjects waiting was another trick designed to make an audience sweat. Salvy was feeling a bit hot under his collar, but only because he was hungover and the damn thing was too tight. While he waited, he shed his sport coat, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top two buttons. He could breathe, then, and walked over and cranked open the large, old-fashioned windows to drink in some fresh Cielo air.  
    He loved his country. Some