Yours Royally (Billionaires and Brides 3)

“I'm curious what your father will say when I tell him the things you've said in this conversation.” She threatened him as though he was still ten years old. “Then maybe you'll learn a lesson in respect.”

“Please, save your threats for the dirty politicians at the party,” Marco said. “I've got more important things to worry about.”

He couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth. Normally, he'd have been able to hide his real feelings a little better. But something about that morning, with the news of his father's surgery, had given him distinct confidence in the face of Magdalena. He wanted to get her riled up. He wanted to make her squirm, like she had been doing to him for years and years.

“When you say things like that, you sound more like a commoner than you do royalty,” she said. “You're brash and unrefined. Not fit to be a prince.”

Marco refused to fall into her trap. She was baiting him, trying to turn the tables. He wouldn't fall for it.

“I, for one, happen to enjoy the presence of commoners. They have this really amazing ability that you seem to have never learned. They know how to smile,” he said, smirking at his own comment. “So I take your comment as a compliment. Thank you, stepmother.”

“I'm done with this conversation,” she said, obviously annoyed by her stepson. “I've things to do. This country isn't going to run itself. You've already wasted enough of my time.”

Marco smirked, knowing that the only reason Magdalena was getting off of the phone was because she had run out of rude things to say to him. He'd won the argument, at least for the time being. It was a small feat, but a rare one, especially with Magdalena.

“Give my father my best,” he said. “And tell him that I'll be coming home early. I'll see him in a few weeks.”

“Good day, Marco,” Magdalena said, before hanging up the phone.

Marco tossed his cell onto the bed and collapsed onto the brown leather chair in the corner of the bedroom. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back over the top of his head. He was shocked by the conversation he had just had with his stepmother, but happy he had at least gotten some information out of her.

His head hurt, his belly ached and he was already anxious over his father's health. Then Magdalena had to go and drop the news of a celebratory ball, making the situation even more stressful than it already was. His heart ached with worry. King Carlo would be having surgery in just four weeks and Magdalena was playing gatekeeper, making it so that he couldn't even speak with him. He suddenly felt a deep regret about deciding to go on this vacation in the first place.

If I had stayed home, then I'd be on Orsino right now, he thought. Magdalena wouldn't have this kind of control and there sure as hell wouldn't be some stupid ball being held in my father's honor.

Marco continued to kick himself for leaving the island, but the self-punishment was really just a distraction. The truth was that he was simply scared for his dad. Surgery to remove the tumor was said to be the best option, but that didn't mean it was a definite cure. Lung cancer had a horrible prognosis, as Marco had found out through his research on the Internet.

A wave of dizziness washed over him and he sat back down on the lounge chair, fearing that he might pass out. Tears welled in his eyes, but he choked them back.

What am I supposed to do? Marco thought.

He needed to talk to someone, but his father was the one who he usually leaned on in times of stress. And of course, that was also the one person that Magdalena had cut him off from. He feared that if he didn't get this off of his chest he would explode. He'd be a total mess for the remainder of the vacation and everybody that worked for him would end up as miserable as he was.

For some reason, and he wasn't sure why, Sabrina flashed into his mind. The image of her pretty face temporarily eased the torment that was going on inside of him. For a moment, he thought about confiding in her about his feelings.

I shouldn't, though, he thought. I didn't hire her to be a therapist. It isn't fair to her.

He got up and walked straight to the shower. While the water heated, he stripped naked and stood in front of the mirror. His dream vacation had just turned from a three-month extravaganza into a four week trip.

He thought of simply returning home tomorrow, but he knew his father wouldn't want that. His father had said as much during their last conversation. Besides, there was nothing for him to do at the palace but fight with Magdalena and worry.

His father wanted him to stay. Marco sighed and ran his hands through his hair again. He wanted to enjoy himself, but he knew it would be difficult. Without anyone to talk to about his troubles, he'd be forced to shove them deep down inside.

It's better that way, though, he thought. It's better for me to bear these burdens on my own. I'd rather do that, than risk infecting everyone else with my problems.

Chapter 8

Sabrina

The morning sun pierced Sabrina's eyelids, sending an electric shock of pain all the way to the back of her skull. Her mouth was as dry as a cotton ball and her throat felt scratchy. She ran her tongue against the roof of her mouth, but even that didn't help to ease the dryness.

Oh, my God. What happened last night? She thought, as she hesitantly opened her eyes.

The sun, though it was barely coming in between the drapes of her hotel room, felt so bright that she had to look away. Slowly, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, making sure her back was toward the window. When she glanced down, she noticed that she was still wearing the same outfit that she had had on during the baseball game the night before.

“The game,” she whispered, her words sounding hoarse. “What happened?”

She hardly remembered anything after the third cocktail. The last thing she remembered was being at the game, watching Marco attempt to sing the national anthem. After that, the evening was just a colorful blur with a handful of snapshots. One of which was a brief memory of Marco leading her out of the stadium.