Page 53 of The Wanted Prince
The car crunched to a stop on the loose gravel. I filled my lungs up with air, then let it out slowly. Hugo was already out on the steps. The drawing room was lit up, and I knew I’d find Mother there. Father too, probably, glowering into the fireplace.
The driver opened the door for me and I got out. Hugo rushed me, red-faced.
“What the hell, Laura?”
“Let’s get inside,” I said.
“No, first the truth.” He lowered his voice. “Is it true you’ve been having an affair with the prince?”
I pushed past him, scowling, and stormed up the stairs. Righteous indignation. A favor for Carlo. That was my story, and nothing would sway me, not Hugo’s fury. Not Mother’s shock. Not even Father’s glum disapproval.
I strode into the living room, Hugo trailing behind me, and everything was just as I’d guessed it would be. Father was hunched in his chair by the fireplace, the very picture of silent approach. Mother stood when I entered, then sat back down. She threw up her hands, like I’ve had it with you. I drew myself up.
“So, let’s get it over with.”
Mother made a pinched face. “It is over with. You and Alessandro are finished.”
I huffed, annoyed. “We never started.”
“Then, that wasn’t you with him in Barcelona?” She arched one plucked eyebrow. I held her gaze.
“No, it wasn’t, and I thought you’d know better. Since when were you this naïve, falling for gossip?”
She looked at me like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. I dropped my eyes, guilty, and not just of lying. I’d stormed in here full of white-hot frustration, not just at Alessandro or at our breakup, or the unfair situation we’d been born into. Not even my kidnapping, though I hadn’t loved that. I was still salty about my visit home. About flying all that way to find myself sidelined. But now wasn’t the time to vent my resentments.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and took a breath to calm down. “It’s been a long day, is all. A long flight from New York.”
Father stirred in his seat, but didn’t look up. Hugo made a snorting sound, which I ignored.
“From New York,” echoed Mom. I ignored that, as well.
“Carlo called. He was worried about Alessandro. He thought if I talked to him, he might listen to me.”
Hugo laughed. “You? He’d listen to you?”
I shrugged. “Well, he did. He’s turning himself in.”
Father looked up for the first time, but not at me. He frowned at Hugo, then Mother, then shook his head. “Let me see if I understand this. You’re saying you were in New York, and Carlo reached out. You flew back today, to see Alessandro, which somehow became this… romantic dinner.”
“Just dinner,” I said. “It wasn’t romantic. He was eating when I got there, so?—”
“But he was expecting you, right?” Father’s eyes sharpened. “You must’ve talked to him to get his location. So he knew you were coming, and he sat down to eat?”
“Well, I mean, uh…” I floundered, confused. “My flight was delayed. He must have gotten hungry.”
“And it didn’t occur to him to text you? Or call?”
I cleared my throat. “My phone was on airplane mode.”
Hugo rolled his eyes. “She has an answer for everything.”
“And why shouldn’t I? I’m telling the truth.”
Hugo barked laughter. Father waved him to silence. He leaned back in his chair till his face lay in shadow. I couldn’t make out his eyes, but I could feel his gaze on me.
“You weren’t in New York,” he said. “We know that’s not true.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but no words would come. Something in Father’s tone had tied my tongue. He sounded tired, disappointed, and utterly certain. Like somehow he knew I hadn’t gone home.