Page 20 of Royal Valentine

“I need to come home. Please tell Luigi what we did and have him come get me.”

“Okay.” She sounded more awake now. “Is everything all right?”

“No. Please hurry.”

“I will. He’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

“Thank you.”

I put the receiver back on the base and glanced over at my rose.

I hated how final this all felt.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Luigi lectured me the entire way home, reminding me that I had not only put myself in danger but risked his job, Anne’s job, and the reputation of the royal family.

I was very meek and kept apologizing, which seemed to mollify him. Paparazzi waited at the border, and despite my bodyguard’s best efforts, they got several pictures of me fleeing the country.

I tried not to think about what the headlines would be tomorrow. I hated that I was about to disappoint my family.

When we crossed over into Monterra, I was so relieved because the paparazzi weren’t allowed in my home country. One less thing for me to worry about.

My mother was up and waiting for me. Despite the fact that I’d resolved not to cry, my face crumpled when I saw her holding her arms out for me.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I didn’t want to embarrass the family.”

“Oh, piccola mia, come here.”

She hadn’t called me her little one in a long time, and I cried against her shoulder.

We went over to the couch in her receiving room and sat down together. She listened quietly, stroking my hair, as the whole story poured out of me.

When I was finished she asked, “Do you want me to call your cousin? I’m sure he could muster a special strike force and have this Callum character assassinated.”

That made me smile. “Let’s not bother the king. It’s probably better if we don’t cause a world war.”

“True, true,” she said, smiling back at me.

“And I don’t want to hurt him. We had a perfect day together. Maybe it could have been more, but now I’ll never know. It feels so ridiculous to be crying over a man I didn’t even know twenty-four hours ago.”

“I knew your father was the one for me the first hour of our first date, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re silly. I understand.”

I knew she meant to comfort me, but that somehow made it worse. Like I had missed out on something really special. That it was brand new didn’t matter. My mother said something about fish and the sea, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. She sent for gelato and wine, and we ate and drank until we both eventually fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up the next morning, I took my mother’s phone from the coffee table and braced myself.

I didn’t want to cause any more scandal for this family.

But there was ... nothing. No pictures, no stories about me and Callum.

It was almost like the whole thing hadn’t happened.

I didn’t know what to think of that.

I kissed my mother on the cheek and found her secretary waiting in the front room. I let him know that she was still sleeping. I went back to my own apartment, where Anne was waiting for me.

“What is going on?” she asked. Part of me was so exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed and pretend my Roman holiday hadn’t happened, but it hadhelped to tell my mother all of the gory details. Maybe if I talked about it enough, it would make the hurt sting a little less.

My theory was wrong, though. Telling her didn’t help me stop missing him.

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