The Bossy Prince (Rugged and Royal #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,41
and not notice he’s up to no good.
He practically has guns, drugs, and bad guys oozing out of his pores.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Tony swaggers over from his table by the DJ booth, where a man with epic dreads is spinning 90s rap at a respectable, dinner-conversation-friendly volume, and bends to murmur near Stefano’s ear.
The boss’s eyes lose their sparkle, and his mouth hardens at the edges.
A beat later, Stefano nods and pushes back his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with the chef about the vegetarian option.” He stands but pauses to give Bea’s arm a squeeze. “Ask if they want to join us for the waterfall hike tomorrow, princess.”
“All right,” Beatrice says, watching him walk away before turning back to us with a giddy grin. “Isn’t he just the best? I swear, I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I am hanging on tight to him.”
“How did you two meet?” Zan asks, signaling to the waiter collecting Bea’s empty mojito that she’ll have one as well.
“I’ll take one, too, please,” I add.
I don’t usually drink on duty—I toss back a lot of seltzer with lime and pretend to be wasted—but I could use something to take the edge off before I pull Stefano aside to inquire about purchasing a human being.
Even knowing we’ll be helping this woman out of a terrible situation, the thought still leaves a foul taste in my mouth. The fact that Stefano has been able to get away with hundreds—maybe thousands—of similar transactions through the years sickens me.
We have a good idea how many men and women he’s killed, but we can only guess at how many lives he’s ruined.
He’s a monster.
Yet he’s evidently good enough at playing human that Beatrice has no clue her Prince Charming is actually the Grim Reaper in disguise.
“I was in Venice,” Beatrice says, a fond smile curving her lips, “at the train station waiting to head over to the west coast to hang out with some friends in Genoa. But the last train broke down, and they’d closed the station waiting room until morning. I tried to find a hotel, but they were all either full or closed.” She sighs. “So there I was, out on the street at midnight, wondering if I was going to have to sleep on a park bench or something when suddenly this gorgeous, intense guy walked out of a gelato shop in front of me and asked if I was lost.” She lifts one bare shoulder, her grin stretching wider. “He actually said, ‘Are you lost, little tiger?’ in Italian. And I said, ‘Sort of, and my Italian is super bad,’ in French. And he said, ‘Explain,’ in English, and then we went to a bar to talk and have been together ever since.”
“But what about your animals?” Zan takes a sip of her newly delivered drink as the waiter circles the table to set my mojito beside my water glass. “Who’s taking care of the dogs and Buckminster Ferret?”
Beatrice’s eyes light up. “We’ve been doing it! Mostly. Stefano loves animals, too. He came to stay with me for a few weeks and was such an amazing help. He took the dogs out to run and helped clean the kennels and reorganized the food storage room and everything. And when we decided to go to his place in Capri for the holidays and then come here, he insisted on paying the pet sitter double her usual rate and leaving presents for all the fur babies to open on Christmas morning. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?”
“That’s adorable.” Zan smiles, doing an excellent job of hiding her surprise.
But she has to be surprised.
I sure as hell am.
I’ve observed Stefano for a long time and studied him from a distance for even longer, and I’ve rarely seen him invest serious effort in anything that didn’t increase his bottom line. The man lives to make money and accumulate power.
Helping care for Beatrice’s misfit mutts doesn’t fit his MO.
At all.
“I know.” Beatrice giggles, making the sinking sensation in my stomach even worse. “He’s the very best.”
I take a drink of my mojito, but it doesn’t help. In fact, the tart lime burns all the way down my throat, making me reach for my water.
“And don’t even get me started on the carriage house renovation,” Beatrice adds, pressing a hand to one flushed cheek. “I swear, I tear up every time I think about it.”