Temporarily His Princess - By Olivia Gates Page 0,41
King Ferruccio. “I see you’ve brought your husband with you.”
So he was on teasing terms with his king. Figured. It was clear that though he observed the king’s status officially, he was on the same level personally.
Clarissa chuckled, her thick, long hair blowing around her face in the breeze like strands of sunlight. “You know me, I can’t say no to him.”
Vincenzo’s lips twisted. “I can train you.”
Her chuckle turned to a snicker. “Like you can say no to him.”
Vincenzo teased. “I’m not the woman who has the power to make a yo-yo out of His Majesty. It’s your duty as his queen to save his subjects from his implacability, and as his wife to counteract the toxic level of yeses in his blood.”
Clarissa gave her husband a look full of all they had between them. “I like him intoxicated.” She turned teasing eyes on Vincenzo. “Now shush, Cenzo, and let me meet your much better half.”
Then she turned those eyes on Glory. They were so unbelievable, Glory involuntarily stepped closer to find out if they were contacts. They weren’t. She’d seen so-called violet eyes before, always blue with a violet tinge. But Clarissa’s were pure, luminescent amethysts. Eyes to stare into for hours. Ferruccio evidently wanted to do nothing else for life.
Glory’s lips trembled on a smile in response to Clarissa’s exquisite one as she clasped her in a warm, fragrant embrace.
Already on the brink of tears, Clarissa’s words almost made them escape. “Welcome to Castaldini and to the family, Glory. I’m thrilled to have another friend my age, especially since I hear we have so much in common, our professional training—” she pulled back, her smile becoming mischievous “—and being married to one of our impossible yet irresistible D’Agostino men.”
In spite of her upheaval, her lips moved of their own accord. “Your Majesty…”
Clarissa held out a warning finger. “Stop right there! No YMs and not the Q word, either. Away from all the court stuff, I’m just Rissa—my husband claims exclusivity on Clarissa—” another melting look at her husband “—and I’m just part of a brigade around here, with the other members being Gabrielle, my brother Durante’s wife; Phoebe, my cousin Leandro’s; and Jade, my cousin Eduardo’s. We used to call ourselves the Fabulous Four. Now we’ll be the Fabulous Five.”
Glory swallowed, at a loss on how to answer. Seemed Vincenzo’s advice about saying nothing was the best one to follow in this mess. She smiled weakly at Clarissa, wishing the earth actually opened and swallowed people.
“You’re real.”
The deep, dark burr had goose bumps storming across her body. King Ferruccio.
Without coming closer, he made her feel his presence had enveloped her, immobilizing her for analysis as he cocked his head in contemplation. “I thought Vincenzo was pulling one over on me until I was forced to send him off to his new post, only to discover too late that you were a figment of his very creative mind.”
Her bones tightened under his scrutiny. He felt something wasn’t right. His eyes said he knew it. Shrewd man. That must be how he’d raised himself from destitute illegitimacy to become not only one of the world’s most hard-hitting magnates, but the king who’d brought Castaldini back from the brink of ruin and into unprecedented prosperity in under four years. The intelligence she felt radiating from him was almost frightening, and he must possess all the additional qualities that made others follow him.
Under his probing, words formed on her lips. “I am real, I assure you, Your Majesty. Forgive me if I won’t call you Ruccio, if that’s your name in informal setting, according to the abbreviations I observed your names undergo.”
A ghost of a smile played on Ferruccio’s uncompromising lips. “Come to think of it, that contraction should have been my name’s fate. Seems no one was bold enough to attempt it. But you can call me Ferruccio like everyone is free to, since my wife has her own exclusive names for me. But Your Majesty is certainly not something you’re allowed to use.”
Her smile attempted a semblance of steadiness. “It might be impossible to call you by your name just like that.”
Ferruccio’s gaze leveled on her. “In her incurable kindness, Clarissa has made it a request, but I have no such qualms. Away from the court I order you to call me Ferruccio. As your future king, that’s a royal decree.”
“See what I have to put up with?”
That was Vincenzo, his tone light and teasing, but his eyes made