Fabrizia fought to keep from smiling, given how the press might interpret it in light of the serious nature of the press conference. "I couldn't leave him up there alone, either."

Vittorio leaned closer to Fabrizia and Sophia. "Don't look across the room...but that's him, isn't it? With Umberto."

"Also a surprise. I had no idea."

Vittorio's eyes widened fractionally. "Good for him."

Sophia allowed herself a subtle perusal of the room, keeping her features calm as she got her first glimpse of Rocco. When she met Fabrizia's gaze again, she said, "He's handsome."

"He looks like me," Vittorio said under his breath.

"I'm going to leave before your father finishes," Fabrizia told them. "I'll be in the library if you care to join me. No more talk here."

Both Sophia and Vittorio signaled with their eyes that they'd be there. Within ten minutes, all the Barrali siblings had found seats in the palace's secluded library. Fabrizia chose her favorite chair. Its back was to the windows that overlooked the entirety of the palace gardens, instead affording her a view of the colorful Impressionist paintings that filled the s.p.a.ces between the room's floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. One in particular, depicting a mother and child reading on the seash.o.r.e, always imbued her with a sense of peace.

Footsteps at the far end of the library caught her attention. She tore her gaze from the painting to see Carlo entering from the main hallway.

"You did wonderfully, dear," she told him as he strode to the seat beside her.

He took in the sight of the six children scattered about the room. "I don't know about how I did, but I know how I feel. Thank you."

"Tell me that was Rocco Cornaro who came in near the end with Umberto," Alessandro said. "If not, I want a DNA test run on that guy."

"He looks like you two," Bruno said to Alessandro and Vittorio. "It's eerie."

"That was Rocco," Carlo confirmed. "He must've called Umberto after I told him I planned to hold a press conference today. I never expected to see him here."

"You invited him?" Sophia asked.

The king shook his head, then looked at Fabrizia. She held one hand palm out. "I didn't, either."

"Grandma! I have a surprise for you!"

Anna, Stefano and Megan's daughter, entered the library carrying a large tray. The dark-haired girl beamed from ear-to-ear as she tilted the tray far enough for Fabrizia to see a batch of brightly decorated cookies. Shaped like hearts, each had a unique design crafted from pink, white, red, and silver frosting.

"You made these?"

"Made them and decorated them. The new chef gave me all the ingredients and an entire countertop to work on." Anna set the tray on a nearby table and pointed to one of the cookies, which was edged in silver punctuated by pink rosettes. "See the pink? Chef Fournier bought this frosting tip last week and let me test it. Doesn't it make beautiful roses?"

"I'd say you make beautiful roses. Anna, I'm truly impressed. These cookies look professionally done."

"I hope the fact you brought them here means they're for us," Stefano said as he leaned over his daughter's shoulder to take a look. Anna spent a great deal of her free time in the palace kitchen, often making desserts as surprise gifts for the staff or to share with the neighbors at her parents' apartment near the marina.

"They are," Anna told him. "But I wanted Grandma to see them before you took a bunch."

A knock at the library's secret door caused everyone to turn. Hidden behind a curtain between two bookshelves at the far end of the room, the door led to a service hallway and was used by only select members of the staff. A beat later, Umberto appeared from behind the curtain and addressed Carlo. "Your Highness? I apologize for the interruption, but I have a guest in my office. I thought I should check with you before he departed."

"Thank you, Umberto." Carlo's gaze swept his family before he said, "Please invite him to join us."

A moment later, Rocco entered the room from behind the curtain. Umberto dipped his head in regard to the king and queen, then left, closing the secret door behind him.

Fabrizia rose from her chair to greet Rocco, but to Vittorio's credit, he spoke before Fabrizia could. He introduced himself, then said, "I imagine it's rather awkward being introduced to one's half-siblings. I'll get the most annoying out of the way first." He gestured to his left. "My twin brother, Alessandro."

Rocco shook Alessandro's hand. The introspective biomedical engineer might be out of his element in the busy palace, but Fabrizia doubted any outsider witnessing the scene in the library would know it. Rocco stood tall and looked every bit as confident as Carlo had at the same age as he circled the room, meeting each of the Barrali children and their significant others.

"You must be Anna," Rocco said to Stefano and Megan's daughter. "Umberto tells me you're a talented cook. He claims you made spinach and salmon appetizers last week that were good enough to be served at a palace party."

"Chef Fournier helped me with them," she admitted. "But I'm learning. I think I could make them on my own next time."

"That's impressive. I'm afraid my cooking is limited to a few pasta dishes my mother taught me to make."

"Pasta's my favorite," Anna said, grinning up at Rocco. "Well, pasta and pizza. My mom says that you're my half-uncle. Is that true?"

Rocco didn't miss a beat. His eyes crinkled into a smile. "Well, your father is my half-brother. I'm not sure there's such a thing as a half-uncle, but if there is, then yes, I suppose I am."

"So do I call you Uncle Rocco?"

He leaned forward. In a conspiratorial whisper meant to be heard by Stefano and Megan, who stood nearby, he said, "It's fine with me. In fact, I'd really like it. You and your brother Dario are my only niece and nephew. But let's go with whatever your parents think is best, all right? You can ask them about it later."

Anna's responding grin stole Fabrizia's breath. Rocco couldn't have given a more perfect answer.

Sophia approached and took Rocco's hand. "I'm so sorry for your loss. My father told us that Teresa was a wonderful mother to you. I'm sure you miss her very much."

Emotion swirled in Rocco's eyes at the unexpected sentiment, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Thank you, Princess Sophia."

"Oh, please. Call me Sophia. It's nicer than what they often call me." She let go of Rocco's hand and shot fiery looks at each of her five brothers. "I'm desperately hoping to discover that you're better mannered than they are."

"I do my best."

"I understand you're married to Justine Flyte," Ma.s.simo interjected. "She's amazing. My father-our father-is a big fan. He watches a lot of alpine skiing."

Fabrizia didn't miss the uneasiness that flitted across Rocco's face before he responded to Ma.s.simo with a grin. Whether it was at the mention of his wife's name or at hearing Ma.s.simo refer to Carlo as "our father," she wasn't certain, though if she had to bet on the source of discomfort, she'd choose the wife.

"He and Justine met a few days ago when he visited Croatia. I believe Justine is just as big a fan of your father's."

"We're planning a family dinner in our private apartment tonight," Carlo said, stepping into the knot surrounding Rocco. "If you're available, we'd love to have you join us. In the meantime, I'm happy to give you a tour of the less-seen areas of the palace and its grounds."

"I'd appreciate that."

"We get the hint," Stefano said to his father as he pulled his wife's arm through his. He turned to Rocco. "It's good to meet you. We'll try not to overwhelm you tonight, though if you confuse those two" -he inclined his head toward Vittorio and Alessandro- "we won't hold it against you. In fact, the rest of us consider it good for their egos when they're mistaken for each other."

"I'm the better-looking one," Alessandro retorted as Vittorio and Emily guided him out of the library with Ma.s.simo and Kelly at their heels.

"Remember what I said about their egos," Stefano muttered before leaving with his wife and daughter.

Before Sophia departed, Carlo touched her arm to stop her. Fabrizia didn't miss the meaningful look on his face. "Thank you, sweetheart, for leading the pack. It meant the world to me."

"Good. It was supposed to." She stood on tiptoe to kiss her father on the cheek. "I'll see you at dinner."

"I won't, unfortunately," Bruno said. He clapped a hand on Rocco's shoulder. "I have an exam in the morning and need to get back, but I look forward to getting to know you over the coming years. I hope to meet Enzo and Lina, as well."

"I read that you're planning a medical career?" At Bruno's nod, Rocco said, "I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk about."

"Rocco might enjoy a tour of the kennel," Fabrizia said once she was alone with Carlo and Rocco. To Rocco, she explained, "It's Carlo's favorite spot in the entire palace complex. We have a new litter of Sarcaccian Shepherds. They're beautiful, loyal dogs."

"Umberto mentioned that Ma.s.simo has one. We saw it in the garden, playing fetch with one of your staff."

"No doubt someone trying to keep the beast out of the fountain. Gaspare loves the water." She offered Rocco what she hoped was a rea.s.suring smile. "I've matters to attend to, but thank you so much for coming. I'll see you again at dinner."

She gave her husband a quick pat on the arm as she pa.s.sed by, then kept her pace brisk as she exited the library and made her way to the apartment. She had nothing on her agenda for the rest of the day-she'd a.s.sumed she'd be holed up watching news reports of the press conference, with Carlo ducking in for updates when he needed a break from reading the large pile of government doc.u.ments in his office-but perhaps viewing the aftermath by herself would be better.

If it exploded as she antic.i.p.ated, it'd distract her from wondering what was so important Carlo wished to speak to Rocco alone.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Seventy-two hours.

The local news blathered in the background as Justine ate her lunch of grilled fish, roasted beets, and spinach salad. It was her go-to meal when she was in training. No wine, no gnocchi, no cheesy calzones. Not that she felt deprived. Nothing she ate registered on her palate since Rocco called it quits on their marriage night before last.

I need to let you go.

She rolled her eyes as she remembered their last moments together. What a stupid phrase, especially since Rocco needed her now more than ever. But given the determination she'd seen in his eyes alongside the hurt, she'd decided to get out of the car rather than point out the obvious. She told herself she'd give him seventy-two hours-three days and three nights-to absorb his conversation with Carlo, to rea.s.sess what he wanted, and to think through what was best for both of them.

He loved her and wanted her. That much was clear in the way he physically held himself back from touching her. But, self-sacrificing, valiant male that he was, he obviously hadn't realized that she was better with him than without.

He was a man of science. He'd figure it out.

"I hope," she grumbled to herself as she forked through her salad to spear the last tomato. Teresa had nearly ruined their relationship once before. Justine would be d.a.m.ned if she'd allow Teresa to do so again from the grave.

Rocco should recognize that, too. Justine Flyte didn't go down without a fight.

She picked up her cell phone to re-read the message from the ski coach who'd contacted her late last night saying he'd heard she'd successfully completed rehabbing her leg and was hoping to compete next season. He was currently working out of a training center in Switzerland and wanted to set up a time to talk on the phone. The man was well-known in the sport and had coached several of her friends and compet.i.tors over the years. Justine knew his style would be a good fit for hers, but she hadn't answered yet. Rocco had a few more hours before the mental timer she'd set for his response ran out.

Not that she had a plan if the hour ticked by with no contact. Should she call? Show up at his doorstep? All she knew was that she didn't want to leave Croatia without talking to him again.

She was about to set down the phone when another message appeared, this from a Norwegian coach she'd interviewed and nearly hired years ago. As with the first coach, this one wrote to say she'd heard through the rumor mill that Justine was ready to ski again and in the market for a new coach. She said she'd love another chance to discuss working together. As Justine closed the message, yet another appeared. Another world-cla.s.s coach, and a message nearly identical to the first two.

Her former coach must've meant what he'd said about putting out feelers for her. It was gratifying to see top-flight coaches show interest, especially after they'd witnessed her gruesome wreck, but until Rocco reasoned his way through their relationship, Justine was trapped in limbo.

She tossed back the last of her iced tea and carried her plate to the sink, only to stop short when she noticed the image on the television. She couldn't hear the newscaster's exact words, but the photo of King Carlo in the upper corner of the screen sent her scrambling for the remote so she could turn up the volume. Before it was loud enough for Justine to hear, video feed from inside the palace panned from where the Barrali siblings stood against a lush green wall, past a doorway, to land on two figures in the corner of the room.

Her heart clenched as she recognized Rocco as the man on the right, looking larger than life. He wore a dark jacket over an open white shirt that emphasized the richness of his olive skin and the bright amber of his eyes. He'd allowed his beard to grow over the last three days, but rather than making him appear scruffy, even that short growth gave him the dark, dangerous air he'd had when he'd entered her apartment the night Karpovsky had come for her. The overall effect was one of power, as if Rocco belonged with the Barrali family, in their palace, standing next to Umberto and taking stock of the room.

But, of course, he would look that powerful. Rocco carried the Barrali genes. He was as intelligent as any of them, Carlo included, and was self-made, having reached the pinnacle of success in a challenging field without having had the benefits of being raised a Barrali.

Perhaps that was a reason for the beard, though it may have been a subconscious one. It differentiated him from Vittorio and Alessandro.

"...stood in the back of the room during the press conference, away from the king's legitimate children," the woman identified as an expert on the royal family was saying. "Though he was not introduced, based on photographs taken at Johns Hopkins, this does appear to be Rocco Cornaro, the man the king named as one of his illegitimate children with Teresa Fedeli. Two other children, Enzo Cornaro and Lina Cornaro, did not appear to be at today's press conference. The palace has neither confirmed nor denied any of the Cornaro siblings' presence at the palace today, nor commented on the nature of the relationship between the Cornaros and the royal family."

"What does this mean for the line of succession?" the news anchor asked as the camera flashed back to the news desk. "Since Rocco Cornaro is older than the crown prince, can he make any claim to the throne?"

"None whatsoever," the woman responded. "Sarcaccian law is quite clear that only legitimate children of the monarch may inherit. However, it's astounding that such a secret has been kept for over forty years. You can bet that in the coming days, political observers throughout Europe will ask what other secrets the Barrali family has hidden. It will also be interesting to see whether this impacts the family's high approval rating. Sarcaccia is rare in that the monarch is a true head of state. A slide in the Barrali family's popularity may open debate in the country about whether they should remain a monarchy or move to a more democratic system of government."

"The country does have an elected parliament, but the king holds the true power. Has there been any indication that could change with this revelation, Maria?"

"It's too soon to tell. Right now, the media is scrambling to learn all they can about these illegitimate children, all of whom are well into adulthood. I think the long-term question will be about their late mother. The king danced around the fact that a crime was committed here. He used words like 'inappropriate' and 'improper' to describe his relationship with Teresa Fedeli. Even if the king was a willing partic.i.p.ant, this is a clear-cut case of statutory rape, given that he was under the legal age of consent at the time it began."

"Much more to come on this story as it evolves," the anchor said before he segued to report on a fire that gutted a warehouse near the town of Split.

Justine moved closer to the television, flipping through channels to catch what tidbits she could from other news reports. When the lunch hour ended and afternoon programming began, she switched to her computer, bringing up story after story until she found video of the entire press conference. King Carlo's statement had been brief, centering on the bare facts and asking for privacy for the Cornaro siblings.

She doubted it'd do much good, either for the king or for Rocco, let alone for Enzo and Lina.

It certainly wouldn't help her. Rocco had backed up his determination with action. He'd never call her now, not to reunite, not if he knew the press was watching his every move.

I need to let you go.

"It's not true," she said to the empty room. He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her. Maybe, at the height of emotion following his discussion with Carlo, he'd been able to pull away from her, but only because he'd wrapped his hands around the steering wheel to prevent it. And because she'd finally gotten out of the car.

But did she want a man willing to walk away from her based on principle?

Yes. h.e.l.l, yes. She wanted him more. Because she knew he was doing it because he thought it was best for her.

Not because it was the easy way. The convenient way. Or because it was for Teresa.

A slow, wicked smile crept across Justine's face. He had to come back, if only to retrieve what he'd left in her handbag. Well, now he'd probably have to travel halfway around the world for it.

Deep in her heart, she knew he'd make the right decision when he saw her face-to-face.

She picked up her phone and began tapping out messages to the coaches.

"You said you wouldn't be home when the news broke," Carlo said once Queen Fabrizia left the library. "I didn't interpret that to mean you'd be here."

Rocco smiled at the king's tone. "Seemed the rational place. Reporters won't camp out at my villa to hunt for me or question whether or not we're acquainted."

Carlo regarded him for a beat, then said, "I suppose that's true. Walk with me."

They pa.s.sed through a half-dozen rooms filled with ornate furniture and antique rugs. Paintings Rocco a.s.sumed to be invaluable covered the walls. Many featured past kings and queens, while others depicted Sarcaccia's gorgeous waterfront in years gone by. One painting in particular caught Rocco's eye.

"You like that one?"