“That’s well-known.” He dismissed the statues with a flick of his hand. “There’s no point trying to hide them now.”
His jaw worked as though he was debating something. When he looked at her, a cold hand seemed to leap out of his bleak gaze and close over her heart.
“The way he died may yet come out,” he admitted in a voice that held a scraped hollow ring, one that held so much pain, she suspected he was completely divorcing himself from reality to cope with it.
“Do you want to tell me about it? You don’t have to,” she assured him while her heart stuttered in an uneven rhythm. “But you can if you want to.”
His father’s death had been reported as a cardiac arrest, but there’d been countless rumors about the circumstances.
“My sister doesn’t even know the full truth.”
It was all on him and the secret weighed heavily. Amy could tell.
She wanted to touch him, comfort him in some way. She also sensed he needed to be self-contained right now. It was the only way he was holding on to his control.
“If you’re worried there are people who might reveal something, we could approach them with a settlement and a binding nondisclosure,” she suggested gently.
“That’s already been done. And the handful of people who knew where he was that night were happy to take a stack of cash and get away without a charge of contributing to manslaughter, but they’re not the most reliable sort.” He searched her gaze with his intense one. “Frankly, I wish he’d hired prostitutes. They would have acted like professionals. This was a party gone wrong. There were drugs at the scene. Nasty ones.”
“Here? In the palace?” That was bad, but she’d cleaned up similar messes.
“In the dungeon.”
She didn’t school her expression fast enough.
“Yes. That kind of dungeon.” His lips were snarled tight against his teeth. His nostrils flared. “I wouldn’t normally judge how people spend their spare time, but if you rule a country, perhaps don’t allow yourself to be tied up and flogged by a pair of women who get so stoned they don’t know how to free you when your heart stops. Or who to call.”
Amy caught her gasp in her hand. Talk about making a traumatic situation even more distressing for all involved!
“Luca, I’m so sorry.” Her hand went to his arm before she realized she was doing it.
He didn’t react beyond stiffening under her touch.
She’d seen clients shut down like this, doing whatever they had to in order to carry on with their daily lives. It told her exactly how badly his father’s behavior had affected him.
“Look, I have to ask before we go any further. Are you sure you’re not just reacting to what you’ve experienced? I’d want to wash my hands of this role if I were in your shoes. That’s understandable, but what you’ve asked me to do is not a decision you should make in haste.”
“It’s not one incident, Amy. It’s everything he stood for. All of the things I’ve learned he was capable of, now that I’m privy to it. It’s appalling. There was a thorough cleaning of house once I took the throne, but how can I claim to be righting his wrongs if I ignore the very basic one where he installed me as monarch instead of my sister?”
The flash of a tortured conscience behind his searing blue eyes tempted her to shift her fingers in a soothing caress. She moved her hand to the soft moss that had grown on the stone wall and scanned the view through the trees.
“And no one will listen to this extremely rational argument? Let you turn things over without drastic measures?”
“My supporters see Sofia as an excellent spare, but they are extremely attached to keeping me exactly where I am. Our constitution doesn’t allow an abdication without proper cause. Even if I was incapacitated, I would keep the crown and Sofia would rule as a regent until I died. I’ve exhausted all other avenues. This is what’s left. I have to prove myself a detriment to the country. An embarrassment that can’t be tolerated because I’m too much like my father after all.”
“Okay. Well...” She considered all she’d learned, formally and informally. “Most scandals fall into three categories—sex, drugs and corruption. It sounds like your father had his toe in all of those?”
“He did.”
“It’s hard to come back from embezzlement or political payoffs. I wouldn’t want to tar you as a crook, especially if you’re planning to take an active part in improving Vallia’s economy afterward.”
“Agreed.”
“Drug scandals usually require a stay in a rehab facility and ongoing counseling. Addiction is an illness, so there’s a risk you’d be expected to continue to rule. It’s also very complicated to manage image-wise. There has to be sincere, visible effort, and it becomes a lifelong process of proving sobriety. There’s always a certain mistrust that lingers in the public eye. The world expects a recovering addict to trip and is always watching for it. I would prefer not to use a drug scandal.”
“So that leaves us with sex.” His mouth curled with dismay.
“Yes. People love to act outraged over sexual exploits, but they all have their own peccadillos to hide so they tend to move on fairly quickly.”
“It can’t be anything harassment related or exploitative,” he said firmly.
“No,” she quickly agreed. “I couldn’t defend that, even a manufactured charge. London Connection is always on the victim’s side in those cases. It will have to be something compromising, like cheating or adultery.” She tapped her chin in thought.
“That would mean courting my way into a relationship with someone in order to betray her. I don’t want to use or hurt an unsuspecting woman.”
“Something that suggests you have a streak of your father’s tastes, then?”
“I’m won’t
