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Overview
A male--and royal--Eliza Doolittle meets a female Professor Higgins. Having completed his military service, Prince Marco diTalora of San Rimini wants only one thing on his return home: his freedom. He has good reason for avoiding the public eye, and little interest in his father's plans to immerse him in royal life. In the hours before his brother's high-profile wedding, he dodges the media hordes for a few hours of respite. Amanda Hutton is an ace at her job, working with children of the rich and famous to ensure they have the skills to navigate life in the public eye. But she's between clients and under financial stress, so when she's invited to serve as a royal bridesmaid in beautiful San Rimini, she views the trip as an essential escape. Amanda soon finds herself hunting down Prince Marco and dragging him out of a casino's private gaming room. When she gets him to the church on time, she figures her interaction with the rebellious--and flirtatious--prince is over. But then King Eduardo offers her the solution to her financial woes in the form of a job...and it's not a child he wants her to tutor, it's Prince Marco. It's an offer she can't refuse. Then again, Marco just might have something to teach Amanda.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781941828458 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Nicole Burnham |
| Publication date: | 04/21/2020 |
| Series: | Royal Scandals: San Rimini , #3 |
| Pages: | 180 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.41(d) |
Read an Excerpt
The Prince's Tutor
By Nicole Burnham
Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Copyright © 2003 Harlequin Enterprises LimitedAll right reserved.
ISBN: 0373196407
Chapter One
"Mi scusi. Is Stefano diTalora here? I need to speak with him immediately." Amanda Hutton tried to ignore the subtle - and the not-so-subtle - stares of San Rimini's high-rolling gamblers as she asked the manager of the elite Casino Campione the same question she'd discreetly posed at three other gaming halls in the last hour.If she didn't find the wayward royal and get him back to the palace, pronto, the wedding between the tiny country's crown prince, Antony diTalora, and her best friend, Jennifer Allen, would be delayed. Even with two hundred of Europe's privileged descending on the palace chapel, the ceremony could hardly start without the best man in attendance.
She fought impatience as the heavyset manager studied her with irritation in his eyes. He acted no differently than the other three managers had as he took in the sight of her elaborate shell-pink bridesmaid's gown and dyed-to-match shoes. Designed for a royal wedding, it wasn't your ordinary cheap taffeta bridesmaid's gown, to be sure, but neither did it compare to the Valentino and Chanel couture sported by San Rimini's wealthy as they made their way through the aisles of blackjack and craps tables, martinis in hand.
Despite her unusual appearance, after hearing threeabrupt "No, signorina's" from casino managers in response to her question, she wasn't about to waste time on manager number four.
"Please," she began, assuming the manager at least spoke English in addition to San Rimini's Italian, "I realize I must look quite out of place, but I -"
"Your name, signorina?" He raised an overgrown eyebrow as if to say, how dare you make a demand of me?
"Amanda. Amanda Hutton. As I was saying, I was sent by -"
"Signorina Hutton, His Serene Highness, Prince Stefano is engaged in private play and cannot be disturbed." He punctuated his statement with a patronizing smile, as if he fielded such requests from women on an hourly basis.
Amanda's pulse upped a notch. Not only did this manager speak English, he was hosting Prince Stefano!
Before she could explain the delicate situation, he added, "Perhaps you could wait outside ... with the others." He gestured past the ringing slot machines toward a long row of glass-and-brass revolving doors leading to San Rimini's most famous thoroughfare, the Strada il Teatro.
She glanced at the doors. Several voluptuous young women lingered outside, apparently waiting for a glimpse of Prince Stefano. Or the chance to slip him their phone numbers.
Her mind kicking into gear, Amanda flashed the manager a conciliatory smile and replied, "Of course. I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
He nodded his acceptance, but glowered until Amanda turned and walked toward the exit.
Scouring the main room of the posh gaming hall as she went, she spied a small staircase along one wall. A tall armed guard stood off to the side. He kept his thumb hooked casually in his belt loop while he spoke with a patron, but his gaze never wavered from the steps. Amanda figured either the casino kept its cash up those stairs or it was where the private gambling rooms were located.
She hoped it was the latter.
Under the manager's watchful gaze, Amanda exited the casino, but kept close to the door, standing near the loitering women as if she stalked princes every day.
Unfortunately, the manager didn't budge from his position in the center of the casino floor, leaving her little hope of getting past him undetected.
"Shoot!" Amanda strode to the curb, then shielded her eyes against the setting sun to study the clock tower adjoining the San Rimini Royal Palace, which sat atop a hill less than a mile away to the west.
Six-thirty. Only an hour until the ceremony, and there was no way she could explain the situation to the casino manager without embarrassing the royal family. Not that the manager even cared to listen.
She could kill this stupid prince. "My one vacation," she grumbled to herself. The one time she'd be able to get away from it all - participate in her friend's fairy-tale wedding, visit one of the world's most beautiful countries, meet some of Europe's rich and famous - before she had to return to reality, and her overdue rent, back in Washington, D.C.
But instead of spending the afternoon nibbling on canapés at the palace with the other bridesmaids, she was running around San Rimini in an atrociously uncomfortable pair of shoes, hunting down some spoiled prince who'd gone gambling instead of attending the groom. Prince Stefano had never appeared for his brother's afternoon reception welcoming the nobility who'd traveled to attend the wedding, and now, even if she managed to get the prince back to the palace chapel in time for the ceremony itself, she'd be an icky, sweaty mess.
Correction: an icky, sweaty mess with blistered feet who would be expected to smile in the wedding pictures.
She forced herself not to groan aloud. Since graduating from college, she'd worked exclusively with the children of dignitaries. In all that time, she'd never come across a child as irresponsible as this prince. And he was twenty-five!
Ignoring a wave of giggles from the waiting women, likely prompted when they spotted her froufrou gown, she turned her attention back to the casino's interior.
A well-dressed patron now occupied the manager. The woman waved one heavily braceleted arm, indicating a row of slot machines covering the rear wall of the casino. He repeatedly shook his head, but a few minutes later, he followed the woman out of view of the front entrance. Making the most of the opportunity, Amanda pushed through the revolving door and made a beeline for the staircase.
The guard who'd been keeping an eye on the stairs snapped to attention. "Signorina, may I help you?"
From his demeanor, Amanda could tell he wasn't about to let her see Prince Stefano, either. She hesitated a moment, then tried, "I hope so. Um ... Those women out front? They're here to see Prince Stefano."
The guard's mouth crooked up. "I am quite sure they are. What of it?"
"Well, I heard one of them saying she knew which car His Serene Highness arrived in, and that the doors were left unlocked. She was going to try to sneak into the back seat and wait for him. I thought you should know."
The guard studied her a minute while Amanda did her best to look innocent. However, instead of going to check out the women, as Amanda had hoped, he yanked a walkie-talkie out of his belt, pressed a button, then began speaking in rapid San Riminian-accented Italian. Amanda understood just enough to realize the guard intended to stay put.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Prince's Tutor by Nicole Burnham Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.