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What in heaven’s name was the man saying? “Are you sure I’m the person you should be telling this to?”
“Without question, but let’s begin at the beginning. Yesterday I flew here to meet with Duca Frascatti.”
Sick with pain and shock, Nico looked at Enzo. “How long have you known about all this?”
“I knew nothing until last evening, Nicolo.”
“The duca has been in the dark like everyone else,” Signor Bruno explained. “But through my sources, I’ve known about his association with you for years. Last evening we spent hours talking about you and the remarkable life you’ve led so far.”
Nico shook his head. “Forgive me if I’m still incredulous.”
“Who wouldn’t be? However, I’ve shown him all the documentation he needed and he can vouch for me.”
A warm sun shone down on Nico, but he felt a chill. “I trust Enzo with my life, which means I’m willing to hear you out.”
“I’m glad you said that because now that you’ve arrived, I have the great honor to fill in the missing facts about your origins and heritage. But for both your sake and the duca’s, maybe we should go inside and sit down to talk. This will take some time.”
Nico didn’t move a muscle. “Who am I, signor?”
The man smiled. “You’re very direct and so much like your father, who was my close friend, it’s uncanny.” Maybe Nico was dreaming. “You were legally christened Massimo by your mother, a fitting name for you since it means ‘the greatest.’ You were her treasure and the joy of her life.”
With those words Nico found it difficult to swallow.
“To fully answer your question, you are the illegitimate, only born, living child of Carlo Umberto Fernando di Savoia, king of La Valazzura.”
King Carlo had been Nico’s father?
He staggered in place while the world reeled on its axis. Nico remembered hearing something about the king’s recent death on the news. He thought he must be hallucinating.
Stupefied by what he’d just been told, he glanced at Enzo for verification.
A smile lit up his mentor’s eyes that was unmistakable. “You’re King Carlo’s son, all right. From a photograph I’ve been shown, you look so much like he did in his twenties, I thought I was seeing double.”
“It’s true,” Signor Bruno corroborated. “Here. You can keep this.” He handed Nico a two-by-three-inch black-and-white photo from his breast pocket.
With a trembling hand, Nico reached for it. After one look at the man in the picture, he gasped aloud. Enzo had spoken the truth. Nico and King Carlo were father and son all right. Same height. Maybe not mirror images, but incredibly close in coloring and bone structure.
Nico cleared his throat. “Do you have a photo of my mother?”
“I do. This is yours too.”
In the next instant Nico found himself gazing at a young, beautiful dark blonde woman in a skirt and sweater. Right away Nico saw certain resemblances to himself. He could well understand his father’s attraction to her.
“You have some of her facial features. It’s hard to tell in that picture, but her eyes were a light brown. However, yours are a piercing dark blue like your father’s.”
Incredibile! “Did my mother have royal blood?”
“No. She was a commoner.”
Like me.
Nico still felt like one as he held the photos side by side. For twenty-eight years he’d longed for the sight of the two people who’d brought him into this world. His father had been a married man and a king who’d had an affair with a nonroyal. Nico had been the result. He was still trying to take it all in.
“Sadly, his Majesty died ten days ago. He has left his childless wife, Queen Liliane, on the throne. With her consent, I flew straight here to talk to you once the funeral was over.”
So much news staggered Nico. He could only stand there staring at him. Enzo’s firm hand gripped his shoulder. “Come inside, Nicolo. You’ve had the shock of your life.”
The three of them walked to the side entrance of the castello and went inside to the main floor soggiorno. Nico had no remembrance of how they got there. Pippa had joined them.
