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“Frankie!” her sister Emilia hissed, biting back a giggle. “Be nice.”
“Are you sure? You said that about the last two,” Bianca, the second oldest, asked Angelique, oblivious to the exchange going on between the two youngest daughters.
“What do you think, Mama?” Angelique spun around.
“I think you look like a princess! There is just one thing missing.” Fighting back tears, Giovanna Lombardo rose from the couch and walked—head held high, shoulders back, regal as a queen—to stand next to her oldest daughter. “Now, to add the finishing touch. Your nonna wore this tiara on her wedding day, her mother before her, and I wore it on mine. We can add any veil you like, but I would be honored if this would be your something old.” Gesturing to an aide, the box appeared next to her.
The room went silent as the lid to the white box was opened.
Nestled inside was a stunning piece of jewelry.
This special moment between mother and daughter had brought tears to the eyes of many in the room, but it made Frankie sick to her stomach. She knew the true value of the tiara, not the monetary value, which was great, but the historical value. Unlike her sisters, she had taken the time to sit with her nonna in the garden and listen to her stories, the family stories of the days of old.
It was an original, one of the first tiaras made by the royal jeweler, belonging to true Italian princesses. The Lombardos were blood to the Italian crown even though Italy no longer had a monarchy. Their father’s three times great-grandfather was born in the Palace of Caserta, the bastard son to the King of Sicily.
Only one son had been recognized, the one born to the king’s wife, but it was his eldest son, the one Frankie was related to, who was his true love’s child. The king had but one love, the girl he had grown up with, his nursemaid’s daughter. They had been childhood playmates. She was his best friend and hisconfidante. She, at his command, was tutored alongside him, and many years later, historians found her diaries—where she had documented every part of their lives—hidden in the palace.
The prince could never marry her because his father, the king, had forbidden it. As heir to the throne, it was unthinkable for him to marry a servant. The king arranged a marriage for him with a princess from a neighboring kingdom. Even so, the forbidden relationship continued for the duration of his life. After the king died, the prince became the king and did his duty, producing an heir with his wife. It was rumored he slept with his wife only until she was pregnant, and once she gave birth to a son, he never slept beside her again.
The king moved his true love to a large estate in the countryside, where he raised his oldest son with her. They lived in the shadows, out of the eyes of the public, but the king was happy and very much in love with his son. He set him up financially, passed on land, titles, and fortunes to him. The illegitimate child was given more financially than the son he had with his wife. The king never bonded with the prince the way he did with his true love’s child. He lived his life with his chosen family and only spent time with his legal family for appearance and formality.
It was because of this Frankie’s family was wealthy. She came from centuries-old money, billions of dollars’ worth. More money than they could ever count, hold, or even comprehend. Spread out in bank accounts across multiple countries around the world, they had safety deposit boxes filled with gold, jewels, and priceless antiques at dozens of banks. They also owned property in six countries.
The tiara had been a gift to her four times great-grandmother from her four times great-grandfather, blood of the last king of Italy, and one of the few artifacts that had been brought to America after the family had immigrated.
Frankie was saddened none of the history behind the piece would be of importance to Angelique. The weight of the sparkling diamonds and the way it looked on her head was all that would matter. Frankie watched, admiring the tiara’s design—a series of graduated open-work garlands of floral and foliate motifs featured the seven natural saltwater pearls. The light bounced off the diamonds, spreading small rainbows throughout the room. The floral and leaf elements were set with cushion-shaped and circular-cut rose diamonds—so many diamonds.
Her sister’s annoying squeal, the same one that had already filled the air half a dozen times, pierced her ears again. She sat on her hands to keep from covering her ears.
“I look like a real princess!”
Everyone else agreed, oohing and aahing.
Frankie felt detached from it all—always the odd woman out. She didn’t know the name of the designer of the wedding dress or of the thousand-dollar shoes they had picked out for the big day. She had no idea what the difference was between the six different shades of white the staff had paraded in front of them, but her sisters had. To Frankie, white was white.
To Angelique’s credit, she had politely included Frankie by asking for her opinion on the bridesmaid’s dresses. She had none to offer. Flushed from a combination of wine and embarrassment, sure she would show her ignorance if she opened her mouth, she pointed to the dress that had made Angelique’s eyes light up.
“I like this one, best.”
A flash of relief appeared on Angelique's face, replaced by the emotionless facade she wore. She nodded in agreement.
“That is a great choice.”
Frankie had noticed the way Angelique had let out a breath when she pointed to the right dress. She might not know aboutdesigner clothing, but she was a pro at people-watching. She had spent most of her youth observing and reading people. She much preferred to be a fly on the wall, watching and taking it all in, a skill she had inherited from her papa. The patriarch of the Lombardo family was a large man in stature, quiet and observing. His words were few, but when he spoke, everyone listened.
Yes, Frankie was much more like her father than her mother and sisters. Shopping wasn’t enjoyable, even with unlimited funds. Playing dress up and getting into mommy’s makeup wasn’t a phase she’d gone through, even as a little girl. She preferred hiding in a room with a good book or working beside her nonna in the garden.
It had taken four excruciating hours to find a style of bridesmaid’s dress Angelique had liked—thick straps, high necklines, belted waists. She had complained about every little detail, wanting a level of perfection Frankie wasn’t sure existed. It was a good thing her mother had rented the entire shop for the day and paid for extra employees. Her sister had been demanding, every inch a bridezilla.
Frankie had wanted to get up and walk out on several occasions, telling Angelique where she could shove the six-inch heels, but she would never make waves or draw unnecessary attention to herself. Not the quiet, peaceful, dependable daughter. The one they never had to worry about. Instead, she swallowed the dry, bitter red wine and smiled, repeatedly telling herself the day was almost over. Now, at long last, the day had finally come to an end. She could get out of this god-awful dress, slip into a hot bubble bath, and read a good book.
CHAPTER 1
Shane
His oldest brother was getting married. The invitation in his hand, addressed formally to Chief Petty Officer Shane O’Brien, said as much, but the inscription inside sounded more like Patrick. “Don’t be late, asshole.” Shane was sure the last word was muttered with love. Sighing, he crammed the overly priced piece of paper back into the just as expensive-looking envelope and tossed it onto the kitchen counter.
It wasn’t a request—there was no place to mark ‘No’ on the RSVP. There was much his family would forgive him for missing, but weddings and funerals of immediate family were not among them. Shane had already put in his leave form, and it had been approved. His Senior Chief, Maximiliano DePaul, told him to take all the time he wanted, reminding him he hadn’t used any of his leave in so long, he was about to lose it. Max had just come back from leave, visiting their former teammate, Phantom, in Colorado. Shane had held down the fort while he was gone, and Max was grateful for his substitution and told him as much.
