Chapter Three: Marco

Marco

King Carlo cleared his throat. “So tell me, Marco, how did the interviews go today? Did you find someone to help you while on your sabbatical?”

“I did,” Marco said. Sabrina’s face flashed into Marco’s mind.

“And...?”

“Her name is Sabrina. She’s from Memphis, Tennessee, born and raised. In fact, she lives just a few miles from the hotel where I’m staying now.” Marco couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice and his father recognized it immediately.

“She’s attractive, I take it,” the old man said.

“Did I give it away?” Marco asked. He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled slightly.

“You always do.”

“Well, you’re right. She is very attractive,” he told his father. He couldn't stop the smile as she pictured her face. “There’s something about her that intrigues me. She’s not flashy and vain like most of the women I encounter. She seems simple, but a good kind of simple. There’s an innocence in her that I find myself drawn to.”

The king chuckled. “She sounds lovely, Marco. But don’t let your stepmother hear of your attraction to her. Magdalena would not be pleased to hear you’ve taken a liking to someone who is not royal blood. You know how she feels about commoners.”

“I don't plan on marrying her after just hiring her, but I wouldn’t tell Magdalena anything of the sort regardless,” Marco said. “This conversation is between you and I, and hopefully it will stay that way.”

“Of course, son. You can have confidence that our conversations our private. I just wanted to tell you to not mention anything about Sabrina to your stepmother, that’s all.”

“Understood, Father,” Marco said, with genuine respect in his response. “I always appreciate your council.”

“And I always appreciate yours as well,” King Carlo said.

Marco opened his mouth to tell his father more about his plans, but it was then that his father began to cough. Long, deep and bone-shaking coughs that worried Marco more than he cared to say. The specter of death rattled through these coughs and it terrified the prince.

“I hate to end our conversation, but I’m a level of exhausted that I haven’t felt in a long time,” King Carlo said once he caught his breath. “I’m going to go take a bath and try to get some sleep tonight. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course, Father. Please, go and get some rest. I’ll be thinking of you.” Marco frowned and felt guilt lay upon him again. “And don’t forget, I’m only a phone call away. If you need anything from me, I’ll be at the palace within twelve hours. Faster if I can manage it.”

“Thank you, Marco.” King Carlo's voice wheezed as he took a breath in. “Have a good vacation and stay in touch. I’ll let you know what I find out from the doctors about the surgery. Keep your fingers crossed for me.”

“I’ll keep them crossed forever, if that’s what it takes,” Marco said.

“Good boy,” his father said, before hanging up the phone.

Marco set his cell onto the nightstand next to the bed. Then he drew in a long, slow breath and tried to relax. His father’s cancer diagnosis shook him to the core.

He hoped so badly that things would turn out okay. He couldn’t imagine a world without his father in it. King Carlo was Prince Marco’s greatest influence. He was a powerful and honest man, and through example, had taught Marco to be the same way. He had shown his son that honor was not just a word but also a way of life. He was not only a good king, but a good man.

I pray for you, Papa. I pray that this cancer goes away and that you can live the rest of your days without worry, Marco thought.

He turned from the window and walked toward the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He thought of ordering a drink up to his room to help settle his nerves, but decided not to. Soon, he would just ask Sabrina to do this, and he wouldn't have to deal with room service or remembering how much was considered proper to tip here.

Despite his worry over his father, the image of Sabrina still managed to stay at the forefront of his mind. It gave him relief and he found himself smiling at the thought of her.

“What is it about Sabrina?” he asked himself, while drying his face off with a towel.

There was no way that he could have denied it. He was attracted to the new hire. In and of itself, this was no big surprise. Marco was a wealthy playboy who lived in a palace on an island. He often met beautiful women he was attracted to. And just as often, he landed these ladies in bed. But this girl was different. She felt unique.

The idea of Sabrina in his bed made a fire grow inside of him. He immediately wondered what her figure looked like underneath her clothes, pondering if her innocence would be something that disappeared once she was beneath the sheets. A surge of excitement filled him as he let his imagination run wild. He pictured her fair skin, supple breasts and firm behind. He thought about what it would feel like to touch all of it, bring his lips to her, shower her in attention.

But he found he wasn't satisfied with this fantasy. He wanted to know what would make her smile. He wanted to know how to make her eyes dance with joy as much as he wanted to pleasure her body. It was strange for him to think these things, and he wasn't quite sure what it meant.

“I need to lay down for a bit and close my eyes,” Marco whispered to himself, as he made his way back to the bed.

The long flight to Memphis had taken its toll and jet lag had managed to finally catch up with him. As he laid down, he found himself shocked at how preoccupied with Sabrina he was becoming. He hadn’t experienced anything like it before. The simple little Memphis girl had stolen his attention within the first few seconds of their meeting. For the first time in a long time, Prince Marco found himself unsure of what to do.

As Marco crawled under the covers of the bed and relaxed his head into the over-stuffed pillow, he realized that there wasn’t much he could do right in that moment anyway. But he made a goal. He’d figure out how to pursue Sabrina in a way that was more serious, and gentler, than his usual one-night-stand ploys. Surely he could think of something.

Maybe I’ll show her some light flirtation and some generosity and see how she reacts. We could always go to some nice dinners and some fun activities when we’re in New York. I'll show her that I'm not just interested in a quick fling. I want to get to know this girl. She’s different. So very different, he thought.

He closed his eyes and drifted into a half-sleep. He began to dream. In his dream, he was home, walking around his elegant room at the palace on Orsino Island. He walked up to the window and looked out into the courtyard, where his father was playing polo with his friends. King Carlo looked happy and healthy in the dream. He was strong, like Marco remembered him being when he was a child. Warm sunlight poured over him as he stepped a little closer to the window. It caused him to squint and look away, back toward his bed.

There was a girl in his bed, but he couldn’t tell who it was because she was facing away from him and the covers were pulled up to her shoulders. The only thing he was able to see was her auburn hair. He reached for the covers, curious to see the beauty in his bed. For some reason, this didn't feel like a recent conquest. It felt like this was how it had always been.

It felt safe and warm.

His hand brushed against the blanket and suddenly the image blurred and he woke. He lay in bed, wishing he could have seen the woman's face. Who could it be that would make his dream feel so content and calm?

His dream had felt short, but powerful. It left him with a warm feeling in his chest. He rolled over, hoping to fall back into the dream and find the girl again, but found that he was no longer tired. He lay there, letting his mind drift and his thoughts wander.

The image of the blonde girl in his bed at the Palace, the one from the dream, kept coming back into his mind clear as a photograph. The auburn hair was his only clue as to her identity. Was it a premonition or just his current preoccupation with the new hire? He couldn’t be sure