Page 1 of Royally Knocked Up (Princes of Passion #1)

ENZO

T he hangovers were getting worse.

Enzo Mancini gritted his teeth and pulled the covers up over his head, shielding himself against the crack of light that made its merry way in through the curtains in his apartment.

He’d had a lot to drink last night — actually, he didn’t remember how much he had had to drink, but that in itself was a pretty clear sign of how much he’d had.

Even so, he wasn’t used to this order of hangover.

This sort of thing had never happened when he was younger.

But Enzo was going to be thirty next year. The way his body responded to alcohol was changing, and he was going to have to figure out a way to deal with that.

In the meantime, he wasn’t going to stay in bed all day.

He would never allow himself to be the sort of person who was so sidelined by a night of fun that he had to spend the whole next day wallowing.

He pressed himself slowly up into a sitting position, doing his best to ignore the way the room slowly spun around him.

A good hearty breakfast would cure this, and maybe a walk outside.

He could take in some of the fresh air of Luria.

Enzo thought Monteverde’s capital city was the most beautiful place in the world.

He got to his feet and staggered into the bathroom to splash some water on his face, avoiding glancing into the mirror.

He took pride in his appearance, and right now there was no chance he would look anything close to his best. He imagined his dark curls in tangled disarray and bags under his striking brown eyes.

He’d give himself a little time to recover before looking in any mirrors.

Instead, he went to the kitchen, a part of him longing for the household he had grown up in — his father’s kitchen staff would have come in handy right now.

Most of the time, Enzo preferred his solitude when he was in the sanctuary of his own home, but he couldn’t deny that it would have been nice to have waffles made for him this morning.

Instead, he went to the fridge and grabbed the carton of eggs.

He heated up a pan on the stovetop, dropped a pat of butter into the bottom, and then cracked egg after egg into it.

He would sop the yolks up with some toast, he though, closing his eyes and leaning against the refrigerator. That would be a good breakfast.

His phone buzzed on the charger across the room.

Enzo opened his eyes and eyed the device suspiciously. Who would be reaching out to him at this hour of the morning?

He had a bad feeling about it.

He almost ignored the phone, but he knew he couldn’t. As a member of the royal family, he didn’t have the privilege of simply disconnecting. Especially now that his uncle had abdicated the throne and left it in the hands of Enzo’s father…

Enzo crossed the floor and picked up his phone.

And stared.

His entire home screen was a log of missed calls from the palace.

His heart beat double-time. If someone was this desperate to get him on the phone, there might be a problem. What was more, the calls were coming from an official phone line, not from any of his family’s personal numbers. What if something had happened?

Enzo answered the call, heart in his throat. “Enzo Mancini speaking.”

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

“Who is this? Is everything all right?”

“Your Highness, your presence is required this morning at the palace. A car will be sent to collect you.”

“What? I can drive,” Enzo said.

“Our instructions are to send a car.”

Enzo took a breath. The palace employees would be in trouble if they didn’t do as they had been instructed, and he didn’t want that. “Can you tell me what this is regarding?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not able to give any information.”

Enzo felt sick. “Can you please at least tell me if everyone is all right?” he asked. “I know you’re not supposed to tell me anything, I get it, but… if it was your family, you would want to know, wouldn’t you?”

A moment of silence.

Then the voice spoke again, more quietly this time. “Everyone is all right.”

Enzo felt the tension bleed out of his body. “Thank you.”

“The car will arrive in ten minutes.”

Enzo hung up and looked at his pan of eggs. There wasn’t even going to be time to eat. With a pang that he didn’t know whether to attribute to sadness or hunger, he turned the stove off and scraped his wasted breakfast into the garbage. Then he dressed quickly and went outside to await the car.

As he was driven over to the palace, he had time to ponder what this might all be about.

No doubt his father was going to scold him for something — that was the usual nature of their relationship.

Enzo was deeply glad to know that his father was all right, of course — he loved the man.

But that didn’t change the fact that they had never managed to get along.

What did I do wrong this time?

The car pulled through the palace gates and up to the front entrance, which was being tended by a pair of guards. As was tradition, neither guard made eye contact with Enzo as he hurried up the steps and through the front door.

A valet awaited Enzo in the foyer. Enzo did not know the man’s name.

The palace staff had been here under his uncle’s rule, and his father had inherited them along with the responsibilities of running the kingdom when his uncle had abdicated.

The valet did not speak to Enzo either, but at least he acknowledged him with a nod before turning to lead the way to the throne room.

Enzo tried not to resent it. He didn’t need to be shown around this place.

His father might be new to the throne, but Enzo’s family had always been here.

He had grown up in this palace, playing with his cousins.

He had sat on this throne himself, though he had known he wasn’t supposed to and had always taken great care not to be caught in the act.

Today, the throne room wasn’t the usual bright, sunny place he remembered.

The heavy curtains had been drawn. His father did not sit on the throne.

He had had another chair brought in and set it up right next to the throne.

Enzo was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes at that.

It was true that the coronation hadn’t taken place yet, but even so, this was ridiculous.

He stopped and stood facing the non-throne. “Father.”

“Enzo,” his father said in a low voice that would have struck fear into Enzo when he was ten years old.

“Can I assist you with something?”

His father turned to one of the servants standing alongside the wall. “Bring him the paper, please.”

The man stepped forward, and Enzo realized that he had a newspaper in his hand. He accepted it.

The front-page story — above the fold, no less — featured a picture of Enzo at the bar he had visited last night. It had been snapped while he was laughing at something someone had said, and he had a drink in his hand.

Enzo read the headline — New King’s Youngest Son Creates A Scene

“This is ridiculous,” he said, handing the paper back to the servant. “Creates a scene? That makes it sound like I was brawling or something. I was having a drink.”

“You’re a public figure, Enzo,” his father said. “It never occurred to you that there might be cameras? That you might be seen?”

“I wasn’t trying not to be seen,” Enzo said. “I was drinking at a bar, for God’s sake. It must have been a slow news day if this passes for a front-page story.”

“Well, Enzo, all the news right now is going to be about our family,” his father said wearily.

“And you should understand that. Our responsibility is to give them as little as possible to write about. You cannot keep going out partying the way you did before my brother abdicated the throne. Our position has changed.”

“Father,” Enzo said, “I am never going to be king. You know that. Giorgio is ahead of me in the line of succession, and he has two sons who are both ahead of me too. It’s you the people are scrutinizing, and Giorgio, and maybe his boys. Nobody needs to see me prove anything about myself.”

“If you can’t see what you’re doing to the family each time you allow a story like this to be printed then I don’t know what to say to you,” his father said.

“I called you here today because this family does not need any more embarrassment, especially with the coronation coming up, and I’m not going to allow you to be the cause of it. ”

“But there’s nothing embarrassing about that story!” Enzo protested. “I had a few drinks.”

“More than a few, by the sound of it.”

“Well, what about it? I didn’t do anything horrible. I didn’t get in any fights or shout at anyone or destroy any property. I didn’t behave badly.”

“I don’t want people thinking my son is some sort of party animal!” his father exploded. “I need the people of Monteverde to take my reign seriously , and you are making a mockery of me. I want you out of Luria.”

“Father, you can’t be serious. I live here.”

“Not anymore,” his father said firmly. “I’m sending you to La Fantasia.”

Enzo felt his stomach drop. “You can’t send me there.”

“Of course I can,” his father said irritably.

“I’m about to be coronated as king of this nation.

I have every right to send you away. Now, you can go to La Fantasia because your father asked you to, or you can wait for a royal edict banishing you from Luria altogether — though I wouldn’t take that route if I were you.

You’ll find yourself having a hard time getting back in if you do things that way. ”

“You’d banish me?”

“I don’t want to. I want you to go willingly.” His father shook his head. “Don’t act like I’m putting you through some horrible ordeal, Enzo. I’m sending you to Vista Piccola, one of the most beautiful towns in all of Monteverde. I’m putting you up at our family’s luxury resort.”

“You’re isolating me so I won’t cause you any trouble.”

“Well, yes, I’m doing that too ,” his father said. “You’ll be able to come back for the coronation. But for the moment, I need you out of Luria.”

“So I’m supposed to go up there and rot.”

“You’re supposed to go up there and work . There will be plenty to do.”

“You’re making a servant of me?”

“Enzo, please refrain from the dramatics. I’m hardly asking you to clean the toilets.

There will be very dignified work for you — work that requires a member of the noble family.

But you’ll find out more upon your arrival.

For now, I suggest you go and pack your things — unless you really do intend to force me to banish you. ”

A banishment would not be a good idea, and Enzo knew it. Still, he couldn’t resist getting one last jab in. “If you think me having a few drinks at a bar is a scandal, how do you think the people of Monteverde would react to their king banishing his own son?”

“It wouldn’t look good,” Enzo’s father said evenly. “I would be forced to let the people know exactly what my reasons were — why it was so difficult for me to have you here. And once I’d done that, it would be a huge barrier to your ever coming back and being part of the palace life again.”

“I don’t know what makes you think I’d want to, after this treatment,” Enzo grumbled.

A part of him squirmed uncomfortably. He had forgotten most of what had happened last night.

He didn’t think anything too crazy had happened, but there was always the possibility that it had.

That was probably what his father was really worried about — not what had already been uncovered, but the potential for something worse to come to light.

It was an uncomfortable thing to have his father tell him that he was such a burden that he had to be sent out of the capital.

But Vista Piccola was a beautiful place, up in the Alps, near Monteverde’s border with Switzerland.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“All right,” he told his father. “I’ll go.”