The Montoros Dynasty

Gabriel wasn’t convinced. “I can find all that and more here in the US.”

Alex played his trump card. “But think of your aunt...you know what she wants...”

A flicker in the other man’s eyes told Alex he’d finally scored a point. Isabella, at seventy-three, was the oldest living Montoro. It was her dearest wish that her grandchildren, grandnieces and grandnephews return to their homeland for the sake of family honor. She was dying...caught up in the advanced stages of Parkinson’s disease. Alex had a notion she was hanging on only long enough to see the transfer of power take place.

Gabriel downed the last of his champagne and plucked another crystal flute from the tray offered by a passing waiter. “Aunt Isabella lives in the past. We do not always get what we want.”

“I think that’s a song,” Maria said, smiling. Clearly she was trying to lighten the mood. But Alex was in no frame of mind to be appeased. Gabriel Montoro rubbed him the wrong way. The man had wealth, power, good looks and sex appeal. It was rumored that women besieged him all hours of the night and day. Surely Maria wouldn’t be so naive as to be taken in by him.

Gabriel sipped his drink, his gaze stormy. “Lucky for you, my father retains some vestige of the old ways. Perhaps he can be persuaded. Who knows?”

Alex winced, as did Maria. Maria laid a hand on Montoro’s arm briefly, as if to placate him. “I think no one has told you,” she said softly. “But your father cannot reign.”

“Why the hell not?”

It was oddly amusing that even though Gabriel insisted his family had no interest in the monarchy, he was incensed at the notion his father was ineligible.

Alex took a deep breath and exhaled. “Your father is divorced. His marriage was not annulled. Under the tenets of Alma law, that legally disqualifies him.”

“Hell of a way to operate a country. You should be damn glad I’m not in the running. If a man of my father’s caliber is not on the short list, I’d never make the cut.” The sarcasm was laced with disdain.

“This isn’t personal, Mr. Montoro. We’re merely trying to follow the traditions and expectations of our people.”

Maria nodded. “Alex is right, of course. The situation is unprecedented. We are trying our best to make it work.”

“But neither of you even lived in Alma until Tantaberra was ousted. Why do you care?”

Alex remained silent, unable to give voice to the emotions roiling inside him. Fortunately, Maria was more vocal. “Alex’s family met the same fate as yours long ago, Gabriel. They, however, settled in London and rebuilt their fortunes in oil and gas. When Tantaberra was finally overthrown, Alex’s father determined that returning to Alma was the right thing to do.”

Gabriel shook his head, draining the second glass of champagne. “I seem to be surrounded by proponents of duty above desire. Thank God, my brother is the one in the hot seat. You’ll never find a more honorable man. But whether or not he’s interested in a crown remains to be seen.”

Alex took Maria’s elbow in a loose grip. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Montoro, Maria and I need to mingle. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Gabriel eyed both of them, his rueful smile half apology, half derision. “I’m sure we will. How long do you anticipate staying in Miami to stir the pot?”

“A month, give or take. We have a great deal of work to do. The official request from Alma to the Montoro family is in the process of being drafted.”

Maria spoke up. “And I’ll be working on press releases and rollouts to the public. We want everything to be positive and upbeat.”

“And if my family refuses?” Gabriel’s steely-eyed gaze held not a whit of humor.

It was Alex’s turn to shrug. “If your brother agrees, the rest of you will be free to make your own choices. Although, for the sake of a smooth transition, your support will mean a lot to him, I would think.”

Maria grimaced. “This is a huge undertaking, Mr. Montoro.”

“I asked you to call me Gabriel,” he said. “And you, too, Alex. I’m not one to stand on ceremony.” If he was making a point, it was subtle.

“Gabriel, then,” she said. “We take our charge very seriously. I hope you’ll give us a chance to win you over.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

His relaxed response sent a wave of relief crashing through Alex. It would be bad form to alienate one of the royal family right out of the gate. Gabriel had been pissed a moment ago, but his tone and demeanor were mellower now.

“I appreciate your plain speaking,” Alex said, his customary diplomacy back in working order. “I’ll look forward to continuing our conversation.”

* * *

Maria allowed Alex to steer her away from the Montoro bad boy, but for once, she couldn’t read her boss. He led her toward the buffet. “Have you eaten anything?” he asked gruffly.

Her stomach rumbled on cue. “No. I was too nervous.”

He handed her a plate. “We’ve both been working nonstop for weeks. I think we deserve a break.”

Maria surveyed the bounty with anticipation. Fresh seafood, everything from shrimp cocktail to crab legs to raw oysters, filled silver trays to overflowing. The various salads and breads were no less appealing.

She made her choices and followed Alex to a small table for two. The glass doors were designed to be open for access to the patio, but it was much too hot at the moment for anyone to go outside.

She sat down, tugging the hem of her dress to a decorous level. Alex was in an odd mood. In a tiny pocket she carried a tube of lipstick and a small vial of tablets. Shaking two ibuprofen into her palm, she handed them across the table. “Your head is killing you, I can tell. Take these.”

He scowled but didn’t argue. She knew that men in general and this one in particular hated showing weakness of any kind. It was a sign of his discomfort that he didn’t refuse.

They ate in silence for long minutes. The quiet didn’t bother Maria. She’d grown up without brothers or sisters and had often spent time alone at home when her mother was at work.

Tonight, however, she was more aware than usual of her boss. It was no surprise that she’d had a bit of a crush on him over the years. Alex was virile, lean and muscular. Even in the expensive suits he wore, his physical power was evident. Thick black hair, cut conservatively, and deep brown eyes added up to an extremely masculine and sexy man.

In London, she had worked as his secretary. Once they all returned to Alma, however, she had been promoted to her current assignment in media and PR. Her position fell under the auspices of the Ministry of Commerce, but she did not ordinarily answer directly to Alex. For this assignment, however, he was definitely in charge. And that was a problem. Because the longer she knew him, the more she was afraid he would pick up on her reluctant attraction.

She had no illusions on that score. Alex was the eldest son of an aristocratic Alma family. He would marry one day and marry well. But not someone like Maria. Not a woman whose mother had been a laundress in a seedy neighborhood in London to make ends meet.

Maria was practical and ambitious. She would get ahead by virtue of hard work and innate talent. But, once in a while, she let herself fantasize about sharing Alex’s bed. All that hard muscle and warm skin at her disposal. A shiver snaked its way from the nape of her neck to a spot low in her belly. Thankfully, Alex was oblivious to her imagination.

He was discreet about his relationships. A very private man with a fine-tuned sense of propriety. She’d seen the hint of disapproval in his gaze tonight as he assessed her party dress. Why, she couldn’t say. By Miami standards, her outfit was tame.

Nevertheless, she knew she had blotted her copybook with Alex. Perhaps he thought her décolletage was too low or her skirt too high. Though the man was incredibly appealing, even she could admit he had a stuffy side. Perhaps she would have teased him had he not looked so grim faced. It occurred to her that he took this venture very personally. As if it was solely up to him to convince the Montoros to accept the mantle of the monarchy once again.

By the time they’d finished eating, the lines at the corners of Alex’s mouth had disappeared. Between the food and the painkillers, he seemed finally to have relaxed. Still, she couldn’t put a finger on what bothered her about his interaction with Gabriel Montoro. Instead of being conciliatory and cajoling, he’d been borderline antagonistic.

It made no sense.

She sipped a glass of Chablis and gazed out over the diverse group of people. The Alma delegation actually outnumbered the Montoros, but the Montoros had invited numerous friends and associates.

Rafael Montoro III was the life of the party. His rugged features belied his age. Though he had already turned fifty, he could pass for a man a decade younger. Did he harbor resentment over being bypassed for the throne?

His oldest son, Rafael IV—known as Rafe—was charming and affable and extremely self-possessed, though he had yet to hit thirty. Except for his age, it was not a stretch to see him as king of Alma. Rafe’s sister, Bella, was much like her dad, the center of attention and a vivacious extrovert. But she was very young, only twenty-three if Maria remembered correctly.

Then there was Gabriel, who was another story. And also a close cousin, Juan Carlos, who had been raised with the Montoro siblings after his parents’ deaths. Neither Gabriel nor Juan Carlos would be likely to play much of a role in the upcoming transition, except for supporting Rafael IV.

The others present were of little interest at this point. It would be Maria’s job to craft the image of a royal family that was strong and moral and charismatic. The only person who might make her job difficult was Gabriel. Who knew what skeletons were hidden in his closet. It would be up to her to excavate them and make sure they didn’t embarrass the Montoro family in the midst of this sea change.