Princess of Estoria (Royal Brides Book 2) Read online

  “Excellent choice. I’ll have the same, but the ribeye.” He set aside his menu, too.

  She glanced out the window at the cars passing by on the street. “Coming here was a bit extravagant for a non-date, wasn’t it?”

  “I like to treat the people I do business with well.”

  “So if you were working with one of my male counterparts, you would do this—fly him to Miami for dinner at one of your favorite restaurants?” she asked.

  “We might do something different, but yes, I would do my best to impress him.”

  “You hired me. I’m the one who should be trying to impress you.”

  “You’ve already impressed me,” he said.

  “Save your flattery. I’m not sleeping with you tonight, no matter how extravagant this non-date is or how many compliments you pay me.”

  “I assure you, I have no intention of trying to sleep with you. Sleep is the furthest thing from my mind.”

  Their eyes locked for a minute before a faint blush tinged her cheekbones. “I mean it. Nothing is going to happen between us.”

  He grinned. “So you keep telling me.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish tonight?” she asked.

  Andres propped his elbow on the table and rubbed a finger along his full bottom lip. “I don’t think I should tell you. It might scare you away.” His body throbbed with awareness as he looked into her brown eyes.

  She took a shaky breath and glanced down briefly. “You’re very intense, you know that?”

  “You have no idea how intense I can be.”

  They stared across the table at each other again.

  “Andres! It’s been a long time.” Esteban Galiano entered the room, looking suave in a dark suit. Behind him, Mario followed with a bottle of wine.

  Both Angela and Andres stood, and Andres gave his friend a brief hug. “It’s been too long,” he said.

  He and the restaurateur had known each other for several years. Not too long ago, Esteban married a woman who was a sommelier and she now oversaw the purchase of wine and spirits for all his restaurants. Married life suited him. His attitude was better, and from all accounts he didn’t work as long or hard as he used to.

  Introductions were made, and Esteban looked at Angela with interest. “I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he said.

  “I’m a consultant with a firm in Atlanta—Myers-Gomez.”

  “I see…so this is a business dinner?” He glanced at Andres.

  “Yes,” Angela answered.

  Andres met his friend’s gaze with amusement. Esteban was sharp and had probably figured out there was much more going on than a business dinner. “You’re coming to the tournament in Estoria?” he asked.

  Esteban shook his head regretfully, segueing with ease into the new conversation. “I have a prior engagement. But I already know the outcome,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “If you think your countrymen will beat us, we’re well-prepared this time.” He turned to Angela. “We’re talking about polo. Unfortunately, the Argentinians dominate the sport. Currently, all but two of the top professional players in the world are from there, and he never lets me forget it.”

  Esteban chuckled. “I’ll be sure to get an update on the results. And hopefully, this time there will be no injuries.”

  “I hope,” Andres agreed.

  “I will leave you to your…business dinner. I’m taking care of a few things in the office, and then I’m heading home.”

  “Tell Sonia I said hello,” Andres said.

  “I will. It was very nice to meet you. Perhaps I will see you again sometime.” Esteban squeezed Angela’s hands between his and then exited the room.

  Mario poured them each a glass of wine, took their orders, and then left.

  “Injuries?” Angela asked.

  “I’ve had a few mishaps.” The sport of kings, as polo was called, caused major injuries to many a participant, himself included.

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged. “Dislocated shoulder, broken bones, hand lacerations. Polo is physically demanding and there can be some serious injuries as a result of what happens on the field. I’ve seen men knocked unconscious after falling from their horse or accidentally getting hit by one of the mallets.”

  Her eyes widened. “I had no idea the sport was so dangerous. Why in the world does anybody play?”

  “Why do people box, or waterski, or drive race cars? Injuries are part of many sports. In the case of polo, I participate because it’s exciting, for the rush of adrenaline. Being one with the horse—one unit, working toward a goal is…it’s hard to explain if you’ve never experienced it. I’m in an exhibition game before a charity tournament in a couple of months. That’s what Esteban and I were talking about. You should come see me play.”

  “We’ll see,” Angela said, spreading the cloth napkin across her lap.

  “Good.”

  “I didn’t say yes.”

  “You didn’t say no, either.”

  She shook her head in amusement and lifted the glass of wine to her lips.

  9

  Angela walked along the beach, letting her toes sink into the cool sand. Andres walked beside her, sleeves rolled up and holding a bottle of wine in his right hand. His security team trailed them at a discreet distance. One of the men, a wiry blond named Ollie, formerly with MI6, carried her shoes for her.

  Dinner had been delicious, as expected. The steak was tender and flavorful, the Malbec robust, and after dessert, Angela understood why the chocolate mousse cake was the most popular dessert on the menu, without having to taste any of the others.

  After dinner, she—not Andres—suggested a stroll along the beach, to walk off the rich and delicious food. Her suggestion had simply been a ruse. She wanted to spend more time with him. His nearness teased her with possibilities, and like the first night they met, she found herself smiling and laughing often. But he was a little different tonight, too. Still playful, but more…predatory, and the way his eyes lowered as he assessed her appearance made her skin tingle.

  She watched his mouth all night, aching for another taste of his lips and imagining for one second what he’d do if she bared her breasts to him. How his mouth would cover her nipples and his tongue would tease relentlessly until she begged him to stop.

  “They fine you for having open containers on the beach,” Angela pointed out.

  “How much?” Andres asked, tipping his head back and taking a swallow. He looked very much like a vagabond—elegant but rough. Princely, yet with a wildness that simmered beneath the surface. In that moment he appeared as uncultured as his ancestors. Rude. Untamed. But utterly irresistible.

  “I’m not sure. Fifty dollars. Maybe a hundred.”

  Andres shrugged. “I’ll take my chances,” he said.

  Right away she realized how ridiculous her warning sounded. He could either flash his diplomatic credentials or pay the measly fine.

  He stopped walking and stared out at the waves rolling in against the shore. Other people strolled the beach as well—an older couple arm in arm, and kids giggling as they ran ahead of their parents—but none paid attention to them.

  “Thank you for coming to dinner with me tonight.”

  “Well, we had business to discuss.”

  “You know tonight was not about business,” he said.

  Yes, she did.

  Angela extended her hand for the bottle, and he gave it to her. She took a swig, a little turned on that his mouth had touched the same spot only seconds ago.

  “What happened to make you so afraid?” he asked gently.

  She shivered though it wasn’t cold. “I dated someone in the public eye before. It was messy and dramatic. Rumors, half-truths, and flat-out lies were told about us, especially me. The publicity strained our relationship, and we fought about things we shouldn’t have fought about.” She took another swig of the wine.

  “The musician?” Andres said.

  She shot a g
lance at him. “How did you…?”

  “I have to be careful about the people I associate with.”

  “So I’ve been thoroughly investigated?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wonderful,” she said, though she wasn’t surprised.

  She’d only been twenty years old when it happened. Because of her father’s work, she knew a lot of people in the music industry and hung out at one of the studios from time to time. That’s how she met Liam, a well-known pop artist in his early twenties. When they started dating, Liam had been divorced from his wife for several months, though the news had been kept hush-hush to maintain the image of a sexy crooner who adored his wife, whom many thought was the inspiration for his love songs. He was charming and funny and she could admit now to being a little star struck.

  When news broke about their relationship, her life turned upside down. His ex-wife had been with him since before he became a household name, his high school sweetheart, and although Angela had nothing to do with the breakup of their marriage, she was still deemed a homewrecker. She became persona non grata, and the fact that the singer and his ex-wife had a child together made the situation worse.

  “Haven’t you investigated me?” Andres asked.

  “Only as much as Google allowed. You probably know more about me than I do myself.” She grimaced.

  “That, I doubt.”

  She glanced back at his security team.

  “Do you ever get tired of it? Never being alone? The lack of privacy?”

  “Lack of privacy? I haven’t noticed,” Andres quipped. He took the bottle from her.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  Perhaps seeing the serious expression on her face swiped the amusement from his. “At times it’s hard, yes. But I also live a life of luxury. You and I can spend time together without anyone knowing. No cameras, no articles about our private life. We could be like we were in Zamibia. Free to walk about together.”

  Angela hugged her torso, palms cupping her elbows. She wanted to reach for more with him but hesitated because of her past experience.

  “What exactly does a prince do?” she asked.

  “That depends on the country, but in my case, over the past couple of years, I’ve taken over more and more of my grandfather’s duties. Mostly ceremonial tasks such as welcoming dignitaries, attending state dinners and funerals, and traveling to other countries to establish or reconfirm diplomatic ties. Aside from that, the companies I and my advisors oversee for The Crown generate income for the royal family in excess of the taxes and tourism dollars we collect.”

  “Do your responsibilities ever overwhelm you?” Angela asked.

  He paused for a moment. “No. My life could be more difficult. For example, as the reigning sovereign of Estoria, my grandfather Prince Felipe plays an important role in day-to-day politics. He is our official head of state and holds legislative, executive, and judicial power. His responsibilities are many, so you can imagine why as he gets older, the need to delegate becomes more important.”

  Andres stuck the bottle in the sand and walked over to her. “The chaos and publicity is my life. It doesn’t have to be yours. We can meet in secret. Look at where we are.” He spread his arms to encompass the area. “No one is paying attention to us. We had dinner and are walking on the beach. No cameras. No fans. Just you and me. It can be done. Trust me.”

  He took her hand and gently pulled her to him. His nose brushed her ear. “I can’t explain it, but you’re a part of me already. I missed you, and I know you missed me, too.”

  He was right. The gravitational pull to him was strong. She felt him underneath her skin, as if he were a part of her.

  She looked into Andres’s eyes. “Liam never defended me. He allowed people to say horrible things about me, about us, and he remained silent. I tried to understand. You can’t respond to every rumor in the press, but some of them were so vile. And not once did he defend me.”

  That had been the most painful part—Liam’s silence. His silence had broken her heart, hurting more than the barbs printed in the paper. He even seemed to revel in the additional publicity, and there were times she wondered if he had fed false narratives to the press. His lips said he loved her, but his actions showed she was dispensable.

  “I don’t want to regret getting involved with you,” Angela said in a low voice.

  “You won’t.” He kissed the corner of her mouth.

  “This is impossible.”

  “No, it’s very possible.” She heard the smile in his voice.

  His arms slipped around her back and pulled her flush against his body.

  She smoothed her palms over his hard chest. “I feel like I’m two minutes away from losing control when I’m with you.”

  “I know that feeling very well.”

  He kissed the side of her neck, and she dropped her head against his chest. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt as her body heated to life.

  “From the moment I saw you, I knew I needed to be with you, that you would change my life. I don’t know how I knew, except that I’ve never felt this way before, even when I thought I was in love. There is no rush, Angela. We can take it slow. Say yes.”

  His words rustled over her skin like delicate cloth, and she turned her face toward his so their lips were only an inch apart.

  She caressed his smooth, hard jaw. With a smile, she whispered, “I’ll think about it. That’s not a yes.”

  He smiled back. “But it’s not a no.”

  “No, it’s not a no.”

  10

  “We’re here,” Andres said.

  Angela lifted her head from the comfortable spot on his shoulder. She’d dozed off but had still been cognizant of what was happening around her. She vaguely remembered Andres talking on the phone, and recalled another time when the flight attendant entered to deliver refreshments.

  She blinked, trying to get oriented to her surroundings. It seemed as if they’d gotten on the plane only minutes ago, and they were already back in Atlanta.

  They were escorted into the same car with tinted windows that dropped them off earlier. Angela edged closer to Andres as they pulled away. He placed an arm around her and she reclaimed her comfy position against his shoulder.

  One arm snaked around his torso. He hadn’t left yet and she already missed him.

  “How many more days will you be here before you have to go back?” she asked.

  Andres’s hand rubbed soothingly up and down her arm. “I leave tomorrow.”

  Her head popped up. She must have misunderstood. “Tomorrow? I-I assumed you would be here longer.” He’d never given her an itinerary, but she thought he wanted to spend more time with her. Pain pinched beneath her breastbone at the thought of having to say goodbye.

  “I would love to stay longer, but I can’t. One of my roles is as ambassador of my country, and I’ll spend the next ten days in Colombia, Argentina, and Uruguay. We’re trying to establish stronger ties with South America, and I will be meeting with their heads of state and discussing opportunities for trade as well as tourism.”

  When he’d told Edgar about the trip to South America, she didn’t realize it was so soon.

  “When will you be back here, in the States?” she asked, desperation overwhelming her.

  “Not for a month at least.” The sadness in his eyes echoed in her chest.

  “A month?” Four weeks sounded like four years, and four years sounded like an eternity. “What about the consulting project?”

  “I’ll give you the name of my COO, who you can work with on executing the plans.”

  Disappointment filled her heart to the brim, and she sat up all the way. “You came here with your grand gestures to impress me and talk about wanting to be with me, but a whole month will pass before I see you again? That’s why this can’t work.” She scooted away from him and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “What would you have me do? I have responsibilities, Angela. I can’t cast them aside so
simply.”

  “You’re playing games, Andres.” She glared at him.

  “No, Angela, you’re playing games. I have put all of my cards on the table. I want to be with you. Spend time with you. Make love to you. You’re the one playing hard to get.” His blue eyes flashed with annoyance.

  “I am not playing hard to get. You’re dismissing my reservations, as if they don’t matter.”

  “I have addressed your reservations. We spent an entire night together without a single person approaching us. It can be done. I have a private island where we can vacation. I have homes or access to homes through friends and family that will allow us to meet up in almost any country in the world, without disturbance. You just have to get past your concerns about losing your privacy.”

  “You think those are my only concerns? How do I even know I can trust you? You’re here now, with me, but who will you be with in South America? Will you see the Argentine pop star Martina Esposito when you’re in her country? You were with her in Thailand not too long ago. I saw the pictures online. When you return to Europe, what then? You’re so good at keeping your business private, you could have five other girlfriends for all I know. You want me to fall for your sweet words and wait around for months at a time while you’re off doing God knows what? Ha.” She gave another short laugh.

  “Is that what you think? There are no other women, and if there were, I would have dropped them all for you. You mean that much to me. Haven’t I proven that already, by coming here and showing you my willingness to carry on this relationship according to your terms? You don’t believe what I say, that’s fine. But what do my actions tell you? My actions, the way I treat you—will always show you how I feel, much better than any words can. Don’t listen to what I say, look at what I do.” He sat back and gazed out the window, one hand clenched on his thigh.

  In an emotional state, she turned away from him. Her own fingers clenched on the seat beside her, nails digging into her palm. She sat in silent misery for several minutes, staring out at the night. They whizzed by other cars on the way to her house—a place she always thought of as a hideaway, an escape in a world filled with strife and obligations. Now, she likened it to a prison, where she’d be cordoned off until the next time she saw Andres. If she saw him again, considering the tense words they just spoke to each other.