gut had pointed him in this direction because… “So that you remember there’s a man in here.” He thumped his chest. “As well as a filthy rich prince.”
But no matter what he said or how far he got from this place, the Medina heritage coursed through his veins. Regardless of how many times he changed his name or started over, he was still Antonio Medina. And Shannon had made it clear time and time again, she didn’t want that kind of life. Finally, he heard her.
* * *
Several hours later, Shannon shoved her head deeper into the industrial sized refrigerator in search of a midnight snack. A glass of warm milk just wasn’t going to cut it.
Eyeing the plate of trufas con cognac and small cups of crema catalana, she debated whether to go for the brandy truffles or cold custard with caramel on top…. She picked one of each and dropped into a seat at the steel table.
Silence bounced and echoed in the cavernous kitchen. She was sleepy and cranky and edgy. And it was all Tony’s fault for tormenting her with charming stories and sexy encounters on the water—then shutting her out. She nipped an edge of the liqueur-flavored chocolate. Amazing. Sighing, she sagged back in the chair.
Since returning from their surfing outing, he’d kept his distance. She’d thought they were getting closer on a deeper level when he’d shared about his sister and even the Lego, then, wham. He’d turned into the perfect—distant—host at the stilted family dinner.
Not that she’d been able to eat a bite.
Now, she was hungry, in spite of the fact she’d finished off the truffle. She spooned a scoop of custard into her mouth, although she suspected no amount of gourmet pastries would satisfy the craving gnawing her inside.
When she’d started dating Tony, she’d taken a careful, calculated risk because her hormones had been hollering for him and she’d been a long, long time without sex. Okay, so her hormones hadn’t been shouting for just any man. Only Tony. A problem that didn’t seem to have abated in the least.
“Ah, hell.” Tony’s low curse startled her upright in her seat.
Filling the archway, he studied her cautiously. He wore jeans and an open button-down that appeared hastily tossed on. He fastened two buttons in the middle, slowly shielding the cut of his six-pack abs.
Cool custard melted in her mouth, her senses singing. But her heart was aching and confused. She toyed with the neck of her robe nervously. The blue peignoir set covered her from neck to toes, but the loose-fitting chiffon and lace brushed sensual decadence against her skin. The froufrou little kitten heels to match had seemed over-the-top in her room, but now felt sexy and fun.
Her hands shook. She pressed them against the steel topped table. “Don’t mind me. I’m just indulging in a midnight feeding frenzy. I highly recommend the custard cups in the back right corner of the refrigerator.”
He hesitated in the archway as if making up his mind, then walked deeper into the kitchen, passing her without touching. “I was thinking in terms of something more substantial, like a sandwich.”
“Are princes allowed to make their own snacks?”
“Who’s going to tell me no?” He kicked the fridge closed, his hands full of deli meat, cheese and lettuce, a jar of spread tucked under his elbow.
“Good point.” She swirled another spoonful. “I hope the cook doesn’t mind I’ve been foraging around. I actually used the stove, too, when I cooked a late night snack for Kolby. He woke up hungry.”
Tony glanced over from his sandwich prep. “Is he okay?”
“Just a little homesick.” Her eyes took in the sight of the Tony she remembered, a man who wore jeans low-slung on his hips. And rumpled hair…she enjoyed the disobedient swirls in his hair most.
“I’m sorry for that.” His shoulders tensed under the loose chambray.
“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate how everyone has gone out of their way for him. The gourmet kid cuisine makes meals an adventure. I wish I had thought to tell him rolled tortillas are snakes and caterpillars.” Pasta was called worms or a nest. “I’m even becoming addicted to Nutella crepes. But sometimes, a kid just needs the familiar feel of home.”
“I understand.” His sandwich piled high on a plate, he took a seat—across from her rather than beside as he would have in the past.
“Of course you do.” She clenched her hands together to keep from reaching out to him. “Well, I’ll have to make sure the cook knows I tried to put everything back where I found it.”
“He’s more likely to be upset that you called him a cook rather than a chef.”
“Ah, a chef. Right. All those nuances between your world and mine.” How surreal to be having a conversation with a prince over a totally plebian hoagie.
Tony swiped at his mouth with a linen napkin and draped it over his knee again. “You ran in a pretty high-finance world with your husband.”
Her husband’s dirty money.
She shoved away the custard bowl. Thoughts of the media regurgitating that mess for public consumption made her nauseated. She wasn’t close to her in-laws, but they would suffer hearing their precious son’s reputation smeared again.
And God help them all if her own secrets were somehow discovered.
Best to lie low and keep to herself. Although she was finding it increasingly difficult to imagine how she would restart her life. Even if she was able to renew her teaching credentials, who was going to want to hire the infamous Medina Mistress who’d once been married to a crook? When this mess was over, she would have to dig deep to figure out how to recreate a life for herself and Kolby.
Could Tony be having second thoughts about their relationship? His strict code of honor would dictate he take care of her until the media storm passed, but she didn’t want to be his duty.
They’d dated. They’d had sex. But she only just realized how much of their relationship had been superficial as they both dodged discussing deeper, darker parts of their past.
Still, she wasn’t ready to plunge into the murkiest of waters that made up her life with Nolan. She wasn’t even sure right now if Tony would want to hear.
But regardless of how things turned out between them, she needed him to understand the real her. “I didn’t grow up with all those trappings of Nolan’s world. My dad was a high school science teacher and a coach. My mom was the elementary school secretary. We had enough money, but we were by no means wealthy.” She hesitated, realizing…“You probably already know all of that.”
“Why would you think so?” he asked, although he hadn’t denied what she said.
“If you’ve had to be so worried about security and your identity, it makes sense you or your lawyer or some security team you’ve hired would vet people in your life.”
“That would be the wise thing to do.”
“And you’re a smart man.”
“I haven’t always
