shook his head. “They threw us out with nothing but the clothes on our backs.”
Alex shoved his hands in his pockets. He had the most insane urge to throttle the guy. Wouldn’t that be a royal mess... “They didn’t throw you out,” he said, the words even. “You weren’t even born. And the people had no say in it. You know what Tantaberra was like. He’d shoot first and ask questions later.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Whatever. The point is, if you’re trying to make my family and me face up to some kind of obligation, you’re way off course. We have a good life here in Miami. Why would we want to return to a tiny backwater collection of islands that time forgot?”
Maria spoke up, her blue-green eyes sparkling with passion. “Alma has changed, Mr. Montoro. We have high-speed broadband internet access, satellite television and radio and a thriving business community. Along with the natural beauty of the land, we have much to offer.”
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
