door. “Maria?”
No answer. He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, flung open the door. The room was dark. Empty.
“Maria,” he said again, and flew down the stairs, almost stumbling over Athenia who stood at the bottom wearing a housecoat, her hair in curlers.
“Your Highness. Our hearts are filled with grief. We are all so sorry for you—”
“Yes. Thank you. Where is Ms. Santos?”
Athenia bit her lip. Shook her head. Alex cursed in frustration—and then breathed a sigh of relief. He knew where Maria would be. In the guesthouse. He knew her habits. She was probably losing herself in work.
But the guesthouse, Maria’s workshop, stood as silent and empty as his bedroom. Something about that silence made his heart rise in his throat. He ran back to the main house, took the steps two at a time, flung open the bedroom door, this time switched on the light…
And knew, instantly, that Maria was gone.
The room felt cold. Not just empty but barren, as if the very life had been stripped from it. He went to the dressing room, stepped inside. Her suitcase was gone. The beautiful clothes he’d bought her hung from the racks like mournful reminders of the past.
“Maria,” Alex said, bewildered. What the hell had happened? Where was his Maria? He turned in a slow circle—and saw the envelope propped on the bed. “Alex,” it said, and that it didn’t say Alexandros was a statement in itself.
He picked it up. Opened it. Withdrew the note inside and read it. It was brief. She was, she said, terribly sorry for his loss. Though she’d only met his father a handful of times, she’d come to respect him. She’d wanted to tell him that herself but…
The “but” made Alex’s belly knot.
But, she wrote, she knew that the king’s death meant Alex would be immersed in the duties of a prince. She saw no reason to burden him with concern for her, especially since she was returning to New York anyway, now that her duties here were completed.
Her duties here.
He looked up, his face a mask of disbelief. Was that what it had been? Had sleeping with him been part of her duties? Was leaving him such a relief that she couldn’t have waited to say goodbye?
He read the note again. And again. Then he let out a roar of anguished rage from a place in his soul he’d never known existed, and tore the note into a dozen pieces.
A state funeral was not a simple thing.
Fortunately, plans for events like this had always existed. Except for the addition of a motorcade, those plans had not changed much since the time of the Crusades.
Aegeus lay in state for three days while his people, friends, relatives and foreign heads of state all paid their respects.
The Sheikh King Zakari Al’Farisi represented the island of Calista.
Zakari, a proud and ruthless man, made all the appropriate comments to the press; he offered Tia his polite condolences.
In private talks with the Karedes princes, however, Zakari’s words were probing as well as troubling.
He seemed to know that Aristo’s half of the Stefani diamond was missing.
Though Alex, Andreas and Sebastian had met with their council and agreed the mystery had to be kept secret until it was solved, that decision was—as Andreas wryly put it—pretty much the equivalent of shutting the stable door after the horse had been stolen.
Clearly, the news had reached Calista. And that was dangerous. Since Sebastian could not be crowned without the true diamond, Alex’s worry—that it might fall into the wrong hands and a Calistan prince could take the Aristan throne—seemed more and more plausible.
Added to concerns of state were those of family. Lissa and Kitty took their father’s death hard and clung to Andreas. Tia, shocked by her loss, claimed Alex for solace and support. Sebastian, now the Prince Regent, was, by custom, designated to lead them all through the necessary formalities.
Alex had no time to think, or told himself he had no time for it. But at night, when the hands of his watch seemed to slow to a crawl, he lay awake in his palace rooms, despising Maria, despising himself, telling himself what a fool he’d been to have imagined himself in love with her because he certainly had not loved her.
Of course, he hadn’t.
He counted down the days until the formalities of mourning would end. He had work to do, investors to meet with and reassure that nothing would change on Aristo. He was also fully involved in organizing the search for the missing diamond. Once the mourning period was behind him, he’d be far too busy to think about Maria Santos.
A lie.
Life slowly returned to normal. He was busy from early morning until late at night. And he thought about her all the time.
What he needed was closure, to tell her, to her face, that she had meant nothing more to him than he had obviously meant to her, but that would mean seeking her out and he wasn’t about to lower himself to that.
Strangely, no one in his family asked about Maria until one morning, when his mother phoned and invited him to breakfast. He was incredibly busy that day but he knew Tia’s grief was still new; nothing would have made him refuse her request.
They chatted briefly about nothing special—and then, without warning, Tia asked why Maria had gone.
“Why wouldn’t she?” Alex said, with a shrug. “She finished your necklace. Her work was over.”
“I’m not talking about her work,” Tia said. “I’m talking about the feelings you and she have for each other.”
“You’re wrong, Mother. We had no—”
“Alex. I’m your mother. I’m also a woman. I know love when I see it. Maria and you were in love. So, why did you let her go?”
Alex thought of half a dozen answers, all of which would have worked—and, instead, found himself speaking the truth.
“I didn’t,” he said in a low voice. “She left me. She enjoyed—she enjoyed our time together but—”
“Nonsense. She loves you. I saw it. Everyone saw it.”
“The hell she did!” Alex shot to his feet. “She left the night Father died. What was I supposed to do? Go after her? Walk out on my duties to try and convince her not to leave me?”
“Your duties,” Tia said softly. “Yes. Such things always get in the way.” She looked up at him. “Had you ever told her you loved her?”
His mouth thinned. “No.”
“Perhaps,” she said carefully, “perhaps you should have.”
Yes, Alex thought, he should have. He’d known the truth, in his heart. Why hadn’t he faced it sooner? Now it was too late.
“It’s never too late,” his mother said,
