“Hello, Andres.”
His belly warmed at the sound of her voice, and he rested his elbow on the chair rest, a smile spreading across his face. “Hello. I was thinking about you and wondered what you were doing on this fine Friday.”
“It’s morning here, so I’m working. And you?”
“I just left a meeting in Sweden.”
“Was it to discuss the environmental policies you want to implement?”
Andres relaxed into the chair and welcomed the conversation. Managing an intercontinental relationship was difficult, to say the least, but they spoke often, usually after she left work, which meant late nights or very early morning phone calls for him because of the five-hour time difference. Not that he minded. He liked talking to her.
They both enjoyed outdoor activities like hiking, jogging, horseback riding, and she listened, really listened, when he talked. Her take on ideas were refreshing, and she wasn’t afraid to disagree with him and challenged his ideas on various topics, from anything as complex as world politics to as simple as his taste in music.
“Yes, their environmental policies are advanced to our own, and I plan to do some follow-up at a later date, once I’ve had a chance to talk to our commission. But the reason I called is because I want to see you, not next weekend or the one after that or the next. This weekend. I can send a plane for you and you could meet me on Isla de Vasquez. I haven’t built an airstrip yet, so you’ll have to land in Puerto Rico and take a helicopter to the island.”
His grandfather had purchased the private island from a software billionaire. It included an over-ten-thousand-square-foot open-air mansion set on a small hill with panoramic views worthy of a postcard. The house overlooked a pristine beach and aqua-blue water, along with smaller villas that could be rented out to guests. He didn’t get to visit often, but over sixty staff members maintained the properties year-round, which allowed him to pop in at a moment’s notice.
Angela groaned. “That’s a tempting offer, but I can’t. I’m swamped with work.”
“Even on the weekend? You can’t take a couple of days off?”
She sighed, and he waited impatiently for her answer.
“I want to see you, I do, but…”
“But what?” Initially he thought his schedule would be the problem, but her damn job was a thorn in his side. Everything they did—from talking on the phone to how much time they could spend in each other’s company, was dictated by Myers-Gomez. “You can arrive tonight, so you don’t have to miss work, and spend the next two days work-free on a private island in the Caribbean. We could go horseback riding, walk on the beach, or simply relax seaside. Isn’t that tempting?”
“I could use the break,” she said quietly.
The knot in his stomach loosened. “Let me give you a break.”
She laughed. “You’re so convincing. Fine! You talked me into it. If I’m going to be gone all weekend and really take a break, I need to get as much done as I can today. Then I’ll knock off around six-ish, get home, and be packed within an hour.”
“I’ll have a car at your door by seven. And I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes, tonight,” she said softly.
They spoke for a few more minutes, then Andres hung up and called up front to the pilot. “Change of plans. Set a new course for Isla de Vasquez.”
This place was paradise. Angela stood on the landing, leaning against the wooden railing that overlooked the beach. She wore a gauzy white cover-up over her black bikini and kept her hair loose, letting the cool breeze coming off the water blow the strands around her face. This was just what she needed. Time away to just…breathe.
Last night when she touched down on the helipad, Andres met her right away and swept her into his arms as if they hadn’t seen each other in months instead of only weeks. Her heart thrilled at his enthusiastic greeting, and she wondered, not for the first time, just where this relationship was headed.
The man was a prince, for God’s sake, and she held no illusions about princes riding up on white horses to sweep you away to a charmed life. Yet spending time with him gave her a glimpse into what she’d been missing in other relationships, particularly the one with Liam. He’d courted the spotlight, needing to see and be seen to further his career. That wasn’t the case with Andres. While there was some notoriety because of who he was, he didn’t care about impressing anyone. He didn’t need to. That made spending time with him all the more enjoyable. She could unwind and cast off the stress of her career when she was with him.
She swept her fingers through her hair and watched as Andres came jogging up the beach, bare-chested from his morning run.
He panted as he rushed up the stairs, fit body glistening, and his dark, windswept hair damp with sweat around the edges.
She handed him a bottle of cold water, which he gratefully accepted. He took a huge swallow.
“You should have joined me,” he said.
“I wanted to relax. Isn’t that what you promised me, rest and relaxation?”
“You remember what I said?”
“I remember everything you say, Your Highness.” She bit her bottom lip and watched his eyes darken with lust.
“You know I love it when you say that,” he said in a low voice.
He set down the bottle, and Angela squealed as he tugged her closer with an arm around her waist and dipped her over his arm with an indulgent kiss. Her arms fastened around his neck, and she kissed him back with fervor and passion.
When they straightened, she was breathless and her heart raced excitedly.
Andres kept his forehead pressed to hers. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” he asked softly.
“No, I was waiting for you,” she whispered.
“I am hungry, but not for food,” he said.
“I’m hungry, too. But not for food,” she admitted.
Due to her late arrival last night, they hadn’t made love. They’d simply curled up next to each other and slept through the night, until she was awakened by him moving around early this morning right before he went for a jog. She’d intended to take a morning dip in the infinity pool but set aside the idea to wait for his return.
“I need a shower, and then I’ll show you how much I missed you.”
He swooped her up in his arms and marched toward the bedroom, past the chef and mixologist who tended the open bar.
“We’re going to be busy for a while. Do not disturb,” he called out to them. Both men smiled knowingly.
Angela’s cheeks heated. “You’re awful,” she said, burying her face in his neck.
He only chuckled, and carried her like a conqueror claiming his prize, through the house to his private quarters where he shut the door on the outside world and showed just how much he’d missed her.
13
Angela blinked as she slowly woke up. She heard Andres in the bathroom.
After they made love in the morning, they spent a busy day swimming and then horseback riding over some of the rougher terrain of the island. Afterward, they returned for a late lunch and fell into bed and made love for a second time.
The bedroom had been decorated in such a way as to incorporate the natural environment into the interior. Dark woods, some of which had been chosen from the surrounding area, were used to create the furniture, and white curtains billowed in the breeze coming in through the open windows. She stretched in the wide king bed, covered with soft white sheets that made her not want to get up.
Andres had opened the doors that took up a large portion of one wall and led onto the landing. That allowed a brisk breeze to sweep through the doors and out the open windows in the back, so there was no need for air conditioning.
She slipped from the bed and donned a loose-fitting maxi dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and a hemline that swirled around her ankles as she walked onto the landing. The table was set with covered dishes, and she peeked under one of the domes and found a bowl of fresh fruit—sliced mangoes, oranges, and strawberri
es. She picked up a piece of mango and slid it into her mouth, moaning as the sweet flavor doused her tongue.
Andres came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. He smelled fresh from another shower. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me, too,” she whispered.
“Has any man kissed you since I’ve seen you last?”
“No.”
“So you’re mine and mine alone?”
“Maybe…” she said.
“Maybe?” he repeated, sounding affronted. “Not good enough.”
“Are you mine?” Angela asked, casting a look over her shoulder.
“You still have doubts?”
“Just wondering how long this will last.”
“As long as you allow it.” He set a black square box on the wooden railing in front of her.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
She didn’t hesitate. Inside was an exquisite piece of fine jewelry—a diamond halo bangle that sparkled in the natural light. It must’ve cost a small fortune.
“You like it?” Andres asked, snapping the jewelry onto her wrist.
“I love it.”
“You don’t think it’s too much? Or I shouldn’t have bought it?”
He watched her oddly, and she wondered if she should have said one of those things. But she loved it and didn’t see the point in pretending that she didn’t.
“No. It’s extravagant, but who wouldn’t be grateful to receive a gift like this?”
His face transformed into a smile. “You are really something, you know that? I can’t tell you how often I’ve given a gift and been made to feel almost guilty about it. Some women act as if they don’t deserve nice things, which makes it hard to know what to give them. Or even if to give them anything at all.”
“I’m not one of those women. I enjoy gifts—giving as well as receiving. Feel free to surprise me anytime you like.”
They both laughed.
“Good,” he said.
She sobered and stroked his jaw with her fingertips. Standing closer, she whispered, “In all seriousness, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He dropped a kiss to her lips. “Your honesty is refreshing.”
“Yes, honesty is important, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Being honest goes both ways, Andres.”
He frowned. “I’ve always been honest with you, since the beginning.”
“Except for when you didn’t tell me you were a prince.”
“Ancient history,” he said.
She stroked his bare arm, smoothing her palm over the hair-sprinkled skin. “You’re keeping secrets, about other things, too. About your family.”
His demeanor changed as all humor drained from him. “I’ve told you all you need to know,” he said irritably. He faced the sea and rested his forearms on the railing.
“You like honesty and want me to be an open book, and I expect the same from you.”
“I haven’t kept anything from you. I am an open book. Ask me anything.”
“I can ask you anything. Really?”
“Anything but state secrets,” he said, with a small attempt at humor. His lips turned up minutely at the corners, but his blue eyes remained troubled, the way someone looked when they were awaiting bad news.
Angela brushed her thumbnail along the scar on his left brow. “Tell me the story about this. Because you didn’t just fall down the stairs.”
“Angela…”
“Why can’t you talk to me and be honest? Is it really that bad that you can’t share whatever happened to you with me?”
He sighed. “You’re a difficult woman.”
“And you’re a difficult man. We’re perfect for each other.”
He looked at her from the corner of his eye and still didn’t respond. She decided to wait him out. Finally, he sighed again.
“I fell down the palace stairs.”
“That’s not all.”
He glanced at her.
“Please.” Whatever happened to cause that scar was important, and if he trusted her with this piece of information, sharing that secret part of himself could add a new dimension to their relationship.
He swallowed. “You’re right, I did not just fall down the stairs. I had some help.” The next words seemed difficult for him, but he finally said in a low voice, “From my father.”
Angela gasped. The secret was worse than she imagined. She could only see Andres’s profile, but pain was evident in the tautness of his cheekbones.
“I’m sorry, if you don’t want to talk about what happened, you don’t have to.”
“I want to.” He bowed his head and gathered himself. A rueful smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “My father is a raging alcoholic. My grandfather did everything he could to…fix him, I suppose you could say. Counseling, acupuncture, therapists, and hypnosis at one time, from what I understand. My father did not change. He was belligerent and verbally abusive to my mother, the palace staff, and anyone who came around him when he was intoxicated. They called those times his rages. His periods of drunkenness became more frequent as I grew older, and my grandfather kept him from most of his official duties because of it. Grandfather took on those tasks himself or assigned them to others.”
He swallowed again, and pain reentered his face in the form of a grimace. “I’ll never forget that day, the weekend of my birthday. My grandfather had planned a small party—nothing too extravagant—by our standards, anyway. A magician performed tricks for me and my friends, and later a group of us went horseback riding. We did anything that I wanted to do. I went the whole day without seeing him, but I wanted to. I was disappointed but had a good time with friends and family. His rejection on my birthday consumed me. I don’t know why, but I wanted to see him.”
“He’s your father. It’s understandable that you wanted to spend time with him despite his behavior,” Angela said quietly.
He nodded. “Anyway, he and my mother had been sleeping apart for some time, so I went to his room to look for him. I didn’t want anything—nothing material, anyway. Maybe a hug. A simple ‘happy birthday, son’ would have made my year.
“He wasn’t in his room, so I left, but he caught me exiting. He’d been drinking recently because I smelled the liquor on him. He demanded to know what I was doing in his room. I told him nothing, but he flew into a rage. You see, he had told me many times not to touch his things. I hadn’t touched anything in his room, but he didn’t believe me. He started yelling at me and accused me of being a thief. He said that I was a perfect little shit who stole his happiness from the day I was born.”
Angela covered his hand with one of hers. His secret was so much worse than she imagined, and now she regretted pushing him to share.
“He chased me down the hall. I ran as fast as I could, but he caught me at the stairs and grabbed me by the neck of my shirt. ‘Stay out of my things!’ he said. And then he…he hit me, with the back of his hand, and I fell down the marble staircase.”
Angela wrapped her arms around his torso and lifted her gaze to his. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you must have felt.”
His jawline went rigid. “I was knocked unconscious by the fall and woke up in bed with my grandfather over me and a bandage covering my head. I had bruised ribs and a broken wrist from where I’d apparently tried to break my fall.”
“So that’s why your father is no longer in Estoria?” Angela asked.
Andres nodded. “My grandfather sent him away the next day. He’s been exiled to Spain ever since then, under constant surveillance by a handler and a security team. They keep him safe and out of trouble.”
“That happened when you were eight. Have you had any contact with him since?”
“Very little. We’ve spoken on the phone, and I visited him a handful of times. Strong drink and a rough life have aged him. He looked nothing like the man I once adored.”
“What happened to your mother?”
“She left soo
n after my grandfather approved her divorce from my father.”
“Approved?”
He nodded. “All royal marriages and divorces must be approved by the reigning monarch. She was allowed to divorce my father and leave the country on one condition—that she leave me in Estoria to be raised by my grandfather. She left and we’ve barely spoken since.”
Angela’s heart broke for him. She rested her temple against his shoulder.
“My father was unhappy for a long time. He hated his role as prince and turned to drinking to deal with the stress of his position, the stress of having to provide an heir and marry someone whom he probably didn’t love. He transferred that bitterness onto me, and eventually it turned to hate.”
Angela glanced up at his profile. “You were a child. You were eight.”
“None of that matters. Hate is not rational. It’s toxic and erodes common sense and destroys relationships.”
Angela nodded her agreement. “I know what you mean.”
He looked at her questioningly.
“My sister is like your father. She’s fourteen years older than me, and when I was little I idolized her, but she couldn’t stand me.”
She explained that Martin married Tessa years after his divorce from Rebecca’s mother, but Rebecca still blamed Tessa for taking away her father. She told him how she wished she’d been able to have a good relationship with her sister and envied other people when she saw how close they were to their siblings. She wanted the same type of relationship.
“Now it’s my turn to be sorry,” Andres said. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’ve never told anyone that story.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me. I promise I won’t repeat it. You can trust me, Andres.”
“I know. And you can trust me,” he said.
“We didn’t completely lose out. I have my parents and good friends. You have your grandfather and good friends. Our lives could be worse.”
Princess of Estoria (Royal Brides Book 2) Page 8