Gabriel nodded, taking in her constant stream of instructions as he had done all week. She was a font of information.
“Don’t forget to smile. Wave. It should just be the press, so no need to greet anyone in the crowd. No speeches, no interviews. Just smile and wave.”
The wheels of the jet touched down and suddenly everything became very real. Gabriel looked out the window. Beyond the airport, he could see the great rock hills that rose on the horizon, their gray stone peppered with evergreens. Closer to Del Sol was a smaller hill topped with some kind of ancient fortress. Climbing up the incline were whitewashed buildings clustered together with clay tile roofs.
Ahead, clear blue skies with palm trees led the way toward the beach. His last trip here with his brother had been all business, so he had no idea what kinds of beaches they had in Alma, but he prayed they were at least halfway as nice as the ones in Miami. He was already feeling pangs of homesickness.
The plane stopped and the engines turned off. The small crew unlocked and extended the staircase. Serafia gathered up her bag and her tablet. “Smile and wave,” she said one last time before disappearing down the stairs.
His father followed her a moment later and then it was Gabriel’s turn. His heart started pounding in his rib cage. His lungs could barely take in enough air, his chest was so tight. Once he stepped out of this plane, he was a coronation away from being Su Majestad el Rey Don Gabriel I. It was a terrifying prospect, but he pushed himself up out of his seat anyway.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the doorway. He was momentarily blinded by the sun. He paused for a moment to adjust, a smile on his face and his arm raised in greeting. He slowly made his way down the stairs, careful not to fall and make the worst possible impression. By the time he reached the bottom, he could look out into the crowd of photographers. There were about fifty of them gathered with cameras and video crews.
To the left and right of the stairs were two large gentlemen in military suits similar to the one Serafia had recently had tailored for him. In addition to their shiny brass buttons and collections of metals, they wore earpieces with cords that disappeared under their collars. He hadn’t really given the idea of his personal security much thought until now.
The men bowed, and after he nodded to them both, they walked two paces behind Gabriel as he made his way down the carpet. At the end of the path, he could see his father and Serafia waiting for him with a man he presumed was his press secretary. Serafia had an exaggerated smile like a stage mom, reminding him to smile and wave.
He was almost to the end when a man with a video crew charged to the edge of the barricade and shouted to him. “Gabriel! How do you feel about your brother’s abdication? Did you know he had a child on the way?”
The bold question startled him.
“Rafe made his choice. I don’t blame him for his decision.” Serafia had told him he wasn’t to answer questions, but he was thrown off guard with a film crew pointing the camera right in his face.
“What about the child?” the man pressed.
He felt a protectiveness build up inside him, his fists curling tight at his side. “I was unaware of the seriousness of his relationship with Ms. Fielding, but the matter of their child is their business, and I must insist that you respect their privacy.”
“Have you chosen a queen yet?” Another reporter shouted before he could take another step. From there, it was a rapid fire he couldn’t escape.
“Will she be a citizen of Alma or a member of a European royal family to strengthen trade agreements?”
“Did you leave a lover behind in America?”
Gabriel felt his throat close. He didn’t know how to even begin addressing these questions, but he was certain his required smile had faded.
“Please!” Serafia shouted, stepping in front of him and holding her hands up to the camera. “He’s been in Del Sol for five minutes. Let’s allow Don Gabriel to get settled in and perhaps coroneted before we start worrying about the line of succession, shall we?”
She took his arm and with a forceful tug, led him down the rug and inside the terminal. From there, security ushered them quickly out a side door to a black SUV with Alma’s flag flying on each corner of the hood.
The door had barely shut before the convoy was on the road. The inside of the vehicle was quiet. He was stunned by the turn of events. Serafia was stiff beside him.
“What the hell was that?” his father finally asked.
“I didn’t realize—” Gabriel began to defend himself to his father, but he realized he was looking at Serafia with eye daggers.
“You said there were to be no questions,” Rafael snapped. “Why wasn’t the press properly briefed?”
“They were,” she argued, her spine lengthening in defiance. “Hector assured me that they were told Gabriel wasn’t answering questions, but to tell them they can’t ask is suppression of free press. No matter what they’re told, reporters will ask questions in the hopes they can catch someone off guard and get an answer that will provide a juicy headline.”
“Unacceptable.”
Serafia sighed angrily. “I can assure you that I will work with Hector to have the offending reporters identified and will see to it that their press privileges are suspended.”
“Gabriel should’ve been briefed. If you knew the press might push him for questions, he should’ve been better prepared. That’s your job.”
“I’m an image consultant, not his press secretary. What kind of briefing does he need to walk down a rug and wave? I suggest that when we arrive at the palace, we arrange to meet with Hector immediately. He’ll need to be able to handle those sorts of things better in the future. There are more public appearances this week. We can’t risk that happening again. I’m sorry that—”
“Stop,” Gabriel said. He’d grown angrier with every apologetic word out of her mouth. There was no reason for her to ask for forgiveness. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Serafia. I apologize for my father’s harsh, inappropriate tone. I should’ve anticipated they would ask questions like that. I will be more prepared next time. End of discussion. For now, let’s just focus on getting settled in and prepared for our next event.”
His father’s sharp gaze raked over him as he spoke, the older man’s tan Mediterranean complexion mottled with red. He was clearly angry his son had shut him down, but that was too bad. The balance of power had shifted in the family. The moment Gabriel stepped off that plane, he was in charge. They weren’t in Miami anymore where his father ruled over the family with an iron fist.
They were in Alma now and Gabriel was going to be the king. His father had ruined his chance to be the boss when he divorced Gabriel’s mother without an annulment, so he’d better get used to the way things were going to be now. Gabriel was no longer the useless middle son who could be berated or ignored.
Gabriel was going to be king.
* * *
“It’s beautiful,” Serafia said as they entered the main room of the palace.
El Castillo del Arena was the official royal residence in Del Sol. Looking like a giant sandcastle, hence its name, it sat on a fortified wall overlooking the bay. The early Arabian influences on the architecture were evident everywhere you looked, from the arches to the intricate mosaic tile work. The inner courtyards had gardens that made a cool escape from the sun with lush trees, fountains and blooming flowers in every direction.
Clearly it wasn’t as grand a palace as it had once been: the Persian rugs had threadbare corners and the upholstery on the furniture was worn and dirty. Seventy years in the hands of a dictatorship had made their mark, but it still had the grand design and details of its former glory. It wouldn’t take long to restore the palace.
Few people had been allowed in under the Tantaberras. It was a pity. The grand rooms with the arched ceilings were begging for a royal event with all the elite of Alma in attendance.
From the expression on his face, Gabriel wasn’t as impressed. Since the hea
ted discussion in the car, he’d been quiet. She thought that when Señor Montoro skipped the tour and asked to be shown to his rooms so he could nap Gabriel would perk up, but he didn’t. Now he silently took it all in as they followed his personal steward, Ernesto, on a tour through the palace.
“These are the king’s private chambers,” Ernesto said as he opened the double doors to reveal the expansive room.
There was a king-size bed in the center of the room with a massive four-poster frame. It was draped in red fabric with a dozen red and gold pillows scattered across the bed. Large tapestries hung on the walls, and a Moroccan rug covered the stone floors.
“Your bath and closet are through those doors,” Ernesto continued.
She watched as Gabriel looked around, a slightly pained expression on his face. “It’s awfully dark in here,” he complained. “It’s like a cave or an underground cellar. Are there only those two windows?”
Ernesto looked at the two arched windows crafted of stained glass and nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
She watched Gabriel tense at the use of the formal title. “I’m not king yet, Ernesto. You can just call me Gabriel.”
The man’s eyes grew wide. “I would rather not, Your Grace. You’re still the crown prince.”
“I suppose.” Gabriel sighed and fixed his gaze on a set of double doors on the other side of the room. “Where do those doors go to?”
Ernesto, lean and dark-complexioned, moved quickly to the doors and opened them. “Through here are the queen’s rooms. And beyond it are chambers for her ladies-in-waiting, although the rooms may be better suited in these times as an office or a nursery. The rooms haven’t really been used since your great-grandmother, Queen Anna Maria, fled Alma.”
Gabriel frowned. “The queen doesn’t share a room with the king?”
“She may. Traditionally, having her own space allowed her to pursue more feminine activities with her ladies such as sewing or reading without interfering with the running of the state.”
“It’s like I’ve gone back in time,” Gabriel grumbled, and ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation.
“The staff is still working on restoring and modernizing the palace. Perhaps Your Majesty would prefer to spend some time prior to the coronation at Playa del Onda. It’s a more modern estate, built for the royal family to vacation at the beach in the summers. It’s lovely, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the sea and bright, open rooms.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Serafia noticed Gabriel perk up. “How far is it from here?”
“It’s about an hour’s drive along the coastal highway, but you won’t mind a minute of it. The views are exquisite. I can call ahead to the staff there and let them know you’ll be coming if you’d like.”
Gabriel considered his options for a moment and finally turned to look at Serafia. “I know we’ll be coming back to Del Sol for a lot of activities this week, but I think I’d like to stay out there while I can. Care to continue our work at the beach?” he asked.
She nodded. The location wasn’t important to her, but she could tell it mattered to him. He seemed to have a tense, almost claustrophobic reaction to his own quarters, despite the room being massive in scale with tall, arched ceilings. If he could relax, he would absorb more information. She could accommodate the extended drive times in their schedule.
“Then let’s do that. My father will be staying here, but Señorita Espina and I will be going to Playa del Onda. We’ll be staying there for the next week. I’ll return as we start preparing for the coronation.”
“Very good. I’ll arrange for your transportation.”
“Ernesto?”
The steward paused. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“See if you can arrange for a convertible with a GPS. I’d like to drive myself to the compound and enjoy the sun and sea air on the way.”
“Drive yourself?” Ernesto seemed stumped for a moment, but then immediately shook off his concerns. It wasn’t his place to question the king’s requests. “Yes, Your Grace.” He turned and disappeared down the hallway.
“They’re not going to know what to do with a king like you,” Serafia said.
“Me, neither,” Gabriel noted dryly. “But maybe if we spend a couple days at the beach, we can all be better prepared for my official return to the palace.”
They walked out of the king’s chambers and down the winding staircase to the main hall. Within minutes, they were greeted by the royal guard, who reported that they already had a car waiting for him outside. They would be following in the black SUV that brought him there.
Gabriel didn’t argue. Instead they walked out into the courtyard. A cherry-red Peugeot convertible was parked there. “Whose car is this?” he asked as an attendant opened the door for Serafia to get in.
“It is Señor Ernesto’s car, Your Majesty.”
“What will he drive while I have it?”
“One of the royal fleet.” The attendant pointed to an area with several vehicles parked there. “He is happy to let you borrow it. The address of the beach compound is already entered in the system, Your Majesty.”
Gabriel took the keys, slipped out of his suit coat and got in beside her. He waited until the guard had assembled in the SUV behind them; then he started the car and they headed toward the gates.
Once they slipped beyond the fortress walls, Serafia noticed Gabriel’s posture relax. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She couldn’t help feeling the same way. Ernesto had been right: the view was amazing. Once they escaped Del Sol and started climbing up the mountain, everything changed. The winding coastal road showcased wide vistas with bright blue skies, turquoise waters and ships along the shoreline.
With the sun warming her skin and the ocean air whipping the strands of her hair around her face, she felt herself relax for the first time since she’d left Barcelona. Although the Atlantic islands were different from her Mediterranean hacienda, it felt as if she were back there, the place where she felt the most at home, and safe.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Yes.” They’d had croissants and juice on the plane, but it was past lunchtime now and she was starving.
Gabriel nodded. A mile up the road, he slowed and pulled off at a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant overlooking the sea. A moment later, the royal guard pulled up beside them and lowered a window.
“Is there a problem, Your Majesty?” the one with the slicked-back brown hair who was driving the SUV asked.
“I’m hungry. Have you two had lunch?”
The two guards looked at each other in confusion and the driver turned back to him. “No, we haven’t.”
“Is this place any good?” he asked.
“I have eaten here many times, but in my opinion, it isn’t fit for the king.”
Gabriel looked at her and smiled widely. “Perfect. I’m starving. Let’s all grab something to eat.”
The two of them waited outside with the younger blond guard as the other went inside to make sure the restaurant was secure. It wasn’t big enough to house much more than a tiny kitchen and a few tables on the veranda.
When they got the all-clear, a small, slow-moving old woman greeted them as they came in and gave them their choice of tables outside. As Gabriel had insisted they eat as well, the guards took a table near the door to watch anyone coming in or out, allowing him and Serafia privacy while they dined.
The menu was limited, but the royal guard with the dark hair named Jorge recommended the caldereta de langosta. It was a seasonal lobster stew with tomatoes, onions, garlic and peppers, served with thin slices of bread.
They all ordered the caldereta and Serafia was not disappointed. Normally she gave great care and thought into every bite she put in her mouth, but the stew was too amazing to worry about it. The lobster was soft and buttery in texture, while spicy in flavor thanks to the peppers. The bread soaked up the broth perfectly and helped carry the large pieces of lo
bster to her mouth without her wearing most of it on her pale taupe suit.
“This is wonderful,” she said, when she was more than halfway finished with her stew. “Thank you for stopping.”
“I was getting cranky,” Gabriel said. He glanced over the railing at the sparking blue sea below them. “If I can be cranky looking at a view like this, I’ve got to be hungry.”
“I would’ve thought the incident this morning had more to do with it than hunger.”
“This morning was nothing and my father wanted to make it into something. I have enough to worry about without him making you uncomfortable. You’ve gone out of your way to help me through this. You’ve tolerated my bad moods and my childish behavior. I think I will be a better king for what you’ve done, so I should be thanking you, not criticizing you.”
Serafia was stunned by his thoughtful words. He seemed to be almost a different person since they’d arrived in Alma. Or at least since the moment he’d stood up to his father. He had seemed to grow taller in that moment, physically stronger even, as he sat in the vehicle. Perhaps he truly was gaining the confidence he needed to rule Alma.
“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate that. And I appreciate you standing up for me this morning. The look on your father’s face when you put an end to the discussion was priceless, really.”
Gabriel looked at her with a wry grin. “It was good, wasn’t it? It’s the first time I’ve stood up to him in my whole life and I’m glad I did.”
“Is he always like that?”
Gabriel sipped his sparkling water and nodded. “Nothing was ever good enough for my father, but especially me. I could never understand it growing up. I did everything right, everything he wanted me to do. I went to school where he wanted me to go, took the position at the company he wanted me to have. I let him banish me to South American Operations. After everything that happened there, I almost got the feeling he was disappointed I came back. I’ve never understood why.”
Seduced by the Spare Heir Page 5