“After everything that happened there?” Gabriel seemed to be alluding to some incident she was unaware of. “What happened?”
With a sigh, he popped the last of his bread in his mouth and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I learned some valuable lessons. First, that you have to be careful who you can trust. And second, that I’m a grown man who can live and do however I please. These last few years my behavior has just been written off by my family as reckless and selfish, but it’s been good for me. If my father doesn’t approve of me either way, I should do whatever I want to, right?”
Serafia suppressed her frown. How had she not seen how wounded he was before now? The cracks in his facade were starting to show and they made her wonder what had turned the obedient middle son into the rebellious, distant one. He didn’t want to talk about it and she understood. She had dark secrets of her own, but she couldn’t help wondering if his past and its effect on him might hinder his leadership in Alma.
“I never wanted to be king, but now that I’m here, I think this might work out. My father may still disagree with what I do and how, but now I don’t have to listen to it any longer.” Abruptly standing, he pulled some euros from his wallet and threw them down on the table to cover everyone’s lunch tab. Serafia got up as well, placing her napkin on the table.
“Let’s get back on the road.”
Five
“You look very handsome tonight.”
Serafia stood at Gabriel’s side and looked over the railing at the crowd below. There was a sea of people there, all dressed in their finest tuxedos and gowns. A string quartet was in the corner, filling the large space with a soothing background melody. It was a glittering display of marble floors, towering flower arrangements and twinkling crystal chandeliers. Patrick Rowling spared no expense when it came to his home or the parties he hosted there.
They had arrived at the Rowling mansion via a side door and were escorted upstairs to wait in Patrick’s library so Gabriel could make a grand entrance. To their right was an elaborate marble staircase that twisted its way into the center of the ballroom. It just begged for a king to stroll down with a regal air.
Regal was not the vibe she was getting from Gabriel. Her compliment seemed to unnerve him. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, although there was no reason for him to be nervous. The ceremonial dress had been tailored beautifully and despite his complaints, he looked noble, powerful and very appropriate for a party like this. He had come a long way in the last week and she’d felt a swell of pride in her chest when he stepped out of his bedroom in full regalia earlier.
“I still feel like Prince Charming at the ball. And from the look of the crowd here tonight, all the eligible young maidens have come to land a king for a husband.”
“I did notice that,” she admitted. There were a lot of young women at the party, all painted and coiffed to the max. Decked out in an array of eye-catching jewel-tone silks and satins, they were like parading peacocks among the dark tuxedos. If Serafia had to guess, she’d say that millions of dollars had been laid out tonight in the hopes that they might catch the future king’s eye.
She had gone the opposite route. Her gown was a very soft pink, almost a blush color. The organza ruching wrapped around her body, dotted with tiny crystals and beads. While sedate in color, it still had a few scandalous details like a plunging V-cut neckline and a slit on the side that almost reached the top of her thigh. She wanted to look as if she belonged, but she didn’t want to stand out. She wasn’t here to enjoy a party; she was here to help Gabriel get through his first real event in Alma.
“It certainly looks like you have your pick of ladies here tonight.”
“Do I?”
Serafia turned to look at him and was surprised to see the serious way he was looking at her. He had the same heated intensity in his eyes he’d had the day he pinned her against the armoire. What exactly did he mean by that? She couldn’t possibly be his pick when there were so many younger, more attractive women in the room tonight. “I...uh...” She hesitated. “I...think you’ve got a lot to choose from and a long night ahead of you. Don’t make a decision too quickly. Keep your options open.”
Gabriel sighed and turned away to look at the crowd. “I’ll try.”
A man in a tuxedo approached them on the landing and bowed to Gabriel. “If Your Majesty is ready, I’ll cue the musicians to announce your arrival.”
“Yes, I suppose it’s time.”
“May I escort you downstairs, Señorita Espina?”
“Yes, thank you.” She took the man’s arm and turned back to Gabriel. “I’ll see you downstairs after the guests have all been presented.”
“You’re not going down with me?”
Serafia chuckled. “This is like the arrival at the airport, but without the pushy reporters. You need to have your moment. Alone.” She wouldn’t make many new girlfriends tonight if she showed up on the king’s arm and beat them all to the punch.
“Good luck,” she said, giving him a wink before carefully descending the staircase and joining the crowd. She parted with her escort, finding a spot at the edge of the room near one of the royal guards to watch Gabriel’s entrance.
The orchestra started playing Alma’s national anthem. The bustling crowd immediately grew silent and everyone turned their gaze to the flag hanging from the second-floor railing. When the last note died out, Gabriel appeared at the top of the stairs looking as much like a king as a man raised to have the position.
“His Royal Highness, El Príncipe Gabriel, the future El Rey Don Gabriel the First of Alma.”
The crowd applauded as he came down the stairs. The air in the room was electric with excitement. Gabriel didn’t fully appreciate how important this was for the people of Alma. They were free, and his arrival was the living, breathing evidence of that freedom. People bowed and curtseyed as he passed.
“Oh my God, he’s so handsome. I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s even more attractive than Rafe.”
Serafia turned to see a young woman and her mother standing nearby. The woman was maybe twenty-three and she was in a sapphire-blue gown that looked amazing with her golden skin and flaxen hair. Her mother was an older carbon copy in a more sedate silver gown. They were both dripping with diamonds, but the twinkle in their eyes sparkled even brighter as they looked at Gabriel.
“Oh, Dita,” the mother gushed. “He’s perfect for you. This is your big chance tonight. You look absolutely flawless, better than any of the other girls here.” She looked around the room, scanning the competition again. Her gaze lit on Serafia for only a moment, then moved on as though she were an insignificant presence. Apparently the woman didn’t read Vogue, or she would realize she was standing beside a former supermodel.
Serafia recognized her, however. At the mention of her daughter’s name, she realized the mother was Felicia Gomez. The Gomez family was one of the richest in Alma, although unlike the Rowlings, they were natives like the Espinas. Many of the wealthier families had fled Alma when Tantaberra came to power, but the Gomez family had stayed.
Serafia had never met them, but she had heard her mother talk about them from time to time. It was rarely flattering. She got the impression that they were fair-weather friend types who worked hard to ingratiate themselves with whoever was in power. She didn’t know what they had to do to maintain their money and lands under the dictatorship, but she was certain it was a price the Espinas wouldn’t have paid.
It would not surprise her mother at all to know they were here on the hunt for a rich husband. With the dictatorship dissolved, they had to put themselves in a good position with the new royal family, and what better way than to marry into it? Serafia took a step closer to listen in as Felicia continued her instructions to Dita.
“When we’re introduced to the king, remember everything I’ve told you. You’ve got to make a good impression on him. Be coquettish, but not too aggressive. Make eye contact, but don’t hold
it for too long. Make him come to you and then you’ll have him like putty in your hands. It worked on your father. It will work on him. You deserve to be queen, always remember that.”
Serafia tried not to chuckle. She was certain a similar conversation was taking place all over the room. There were easily thirty bright-eyed girls here with their parents. All were after the same prize. Serafia might be the only single woman in the room who wasn’t on the hunt. She had no interest in competing with a bunch of little girls for Gabriel’s attention.
When Gabriel reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by his father and Patrick Rowling. They escorted him over to a raised dais on the far side of the room. They took their seats there and the crowd gathered for a receiving line. Everyone was excited for their chance to be introduced to the new king.
Serafia took advantage of the distraction to go to the empty bar. She got glasses of wine for them both, hugging the edge of the room to deliver the drink to Gabriel. As she got close, Patrick was introducing his sons, William and James, to Gabriel and his father. Will was Patrick’s heir apparent to the oil and real estate empire they’d built. James, like Gabriel, was the second son, the spare heir, even though he was born only minutes after his twin brother.
Neither of the men looked particularly happy to be here tonight. Even then, they seemed more comfortable than Gabriel. He kept cycling between a stiff regal pose, a slightly slumped-over bored stance and a fidgety anxious carriage that made it obvious to Serafia that he was very uncomfortable. Perhaps a glass of wine would be enough to relax him without loosening his tongue too much.
Out of the corner of her eye, Serafia spied one of the party’s many servers. The petite girl with chin-length black hair was lurking along the edge of the room, her gaze focused fully on the Rowling brothers as they greeted the king.
It took a moment, but Serafia was finally able to wave her over. As a model, she was used to towering over people, but the server was probably close to five feet tall, a little pixie of a thing with sparkling dark eyes that immediately caught Serafia’s attention. On her immaculately pressed black shirt, she wore a small brass nametag that read Catalina.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Would you please take this wine to Prince Gabriel?” Serafia placed the wine on her tray.
Catalina took a deep breath and nodded. “Of course,” she said, immediately departing. Well trained, she waited until Will and James were escorted away, slipping over quietly to deliver the drink, then disappearing so quickly that some people might not have even seen her.
Gabriel took a heavy sip of the wine, searching Serafia out in the crowd. When his gaze lit on her, Serafia felt a chill run down her spine. Goose bumps rose across her bare arms, making her rub them self-consciously. He winked at her, and before she could prompt him to smile, he broke out his practiced grin and turned to the next family being presented.
Serafia had to admit she was pleased with the results of her work. In only a week, they had managed to smooth over his rough edges and mold him into a man fit to be royalty. As she watched him interact with the Gomez family and the young and beautiful Dita, she couldn’t help the pang of jealousy inside her.
Perhaps she had done too good a job. She had polished away all the reasons she needed to stay far, far away from Gabriel Montoro.
* * *
Gabriel was exhausted. All he’d done for the last hour was get introduced to people, but he was done. He was tired of smiling, tired of greeting people. It wasn’t as if he was going to be able to remember a single name once each person turned away and the next was presented.
Unfortunately there were hours left in the night. Now started the dancing and the mingling. With the formalities out of the way, people would seek him out for more casual discussions. The ladies would expect him to solicit a dance or two.
He did none of those things. Instead he sought out another glass a wine and a few bites from the buffet of canapés and fresh fruits. He was hoping to find Serafia, who had disappeared at some point, but instead his father cornered him at the baked brie.
“What do you think of William?”
William? Gabriel went through the two hundred names he’d just heard and drew a blank.
“William Rowling, Patrick’s oldest son,” Rafael clarified, seemingly irritated with Gabriel for dismissing the Rowlings so easily.
“Oh,” Gabriel said, taking a sip of wine. He refrained from mentioning to his father that he couldn’t tell the two brothers apart. That would just agitate him. “He seemed very nice. Why? Are you trying to fix me up with him? He’s really not my type, Dad.”
“Gabriel,” Rafael said in a warning tone. “I was thinking about him and Bella.”
Gabriel tried not to frown at his father. All this royalty nonsense was going to his father’s head if he thought he could start arranging marriages and no one would question it. “I think Bella would have a great deal more to say on the subject than I would.”
“Rowling is the most powerful businessman in Alma. Combining our families would strengthen our position here, both financially and socially. If he had a daughter I’d be shoving her under your nose, too.”
“Dad, it’s a marriage, not a business merger.”
“Same difference. I had a similar arrangement with your mother and now our company is in the Fortune 500.”
“And you’re divorced,” Gabriel added. Their mother was living happily on another continent and had been since Bella turned eighteen and she had fulfilled her obligation to Rafael and the children. That was just what Bella would want for her own marriage, Gabriel was sure. Turning from his father, he scanned the crowd again.
“Who are you looking for?” Rafael pressed.
“Serafia.”
Rafael popped a shrimp into his mouth and chewed it with a sour expression. “Don’t get too dependent on her, Gabriel. She’s just here through the end of the week. You’ve got to learn to stand on your own without her.”
Gabriel was taken aback by his father’s words. What did he care as long as Gabriel parroted all the right words and did all the right things? “I’m not dependent on her. I simply enjoy her company and I’m finding this party tedious without her.”
“Yes, well, don’t get too involved on that front, either. If you’re bored, I suggest you focus on the ladies here tonight. Take Dita Gomez or Mariella Sanchez for a spin around the dance floor and see if you feel differently.”
“And what if I want to take Serafia for a spin around the dance floor, Father? Stop treating her like she’s just an employee. The Espinas are just as important a noble family in Alma as any of these others.”
His father stiffened and the red blotchiness Gabriel had seen so often lately started climbing up his neck. “Now is not the time to discuss things like this,” he hissed in a low voice. “Now is the time to mingle with your new countrymen and start your search for a suitable queen. We will talk about the Espina family later. Now go mingle!” he demanded.
Gabriel didn’t bother arguing with him. If mingling meant he could get away from his father for a while, he’d do it gladly. Perhaps he’d find where Serafia was hiding in the process. With a nod, he set aside his plate and ventured out into the crowd. Every few feet he was stopped by someone and engaged in polite banter. How did he like Alma so far? Did the weather suit him? Had he had the opportunity to enjoy the beaches or any of the local culture?
He was halfway through one of these discussions when he spied Serafia over the man’s shoulder. She was standing across the room chatting with a gentleman whose name he had immediately forgotten when they were introduced in the receiving line.
Gabriel had seen a lot of beautiful women tonight, but he just couldn’t understand how his father could think that any of them could hold a candle to Serafia. She was breathtaking, catwalk perfection. Sure, she wasn’t as rail-thin as she had been in her modeling days, but the pounds had just softened the angles and filled out the curves that her gown clung to. The pale pink
of her dress was like soft rose petals scattered across her olive complexion. It was a delicate, romantic color, unlike all the bold look-at-me dresses the other women were wearing.
Serafia didn’t need that for men to look at her, at least for Gabriel to look at her. He had a hard time looking anywhere else. Her silky black hair was loose tonight in shiny curls that fell over her shoulders and down her back. She wore very little jewelry—just a pair of pink sapphire studs at her ears—but between the beads of her dress and the glitter of her delicate pink lipstick, she seemed to sparkle from head to toe.
He felt his mouth go dry as he imagined her leaving a trail of glittering pink lipstick down his bare stomach. He wanted to pull her body hard against his and bury his fingers in the inky black silk of her hair. For all he cared, this party and these people could disappear. He wanted to be alone with Serafia and not for etiquette lessons or strategy discussions.
He hadn’t given much thought to the man she was speaking to, but when he laid a hand on Serafia’s upper arm, Gabriel felt his blood pressure spike with jealousy. Quickly excusing himself from the conversation he’d been ignoring, he moved through the room, arriving at her side in an instant.
Serafia’s eyes widened at his sudden arrival. She took a step back, introducing him to the man she was speaking to. “Your Majesty, may I reintroduce you to Tomás Padillo? He owns Padillo Vineyards, where we’ll be taking a tour tomorrow afternoon. I was just telling him how much you’ve enjoyed the Manto Negro from his winery since you arrived.”
“Ah yes,” Gabriel replied with a nod of recognition. He held up his glass. “Is this a vintage of yours, as well?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, that’s my award-winning Chardonnay. I’m honored to have you drink it and looking forward to hosting your visit with us tomorrow.”
Seduced by the Spare Heir Page 6