“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Liam said, meeting Silva’s hard gaze. “I’ve always preferred doing business in person, and Valeria remains interested in forging trade relations with Caridoso. It’s my sincere hope that we can reach an agreement before I return to Valeria at the end of the month.”
“I believe a trade alliance could be very advantageous for both our countries,” Silva said.
It didn’t escape Lena’s notice that the reply was noncommittal at best. And it didn’t bode well for Liam closing the deal before they returned to the city.
“Have you had a chance to review my suggested revisions to the agreement?” Liam took a leisurely sip of his wine, but Silva remained silent. The tension between the men was so thick you could cut it with a potter’s knife, and Lena was convinced it was the reason everyone else in the room seemed to be inching away. “I’d love to hear your thoughts.”
“I have many thoughts.” Silva’s tone suggested few of them were favorable, and Lena started to suspect her evening of pleasure might be on the line. “We can talk business after dinner. I never discuss terms on an empty stomach.”
“Fair enough,” Liam said, nodding in agreement, though she could sense his growing frustration.
Lena caught his eye and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
“Besides,” Silva continued. “I wouldn’t want to bore the lovely lady. I doubt very much she cares about our economic policies.”
“Only because economic policy isn’t my area of expertise,” she said, offering him a warm smile.
“And what do you do?” Silva asked, smoothly steering the conversation away from business.
“I’m an artist,” Lena told him, standing a little straighter. She might not be royalty and she might not be a finance guru, but she was a damn fine artist and an even better teacher. “I own an art studio in New York and I teach multimedia classes for all ages.”
“Well, I must admit that sounds far more interesting than writing economic policy, but I’ll bet it’s just as messy,” he said, laughing at his own joke.
They chatted about her work for a while and Silva seemed to be genuinely interested, which surprised her. For a man who worked in the financial sector, he had quite a passion for the arts, which suited her just fine, since it gave them something to talk about. It also seemed to suit Liam, who appeared to have no immediate use for the man if he wasn’t interested in talking business.
Liam nodded and agreed when required, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere.
Not that she could blame him, because…pressure.
When they were finally called to dinner, Silva guided her to the dining room across the hall, Liam trailing behind them. It seemed a breach of etiquette on the part of the host, but Liam didn’t seem concerned, and she forgot all about etiquette when they entered the massive dining room.
“Is that a Miguel Marques painting?” she asked, stopping before the marble fireplace where a red, white, and black abstract painting hung on the wall. She turned to the ambassador and his wife for confirmation.
“Yes, it is,” Pereira said, joining her before the fireplace. “This one is called Duet and that one over there,” he said, gesturing to a large canvas painted in shades of gray on the far side of the room, “is Untitled.”
“They’re stunning. May I?” she asked, gesturing to Untitled.
“Of course,” Pereira said. “Be my guest. It’s not every day we host fans of Marques. I’m impressed you recognized his work.”
Lena grinned, a flush creeping across her cheeks as she skirted the table to study the painting on the opposite wall. “I had the opportunity to see a few of Marques’s paintings at an exhibit in Boston a few years ago, but I’ve always enjoyed abstractionism.”
“As have I,” said Silva, appearing at her side again. “I’m fortunate enough to have one of Marques’s paintings in my own collection.”
“That’s amazing.” And it was, given the museum guide had told her group that several of Marques’s paintings had been lost in a plane crash near Japan. She turned her attention back to the gray and white painting. She couldn’t help but wonder what the subject had been. With no title, it was impossible to guess, but she couldn’t deny it was striking.
Hopefully someone would feel the same way about her work someday.
“Shall we?” Silva gestured toward the table, and Lena followed his gaze. Her stomach dropped and a cold sweat coated her hairline. It looked just like the scene from Pretty Woman when Barney gave Vivian an etiquette lesson.
Mierda. She really ought to have paid more attention to the specifics, because the spread before her looked like it had been plucked right out of the movie.
The table had been set with stark white linens, fine red and gold china, and honest to God silverware, polished to a high sheen. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, there were four crystal goblets at each seat. Four. Who the hell needed four glasses for dinner? What were they all for? And how was she going to get through this meal without knocking at least one of them over?
Where was the freaking kiddie table? She was so not prepared for this level of formality.
“Something wrong?” Silva asked, concern etched on his face.
“No,” Lena lied, forcing a smile that probably made her look like a deranged psychopath. “Just wondering where I should sit.”
Liam grinned, no doubt recognizing her panic for what it was. She made a mental note to discuss her total lack of preparation with him later. The least he could’ve done was remind her to watch Pretty Woman again to brush up on her table manners.
Ay bendito. What was the rule of thumb when it came to silverware? Three tines or four for salad? Or was it okay to just start from the outside and work your way in toward the plate?
Pereira and his wife took the seats at the head and foot of the table. Liam was seated to Pereira’s left, then Lena, with Silva sitting to Pereira’s right, directly across the table from Liam. The rest of the embassy staff filled in the remaining chairs as Mrs. Pereira explained that the children were eating in the kitchen.
A pang of envy pierced her chest as Liam pulled out her seat. Adulting was the worst.
Once everyone was seated, Pereira announced they’d be eating feijoada, a traditional Caridosoan stew served with rice, greens, and orange slices.
The savory scent of beef and spices filled the air as the staff began delivering dishes to the table, and Lena’s stomach rumbled in approval.
Please for the love of all that’s holy don’t let it be a messy dish.
…
Liam sat across from Silva, studying the man who’d orchestrated this whole event but who didn’t wish to discuss the matter at hand. Which meant Silva was simply feeling him out.
Had there been something in Silva’s intel that made him cautious of Liam? He couldn’t imagine what it might be. Liam was known to be a cunning negotiator, but that wouldn’t have fazed an old battle-ax like Silva. Perhaps the turmoil surrounding the crown had reached the ears of the Caridoso government after all.
Not that he was surprised. The opposition was getting bolder, and the capital paper had run an article just this morning, stating it was only a matter of time until Parliament made their move. With that kind of press, was it any wonder the Caridosoans were apprehensive?
He’d have to find a way to bolster their confidence.
The last thing he needed was for them to back out due to fear of the crown imploding.
“I’ve never had the pleasure of sampling Caridosoan cuisine, but dinner smells wonderful,” Elena said, leaning forward to address their host as servers moved around them, placing artfully finished plates on the table.
“Feijoada is our national dish,” Pereira said, smiling broadly, in full ambassador mode now. “It speaks to our humble roots, but I daresay there’s nothing modest about the way ou
r chef prepares it here at the embassy. I hope you will enjoy it.”
“If it tastes half as good as it smells, I have no doubt it will be divine.” Elena leaned back in her chair and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear just as the server reached down to set a steaming dish before her. Her arm tangled with the server’s and when she tried to pull it free, the dish the woman held careened forward, knocking over one of the silver candelabras that lit the table. Most of the candles snuffed out on impact, but the tallest one caught the edge of the floral centerpiece on its way down. The silk bouquet went up in flames, the edges turning black and curling in on themselves as the fire licked through the vibrant gold petals, turning them to ash one by one.
Bloody fucking hell.
Horror-stricken, the server jumped back and made the sign of the cross. Elena stared slack-jawed at the burning centerpiece, as if unable to believe her own eyes. The room fell silent and even Liam—who’d thought he could no longer be surprised by Elena’s impossibly bad luck—was frozen in shock.
Of all the ways he’d imagined this night going wrong, a burning bush definitely hadn’t been one of them.
Liam looked from his date to the flaming centerpiece. No one else was moving, so he grabbed two water goblets and poured them over the quickly disintegrating floral arrangement, for all the good it did. A server appeared at his side with a silver pitcher of water. He abandoned the water goblets and poured the entire pitcher over the smoking, sizzling mess, hoping the antique table would be spared.
“Ay Dios mío,” Elena said, covering her mouth with her hands as smoke filled the air. “I didn’t know flowers could catch on fire.”
“That makes two of us,” said the woman to her left, who was inching away from Elena as if afraid she might go up in flames next.
Liam’s gut twisted with indignation. This wasn’t Elena’s fault. The damn candelabra was a fire hazard. Honestly, who thought it was a good idea to use open flames in a house this old anyway? Much to his mother’s chagrin, in Valeria the palace staff used battery-operated candles all the time in rooms that didn’t have overhead lighting like this one.
Biting his tongue, he turned to Elena. She was shaking, not from fear, he knew, but from embarrassment. This moment probably felt like her worst nightmare come to life. “Are you all right?” he asked, lifting her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye. She nodded unconvincingly, and he silently cursed every arsehole who’d ever made her feel doubt and shame for simply existing. “Could’ve happened to anyone,” he said gently. Then he added, “I once spilled an entire bowl of pudding on the Princess of Spain during a state dinner. And I can assure you she was not impressed with the addition to her gown.”
“One-upper,” she whispered before squaring her shoulders and turning back to the table, napkin clutched in her hand. She began to mop up the water as she offered frantic apologies to the host and hostess, who seemed to be at a loss for words.
“Why don’t you let me do that,” Liam said, taking the napkins from her hands. She could handle it easily—she had strength of character he’d rarely seen—and maybe he should let her, but he wanted to do this for her. Hell, it was the least he could do. “I’m the one who poured water all over this lovely table. Have a seat and I’ll get it cleaned up in a flash.”
Elena collapsed in her chair, relief evident on her face.
The sight of Liam mopping up the sodden ashy mess seemed to spur the rest of the dinner party to action. Everyone pitched in to help, using their napkins to stop the water from spreading to the edges of the table and moving dishes to facilitate the cleanup. Everyone but Silva. He stood and watched as the staff brought additional towels and napkins, never lifting a finger to help.
Liam shot the minister a warning look. He didn’t give a damn if Silva helped clean up the mess as long as he didn’t turn that hard-nosed attitude on Elena.
Once the table was clear of water and debris, Pereira encouraged everyone to return to their seats. The staff brought out the remaining dishes and the meal continued with relative ease, although he noticed the woman next to Elena kept a close eye on the pair of candelabras for the duration of the meal.
After dessert they adjourned back to the drawing room for cocktails, and Elena excused herself to speak with the hostess. Liam suspected she was as tired and ready to put this night behind them as he was, but she knew he couldn’t leave without a commitment from Silva, and she was giving him the opportunity to get it.
When he turned to seek out Silva, he was surprised to find the minister at his side.
“I’ve been following the unrest in Valeria,” Silva said, “and I wanted to see what kind of man I would be dealing with, should we forge this alliance.”
“And?” Liam asked, draining his glass. If Silva was stringing him along, he was screwed. He had other options, but he was running out of time.
“I am pleased to see you are the shrewd negotiator I was promised.”
Liam grinned. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“You impressed me this evening, and your friend is quite charming,” Silva said, nodding to Elena. She stood with her back to them, chatting with the ambassador’s wife as she gestured to one of the paintings on the wall. “I admit I wasn’t sure what to expect when my secretary informed me you’d be bringing Miss Murphy, but her knowledge of Caridosoan art was rather impressive, and I thoroughly enjoyed her company. Despite the unfortunate incident with the flowers.”
“Accidents happen,” Liam said through gritted teeth.
“That they do,” Silva said. “Although it’s true some people seem more prone than others.”
Was this arsehole really going to use Elena’s accident as leverage? Or worse, a reason to back out of the trade agreement? It wasn’t like she’d caught him on fire.
Bloody hell.
The man was talking in circles, giving nothing away. It was time to cut the bullshit. “Does this mean we have a deal?”
“Let’s just say I am not the type of man to set economic policy based on rumors and hearsay. I was impressed by the way you handled yourself during dinner. You stepped up to help Miss Murphy shoulder the burden of responsibility, though it wasn’t yours to bear. That takes great character. The kind of character Caridoso seeks in its allies.” Silva sipped his wine, seeming to come to a decision. “I believe we can come to mutually beneficial terms. I’ll have my office send over a revised proposal early next week.”
“Should I expect to see the changes I’ve requested reflected in the new proposal?” Liam asked, palms itching with anticipation.
“I believe we will be able to accommodate your requests,” Silva said, giving a curt nod. “They were…reasonable.”
“Splendid,” Liam said, relief flooding his veins as he extended his hand to the other man. Their Majesties would be pleased to hear the trade agreement was well on its way to being signed, sealed, and delivered. And with the trade agreement locked down, he could shift his attention to the bigger opportunity—Spartan. “I look forward to doing business with Caridoso, and I personally hope this is the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership.”
“Funny,” Silva said, giving him a sly smile as he tossed Liam’s own words back at him. “I was just going to say the same thing about your friendship with Miss Murphy.”
Chapter Nineteen
After the disastrous dinner at the Caridoso embassy, Lena was relieved to be back in New York and sharing a place she loved with Liam. It had been two days since she’d last seen him, and he’d been tight-lipped about his brief trip to the west coast. She’d chalked it up to official palace business, something she wanted no part of, given her first foray had resulted in a flaming pile of flora on the dinner table.
At least it made for a good story. Nia had nearly peed herself laughing. More importantly, Liam had closed the trade deal for Valeria, and it was as if a weight h
ad been lifted from his shoulders.
“Are you sure you want to go out, love?” Liam asked, grabbing her hand as they passed a coffee shop advertising homemade ice cream and lavender lattes. He spun her body toward him and whispered, “Because I can think of some very satisfying indoor activities to keep you entertained all afternoon.”
It was a tempting offer, but there would be plenty of time for naked games later.
“Keep it in your pants, Your Highness,” she said, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. It violated royal protocol, but Liam had assured her Prince Alexander had done worse. Just this week he’d been photographed in a Vegas hot tub with triplets.
“What can I say?” Liam shrugged. “I’ve missed you.”
“It’s been two days,” Lena said, rolling her eyes, though she was battling the same burning desire. “How the hell did you survive before you met me?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked, dragging his feet as she tugged him forward. “Because it involves a great deal of coconut oil and—”
“Stop!” she hissed, looking around for paparazzi. “Someone’s going to hear you.”
Liam flashed his dimples, and she gave silent thanks they’d reached their destination, because she was nearing the limit of her self-control. And now, thanks to his overshare, all she could think about was Liam stroking himself, his cock slick with coconut oil.
Her mouth watered at the thought.
Later.
“This is it,” Lena announced a bit too loudly, gesturing to The Verve.
“We’re going to an art gallery?” Liam asked with renewed enthusiasm. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“Because that would have been the opposite of a surprise. And frankly, you’re far too accustomed to getting your own way. It’s probably good for your ego to be left wanting on occasion.”
Liam quirked a brow, and a slow flush crept up the back of her neck.
“Fair point,” Lena conceded, reaching for the door to the gallery. Ethan beat her to it and pulled the door open, allowing them to pass through with the bodyguards on their heels.
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