The Broken Prince (Royal Billionaires of Mondragón Book 3)

by Jewel Allen

Alvaro stood at the bow as they approached the mouth of a canyon. They had traveled over an hour on the lake, finally coming to a buoy with a sign alerting them to Rainbow Bridge. They cruised forward in wakeless speed.

  The boat emerged into a docking area leading up to a metal boardwalk. The siblings tied up their houseboat in the space of several boats. The sun was scorching hot, and the thought of walking the length of an unknown path intimidated Alvaro. But he didn’t complain. He was simply happy to be out there with Brooke.

  “Luckily, it’s not too busy of a time,” Brooke said. “Normally, this whole dock would be full of boats and even a larger ferry or two.”

  As it was, there were only three other small boats without occupants.

  A ranger greeted Brooke at the covered shed. “How ya doing?”

  “Good, Sim.” She turned to Alvaro. “This is my friend Alvaro. Alvaro, Sim.”

  “Hey.” Sim nodded. “I heard you were a prince. Is that true?”

  Alvaro nodded. “Yes.”

  “Do you mind signing my guest book?”

  Alvaro signed his real full name, still feeling strange about it.

  “Thanks,” Sim said. To Brooke, he loudly whispered, “Oscar and Phoebe? I never thought your brother would fall for someone. Though I think that Phoebe is cute.”

  “Crazy, huh?” Brooke smiled. “Phoebe brought her amazing lemon blueberry cake, and the rest is history.” She looked ahead where Oscar and Phoebe were already almost past the boardwalk and into the regular trail on land. “We’d better catch up with them. See you later, Sim.”

  “See you at volleyball?”

  “Yup.” Brooke nodded.

  “Who goes to these volleyball games?” Alvaro asked when Sim was out of earshot.

  “Rangers, officers…”

  “Are they single?”

  She looked back at him with a frown. “Well, most are, like Sim. Some aren’t.”

  Of course she had a life outside of her boat shop, but the fact that Brooke played volleyball with all those buff men filled Alvaro with a twinge of jealousy.

  Alvaro glanced away and then back. “I thought you said there aren’t a lot of single guys around here.”

  “There’s not.”

  “But obviously Sim is into you.”

  Her mouth fell open slightly. “He is?”

  “You mean you haven’t noticed?”

  “Actually, I haven’t. He’s new. I haven’t talked to him much.”

  “Just like Lee.”

  “Alvaro,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Don’t say anymore, please.”

  He could sense her hurting and obeyed her wishes. After several minutes, she stopped abruptly and turned to him with glittering eyes. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?” he asked, confused.

  She walked ahead a few steps and turned the corner. “For this.”

  Up ahead, towering like a vision from a dream, was a wide span of a rock bridge that towered over everything else around it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Alvaro’s reaction was priceless. He gaped at the bridge and then rubbed his scruff. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

  “It’s even more amazing up close,” she promised.

  His footsteps pepped up, the awkwardness of the conversation about Sim evaporated. She wondered why he’d gotten his snoot out of joint over Sim, but all that seemed forgotten.

  Rainbow Bridge was just a small drop in the bucket list that was Lake Powell. If they had more time to putter around…

  But of course, that was her being silly. Alvaro was leaving the next day to resume his royal life with his family and maybe a girlfriend. She had vowed to not look him up on the internet, but tonight, she would google him. May as well know what she was up against.

  For what? She wasn’t possibly hoping to snag this prince for real, was she? She wasn’t counting on being whisked away to some royal land so a small-town girl like her could have adventures on the royal dime, was she? That only happened in fairy tales.

  They walked at a fast pace. It was a high-water year, and the hike wasn’t as long as other years would’ve been. Within a half-hour, they made it up to the rocky expanse that made up the base of the natural bridge. Alvaro wandered around, looking at the bridge from different angles with an expression of amazement.

  She’d grown up seeing Rainbow Bridge nearly every year. Those first times, her family even got to swim around in the lake finger below, but she couldn’t remember that first memory. Watching Alvaro, she felt like she was seeing this place for the first time too.

  He turned to her slowly, a smile on his face. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  She couldn’t speak. His soul seemed to reach into hers through his gaze. “You’re welcome,” finally came her reply, breathless, like some lovestruck girl. Ugh. A girl who was about to have her heart broken once again.

  Unfortunately, she’d been wrong about Mr. Right. She’d closed off her heart to him, but he’d slowly chipped away at its defenses. Too bad he wasn’t right for her. Now or ever. What royal would want a small-town girl like her who hadn’t even flown anywhere? Oh, that’s right. He didn’t need her when he had a girlfriend in every kingdom.

  Up above, on a higher trail, Oscar and Phoebe walked side by side. Brooke was genuinely happy for her brother, but watching them settle into a comfortable friendship made her yearn for her own.

  Alvaro was drooling over the bridge, staring at it and taking photos like he’d never seen anything quite like it before.

  He glanced over his shoulder and caught her smiling. “What?” he asked.

  She stifled her giggle. “Nothing.”

  “No, really.”

  “I forget that some people have never seen anything like this.”

  “I might have,” he murmured, glancing back at the bridge, “but I may have forgotten.”

  “Do you remember anything from your royal life?”

  “No, not really.”

  There were other tourists around, like a family with a teenage son and daughter wanting photos in front of the bridge. They were minding their own business when suddenly the daughter let out a squeal.

  “It’s Prince Alvaro of Mondragón!”

  Alvaro gave her a blank look, which turned into a panicked expression.

  The young woman dragged her brother over and asked Alvaro for an autograph on her backpack. The rest of the family came over also, fawning over him. They were from Spain, and the daughter was a huge fan of the prince’s rock band.

  She studied Brooke curiously. “Are you his girlfriend?”

  Brooke quickly replied, “No, I’m not.”

  Hope flared in the teen’s eyes, and Brooke resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “That was strange,” Alvaro said after the family finally left.

  “I guess you’re famous to Spaniards.”

  Alvaro chuckled. “Apparently.”

  “When we get back to the house, we’ll have to look you up online.”

  “Probably best. That way when my family comes over tomorrow, I won’t have to ask them basic questions.”

  Even as she agreed, a tight ball formed in the pit of Brooke’s stomach.

  “So,” Oscar said, slapping Alvaro on the back when they came together again for the hike back. “What do you think of this place?”

  “Definitely worth the hike.”

  “This hike is nothing compared to low-water years. Then you’d really have a hike.” He turned to Brooke. “Shall we head out? We’ve gotta stop at the marina for an ice cream run, don’t you think?”

  Brooke nodded. “Definitely.”

  During their hike back, Alvaro peppered Brooke with questions about her childhood. She didn’t think her life story was too exciting, but Alvaro seemed interested in her camping adventures. Like the time when a snake got in the boat and their mom jumped into the water, leaving the children with the slithering creature. Or the time when coyotes circled their camp and they knew they were rabid because
they didn’t spook at guns being shot.

  “My favorite times were after the sun went down,” Brooke reminisced, “and Dad would build a huge fire. Mom played the guitar, and we would all sing camp songs.”

  “We should do that tonight,” Alvaro suggested.

  Brooke didn’t reply, not wanting to commit to anything, but Alvaro nudged her with his shoulder. “All right?”

  “If you want.”

  His eyes glimmered. “I want to soak up everything before I leave.”

  Brooke hid her face. She didn’t want him to see the sad expression she could already tell was forming.

  His hand closed around hers, and she startled. “I want to soak up everything you.”

  His hand was warm and wonderful. Like a lifeline to something different. A life she could never be part of.

  “Are you crying?” he whispered.

  “No,” she lied, brushing away a tear roughly.

  “We don’t have to say goodbye, you kn—”

  “Shhh,” she said, covering his lips with her fingers.

  He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm before pressing it to his cheek. He pulled her closer, and they stood toe-to-toe, Brooke filling with conflicting emotions. She was drowning in his gaze, his hand coaxing her closer and closer until their lips met.

  She clung to him as the kiss deepened. His hand settled on the small of her back, pulling her closer until voices interrupted the moment. Brooke pulled away, her breath ragged in her throat, her hand splayed on his chest as she steadied herself.

  The Spanish family came around the bend and smiled in delight at seeing their favorite prince again. Brooke, like a coward, hiked with them, forcing Alvaro to come abreast of the teen daughter and her family, who talked his ear off all the way down to the dock. They talked on and off in Spanish.

  Was there nothing this prince couldn’t do?

  At the dock, the Spanish family all took turns giving Alvaro hugs. The mom hugged Brooke too, with the admonition in Spanish to “love him.”

  Alvaro had been watching. Brooke simply smiled and made her way to the houseboat.

  “She had good advice, that mom,” Alvaro said quietly.

  “Sorry,” she said with a wry smile. “No hablo Español.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As promised, Oscar docked the houseboat at the marina.

  Brooke’s eyes lit up as they stepped out to the boardwalk. “You can’t come to Lake Powell without having some ice cream.”

  “Their root beer float is to die for,” Phoebe said.

  “Debatable,” Oscar said. “I vote the orange float.”

  Phoebe’s eyes widened. “We can have both.”

  Brooke ordered vanilla ice cream, while Alvaro picked the root beer float. Then they sat with their legs dangling off the dock, facing out to the wakeless part of the marina entrance.

  Alvaro took a guzzle of his refreshing drink. “Does it get cold in the winter here?”

  “Not as cold as other places,” Brooke said. “But, yes, it does.”

  “I may have to come here in the winter.”

  Brooke poked into her ice cream. “There’s not much to do here then.”

  “Can’t we do everything we’re doing now? It’s just colder?”

  She took a bite of ice cream, nodding. “Yes.”

  Her hand was resting on the dock floor beside his hip. He moved his so the edge of his hand touched hers. She didn’t flinch or move away. With his heart in his throat, he simply let the sensation of her skin against his wash over him.

  I love her.

  The realization made his heart ache. Just when he found the woman of his dreams, she wanted him to leave her. Still, he loved this woman who would not have him. He would have to work on convincing her to consider a life with him.

  Closing his eyes, he continued to luxuriate in the feel of her hand next to his. And then she stood. Following her, with Oscar and Phoebe behind him, he admired Brooke openly. She looked so cute, with her slender figure and hair pulled up casually into a ponytail.

  Oscar came alongside him, letting Phoebe head to the houseboat without him. “Are you guys going to make a go of it?”

  “Nah,” Alvaro said. “She doesn’t think the royal life’s for her.”

  “She’s crazy, that woman.” Oscar shook his head. “I’d jump at the chance.”

  “Well, she doesn’t like the fact that I used to date a lot of girls.”

  Oscar nodded. “She does have a point.”

  In the truck on the way home, the front seat was full of Oscar and Phoebe’s chatter, while Alvaro and Brooke said little to each other. He reached for her hand to reassure her. She let him hold it briefly, but then she gently disengaged her fingers from his.

  When they arrived at the house, Phoebe offered to fix them all a dinner with whatever ingredients she could find in the kitchen. Which meant there was hardly anything she could use. With mock exasperation, she asked Oscar to take her to the store to get some groceries.

  Brooke brought out a battered-looking laptop and booted it up. Duke sat next to her on the sofa, careful to give her space even though he wanted very much to pull her close.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Our internet can be spotty.” She googled “Prince Alvaro,” and there he was, like a fashion model, wearing a tux with his chest bare.

  He skimmed his bio.

  Alvaro Assante, fourth in line to the throne of Mondragón and Duke of Abiva. Twenty-four years old. Twin to the jewelry artist Prince Felipe. A rock band frontman.

  A twin! And frontman explained his pipes. Duke? Well, at least his alias hadn’t been a complete lie.

  Was born a billionaire but graduated with a degree in business. Disappeared in August while on a tour of the United States. Finally found in the small town of Redding, Utah.

  On the plus side…unmarried.

  He was aware of the beautiful woman next to him reading the text about all his exploits. Her fists clenched when the pictures surfaced.

  Alvaro cringed.

  There were photos of “Royal Playboy” Prince Alvaro with a different woman on his arm in each one. In Mondragón, Spain, Greece, Italy…all over Asia, in Africa.

  He didn’t dare look at Brooke. He was exactly the type of man she’d been guarding herself against all this time.

  With wooden movements, Brooke closed her laptop, placing it on the couch, and stood. Without another word or glance at Alvaro, she went to her bedroom and slammed her door shut.

  Chapter Thirty

  The truth was worse than she expected, even after seeing the photo in the newspaper, though not too much of a surprise. He was good-looking, wealthy—a billionaire!—and single. So, of course, it only followed that he was a prince…and a duke? A twin. More of that gorgeousness? Heavens. And fourth in line to the throne of Mondragón.

  All girls line up here, please.

  On her lumpy bed, Brooke lay on her stomach, defeated. Funny, she thought she stood no chance with this guy because of the wrong reasons. In actuality, it was because she was not leggy and big-bosomed with hot supermodel looks to keep his interest, let alone to catch his eye.

  She closed her eyes, silently groaning at her delusion that she even stood a chance with him.

  There was a knock on her door.

  She raised her head from the faded bedspread. “Who is it?”

  “Alvaro.”

  Oh, he meant Prince Alvaro.

  Slowly, she got up and opened the door a crack. He was leaning against the doorjamb, looking handsome like a…prince.

  ”Dinner’s ready. Phoebe said to come get you.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Hey.”

  She peeked from behind her door and looked into Alvaro’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry you had to see…all that on the computer.” His face filled with sadness and regret.

  “No big deal,” she lied before shutting the door and leaning against her wall, trying to calm her breathing.
>
  She took her time before joining the others outside around a campfire. When she came out, Oscar and Alvaro were bonding like brothers. Perhaps that was what Brooke was going to miss most—these two guys hanging out and bantering.

  Yeah, right. It was all about her brother.

  Without Alvaro, Brooke will be the third wheel with Oscar and Phoebe. Why did she even worry about Oscar? He’d be fine. Especially with Phoebe. She’d made a fix-your-own quinoa bowl with all chicken and vegetable toppings.

  “Love this,” Oscar told Phoebe as they ate around the fire, “even though I can’t pronounce kee-no-ah for the life of me.”

  Phoebe corrected him gently. “It’s keen-wah.”

  “Whatever. S’mores, anyone?” Oscar picked up his roasting stick. “It’s what’s for dessert.”

  “Better than what you’ve been eating lately,” Brooke countered, slipping into a folding chair next to him.

  “I sure like your burgers better.”

  “Why is it called s’mores?” Alvaro asked.

  “Because after you eat one, you ask for some more.” Oscar snickered.

  There was an audible gasp, and then Alvaro was pulling his arm back and blowing frantically at a burning marshmallow.

  The siblings and Phoebe busted out laughing. “You act like you haven’t done this before, buddy,” Oscar said.

  Alvaro winced. “I probably haven’t. Do royal families roast marshmallows around a campfire?”

  “Probably not.” Oscar put a marshmallow on his roasting stick. “Let me show you how it’s done. You pick a nice plump marshmallow, like so. And then find coals in the fire. That’s the problem here.” He waved the stick over the cheerful fire. “This fire is too new. It’s best when the fire is dying, but we’ll make this work.” He found a good spot, hovered over it for a minute, and soon had the marshmallow looking a nice golden brown.

  Brooke smiled. Her brother was a s’mores expert.

  Across the fire, Alvaro was watching her. Their gazes interlocked, and there was more heat to be accounted for than from the campfire. Brooke looked away and at the fire, pretending to be absorbed in her marshmallow. When it was a nice color, she squished it lightly between her fingers, declared it done, and sandwiched it between two chocolate-covered cookies. She relished each bite, licking her sticky fingers at the end.