Lush Money (Filthy Rich)

by Angelina M. Lopez

  “If you don’t want me to reveal your contract, you’re going to let tonight play out,” Fuller said smugly. Roxanne’s skin crawled as she felt his eyes travel over her face, down her neck to where the bare tops of her breasts showed in her dress. “You’re going to encourage Mateo that signing our contract is in his best interests. I know your resources are vast, but if you try to stand in my way, my response will be simple and devastating. It’s effortless to press ‘send’ to every tabloid.”

  She was mortified to say that she was shocked. She’d completely misread the king. The confidentiality requirements of their agreement were ironclad; the king knew that showing the contract to a third party would nullify it. She’d thought that money, simple money, would guarantee his silence. She now understood how much he was driven by the opportunity to destroy his son. And what were Roxanne’s options truly? Would she really pull out of the agreement now, deny the Monte the funds it desperately needed to survive? Would she turn her back on Mateo, halt their three nights a month and any chance of a daughter with him, as the contract stipulated?

  Would she, could she, give up Mateo?

  She pushed away from Easton Fuller, and this time he let her go. She smiled and nodded, half-blind as she crossed the ballroom, but let no one stop her. She needed to get to her husband.

  She needed to tell him that Easton Fuller and Roman Sheppard were here. She needed to warn him that his father had something malicious planned for tonight.

  She needed time, some space, a blank room, and some spare moments to consider Fuller’s threat to reveal the contract. She’d defied all expectations, obliterated all barriers in her life by clearly seeing the best course of action and devising mind-bending solutions to achieve her goal. Fuller’s seemingly no-way-out threat was just one more impossible challenge in a lifetime of them. She could figure this out, too. To burden Mateo with it when he already had so much on his plate, so much working against him, seemed...harsh. Seemed unnecessary. She could figure out a way to protect him and her reputation and their daughter and the Monte and their relationship...and then she would tell him how deeply his own father had betrayed him. She would let him know how the contract she’d devised now threatened everything he valued.

  She just needed a little time.

  But one path became blindingly clear: even if Mateo only had a chance to rebuild half the Monte, it would be better than no Monte at all.

  April: Night Three

  Part Two

  Mateo sat at the long opulent table up on the dais, smiling as he stabbed the food of his homeland off the delicate Sevres porcelain, feeling the hopeful eyes of his people like lead weights against his chest. Each bite stuck in his throat. He picked up his wine to choke it down.

  They were only on the third course; there were so many more to come under his kingdom’s expectant gaze. So many more as his mother, the queen, ignored him on his right side. So many as he waited for his father, with his loud flatulent laugh nearest the podium, to make his move.

  Mateo leaned back in his seat, a movie-set smile on his face, and surreptitiously breathed in the calm provided by the rose-scented woman on his left.

  Roxanne was chatting with his sister. She was all at ease, up on this dais, under the watchful gaze of so many, with the ticking time bomb of his father prepped to blow any second. She never pinched those lush red lips, a move he now knew was her nerves getting the better of her. Instead, she was smiling and eating and chatting, her voice a throaty amused murmur that kept his blood humming.

  It was soothing just to lay eyes on her. The vibrant red gown made her shoulders and clavicles glow. Her hair was swept up into a braid-circled puff, and although he understood there was an elaborate framework under that dress keeping the bodice tight and the skirt full—his sister had once berated and schooled him when he implied that she just “threw on” gowns—Roxanne looked so soft. The silk of the bodice, the tendrils of her hair, the warmth of her skin; left to his own devices, Mateo would have wrapped himself in her and ignored everything else.

  Roxanne turned her head and caught him staring. She smiled, slow and full, and for the first time since they’d sat down, Mateo felt at ease.

  She leaned close to him and slid her fingers around his knuckles where they gripped the wineglass. “How are you doing?”

  He turned his head so he could nuzzle against her ear. He breathed in her scent of heat-drenched roses, wild and thorny. “Better now,” he murmured against her earlobe.

  He could hear her swallow. “Everyone’s watching you.”

  He gave her velvet lobe a kiss. “Of course they are. We’re newlyweds. We’re supposed to behave like this. They’d applaud if I swept you up in my arms and carried you out of the room. In fact, I just might.”

  “As soon as the king makes his announcement, I’ll race you to the door,” she said, her voice breathy.

  Slowly, he pulled his face away from her and met her eyes. They were deep ocean-blue and beautiful; they asked him to hold on.

  He’d gone to his growers, swallowed his pride and admitted his wrongs, and—to a person—they’d looked to his billionaire for reassurance. She was the backbone they were coming to believe Mateo didn’t have. Her money gave them a future. Her confidence gave them hope. And yet, for Mateo, she was as ephemeral as the smoke drifting from the tiny flames that shimmered atop the many candelabras. Once he’d successfully planted a baby in her, she’d be gone. She’d no longer want anything from Mateo. Their interactions would be primarily digital; even the handoffs of their shared child would probably involve nannies.

  She wouldn’t be around to watch him fail in every way that mattered. The weightlessness of her demands made him grateful as much as they made him grieve; he would forever savor the unrealistic fantasy of holding on to this playful, brilliant, sensual woman. Like the king he could only pretend to be, he caught her chin as if he had the right and gave his wife a brief, hot, thorough kiss before leaning back in his seat.

  The room suddenly quieted. He looked to his right past the queen and saw that his father was standing where the man liked to be: in the glow of everyone’s attention.

  “Welcome, my many loyal subjects,” his father began, voice booming throughout the ancient hall. The king was deigning to speak to his “many loyal subjects” in Spanish. “Welcome to my home, your Castillo. Welcome to the family seat of a thousand years of Esperanzas who have guided and protected you, who have worked tirelessly to ensure the productivity of our grapes and the prosperity of our people.”

  King Felipe laid it on thick while wearing a steel-gray Armani tux, his dyed black hair slicked back, his impressive gut leading the way as he spoke with arms and hands. Despite it all, Mateo’s father still had a magnetism that held sway over the ballroom.

  It had been one of the things that tormented Mateo growing up. He had so wanted to believe in his father.

  “For over a thousand years,” the king continued, “our kingdom has banded together as one heart.” He paused as he let his dark eyes pass over the ballroom. “One soul. We huddled together as we crossed the mighty Picos to find shelter in our sun-drenched valley. We fought together as we protected this land from infidels and raiders, from French wine smugglers and American McDonald’s.” That earned him a cheap laugh.

  It also had Mateo straightening his already tense spine. He could hear the silken slide of Roxanne’s skirts as she rearranged herself in her seat. This was supposed to be a banquet introducing Mateo’s bride to the Monte; tired anti-American jokes were in poor taste on this night even for his father. Perhaps it was now, with so many courses to go, that his father and Fuller were going to unleash whatever they were wielding.

  After Roxanne had told him that Fuller and the dark-haired man were here, that Fuller had insinuated something was going to happen tonight, Mateo had been prepared to be the recipient. He hadn’t thought through what he would do if they made
Roxanne a target. He took a steadying drink of wine as he felt his temper struggling with his restraint.

  “When the phylloxera bug infected our vineyards, we stood together. When the policies of Franco destroyed our markets, we stood together.” The king’s voice was growing; the gesturing with his hands becoming more dramatic. “Whenever an invader from our own shores or distant lands has sought to end us, to change us, to embroil us and pit neighbor against neighbor, brother against brother, son against father...” The king paused and turned his eyes on Mateo; the queen had the gall to raise a napkin to her eye and pat Mateo’s hand. “... We have stood together.

  “Why?” the king thundered, up to the rafters, weaving a spell. Every eye in the room was locked on him. “Because we are family. Because Queen Isabella entrusted the Esperanzas to care for the Monte like...” His father cradled his hands together and gave the audience his empathetic eyes. “... Like a baby bird. Like a lost lamb. And generation after generation, your king has cared for you, has protected and sheltered the family of the Monte while preserving its glorious traditions.”

  Mateo kept his face placid, letting the cool ease of it cover the boiling, ravaging anger in his gut. The only thing his father had ever protected and sheltered was the latest twenty-year-old he was fucking behind his wife’s back.

  The king straightened and picked up his wine goblet. “Today, we welcome a new family member to our Monte.” Dinner guests picked up their own wineglasses as the king’s eyes slipped over them. Mateo looked to Roxanne; she stared back. They both picked up their glasses and returned their attention to the king. “This new family member will bring many benefits to the Monte. This member will work hard to make the best decisions for the Monte. This member will maintain the best traditions from our past, while having an open mind about innovations to guarantee a successful future.”

  The king raised his glass high into the air. The guests did the same. Mateo raised his glass with tension riding down his spine.

  “As some of you know, I have a new daughter.”

  A soft murmur of approval went through the crowd, and smiles spread across the tables.

  “But what you don’t know is that I also have a new son.”

  The smiles froze. Shock like frigid ocean air blew across Mateo’s skin. With a proud, kingly demeanor, his father motioned toward a nearby table. The dark-haired, green-eyed man who Roxanne had surreptitiously pointed out pushed back his chair and stood slowly, smoothing down his tie. His face told nothing.

  “I would like to introduce you to Roman Sheppard, my son and your prince.”

  A dropped pin would have sounded like a cymbal crash in the deathly quiet ballroom.

  “Let us raise our glass to our newest Esperanza.” The king’s voice boomed. “May his addition make our Monte even more fertile.”

  Mateo saw his people glance at each other in confusion. But no one could resist the edict of their king. They raised their glasses tentatively, looking while trying not to look at the head table: at the king gulping down his wine; at the queen, who smiled and drank along although she’d just been presented with living proof of her husband’s infidelity; at Mateo, whose glass still hung in the air. He met Roman Sheppard’s eyes; they were dark and hard as they stared back. With the barest nod, the man retook his seat, drawing Mateo’s attention to the other man who sat at the table.

  Easton Fuller winked at Mateo as the grin of wolves spread across his face.

  Roxanne’s foot lightly tapped his under the table. Mateo lowered his glass without drinking.

  “Son.” His father still stood. He nodded at Mateo expectantly. “Wouldn’t you like to welcome your brother to the Monte?”

  Mateo fought back a wild laugh. The man was playing “daddy” to the hilt, all while digging the knife in. Mateo wanted to stand, sneer, grab Roxanne, and march out. The man his father had been introducing around the Monte was his supposed brother, a man he was somehow going to use to usurp Mateo’s position and give Easton Fuller what he wanted. Mateo wouldn’t play acquiescing lapdog for his father.

  He relaxed his clenched fists on the banquet table and met the king’s eyes. “You’ve caught us all by surprise, Father,” he said simply. “But yes, I look forward to discovering more about my brother.”

  The king smiled at the challenge and intent in Mateo’s words.

  Mateo grabbed his glass again and abruptly stood, matching his father’s position. “I hope all of you have enjoyed meeting my wife and your princesa.” This time, when the glasses rose and lips lifted into smiles, it was with an enthusiasm the king couldn’t hope for. He turned to the beautiful woman sitting next to him. “To Roxanne.”

  She looked up at him, her warm rich smile camouflaging the obvious concern for him in her eyes. She gave a nod, a smile to his people, and Mateo drank her in as he took a hefty pull on his wine.

  The rest of the meal stuck in his throat like concrete. The flan, his favorite, tasted like sawdust. He gulped down his port and, the moment people began to depart, swept up Roxanne and headed for the door.

  Easton Fuller stepped into his path.

  “Don’t you want to thank me for finding your long-lost brother?” the man jeered.

  Jaw clinched, Mateo moved to step around him. Fuller pulled a manila envelope from behind his back and slapped it against Mateo’s chest.

  “He’s real,” Fuller said. “And you might want to check out his birth date. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

  Mateo grabbed the envelope and resolutely kept walking. Only Roxanne’s steady presence at his side kept him from spilling blood.

  * * *

  Fists planted on his dining room table, still in his tux pants and shirt with the sleeves folded up his forearms, Mateo stared down at the birth certificate, the light from the chandelier reflecting off the document’s gold seal. Roxanne, who’d hurried out of her dress when they’d gotten home, leaned against his side in the seafoam robe he’d held her in this morning.

  “Holy fucking Christ,” Mateo muttered, disbelieving as he did the time change in his head. He raised his eyes, met Roxanne’s. “He was born two hours before me.”

  Roxanne’s blue eyes widened. Mateo felt the crater expand inside him. His father’s final bomb had been a successful hit.

  Roxanne snatched up the paper. “It’s a forgery,” she said, peering at the time. “It’s got to be.”

  “Doubtful.” Mateo sucked air between his teeth as he flung his hand at the rest of the papers from the envelope, now spread across his dining room table. “They’re way too proud of their proof.”

  According to the papers, Roman Sheppard was the son of an American stewardess who’d been working the international flights to Madrid and, proven by DNA tests, King Felipe Miguel de Esperanza y Santos. The mother had tried to contact the king several times throughout the years and even unsuccessfully tried to sue the man for child support payments. All of those court documents had been included as well. But it was this simple government document, with its fancy scroll and gold seal and calligraphy naming the great state of Texas, the county of Ector, the town of Odessa, that had truly been the warhead.

  The man’s birth date was the same as Mateo’s, October 12. But the birth time is what had given his father and Easton Fuller their belligerent, shit-eating grins. Roman Sheppard was older than Mateo.

  His father could name Roman his successor. It would take no small number of promises and well-placed bribes with government officials in Madrid. But here in the Monte, Mateo had already accomplished much of the work for them by making himself absent, by letting villagers think the kingdom came second for him. He’d all but handed the succession to Sheppard. He’d helped his father and Fuller make a stranger the Monte’s next king.

  Mateo slowly gripped the back of a dining table chair as a sudden wave of nausea hit him. Roxanne’s eyes traced over the birth certificate like lasers.<
br />
  “Our lawyers will tear this apart.”

  Of course he’d have his attorneys check and double check every point. He should be heartened by the fact that Roxanne planned to sic her attorneys on it as well. But, in his heart, Mateo knew his father had him by the balls.

  “By introducing a new heir, the king risks invalidating the contract with you,” Mateo said through gritted teeth. “He wouldn’t risk your fortune unless he was confident he had another one waiting in the wings.”

  Roxanne gestured at the papers, the chandelier’s light shining in the silky hair she’d pulled over her shoulder. “An American with no understanding of the Monte or the wine industry is a sure thing?”

  “He is if he will do what my father wants. My father wants to sell half the Monte to Easton Fuller. He needs the heir’s agreement to do that.”

  Mateo swung around suddenly, turned his back to the papers and the room. He stared sightlessly out the window, at the view and the dark village beyond. “They’re going to take it all away from me.” Panic like wild horses charged through his chest. He’d worried today he couldn’t lead. But to not even have the choice...

  “No.” Roxanne touched his bicep. Gripped. “No they won’t. We won’t let them.”

  His eyes traced over the mountain peaks, the vineyards, every detail he knew was there but was dark to him right now. “We may not have any choice.” He kept his hands at his sides, kept them from clawing at the rising lump in his throat. Everything he’d done, every decision he’d ever made, they’d all been in service to one day leading the Monte, worthy or not. There was a sickening siren call at the thought of lifting the burden off his shoulders. But what defined him if he was not to be their leader? “What use am I if I am not the king?”

  “Stop that,” Roxanne scolded, her grip turning into a small fist that socked him in the arm. “You will be king. Your people need you. Maybe...maybe ruling half the Monte is better than ruling none at all.”