Worse still was the inescapable truth that Gabriel liked and admired Maria, and vice versa. If such a relationship softened Gabriel to the notion of the Montoros reclaiming the monarchy, could Alex in all good conscience stand in the way? He had devoted weeks and months of his life and his career to affecting this change for the good of Alma.
If a match between Gabriel and Maria made the Montoros more receptive to the proposal, the smartest thing for Alex to do was step aside. But every cell in his body rejected the idea. He’d perfected the art of being a politician first and a man second. Now, integrity be damned, the idea was repugnant to him.
He was not here in Florida, however, to pursue his own agenda. He had been sent as deputy prime minister of commerce to solidify an ancient bond that would take Alma with confidence into the twenty-first century as a world player.
How could he betray the trust of his people for his own selfish ends?
At last, Maria’s steady breathing told him she was asleep. Her eyelashes, a shade darker than her hair, fanned out on her cheeks. He knew he probably should have made sure she iced her face, but in his urge to find intimacy with her, the thought had escaped him.
Now, he couldn’t bear to wake her.
The medicine had done its work. When he eased out from under her and stood, she barely stirred. Unfortunately, her robe was still unbelted, her breasts bared to his hungry gaze.
Looking at her without her knowledge seemed wrong. Carefully, he tucked the garment around her and knotted the sash. Leaving her for a moment, he went into her bedroom and turned down the covers of her bed. He flipped on a small light in the bathroom and closed the door except for a narrow crack. She might awaken confused in the night.
When he returned to the living room, his heart contracted in his chest. She was smiling in her sleep. He would give a hell of a lot to know if he figured in that pleasant dream.
Gritting his teeth against the rush of need that assaulted him, he bent and lifted her carefully into his arms. Though her robe sheltered her now, he had a very good memory.
Maria was limp in his arms. He worried about that, but he had to trust that the doctor knew his business. Tucking her into bed, he adjusted the sheet and the light, summer-weight comforter. He doubted he would sleep much. Unappeased sexual arousal and a very real concern about Maria’s injury guaranteed a wakeful night.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he set the alarm. He would check on her every hour. She would never know, but it would give him peace of mind.
* * *
Maria stretched and winced as her head throbbed. Oh, Lordy. All of the events of yesterday came flooding back in living color...including the memory of Alex’s big warm hands on her body.
She flushed from head to toe. And as she did, she grimaced when she realized she had no clue how she had made it from the sofa to the bed. Alex seemed to have a thing for carrying her, so that was a good guess.
Somehow, the thought of him looking after her when she was asleep made her uneasy. Vulnerability was dangerous. She needed to be on her guard, because it would be a mistake to let Alex get too close until she knew what he had in mind.
A business-trip fling was one thing. His position was secure. She had the most to lose.
But what if he wanted more? Back in Alma life would revert to the status quo. Alex would continue to be wealthy and powerful and influential while Maria would go back to being the bastard daughter of a laundress.
That wasn’t self-pity talking. It was simply the cold, hard truth.
When she climbed out of bed and stood upright, her head throbbed, but not too badly. The worst part was looking in the bathroom mirror. Holy cow. It was a good thing she had makeup with her. It was going to take a deft hand to ensure her face was presentable for a day with the Montoros.
A day with the Montoros. She chuckled out loud. That sounded like a television series. The trouble was, Maria didn’t have the luxury of changing the channel. She had to dress and play her part. Even if today’s agenda was ostensibly relaxation and recreation, she and Alex were still officially on the clock. Everything they said or did could have implications for the new regime. That responsibility was never far from her mind.
It took her a half hour to dress and cover up the worst of the bruising around her eye socket. By parting her hair differently and leaving one side loose to fall across her cheek, she managed to improve her appearance significantly.
The headache was bearable this morning, so she decided to skip the prescription stuff in favor of simple ibuprofen. Only then did she notice the small folded slip of paper on the bedside table.
Picking up the note with fingers that trembled, she opened it and studied the bold, masculine scrawl...
Gone up for breakfast at the main house. We all thought you needed to sleep more than eat. When you’re hungry, the housekeeper has something fixed for you in the kitchen.
A
If she’d been expecting a tender missive, she was way off base. Not by any stretch of the imagination could the words be construed as personal. And the “we all” was probably only Alex making his usual sweeping judgments, thinking he knew what was best.
Well, darn him, in this case he was right. It was almost ten-thirty and she was only now feeling halfway human and presentable. Given the late hour and the fact that lunch was not far off, she only nibbled at the beautifully prepared tray of food set out in the kitchen beneath a layer of thin linen napkins.
The kiwi and grapefruit and mangoes tempted her the most. And the pitcher of freshly squeezed juice. She did allow herself one of the small perfect cinnamon rolls, as well.
By the time she had eaten and brushed her teeth, there was still no sign of anyone coming to fetch her. Not willing to sit cooling her heels, she went outside and found that a golf cart sat waiting, key in the ignition. Mindful of Alex’s alligator warnings, she eyed the open side of the low-slung vehicle with reservation.
But boredom and curiosity won out. She only took one wrong turn and recognized it immediately, so she was justifiably proud when she made it to the Montoro house without incident. The same dignified man from yesterday answered the door when she rang the bell.
Feeling unaccountably nervous, she followed him down the hall to the salon where she and Alex had met the family. Gabriel was the first to spot her hovering in the doorway. He jumped to his feet and met her halfway as she entered the room.
His hands on her shoulders, he cocked his head and studied her face, his own gaze anxious. “How do you feel, Maria?” Gently, he brushed aside a swath of hair to see the bruises she had tried so hard to disguise.
Even his gentle fingertip on her brow made her wince. “Much better,” she said. “It’s not so bad...honestly.”
He kissed her on both cheeks in the European way and released her. “I believe you are a really bad liar.”
Bella hovered, as well, surprising Maria with a quick hug. “I worried about you last night. I know the doctor said you didn’t have a concussion, but they do make mistakes sometimes.”
Being the center of attention was not a comfortable position, particularly with the entire Montoro clan in attendance. “I’m fine, really. But I appreciate your concern.”
Rafael Montoro, the older, offered her a seat at his side. “We’ve been talking business. Alex wanted more information about our company’s plans for expansion.”
She glanced at Alex, perturbed to find his expression curiously blank. “I thought this was a social visit,” she said, smiling.
Rafael nodded. “Bella just called us out on that very subject right before you arrived. I promised her no more boring talk today. I believe you young people are