“I’ll bet you are.”
“Oh, grow up,” she said. “Somebody has to ferret out his bad-boy secrets, not to mention defusing anything that might embarrass the Montoros once they return to Alma.”
“And that has to be you?”
“Do you have a better idea? He likes me. I think he trusts me. So I’m going to use that connection to do my job.”
Alex’s glare could have melted a Titanic-sized iceberg. He held up his hands, his cheekbones streaked with color. “Don’t let me stand in your way, Ms. Ferro. Good luck.”
Fury sent her across the room to go toe-to-toe with the irritating man. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were a nice guy. You’re overbearing, hostile, argumentative—”
He shut her up abruptly by the simple expedient of slamming his mouth down on hers. Neither suave nor sophisticated, the move reeked of desperation.
Shock held her immobile for two seconds before she put her hands on his shoulders in a token attempt to shove him away. “I won’t let you kiss me,” she muttered. But her arms curled around his neck and her lips parted to allow his tongue entrance.
She was so damned mad at him, but somehow all that feeling transmuted into hunger that consumed her from the inside out.
He wedged a leg between hers. “I don’t know what to do about you, Maria. God help me, I don’t.”
With some last vestige of self-respect, she jerked out of his embrace. Her knees trembled, and she could barely breathe. But she wouldn’t let him toy with her emotions. Not like this.
She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to eradicate the taste of him. “You need to make up your mind, Alex,” she whispered raggedly. “Either I’m a valued employee or a prospective lover or a gold digger looking to marry into the royal family. When you figure out the answer, be sure to let me know.”
Walking toward the door, she stopped abruptly and gave him one last withering glance. “I’ll see you here Monday morning at nine o’clock sharp. If you need any edits on the document over the weekend, email them to me. I think it would be better for everyone concerned if you and I stay away from each other.”
By the time dinner rolled around Maria had run the gamut of emotions. She had burned with anger, cried with regret and at last found a certain measure of peace by reminding herself that she was only a small part of a much larger purpose. Her relationship with Alex, or lack thereof, was secondary to the job she had been engaged to do.
Alma, as a nation, faced a critical juncture. At such points in history, personal agendas often took a backseat to working for the greater good. This wasn’t wartime, but in a sense, she and Alex were living in the midst of a volatile shift in national identity.
Reminding herself of what was at stake helped put her own troubles in perspective. Broken hearts were a dime a dozen. She’d get over hers. Besides, it was probably only bruised. She’d had a crush. That was all...
Meeting Bella, Rafe and Gabriel in the hotel lobby was interesting to say the least. Paparazzi were not as ubiquitous in Miami as they were in some parts of the world. But the Montoros were both famous and flamboyant. The public enjoyed their antics...even more so now that gossip had begun to circulate about a possible tie to Alma.
Though Maria found it disconcerting when a camera flash went off in her face, the Montoro trio seemed to take it in stride. They had planned to walk the block and a half to their favorite seafood place. When it became clear to the guy carrying the camera that nothing too dramatic was afoot, he slunk away without further incident.
The restaurant overlooked the water and was crowded even at this early hour. Reservations required. When the Montoro party was granted a premium table near the window, Maria began to see that this branch of modern royalty was comfortable with the trappings of wealth and privilege. They might have to adapt to a new country and new titles, but theirs was no rags-to-riches story.
Over a meal that was exquisite in every way, her dinner companions grilled her about Alma and its current state.
She grimaced as she dabbed her lips with a linen napkin. “Where do I start? You’ll be happy to know that the government has made technology a priority, both for education and in the private sector. Certain books and movies were banned under the old regime, but now information and entertainment flow freely.”
Bella wanted to know about the palace. “Is it habitable?”
“Oh, yes. Tantaberra, and later his son and grandson, made themselves very comfortable over the years. Even during the revolt, little was damaged. Efforts are already underway to update the furnishings and to clean and remodel. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised when you see it.”
Rafe frowned. “If, not when.”
She felt her face heat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get ahead of myself.”
Gabriel appeared far more serious than she had seen him on other occasions. “Are the people really in favor of this move, or is it the brainchild of a favored few?”
“The press has done good job of advancing the idea. In a recent poll, seventy-two percent favored a return of the traditional monarchy.”
Bella grimaced. “And what about the other twenty-eight percent?”
“Some of those are young people who are suspicious of anything that reeks of being told what to do and how to act. They want assurances of freedom and personal choice. Once they see that Alma functions well with the constitutional monarchy, I think the poll numbers will be even higher.”
Rafe was still the quietest of the three. She couldn’t quite tell if it was because of the situation or because his personality was more measured than his younger siblings. He lifted a shoulder, as if to say he was taking a fatalistic view. “In the end, what difference will it make if I say yes or say no?”
Maria started to respond with the official line but then pulled back and spoke from the heart. “I grew up in London. My mother and I had nothing. Every day was a struggle for her. But she adored the royal family. It was as if they represented something special about England that was a part of her, as well, though she was never likely to meet a royal or see one in person. I watched her swell with pride when good things happened to them and shake her head in grief when tragedies happened.”
“Then why did you move away from England?” Gabriel asked.
“I had been working for Alex’s family for several years when things changed in Alma and the Ramons decided to return to their homeland. My job paid well, far more than my mother was making. And in Alma I would have opportunities for advancement. So together, we made the decision to leave England. I can tell you, though, that she will be one to cheer the loudest if the Montoros return. She understands what the monarchy means to the common people.”
The table fell silent. Maria hadn’t spoken with the intent of making anyone feel sorry for her or her mother. But there could no longer be any doubt that the social chasm between the two Ferro women and the Montoros—or the Ramons, for that matter—was vast.
She couldn’t decide if she had done more harm than good when her companions consumed their desserts in silence. Had she been too frank? Did they think she was too pushy? Should she have let more senior members of the team do the persuading?
At last, she pushed her plate aside, her lemon meringue pie only half-eaten. “One more thing, and then we can abandon this topic.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Why stop now? You’re on a roll.”
“Very funny.” She clasped her hands in her lap, feeling the damp palms that