“Although, I have to admit,” she conceded as she tucked her son closer, “this place is so much more than I expected.”
Her gaze seemed to track the herons picking their way along the shore, sea oats bowing at every gust. Her grayish-blue eyes glinted with the first hints of excitement. She must not have noticed the security cameras tucked in trees and the guard on the dock, a gun strapped within easy reach.
Tony gripped the rail tighter. “There’s no way to prepare a person.”
Kolby squealed, pitching forward in his mother’s arms.
“Whoa…” Tony snagged the kid by the back of his striped overalls. “Steady there.”
A hand pressed to her chest, Shannon struggled for breath. “Thank God you moved so fast. I can’t believe I looked away. There’s just so much to see, so many distractions.”
The little guy scowled at Tony. “Down.”
“Buddy,” Tony stated as he shook his head, “sometime you’re going to have to like me.”
“Name’s not buddy,” Kolby insisted, bottom lip out.
“You’re right. I’m just trying to make friends here.” Because he intended to use this time to persuade Shannon breaking up had been a crappy idea. He wondered how much the child understood. Since he didn’t know how else to approach him, he opted for straight up honesty. “I like your mom, so it’s important that you like me.”
Shannon’s gasp teased his ear like a fresh trickle of wind off the water. As much as he wanted to turn toward her, he kept his attention on the boy.
Kolby clenched Tony’s shirt. “Does you like me?”
“Uh, sure.” The question caught him off guard. He hadn’t thought about it other than knowing it was important to win the son over for Shannon’s sake. “What do you like?”
“Not you.” He popped his bottom lip back in. “Down, pwease.”
Shannon caught her son as he leaned toward her. Confusion puckering her brow, her eyes held Tony’s for a second before she pointed over the side. “Is that what you wanted to see, sweetie?”
A dolphin zipped alongside the ferry. The fin sliced through the water, then submerged again.
Clapping his tiny hands, Kolby chanted, “Yes, yes, yes.”
Again, Shannon saw beauty. He saw something entirely different. The dolphins provided port security. His father had gotten the idea from his own military service, cutting-edge stuff back then. The island was a minikingdom and money wasn’t an object. Except this kingdom had substantially fewer subjects.
Tony wondered again if the secluded surroundings growing up could have played into his lousy track record with relationships as an adult. There hadn’t been any teenage dating rituals for practice. And after he left, he’d been careful with relationships, never letting anything get too complicated. Work and a full social life kept him happy.
But the child in front of him made things problematic in a way he hadn’t foreseen.
For years he’d been pissed off at his father for the way they’d had to live. And here he was doing the same to Kolby. The kid was entertained for the moment, but that would end fast for sure.
Protectiveness for both the mother and son seared his veins. He wouldn’t let anything from the Medina past mark their future. Even if that meant he had to reclaim the very identity he’d worked his entire adulthood to shed.
The ferry slid against the dock. They’d arrived at the island.
And Prince Antonio Medina was back.
* * *
What was it like for Tony to come back after so long away? And it wasn’t some happy homecoming, given the estrangement and distance in this family that communicated through lawyers.
Shannon wanted to reach across the limousine to him, but Tony had emotionally checked out the moment the ferry docked. Of course he’d been Mr. Manners while leaving the ferry and stepping into the Mercedes limo.
Watch your step…Need help? However, the smiles grew darker by the minute.
Maybe it was her own gloomy thoughts tainting her perceptions. At least Kolby seemed unaffected by their moods, keeping his nose pressed to the window the whole winding way to the pristine mansion.
Who wouldn’t stare at the trees and the wildlife and finally, the palatial residence? White stucco with a clay tiled roof, arches and opulence ten times over, the place was the size of some hotels or convention centers. Except no hotel she’d stayed in sported guards armed with machine guns.
What should have made her feel safer only served to remind her money and power didn’t come without burdens. To think, Tony had grown up with little or no exposure to the real world. It was a miracle he’d turned out normal.
If you could call a billionaire prince with a penchant for surfing “normal.”
The limousine slowed, easing past a towering marble fountain with a “welcome” pineapple on top—and wasn’t that ironic in light of all those guards? Once the vehicle stopped, more uniformed security appeared from out of nowhere to open the limo. Some kind of servant—a butler perhaps—stood at the top of the stairs. While Tony had insisted he wanted nothing to do with his birthplace, he seemed completely at ease in this surreal world. For the first time, the truth really sunk in.
The stunningly handsome—stoically silent—man walking beside her had royal blood singing through his veins.
“Tony?” She touched his elbow.
“After you,” he said, simply gesturing ahead to the double doors sweeping open.
Scooping Kolby onto her hip, she took comfort in his sturdy little body and forged ahead. Inside. Whoa.
The cavernous circular hall sported gold-gilded archways leading to open rooms. Two staircases stretched up either side, meeting in the middle. And, uh, stop the world, was that a Picasso on the wall?
Her canvas sneakers squeaked against marble floors as more arches ushered her deeper into the mansion. And while she vowed money didn’t matter, she still wished she’d packed different shoes. Shannon straightened the straps on Kolby’s favorite striped overalls, the ones he swore choo-choo drivers wore. She’d been so frazzled when she’d tossed clothes into a couple of overnight bags, picking things that would make him happy.
Just ahead, French doors opened on to a veranda that overlooked the ocean. Tony turned at the last minute, guiding her toward what appeared to be a library. Books filled three walls, interspersed with windows and a sliding brass ladder. Mosaic tiles swirled outward on the floor, the ceiling filled with frescos of globes and conquistadors. The smell of fresh citrus hung in the air, and not just because of the open windows. A tall potted orange tree nestled in one corner beneath a wide skylight.
An older man slept in a wingback by the dormant fireplace. Two large brown dogs—some kind of Ridgeback breed, perhaps?—lounged to his left and right.
Tony’s father. A no-kidding king.
Either age or illness had taken a toll, dimming the family resemblance. But in spite of his nap, he wasn’t going gently into that good night. No slippers and robe for this meeting. He wore a simple black suit with an ascot rather than a tie, his silver hair slicked back. Frailty and his pasty pallor made her want to comfort him.
Then his eyes snapped open. The sharp gleam in his coal dark eyes stopped her short.
Holy Sean Connery, the guy might be old but he hadn’t lost his edge.
“Welcome home, hijo prodigo.” Prodigal son.
Enrique