What kind of place was this for a love nest? The entrance door had a broken lock. The lobby smelled of mice and mildew. What remained of a mural clung pathetically to a graffiti-scarred wall. There was an elevator but Maria ignored it and headed for the stairs.
“Four flights,” she said briskly, without looking back at him. “Are you up to that, Your Highness?”
He didn’t bother replying, he simply climbed the steps behind her. One flight. Two. Three. At last, they reached the fifth-floor landing.
“This is where he lives?”
Alex sounded incredulous. She hated him for that, and for forcing himself into this part of her life.
“Answer me!” He clasped her wrist and spun her toward him. “Your lover expects you to come to him in a dump like this?”
The door to the apartment directly ahead swung open. Alex looked up, angry at himself, at Maria, at the unwanted intrusion.
“What the hell do you want?” he snarled at the shadowy figure in the doorway.
The figure stepped forward into the dim light of the stairwell landing. It was a woman. Small. Dark-haired. Wrapped in a wool bathrobe.
“Maria?”
Maria took a deep breath. “Sí, Mama. It’s me.”
IT’S ME, Mama, Maria said.
And then no one said anything.
For an eternity? For a few seconds? Alex couldn’t be sure. The only certainty was that he’d made one hell of a mistaken assumption.
And he’d mortified Maria. The proof was in the rigidity of her posture, the angle of her head. This place, this depressing setting, this woman making absolutely no move toward her daughter, were not things she’d wanted him to see.
So what? he asked himself coldly. Wasn’t it his intention to humiliate Maria Santos? This was just one more way to do it.
But even as he thought that he found himself moving closer to her, putting his hand lightly on her shoulder in a gesture of unspoken support.
The woman in the doorway spoke first. Her words were not those of a loving mother, delighted to see her child. They were, instead, accusatory.
“Do you have any idea how late it is, Maria? I was on my way to bed.”
He saw the color rise in Maria’s face. His hand tightened on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I should have phoned first—”
“And who is this with you? Why have you brought a man to my home?”
“Forgive me, Mrs. Santos,” Alex said pleasantly. He gave Maria what he hoped was a reassuring smile, then stepped forward. “It’s my fault, entirely. I’m afraid I was in such a hurry to get things done that the lateness of the hour never occurred to me.”
“And you are …?”
“I am Alexandros Karedes. Prince Alexandros Karedes.”
The Santos woman’s eyebrows rose.
“Prince?”
“From the kingdom of Aristo. Perhaps you’ve heard of it,” he said politely, knowing she would have. You could not read a magazine or see a television program about the rich and famous without hearing of places like Dubai, Monaco and Aristo.
“And you know my daughter?”
“Indeed. In fact, Maria and I are going to be spending the next few weeks together.”
Maria gave him a look that should have turned him to stone. “The prince means we’ll be working together.”
“Maria is making my mother’s birthday gift.”
Luz raised her dark eyebrows. “Maria? Is this what you meant when I called you a little while ago?”
Alex looked at Maria. She glared even as color rose in her cheeks. It had been her mother on the phone, not her lover. Why did that please him? Whether she had a lover or not didn’t matter. She would be his for the next four weeks. Who gave a damn if she came home to Joaquin when the month ended?
“Sí, Mama, it was.”
He could almost see Luz mulling that over. Finally, she stepped aside and motioned them forward. “Come inside. I don’t want to bother the neighbors.”
Maria looked like a wild animal who wanted to escape a trap, but she jerked her head in assent and moved past him into the apartment.
The entry foyer was big; it led down two steps into a living room that must have been elegant in its day but now was dimly lit and depressing. Luz made no offer of coffee or tea; she took a chair and when Maria hovered uncertainly, Alex took her elbow. He felt her stiffen, knew she wanted to jerk free but she let him draw her down beside him on a small, sagging, blanket-covered sofa.
“You see,” Alex said pleasantly, “my mother—”
“She is the queen?”
“Queen Tia. Yes. Her sixtieth birthday is next month, and—”
He launched into an explanation of the planned celebration. The state dinner in the palace. The ball that would follow. The presentation of Maria’s necklace to the queen at precisely midnight, followed by fireworks. The fact that Maria was accompanying him to Aristo so she could consult personally with the queen and with him, should questions arise about the design of the piece.
“You mean, my daughter will leave New York?”
“Yes,” Alex said politely, “but I can assure you—”
“Well, if it doesn’t worry her to leave me all alone, who am I to complain? I am not well, Your Highness. Perhaps Maria has mentioned it.”
“You’re fine, Mama. Your doctors say—”
“What do doctors know?” Luz crossed herself. “We can only pray for the best. Besides, I suppose you’re determined to live out this fantasy of yours.”
Alex could see a vein throb in Maria’s temple.
“Could we please have this discussion another time?” she said, but Luz ignored her.
“Do you have children, Prince Alexandros?”
“I’m not married, Mrs. Santos,” Alex said politely, though being polite was growing difficult.
“Well, when you do, you’ll understand that a mother’s sole concern is for her child’s welfare. Maria’s cousin, Angela—”
“I’m sure the prince isn’t interested in Angela.”
“Angela is a wonderful girl. She has an excellent position with an insurance company. She’s offered many, many times to arrange for Maria to have an interview there. Why, only this evening, I told Maria of Angela’s promotion. She’ll be earning thirty thousand dollars a year!” Luz leaned toward her daughter. “And I didn’t get the chance to tell you the rest. Angela’s engaged. To her supervisor, can you imagine? She has done so well for herself. It’s hard to believe you and she graduated high school at the same time.”
The sofa was small. Maria’s thigh was against his. Alex could feel her trembling. With anger? With despair? Not that it mattered to him…
“We had different goals,” Maria said carefully. “Angela went straight to work. I went to college.”
“And quit.”
“I didn’t quit, I changed schools. I went to the Fashion Institute