Maria Ferro. Aged twenty-seven. Straight, honey-colored hair that tumbled like a silky waterfall almost to her ass. He probably shouldn’t be thinking about her ass. Definitely not. But tonight it was difficult not to notice.
Reluctantly, he dragged his attention from his coworker and surveyed the room. By all accounts, the party was going swimmingly. The delegation of business leaders from the European island nation of Alma mingled with the various members of the Montoro family, everyone chatting with animation and cordiality.
The ballroom was situated on the ground floor of one of Miami’s premier hotels. An entire wall of glass showcased the azure ocean. Priceless chandeliers cast sparkles across the polished hardwood floor. The decor was understated, modern and sophisticated. Much like the wealthy Montoro family themselves.
Alex inserted a finger beneath the collar of his tux and tugged. He was more than accustomed to upscale social functions. But in this moment, restlessness plagued him. As Alma’s deputy prime minister of commerce, he carried the lion’s share of the responsibility for convincing the Montoros to return to their homeland and resume the throne.
A lot was riding on tonight and the days to come.
This evening’s soiree was only the beginning…a chance for the delegation to be introduced and to establish personal contact with the family whose ancestors once ruled Alma. Unfortunately, the men and women in the youngest generation, all twenty-somethings, were more interested in hard-driving business deals and hard-partying social lives than in resurrecting any royal roots.
A throaty laugh echoed across the room. Maria was clearly enjoying her handsome companion. Gabriel Montoro, middle child of Rafael III, epitomized the classic bad boy…fun loving, hard to pin down, heedless of anyone’s opinion. Alex wanted to dismiss him as a lightweight player, but in fact, Gabriel ran the South American division of Montoro Enterprises with surprising success. He was headquartered in Miami, which meant he would be involved in the upcoming negotiations.
Alex was surprised that the usually sensible Maria didn’t see through Gabriel’s facade. Perhaps she was blinded by the man’s green eyes, tousled hair and golden skin. Alex wasn’t jealous. That would be ludicrous. He and Maria were nothing more than business associates. But he was half a dozen years older than she was, and he felt protective of her.
She had worked for his family in London. Then, when political power changed hands in Alma and the Ramons were able to return to their homeland, Maria had come, as well, along with her mother. Alex had watched with satisfaction as Maria’s talent and hard work brought opportunities her way. Now, as a marketing and PR expert, she was set to play an integral role in this new venture.
Alex admired and respected Maria. She was too nice a woman to be taken in by a jaded playboy like Gabriel Montoro.
Decades had passed since the last Montoro monarch was deposed by a dictator in the aftermath of the Second World War. Four generations later the family enjoyed the fruits of a shipping and trade empire that spanned half the globe.
The Montoros were happy and successful in Miami…legendary for their wealth and lifestyle. Only time would tell if they could be persuaded by duty and honor to walk a different path.
Alex made his way around the perimeter of the room, stopping to make introductions and to chat with this person and that. In his hotel room he possessed lengthy dossiers on each of the key players in tonight’s drama. Though he had glanced over his notes before coming downstairs, the information was stored in his brain.
That was how he worked. Prepare for every eventuality. Plan for any outcome. Make no mistakes.
At last he reached the small alcove where Maria and Gabriel stood. She held a glass of wine in one hand, though Alex hadn’t seen her drink more than a few sips. Gabriel Montoro appeared to be offering her naughty vignettes about their fellow partygoers.
Deliberately, Alex took his place at Maria’s side and gave Montoro a steady glance. “Mr. Montoro. I’m Alex Ramon.”
Gabriel nodded as the two of them shook hands. “I know. My father speaks highly of you. I have to tell you, though, you may have your work cut out for you. None of us are particularly interested in playing dress up with crowns and thrones and an antiquated system that has seen its day.”
Alex rubbed a hand across his chin, hoping to defuse the awkward moment with humor. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really thinking?” The man’s blunt honesty caught him off guard.
Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not sure what all of you hope to gain.”
Maria shot Alex a glance as if to caution tact. But Alex was off his game. And irritated. “Alma is in the midst of important changes. Restoring the monarchy in a ceremonial role is a popular idea with the people at large. The offshore oil reserves have made the country wealthy, but we need stability. A royal marriage would ensure that.”
Gabriel’s smile was mocking. “How very feudal of you, Mr. Ramon.”
“This is not something to joke about. The lives and well-being of thousands of people are at stake here. Your family’s history is part and parcel of Alma’s identity.”
Gabriel shook his head. “They threw us out with nothing but the clothes on our backs.”
Alex shoved his hands in his pockets. He had the most insane urge to throttle the guy. Wouldn’t that be a royal mess… “They didn’t throw you out,” he said, the words even. “You weren’t even born. And the people had no say in it. You know what Tantaberra was like. He’d shoot first and ask questions later.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Whatever. The point is, if you’re trying to make my family and me face up to some kind of obligation, you’re way off course. We have a good life here in Miami. Why would we want to return to a tiny backwater collection of islands that time forgot?”
Maria spoke up, her blue-green eyes sparkling with passion. “Alma has changed, Mr. Montoro. We have high-speed broadband internet access, satellite television and radio and a thriving business community. Along with the natural beauty of the land, we have much to offer.”
Gabriel wasn’t convinced. “I can find all that and more here in the US.”
Alex played his trump card. “But think of your aunt…you know what she wants…”
A flicker in the other man’s eyes told Alex he’d finally scored a point. Isabella, at seventy-three, was the oldest living Montoro. It was her dearest wish that her grandchildren, grandnieces and grandnephews return to their homeland for the sake of family honor. She was dying…caught up in the advanced stages of Parkinson’s disease. Alex had a notion she was hanging on only long enough to see the transfer of power take place.
Gabriel downed the last of his champagne and plucked another crystal flute from the tray offered by a passing waiter. “Aunt Isabella lives in the past. We do not always get what we want.”
“I think that’s a song,” Maria said, smiling. Clearly she was trying to lighten the mood. But Alex was in no frame of mind to be appeased. Gabriel Montoro rubbed him the wrong way. The man had wealth, power, good looks and sex appeal. It was rumored that women besieged him all hours of the night and day. Surely Maria wouldn’t be so naive as to be taken in by him.
Gabriel sipped his drink, his gaze stormy. “Lucky for you, my father retains some vestige of the old ways. Perhaps he can be persuaded. Who knows?”
Alex winced, as did Maria. Maria laid a hand on Montoro’s arm briefly, as if to placate him. “I think no one has told you,” she said softly. “But your father cannot reign.”
“Why the hell not?”
It was oddly amusing that even though Gabriel insisted his family had no interest in the monarchy,