Best of Desire. Оливия Гейтс

want anything to do with either of us. So many people insisted I must have known what he was doing. That I must have tucked away money for myself. The gossip and the rumors were hell.”

      Realization, understanding spewed inside him like the abrupt shower of the sprinklers misting over the potted plants. He’d finally found a woman he could trust enough to propose marriage.

      Only to find a husband was likely the last thing she ever wanted again.

      * * *

      Three hours later, Shannon sat on the floor in her suite with Kolby, rolling wooden trains along a ridged track. An ocean breeze spiraled through the open balcony door. She craved the peace of that boundless horizon. Never again would she allow herself to be hedged in as she’d been in her marriage.

      After she’d finished dredging up her past, she’d needed to see her son. Tony had been understanding, although she could sense he wanted to talk longer. Once she’d returned to her suite, she’d showered and changed—and had been with her son ever since.

      The past twenty-four hours had been emotionally charged on so many levels. Tony had been supportive and understanding, while giving her space. He’d also been a tender—thorough—lover.

      Could she risk giving their relationship another try once they returned to the mainland? Was it possible for her to be a part of a normal couple?

      A tug on her shirt yanked her attention back to the moment. Kolby looked up at her with wide blue eyes. “I’m hungry.”

      “Of course, sweetie. We’ll go down to the kitchen and see what we can find.” Hopefully the cook—the chef—wouldn’t object since he must be right in the middle of supper prep. “We just need to clean up the toys first.”

      As she reached for the train set’s storage bin, she heard a throat clear behind her and jerked around to find her on-again lover standing in the balcony doorway.

      Her stomach fluttered with awareness, and she pressed her sweaty palms to her jeans. “How long have you been there?”

      “Not long.” Tony had showered and changed as well, wearing khakis and a button-down. “I can make his snack.”

      Whoa, Tony was seeking time with her son? That signaled a definite shift in their relationship. Although she’d seen him make his own breakfast in the past, she couldn’t miss the significance of this moment and his efforts to try.

      Turning him away would mean taking a step back. “Are you sure?”

      Because God knows, she still had a boatload of fears.

      “Positive,” he said, his voice as steady as the man.

      “Okay then.” She pressed a hand over her stomach full of butterflies. “I’ll just clean up here—”

      “We’ve got it, don’t we, pal?”

      Kolby eyed him warily but he didn’t turn away, probably because Tony kept his distance. He wasn’t pushing. Maybe they’d both learned a lot these past couple of weeks.

      “Okay, then.” She stood, looking around the room, unsure what to do next. “I’ll just, uh…”

      Tony touched her hand lightly. “You mentioned selling your piano and I couldn’t miss the regret in your voice. There’s a Steinway Grand in the east wing. Alys or one of the guards can show you where if you would like to play.”

      Would she? Her fingers twitched. She’d closed off so much of her old life, including the good parts. Her music had been a beautiful bright spot in those solitary years of her life with Nolan. How kind of Tony to see beyond the surface of the harrowing final moments that had tainted her whole marriage. In the same way he’d chosen flowers based on facets of her personality, he’d detected the creativity she’d all but forgotten, honoring it in a small, simple offer.

      Nodding her head was tougher than she thought. Her body went a little jerky before she could manage a response. “I would like that. Thank you for thinking of it and for spending time with Kolby.”

      He was a man who saw beyond her material needs…a man to treasure.

      Her throat clogging with emotion, she backed from the room, watching the tableau of Tony with her son. Antonio Medina, a prince and billionaire, knelt on the floor with Kolby, cleaning up a wooden train set.

      Tony chunked the caboose in the bin. “Has your mom ever cooked you a Cyclops?”

      “What’s a cycle-ops?” His face was intent with interest.

      “The sooner we clean up the trains, the sooner I can show you.”

      She pressed a hand to her swelling heart. Tony was handling Kolby with ease. Her son would be fine.

      After getting directions from Alys, Shannon found the east wing and finally the music room. What a simple way to describe such an awe-inspiring space. More of a circular ballroom, wooden floors stretched across, with a coffered ceiling that added texture as well as sound control. Crystal chandeliers and sconces glittered in the late afternoon sun.

      And the instruments… Her feet drew her deeper into the room, closer to the gold gilded harp and a Steinway grand piano. She stroked the ivory keys reverently, then zipped through a scale. Pure magic.

      She perched on the bench, her hands poised. Unease skittered up her spine like a double-timed scale, a sense of being watched. Pivoting around, she searched the expansive room….

      Seated in a tapestry wingback, Enrique Medina stared back at her from beside a stained glass window. Even with his ill health, the deposed monarch radiated power and charisma. His dogs asleep on either side, he wore a simple dark suit with an ascot, perfectly creased although loose fitting. He’d lost even more weight since her arrival.

      Enrique thumbed a gold pocket watch absently. “Do not mind me.”

      Had Tony sent her to this room on purpose, knowing his father would be here? She didn’t think so, given the stilted relationship between the two men. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

      “Not at all. We have not had a chance to speak alone, you and I,” he said with a hint of an accent.

      The musicality was pleasing to the ear. Every now and then, a lilt in certain words reminded her of how Tony spoke, small habits that she hadn’t discerned as being raised with a foreign language. But she could hear the similarity more clearly when listening to his father.

      While she’d seen the king daily during her two weeks on the island, those encounters had been mostly during meals. He’d spent the majority of his time with his daughter. But since Eloisa and her husband had left this afternoon, Enrique must be at loose ends. Shannon envied them that connection, and missed her own parents all the more. How much different her life might have been if they hadn’t died. Her mother had shared a love of music.

      She stroked the keyboard longingly. “Who plays the piano?”

      “My sons took lessons as a part of the curriculum outlined by their tutors.”

      “Of course, I should have realized,” she said. “Tony can play?”

      Laughter rattled around inside his chest. “That would be a stretch. My youngest son can read music, but he did not enjoy sitting still. Antonio rushed through lessons so he could go outside.”

      “I can picture that.”

      “You know him well then.” His sharp brown eyes took in everything. “Now my middle boy, Duarte, is more disciplined, quite the martial arts expert. But with music?” Enrique waved dismissively. “He performs like a robot.”

      Her curiosity tweaked for more details on Tony’s family. Over the past couple of weeks, their relationship had deepened, and she needed more insights to still the fears churning her gut. “And your oldest son, Carlos? How did he fare with the piano lessons?”

      A dark shadow crossed Enrique’s face before he schooled his regal