Rich, Rugged And Royal: The Maverick Prince. Catherine Mann

      And he had the feeling his father wasn’t going to let him forget it. They’d never gotten along well and apparently that hadn’t changed. He started to rise. “If that’s all then, I will turn in.”

      “Wait.” His father polished his eighteen-karat gold pocket watch with his thumb. “My assistance comes at a price.”

      Shocked at the calculating tone, Tony sank back into his chair. “You can’t be serious.”

      “I am. Completely.”

      He should have suspected and prepared himself. “What do you want?”

      “I want you to stay for the month while you wait for the new safety measures to be implemented.”

      “Here? That’s all?” He made it sound offhand but already he could feel the claustrophobia wrap around his throat and tighten. The Dali art mocked him with just how slippery time could be, a life that ended in a flash or a moment that extended forever.

      “Is it so strange I want to see what kind of man you have matured into?”

      Given Enrique had expected Tony to break their cover, he must not have had high expectations for his youngest son. And that pissed him off. “If I don’t agree? You’ll do what? Feed Shannon and her son to the lions?”

      “Her son can stay. I would never sacrifice a child’s safety. The mother will have to go.”

      He couldn’t be serious. Tony studied his father for some sign Enrique was bluffing … but the old guy didn’t have a “tell.” And his father hadn’t hesitated to trust his own wife’s safety to others. What would stop him from sending Shannon off with a guard and a good-luck wish?

      “She would never leave without her child.” Like his mother. Tony restrained a wince.

      “That is not my problem. Are you truly that unwilling to spend a month here?”

      “What if the restraining order comes through sooner?”

      “I would ask you to stay as a thanks for my assistance. I have risked a lot for you in granting her access to the island.”

      True enough, or so it would feel to Enrique with his near agoraphobic need to stay isolated from the world.

      “And there are no other conditions?”

      A salt and pepper eyebrow arched. “Do you want a contract?”

      “Do you? If Shannon decides to leave by the weekend, I could simply go, too. What’s the worst you can do? Cut me out of the will?” He hadn’t taken a penny of his father’s money.

      “You always were the most amusing of my sons. I have missed that.”

      “I’m not laughing.”

      His father’s smile faded and he tucked the watch into a pocket, chain jingling to a rest. “Your word is sufficient. You may not want any part of me and my little world here, but you are a Medina. You are my son. Your honor is not in question.”

      “Fair enough. If you’re willing to accept my word, then a month it is.” Now that the decision was made, he wondered why his father had chosen that length of time. “What’s your prognosis?”

      “My liver is failing,” Enrique said simply without any hint of self-pity. “Because of the living conditions when I was on the run, I caught hepatitis. It has taken a toll over the years.”

      Thinking back, Tony tried to remember if his father had been sick when they’d reunited in South America before relocating to the island … but he only recalled his father being coolly determined. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

      “You were a child. You did not need to be informed of everything.”

      He hadn’t been told much of anything in those days, but even if he had, he wasn’t sure he would have heard. His grief for his mother had been deep and dark. That, he remembered well. “How much longer do you have?”

      “I am not going to kick off in the next thirty days.”

      “That isn’t what I meant.”

      “I know.” His father smiled, creases digging deep. “I have a sense of humor, too.”

      What had his father been like before this place? Before the coup? Tony would never know because time was melting away like images in the Dali paintings on the wall.

      While he had some memories of his mother from that time, he had almost none of his father until Enrique had met up with them in South America. The strongest memory he had of Enrique in San Rinaldo? When his father gathered his family to discuss the evacuation plan. Enrique had pressed his pocket watch into Tony’s hands and promised to reclaim it. But even at five, Tony had known his father was saying goodbye for what could have been the last time. Now, Enrique wanted him back to say goodbye for the last time again.

      How damned ironic. He’d brought Shannon to this place because she needed him. And now he could only think of how much he needed to be with her.

       Seven

      Where was Tony?

      The next day after lunch, Shannon stood alone on her balcony overlooking the ocean. Seagulls swooped on the horizon while long legged blue herons stalked prey on the rocks. Kolby was napping. A pot of steeped herbal tea waited on a tiny table along with dried fruits and nuts.

      How strange to have such complete panoramic peace during such a tumultuous time. The balcony offered an unending view of the sea, unlike the other side with barrier islands. The temperature felt much the same as in Galveston, humid and in the seventies.

      She should make the most of the quiet to regain her footing. Instead, she kept looking at the door leading into Tony’s suite and wondering why she hadn’t seen him yet.

      Her morning had been hectic and more than a little overwhelming learning her way around the mansion with Alys. As much as she needed to resist Tony, she’d missed having his big comforting presence at her side while she explored the never-ending rooms packed nonchalantly with priceless art and antiques.

      And they’d only toured half of the home and grounds.

      Afterward, Alys had introduced two women on hand for sitter and nanny duties. Shannon had been taken aback by the notion of turning her son over to total strangers, although she had to confess, the guard assigned to shadow Kolby reassured her. She’d been shown letters of recommendation and résumés for each individual. Still, Shannon had spent the rest of the morning getting to know each person in case she needed to call on their help.

      Interestingly, none of the king’s employees gave away the island’s location despite subtle questions about traveling back to their homes. Everyone on Enrique’s payroll seemed to understand the importance of discretion, as well as seeing to her every need. Including delivering a closet full of clothes that just happened to fit. Not that she’d caved to temptation yet and tried any of it on. A gust rolling off the ocean teased the well-washed cotton of her sundress around her legs as she stood on the balcony.

      The click of double doors opening one suite down snapped her from her reverie. She didn’t even need to look over her shoulder to verify who’d stepped outside. She knew the sound of his footsteps, recognized the scent of him on the breeze.

      “Hello, Tony.”

      His Italian loafers stopped alongside her feet in simple pink and brown striped flip-flops. Hers. Not ones from the new stash.

      Leaning into her line of sight, he rested his elbows on the iron rail. “Sorry not to have checked in on you sooner. My father and I spent the morning troubleshooting on a conference call with my brothers and our attorneys.”

      Of course. That made sense. “Any news?”

      “More