Serafia got up early the next morning, slipping from Gabriel’s bed to get ready. An hour later she returned and started sifting through his clothes for the perfect outfit.
“It’s seven-thirty,” he groaned as he sat up in bed. His hair was tousled and as the sheets pooled around his waist, Serafia couldn’t help stealing a glance at the hard muscles she’d become accustomed to touching each night. “Why are you up so early clinking wooden hangers together?”
With a sigh, she turned back to the closet. “I’m trying to figure out what you should wear today for the parade.”
“I’m going to be in a parade?”
It was becoming clear to her that in the early days of working together, Gabriel had paid very little attention to what she’d said. The prime minister’s office had arranged for a full week of activities and Gabriel had been briefed on them in detail while they were still in Miami. And yet each day was like a surprise for him.
After the incident at the vineyard, Serafia was afraid to know if Gabriel had a problem with parades, too. She didn’t dare ask. “Yes. As we discussed in Miami,” she emphasized, “they’re holding a welcome parade for you this morning that will go through the capital of Del Sol.”
“Are there going to be marching bands and floats or something?”
“No, it’s not really that kind of parade.” She pulled out a gray pin-striped suit coat. It would be too hot for his ceremonial attire and that was better saved for the coronation parade, anyway. A nice suit would be just right, she thought. Eyeing the ties, she pondered which would look best. She knew Gabriel would be more inclined to skip the tie, but that wouldn’t look right. She frowned at the closet. The more she got to know Gabriel, the more she realized she was trying to force him into a box he didn’t really fit in, but he was still royalty and needed to dress appropriately.
“People are just going to stand out on the sidewalk and wait for me to come by and wave? Like the pope?”
Serafia looked at him with exasperation and planted her hands on her hips. “You’re going to be the king! Yes. People want to see you, even if it’s just for a moment as you drive by and wave. It won’t be as big as your formal coronation parade, but it gives everyone in Alma the chance to come and see you, not just the press or the rich people at Patrick Rowling’s party.”
“For their sake, I hope there are at least vendors out there selling some good street food,” he muttered as he climbed out of bed.
“Get in the shower,” Serafia said, laying the suit out across the bed.
Gabriel came up behind her and pulled her into his arms, crushing her back against his bare body. “Wanna get in there with me?” his low voice grumbled into her ear.
Serafia felt a thrill rush through her body, but she fought the reaction. They didn’t have time for this now, as much as she’d like to indulge. There were thousands of people already lining the streets in the hopes of getting a good spot to see Gabriel. She turned in his arms and kissed him, then quickly pulled away. “Sorry, but you’re going it alone today,” she said. “We leave in less than an hour.”
She was amazed they were able to keep to their schedule, but everything went to plan. They rendezvoused with the rest of the motorcade a few miles away from the advertised route. Gabriel was transferred to a convertible where he could sit on the top of the backseats and wave to the crowd. Royal guards and Del Sol police would be driving ahead of his car and behind, with guards running alongside them.
“Remember,” Serafia said as he got settled in the back of the car. “Smile, wave, be sure to turn to look at both sides of the street. People are excited to see you. Be excited to see them, too, and you’ll win the hearts of your people. I’ll see you at the end of the route.”
“I thought you might ride with me.”
Serafia shook her head. “You’re Prince Gabriel, soon to be King Gabriel. As far as anyone else knows, I’m your social secretary. Social secretaries wouldn’t ride along on something like this. We don’t need to give the newspapers any more material to put into their gossip columns. So no, I’m not going with you. You’ll do fine.”
Ignoring nearly everything she’d just said, he leaned in and gave her a kiss in front of fifty witnesses. Hopefully none of them had cameras. “See you on the flip side,” he said.
Serafia shook her head and climbed into another car that was driving ahead to ensure that the route was clear and to secure the end rendezvous location.
Looking out the window, she was impressed by how many people were lining the streets. Thousands of people from all over, young and old alike, had come to the capital to see Gabriel. Some held signs of welcome; others had white carnations, the official flower of Alma, to throw into the street in front of Gabriel’s car. Their faces lit up with excitement and anticipation as they saw Serafia’s official palace vehicle drive down the road, indicating that the new king would soon follow.
They needed a reason to smile. The Tantaberras had ruled over these people with an iron fist for too long. They deserved freedom and hope, and she sincerely believed that Gabriel could be the one to bring it to them. He wasn’t the most traditional choice for a king, but he was a good man. He was caring and thoughtful. There might be a rocky start, but she could tell these people were desperate for the excitement of a new king, a new queen and the kind of royal baby countdown that the British had recently enjoyed.
Serafia spied a different sign as they neared the end of the route. A little girl was holding up a board with Gabriel’s picture and her own. Across the top and bottom in blue glitter it read “We need a fairy tale romance! King Gabriel & Queen Serafia forever!”
A few feet down, another declared “We have our king, please choose Serafia as our queen!” This one was held by an older woman. A third declared “Unite the Montoros & the Espinas at last!”
Serafia sat back in her seat in surprise. Although she preferred to avoid the press in general, the tone of the earlier article about her and Gabriel had been positive. The crowd here today seemed to corroborate that. They had their king and now they wanted their fairy tale. But her? Serafia didn’t need to be anyone’s queen. She was done with the spotlight.
The only hitch was her growing feelings for Gabriel. She’d never planned them. If she was honest, she hadn’t wanted to have feelings for him at all. And yet, over the last two weeks, he had charmed his way into her heart. She wasn’t in love, but she was closer than she’d been in a very long time. Her time with Gabriel was coming to an end. Soon he would be on his own, transitioning into his role as king. Serafia planned to return to Barcelona when it was over.
But as the time ticked away, she felt herself dreading that day. What was her alternative? To stay? To let her relationship with Gabriel grow into something real? That would give the people of Alma what they wanted, but it came at too high a price. Serafia didn’t want to be queen. She was done with the criticism and the magnifying glass examining her every decision and action.
The car stopped at a park and she got out, waiting with a small crew of guards and Hector Vega, who was speaking to some journalists. She found a spot in the shade where she could lean against one of the vehicles and wait for the royal motorcade. It wasn’t in sight yet, so she glanced down to pull out her tablet to make some notes.
“Serafia?”
She looked up at the sound of a woman’s voice and noticed Felicia Gomez and her daughter crossing the street to speak with her. The older woman had traded her ball gown for a more casual blouse and slacks, but she was wearing almost as many diamonds. She was smiling as much as her Botox would allow, but there wasn’t much sincerity in the look. Dita was wearing a sundress and a fresh-faced look guaranteed to turn Gabriel’s head.
Serafia swallowed her negative observations and tried to smile with more warmth than she had. “Señora Gomez, Dita. Good morning. How are you?”
“I’m well,” Felicia replied, coming to stand beside her. “We came down in the hopes we’d get a chance to speak with the prince after the parade. We didn’t get a lot of time at the Rowling party.”
Felicia’s tone was pointed, as though Serafia were the one responsible for that fact. In a way she was, she supposed. Serafia didn’t want the crown, but she really didn’t want the spoiled Dita to have it, either.
Instead of responding, Serafia just smiled and turned to look down the street. She could see the motorcycle cops leading the motorcade. “Here’s your opportunity,” she said.
Within a few minutes, all the vehicles had pulled into the park. Gabriel leaped out of the back of the convertible with athletic grace. He shook the hands of his driver and the guards who were running along with him, and then made his way over to Serafia. He was smiling as he looked at her, barely paying any attention to the Gomez women standing beside her.
“I’m starving,” he said. “All that waving and smiling has worked up a hellacious appetite. I caught a whiff of something delicious on the parade route. I think it was coming from this little tapas place. I tried to remember the landmarks and I’m determined to track it down for lunch.”
“That’s fine, we’re almost done here.”
“What else do I have to do?” he asked.
Serafia shifted her gaze toward the two expectant women beside her without turning her head. Gabriel followed the movement and put on his practiced smile when he noticed who it was. She’d taught him well, it seemed. “Señora and Señorita Gomez have been waiting for you.”
“Your Grace,” Felicia said as both she and Dita gave a brief curtsey. “We’d hoped to have a moment of your time after the parade. The party had simply too many people for us to have a proper conversation.”
That translated to: You didn’t spend enough time with my daughter and if she’s going to be queen, she needs time to work her charms on you.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
Felicia seemed a little taken aback. “Hungry, Your Grace?”
“I was just telling Señorita Espina that I spied the most delicious-smelling tapas restaurant. It looks like a hole in the wall, but I’m anxious to try it. Would you care to join us?”
Serafia could see the conflict in Felicia’s eyes. The Gomez family wasn’t one to be seen at a run-down tapas restaurant. Serafia fought to hold in a twitter of laughter as she watched the older woman choose between two unpleasant fates—dining with commoners and being turned away by the prince once again. There was a pained expression on her face as she finally responded.
“That is very kind of Your Grace. We have already eaten, unfortunately. But perhaps you would give us the honor of hosting you at our home for dinner sometime soon.”
“That’s a very kind offer. I’ll see when I can take you up on it. It was good to see you both again. Señora Gomez. Señorita Gomez,” he said, tipping his head to each in turn. “Have a lovely afternoon.”
At that, he smiled and put his arm around Serafia’s shoulder. Together, they made their way from the disgruntled Gomez women over to his private car to track down some tasty tapas.
Serafia waited until the car door was shut and the tinted windows blocked them from sight, and then burst out laughing. “Did you see the look on her face when you invited her to go get some lunch? I nearly dislocated a rib trying not to laugh.”
“Did I handle it okay?”
“You did very well. It isn’t your fault she won’t stoop to the level of an average person. She isn’t going to give up, though. She wants you to marry Dita and she’ll keep trying until you do.”
Gabriel looked at her in a way that made her bones turn to melted butter. “She can try,” he said. “But I’ll be the one with the crown on my head. I make the decisions when it comes to who I date and who I’ll marry.”
Serafia felt her heart stutter in her chest as he spoke the words, looking intently at her. She knew in that moment that she needed to be very, very careful if she didn’t want the crown of Alma on her head, as well.
* * *
The following morning, Gabriel decided he wanted to take his breakfast out on the patio overlooking the sea. The weather was beautiful, the skies were blue and the fresh sea air reminded him of home.
Sitting in the shade of the veranda, he sipped the coffee Luca brought him and watched a sailboat slip across the bay. How long had it been since he’d gone sailing? Too long. Once this coronation business was over and he could settle into being king, he intended to remedy that.
He could just picture Serafia standing on the deck, clutching the railing and watching the water as they cut through the waves. He imagined her wearing nothing but a pair of linen shorts hugging the curve of her rear and a bikini top tied around her neck. Her golden skin would darken in the sun, her long dark hair blowing in the sea breeze.
That sounded like heaven. It made him wonder if there was already a boat in the possession of the royal family. If there was, he’d ensure that they took it out for a spin as soon as possible.
As he took another sip, Luca appeared in the doorway. “Luca, do you know if we have a boat?”
“A boat, Your Grace?”
“Yes. We have a beach house. Do we have a boat?”
“Yes, there is a sailboat at the marina. The youngest Tantaberra was an avid sailor.”
At the marina. Perhaps they could go out sooner than later. When he looked back at Luca, he realized he had the Alma newspaper in his hand. “Is that today’s paper?” he asked.
Judging by the concerned expression on Luca’s face, the latest royal coverage was not as positive as he’d hoped. He imagined the press had had a field day ragging on him about that panic attack at the vineyard. It wasn’t the most kingly thing he’d done this week. He’d thought the parade went alright, though.
Gabriel frowned as he looked at Luca. “That good, eh? Should I go ahead and call Hector?”
“Señor Vega already knows, Your Grace. Ernesto called a moment ago to let me know that Señor Vega was already on his way here to speak with you.”
Great. Gabriel would much rather use his spare time to get acquainted with every square inch of Serafia’s body, but instead he would be discussing damage-control strategies with his high-strung press secretary. He had only met Hector a few times, and that was enough. The man consumed entirely too much caffeine. At least, Gabriel hoped he did. If the man was naturally that spun-up, he felt bad for the mother who’d had to chase him around as a toddler.
Hector made him anxious. Serafia made him calm. He knew exactly who he preferred to work with. He had to convince her to stay beyond the end of the week, be it as a paid employee or as his girlfriend.
“Let me see the damage before he gets here,” Gabriel said, reaching out for the paper. “It must be bad if Hector immediately hopped in his car.”
Gabriel glanced at the headlines, expecting the story to be about him, but instead he found a scathing story about the Espina family. He looked up at Luca. “Have you told Miss Espina about this, yet?”
“No, sir, but she should be down for breakfast momentarily. Would you like me to warn her?”
“No, I’ll tell her.”
Maybe they could have a game plan before Hector arrived and started spinning.
Turning back to the article, he started reading it in depth. Apparently, back when the coup took place in the 1940s, there were rumors about the loyalty of the Espina family. He hadn’t heard that before. Surely if there had been any legitimacy to that claim, their families wouldn’t have vacationed together and his father wouldn’t have allowed Serafia to work with him these past few weeks.
Of course, his father had been quite curt where Serafia was concerned. He’d alluded to her family being unsuitable somehow, but Gabriel hadn’t had a moment alone with his father to press him on that point. He was sure it was nothing to do with Serafia herself. Gabriel had chalked up his father’s bad mood to jealousy. That was the most likely reason for his behavior since they arrived in Alma.
“Good morning.” Serafia slipped out onto the patio in a pair of black capris and a sleeveless top. Her dark hair was swept up into a ponytail and she was wearing bejeweled sandals instead of dress pumps. They didn’t have any official events on the calendar today, so she had apparently dressed for a more casual afternoon by the sea.
“Hector is on his way,” he replied, not mincing words.
Serafia’s smile faded and she slipped down into the other chair. “What happened?”
“Apparently the newspaper headlines have gone from speculating about your role as future queen to speculating about your family’s role in the overthrow of the Montoros.”
Serafia’s eyebrows drew together in concern as she reached for the paper. “What are they talking about?” Her gaze flicked over the paper. “This is ridiculous. Our families aren’t enemies and we most certainly didn’t have anything do with the coup. Have they forgotten that the Espinas were driven from Alma, too? They lived in Switzerland for years until the dictatorship fell in Spain. I was born in Madrid just a few years after they left Switzerland.”
Gabriel shrugged. “I am deficient in Alman history. We should probably fix that. I didn’t even have a clue our families had been rivals for the throne at one point.”
“That was over a hundred years ago. How is that even relevant to what’s going on now?”
“It has everything to do with what’s happening now,” Hector Vega said, appearing in the doorway and butting into their conversation. He, too, had the newspaper under his arm. “Your family had the crown stolen away from them two hundred years ago. The Espinas and Montoros fought for years to seize control of these islands. The Montoros ended up winning and eventually the families did reconcile. They even planned to marry and combine the bloodlines.
“But,” he continued ominously, “Rafael the First broke off his engagement with Rosa Espina to marry Anna Maria. There were more than a few hurt feelings about that and plenty of rumors went around during the time of the coup about the Espinas’ involvement. Your whole family vanished from Alma right before everything fell apart. Some see that as suspicious.”
“And now?” Serafia pressed. “I think my family has gotten over the embarrassment of a broken engagement during the last seventy years. There is no reason to suspect us of anything.”
“Isn’t there? With the Tantaberras gone and the Montoros returning to Alma, your family is closer to reclaiming their throne than ever before,” Hector explained.
“How?” Gabriel asked. “By marrying me? That plan only works if I’m on board with it.”
Hector shrugged. “That’s one way to do it.” He moved out onto the veranda with them, but instead of taking a chair, he started pacing back and forth across the terra-cotta tiles of the patio. “Another way is to remove the Montoros entirely. If the Montoros and the Salazars were scandalized or discredited, Senorita Espina’s family would be the next in line.”
Gabriel had no idea that was the case, and judging by the surprised drop of Serafia’s jaw, she didn’t know it, either. “But there are several of us in line. They’d have to discredit us all, not just me.”
“There are fewer of you than you think. Your father and brother have already been put aside. That just leaves you, Bella and Juan Carlos. Don’t think it can’t be done.”
“There is no way that Juan Carlos can be discredited by scandal,” Gabriel insisted. “He’s annoyingly perfect.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Hector said. “That article insinuates that Serafia was deliberately planted within the royal family to undermine you from the inside.”
“She’s here to help me!” Gabriel shouted. He was irritated that this stupidity had ruined a perfectly beautiful morning.
“Is she?” Hector stopped moving just long enough to look over Serafia with suspicion.
“Of course I am. How dare you suggest otherwise?” Serafia flushed bright red beneath her tanned glow.
Hector raised his hands in defeat. “Fine. Fine. But the accusations are out there. We have to figure out how we’re going to address them.”
“They’re ridiculous,” Gabriel said. “I don’t even want to address the rumors. At least not yet. It could all blow over if we treat it like the unfounded gossip it is.”
Hector nodded and stopped pacing long enough to take notes in the small notebook he had tucked into his breast pocket.
“I just don’t understand,” Serafia said. “The press was so positive toward our relationship just a day ago. What changed so quickly?”
Hector put his notebook away and turned to look out at the sea, his fingers tapping anxiously on the railing. “My guess would be that someone leaked the story to discredit Serafia.”
“Why?” Gabriel asked. “What could she have done to anger someone so quickly?”
Hector’s gaze ran over Serafia with his lips pressed together tightly. “She didn’t do anything. My guess is that it was your doing. You rejected the daughters of all the wealthiest families at the Rowling party.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Even if I hadn’t left that night with Serafia—which really means nothing, since she’s staying here with me for work—only one woman can be chosen as queen. There were easily twenty or thirty girls there that night. How could I possibly choose without offending someone?”
“It bet it was Felicia Gomez,” Serafia said, speaking up. “Yesterday’s incident just compounded their irritation over the party. The Gomez family doesn’t like to lose and as I recall, you didn’t even dance with Dita that night. I imagine Felicia would see that as a major snub. Combine that with yesterday after the parade... I’m sure they ran right to the press after we left. She can’t take it out on you, as king, so she focused her ire on their main competition—me.”
Gabriel muffled a snort and shook his head. “They wouldn’t go to this much trouble if they knew the truth.”
“What’s the truth?” Serafia asked.
Gabriel looked into her dark eyes with a serious expression. “They’re hardly your competition.”