THE RIDE FROM THE HOSPITAL was comfortable, but slow. Photographers, onlookers, and well-wishers swarmed the streets with wide grins and curious stares to watch the white limousine pass. Camera flashes and blue flags filled Gemma’s view, making it almost impossible to see the lush beauty of André’s home island. Though she did manage to glimpse the pristine, white beaches and gentle waves kissing the shoreline. With a cloudless, blue sky, there was no better place to start her bucket list.

She’d expected André to come to the hospital when he learned she was awake. Instead, her room was flooded with doctors and nurses fussing over her. After a reporter had found his way into her room without permission, the guards had shown up and escorted the man out of the building, sealing off the floor.

Yet that only lasted ten minutes until Felipe showed up wearing a large smile for her, and serious glares at the medical staff. He’d ordered they pack up the gifts, while he signed her out of the hospital and gave her a fresh set of clothes. “All further medical care would be given under the guidance and orders of the royal physicians,” he announced like a general.

Gemma didn’t know who’d picked out the turquoise shirt or cream, linen skirt that skimmed her knees, but at first glance she squirmed. Skirts weren’t her thing. But it was better than a hospital gown or her bloodied, torn-up jeans. They’d provided sandals as well, but she refused, preferring her boots. At least some bit of normalcy on this different planet.

Once she’d put on the clothes and looked in the mirror, the ensemble was surprisingly comfortable. But the bruises all over her face made her cringe. Blue-and-yellow splotches marred her normal freckled cheeks.

“They were worse a few days ago,” Rico explained, packing up the remaining figurines. “But you’ve always healed quickly.”

Thank God for that. The sling for her shoulder was a bit much. They’d demanded she wear it per medical regulation, so she rolled her eyes and caved, just so she could leave faster. But she’d take it off when she was alone.

Being whooshed out of the hospital in a wheelchair was a silly requirement. Once out in the humid, sunny air, cameras flashed everywhere, and she was surrounded by a security detail three people deep. Solanian soldiers in fatigues and what she assumed were Royal Guardsmen in red-and-blue uniforms with emotionless faces formed an impenetrable wall against the onlookers. The crowd was so thick, she didn’t even know it was a limo in front of her until she’d crawled in. Rico sat stretched out on the cushions in front of her.

All of this fuss for me?

Felipe sat emotionless next to her, looking through dark sunglasses scanning outside the window. As if there could be more mercenary soldiers hiding among the crowds, laying in wait for the next shot at chaos. An ever-present reminder of the threat from this cartel that had nearly destroyed this beautiful place.

Beautiful, and yet an awkward paradise. Lush greenery from plants and trees she’d never seen before, bright colors from flowers she couldn’t name, and people lining streets she didn’t know. In the distance, she spotted a dozen large yachts anchored along the coastline, toys of the ultra-wealthy citizens of this rich country.

But all she longed to see were the bluebonnets back on the ranch. Her heart dropped.

Does Reyna’s body still lie on the couch where we’d left her, now rotting as if she were never loved or cherished? Will I ever forgive myself for leaving her? At least now she’d fulfilled her promise. André was safe and his throne restored, just as Reyna had wanted.

She glanced down at the Virgin Mary figurine she’d held onto through all the fuss. This one wore a dark blue gown, with a golden halo and white wings. Her hands were gathered in front of her in prayer, and her expression soft and warm. Much like Reyna’s face when cooking.

“Any news from home?” she whispered.

Rico’s hesitation made the world stop. “Once the phone lines were restored here, I called Rock. Everyone saw the smoke from the ranch the next morning, so the Fire Department arrived and found Reyna. The Sherriff has taken care of her remains.”

She swallowed hard through the guilt.

“They are…anxious to talk to us as soon as possible,” he added.

I’m sure they are. I have to go back and clean up the mess we left. Bury Reyna properly. Along with the rest of my soul.

“What about André’s sister?” she asked. “Have they found her yet?” Hopefully some positive news in all this chaos.

Rico’s brow furrowed, and he squirmed in his seat. Never a good sign. Felipe shifted in his seat as well, stealing a glance at her.

“No,” Rico answered. “There’s been a lot of commotion over her yesterday. I think they found a trail. The Philippine Ambassador has been here screaming into his phone the whole time.”

“The Philippine Ambassador? Why is he here?”

Rico shrugged and looked out the window with a sigh.

Once the limo approached the gates of the Royal Square, the crowds outside the window disappeared along with the camera flashes. The vehicle circled the vast square and rolled to a stop in front of the palace steps. It was the first time she’d seen the grandeur in daylight.

The intimidating façade consisted of massive columns reminiscent of the Parthenon, but covered in bright-green, climbing-ivy. The domed roof displayed fresh banners with the Solanian colors of blue and gold, framed by the green palm trees towering over the square and bright pink flowers cascading down every surface as if they owned it. It looked like an exotic resort for the mega wealthy in travel magazines back home.

Solana was beautiful, but she didn’t belong here. Once she returned to the ranch and buried Reyna, there wouldn’t be anything left for her there either. She didn’t belong anywhere.

I’m lost.

The limo door opened to a procession of Royal Guardsmen lining the stairs, at attention on the blue carpet guiding the way into the palace. The only thing missing was a glass slipper on the middle step.

Her grip tightened on the statuette.

Felipe exited first and helped her step out, gently holding onto her arm. A woman grabbed her other hand and Gemma hid the grimace from the stab of pain in her shoulder. The woman was older, mid-forties, but a gorgeous Polynesian with long dark hair that rivaled Pocahontas. Her genuine smile only slightly eased Gemma’s discomfort.

“Welcome back to the palace, Señorita Westfall,” she said. “I am Cataline Hernandez, your personal assistant during your stay.”

Gemma blanched, but didn’t get a chance to reply. Rico took Felipe’s place at her arm. Three nurses and a doctor descended the stairs, introduced themselves in a flurry and ushered her into the grand palace doors, thirty feet tall of pure white marble. With a small scowl, she waved away the wheelchair presented at the doors.

Once inside, the entryway ensnared her, despite Rico and Cataline urging her forward. Everything around her was exquisite opulence of which she’d never dreamed. Red and gold accents covered every available corner, bay windows with sheer white curtains lined the back wall almost a quarter mile long, and footsteps echoed on the white marble floor. In the center of the entryway was a massive, marble crest inlaid in the floor in brilliant blues, greens and silver. In the center of the crest was a gold hawk of marble with a bright blue eye, surrounded with gold and periwinkle ribbons.

Felipe murmured something into the microphone at his wrist and stood at attention to the side of the vast room.

Carpenters, stone carvers, and other workers scattered throughout, fixing things that were destroyed during Bendetto’s control. The cracked walls from the dozens of bullet holes needed the most attention, and were scattered throughout several areas in the palace. A few of the paintings and other sculptures were replaced. The other amazing feature Gemma couldn’t miss was the heartfelt smiles on everyone’s faces. The pure relief that the maniac was gone and their ruling family had returned.

But the one person she expected to see wasn’t there. Her heart sank. “Where’s André?”

Cataline stiffened beside her and held her breath. “I’m sorry, Señorita Westfall. His Highness is still detained by the envoy from the United Nations, as well as the Ambassadors from the U.S. and Philippines.”

Gemma bit her lower lip. She didn’t miss the woman’s emphasis on His Highness. Cataline wasn’t used to someone addressing a royal family member by first name. This formal stuff was going to get on Gemma’s nerves quick, especially being called señorita all the time, but she was too tired to protest.

Disappointment filled her gut. André was back to his princely responsibilities, with royal duties, political meetings, and rebuilding his country. She was just a guest in the palace. An out-of-place guest.

Her gaze finally stopped on one man who slowly descended the stairwell, hands behind his back in a freshly pressed Royal Guardsman uniform. He wore the notable proud shoulders and stance, salt-and-pepper hair, and sincere smile.

When Stefano reached the bottom step, he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “The ultimate relief to see you healed and safe, Señorita Gemma.”

Gemma pulled him into a hug. “It’s still me, Stefano. You don’t have to be so damn formal.”

He hugged her back, a bit awkwardly. “I expected nothing less.”

Gemma laughed at the words he’d used with her once before. But he pulled away and straightened his uniform. He glanced at her attire and grinned. “I know it wasn’t what you preferred, but the island look suits you exquisitely. Although your signature boots make it even better.”

The skirt brushed against her knees as she squirmed, and her cheeks heated.

“I’m sure you’re tired,” he continued. “Cataline will escort you to your room so you can rest and freshen up.” Gemma didn’t miss the way Stefano’s eyes brightened when he said Cataline’s name, or how the woman blushed. “Then His Highness has many people he’d like you to meet.”

“What about Rico?”

Stefano didn’t miss a step. “Rico’s been a guest of the palace ever since we regained control. He’s been a wonderful help in restoring it to its original glory. He’s also ridden several of the horses in the Royal Stables that were in desperate need of exercise.”

At the mention of horses, Gemma’s heart lifted. And then sank just as quickly, remembering Butterscotch and Sniper.

Stefano grabbed her hand once more, and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Please, don’t distress while you’re here. You’re safe and will have plenty of time to address your concerns. Right now, His Highness wants you relaxed and at peace.”

At the mention of His Highness, Gemma’s mind whirled. The formal title for André was so unusual to her, as was the very room she stood in. A strange, knowing smile spread across Stefano’s lips. The hardened bodyguard was in his element and knew something she didn’t. Many things. Being out of the loop like this was almost worse than sitting useless in the hospital. But she forced a deep breath and let Cataline and a nurse escort her up the stairs. She hated being treated like a glass doll, hovered over and watched with every step. But this wasn’t her home and it felt disrespectful to protest.

By the time they’d climbed the stairs and walked her down the upper hallway, with Felipe close on their heels, she was out of breath and her shoulder ached. Stefano knocked on a door and opened it, pushing them open. Gemma entered by herself, past Stefano’s erect frame waiting by the entry.

The satin rose curtains were partially drawn, letting in streaks of tropical light. The bay windows were actually doors that opened to an outer balcony, letting the warm breeze blow gently through the room. The four-poster bed looked carved out of a peach stone, covered in a cream and pink gossamer canopy with a plush sea-blue comforter. A matching chaise and high-back cushioned chair filled the empty spaces on either side. A chandelier in the shape of a starfish hung from the ceiling, adorned with crystals, pearls, and the signature ammephire gem.

On the other side of the room was a long table overflowing with fresh grapes, melons, and other tropical fruits, including iced water and juice. Like a catered meal for fifty people in a room for one.

Stefano cleared his throat, but continued looking straight ahead instead of at her. Gemma drew her eyebrows together.

“I think you’ll have everything you need for now.” He nodded to Felipe and Cataline, who turned and walked out of view. Then Stefano faced her again. “Perhaps you should see the view of the garden from the balcony. See you later this evening.” He bowed his head and closed the door behind him.

Gemma shook her head and looked around. They were shutting her up in a room by herself in the palace. Granted, an impressive room, but it was like they were hiding her. For her protection, or to ensure her silence?

The breeze fluttered the curtains and Gemma set the figurine on the marble mantle. Tiny against the large crystal vases and jeweled candles, but soothing. She’d watch over Gemma with Reyna’s sweet smile. A small comfort in this strange place.

Gemma approached the balcony, not used to the humidity, but finally enjoying the tropical air on her face. She pulled a curtain to the side and stepped through.

The lavish garden beyond the covered pillars didn’t mean a thing to her. The man standing in the middle of the balcony, leaning against the stone balustrade made every thought disappear.

André lifted his head, and his lips parted. Those incredible mocha eyes, though dark and tired, glittered back at her. His gray suit, white vest and light blue sash across his chest completed the fairytale picture with flawless perfection. His smooth face had invaded every dream since she’d met him, and weakened her knees. They were both frozen in place looking at each other. She was unable to breathe. A dizzy flutter swirled in her stomach, and heat rushed her cheeks. André pushed away from the railing and took one step forward, but then stopped. He placed a hand over his heart.

“Forgive me, Gemma.” His voice broke. “Once you were out of danger, I couldn’t imagine you being anywhere else than with me.”

She still couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. André bit his lower lip and gripped his lapel. He looked unsure of himself despite the royal attire. But to her, he was better than a desert oasis. Better than a gallop through the ranch hills. She never fantasized of the white knight or the archaic hope for a handsome prince. Ironic, the woman who never wanted one now had the epitome of Prince Charming standing in front of her. Who was anything but charming in the sack. She blushed.

“I wanted us to be alone,” he continued, his voice breathless. His gaze drifted to her sling, and the grimace on his face echoed through his body. “All of this is my fault. I understand if you hate me.”

“Hate you?” she breathed, gasping for her first breath. “Are you insane? You think I’d do all of this,” she gestured to her arm. “For someone I hate?”

She felt weak wearing a sling in front of him. The image disgusted her. She moved to take it off, wincing as she tried to pull it over her head.

André moved forward like a gust of wind. “Should you really take that off?” Though he helped her pull it away.

His musky, sweet cologne drifted over her like the surf, and she swayed into him. His broad chest filled her view, and she inhaled him like a drug. Everything inside her was weak, except this one feeling, this intense urge to hold onto him like the last ride she’d ever have.

“Your bruises look better today. Do they hurt?”

Gemma shrugged with one shoulder. “Not too much.” She probably looked like a prize-fighter after ten rounds, and she hated looking weak in front of him. In front of anyone.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself for putting you in the middle of all this.” André kissed her forehead and held her close.

“Don’t worry about me,” she murmured into his shoulder. Everything was finally thrown into perspective. André had never asked for these maniacs to invade his home and kill his family any more than she had asked for him to seek refuge on the ranch. Reality was twisted and unforgiving. Sometimes the world just collapsed for no reason. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Rebuilding everything and dealing with the loss…”

“Likewise,” he rasped.

Her breath caught on a stone lodged in her throat. Dealing with my loss…Suddenly, everything hurt. Her brain, her heart…her soul.

Maybe if I hold onto him long enough, this pain will go away.

“Besides,” André continued. “It’s what I owe them,” he breathed into her hair, weaving his fingers into her blonde waves. “To my family, my father especially. This is how I will make up for my mistakes. Rebuilding is only the start. I’m setting up memorials for those who were lost, arranging trusts for their families, renegotiating defense agreements…preparing my father and brother’s memorials, worthy of their sacrifices. Of everyone’s sacrifices.”

Something compressed in her chest and Gemma squeezed him tighter with her good arm. The demands of a reluctant king. “I’m so sorry, André.”

He rubbed small circles at her lower back, but didn’t respond.

Gemma swallowed at the stone. “Your sister?”

His shoulders stiffened against her hold. “I received a call from her yesterday. It was a bad connection and I couldn’t hear much, but it was her. They traced the signal to the Philippines, and we’re trying to find her.”

“That means she’s alive.” Gemma’s voice sounded hopeful as she pulled back and looked into his stricken face. “If she’s made it through all of this so far, she’ll be okay.” André would have at least one family member left. He wouldn’t be alone.

All of the energy drained out of André’s stance, just as his expression dropped.

“What?” She was afraid to ask.

“Before the call cut out, I heard…gunfire.” His Adam’s-apple strained against his neck. “And then nothing.”

She cupped his cheek with her hand. “Alanna’s fine, André. I’m sure of it. She’ll come back and be the Princess everyone loves.”

His sigh visibly lifted his shoulders, along with his stricken expression. “When she does, she won’t be the princess anymore. She’ll be Queen.”

Gemma’s hand lowered to his chest, soaking in his words. “What does that mean for you?”

He held her hand over his heart. “The throne is hers by law since I was exiled. Or she can choose to entrust it to me until she’s twenty-one, at which point she must ascend or abdicate.” His voice was calm and unemotional, like discussing the plans of his family were beyond his choice.

“What will you do?”

“It’s not up to me. If she wants the throne, I’ll stay and help her as best I can. It’s the least I can do. If not…” He trailed off and kissed her crown.

“If not?”

“Then I pray you come to love this island as much as I.” She heard him swallow, and felt his throat move against her skin. Gemma’s brow furrowed and she pulled back. His eyes rested on hers, full and serious. “On the boat, coming into Solana,” he began, holding her hands with shaking fingers. “I heard Stefano ask if you loved me. You didn’t answer.”

Her mind fought against the haze—or was that the pain meds?—and remembered that night. Stefano’s words of warning and the heartbreak when she admitted the truth to herself. But she couldn’t get the words out.

“Everything has changed for me,” he continued. “Not just the throne and my lifestyle, but everything in here.” He placed her hand back over his heart. “You’ve made me smarter and stronger. Better.”

Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded, rushing her veins with a twinge she’d never felt before.

“I owe you everything,” he whispered into her neck, nuzzling below her ear. “You saved me in so many ways. Whatever you want, mi diamente, it’s yours.” He fluttered a kiss on her skin and slowly trailed his hand up her uninjured arm. “Money, jewels, horses…a palace.”

Everything shifted and she pushed back, placing her hand on his sash. Her fingers trembled over his chest as she processed his words. What is he doing?

“Going forward, nothing in my life is certain. Except as a Peralta, I will always have a target on my back. I have no right to ask you this, to put you in more danger with everything you’ve already sacrificed. I understand if that risk is too much for you.” He cupped her neck. “But I’m in love with you, Gemma Westfall. I want you with me.”

Gemma’s mouth opened, but nothing came out except a gasp. She gripped the opening of his jacket, fighting back the growing lump in her throat. The deep color in his eyes hypnotized her, but she forced herself to look away. Anyone would melt into those eyes. Give anything to stay lost in his gaze.

He fluttered a kiss on her forehead, pulling her closer to his chest. Her senses were overloaded by his musky cologne, burying the stubborn will that told her to back away. His heart raced under her hand. “Now that I’ve found you, I won’t let you go,” he breathed, almost winded.

“Why?” she asked into his neck. Her voice cracked. “I have nothing you need.”

“You are everything I need.” André held her elbows and gazed hard into her eyes. “I need you with me. You give me the strength to do what’s right. To make it through all of this havoc.”

Her mind whirled. She couldn’t imagine the responsibilities on his shoulders, or how she could possibly help him with any of them. She was merely a shell of what she used to be.

“This room is yours,” André continued. “The palace, gardens, stables, it’s all free reign for you. An entire team of Royal Guardsmen will accompany you anywhere you want to go on the island. At any time you want. The best clothes, jewels, whatever you want. As long as you’re with me.”

Gemma’s head hurt the more André spoke. All the attention and extravagance he promised, overwhelming as they were, wasn’t anything she wanted.

“Or you can live in a house of your own just off the palace grounds.” André’s voice became significantly less enthusiastic. “Ride horses until your boots fall off. Just…please stay.”

Everything he offered was worth more than she could ever hope to earn in a lifetime. Supposed to represent the love of a man worth a hundred times that. But the man she fell in love with on a dusty ranch thousands of miles away was far less extravagant. And infinitely more precious. He stood in front of her wearing his true colors, the ones he was born to wear. The ones she would never dare ask him to remove.

When she didn’t respond, his voice lowered even further. “Is it…the Lozano cartel you’re worried about?”

“I could give a shit about them.” It was so hard to look into his eyes. She’d cave if she did. “I don’t know how to fit into this world, André. You’re regal, I’m country. You’re distinguished, educated and everything a woman could want, and I have a foul mouth and an ugly history. You have a country depending on you, and all I have is…” Her voice trailed off and she didn’t want to say it. It hurt to even think it: I have no one, just a shattered heart.

“You have me,” he finished for her, kissing her knuckles and breathing her in. “For the record, I worship your mouth.”

Gemma’s laugh sounded like a sob.

“I love how direct you are,” André continued. “No nonsense, with a heart ten times bigger than Texas. Not a single ruler in the world could rival your pride and loyalty. Stefano, Rico, and all of Solana already adore you. Let me be your family, Gemma.” He held her hands like in prayer, his fluttering lips melted her insides and made everything ache.

My family. I’d love to have him as my family. And more.

“Do you love me, Gemma?” he asked on a whisper.

Her throat closed in on itself, and her heart raced. Say it, Gemma. He needs to know.

With a tear rolling down her cheek and her lip trembling, she couldn’t say it. Too afraid. So she nodded instead.

His eyes warmed as he wiped the tear away. She could feel his chest swell against her, just as hers started to cave.

“But I have to go back, André.”

The hope in his eyes dwindled to disbelief.

“I can’t leave Reyna like that.” Her voice shook as much as her hands. “I have to go back and bury her properly. I have to say goodbye.”

The reluctance on his face was palpable, but he nodded and kissed her knuckles. “Then we’ll do it together. When Alanna returns and you’re healed, we’ll go back together. We’ll worry about everything else later.”

Gemma sighed in relief and gripped his shirt.

“Right now, this is enough,” he whispered and pulled her in closer. “Just be with me. The man you met on the ranch. Who christened himself on horseshit, made you throw sugar in my face, and whom you love to ride into oblivion.”

Gemma flushed and heat pooled in her core. “You’re the best time I’ve ever had.”

He grinned. “Me too.” He led her inside, so gentle and handsome she could barely breathe. Standing in a room meant for a princess, she felt something collapse inside her. Her will, her defenses, common sense, she wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it was lost. “It’s not a quilt by your pond or the hull of a boat.” André’s voice melted over her skin like butter. “But I think I can still make this our best time.”

Gemma used her good arm to grab his elbow and pull him in, flush against her chest. “As long as when you kiss me, you can’t look anywhere else.”