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“I’m glad you didn’t turn into a mermaid,” he said with a quiet laugh.
They talked on the phone until Emily started drifting to sleep. She knew she should hang up, but she didn’t want to break the connection. Didn’t want to wake up without Rafe.
“Red?”
“Yes?”
“I wish I was there to tuck you into bed,” he said.
“Me, too,” she admitted. Then she opened her eyes as she realized that she was starting to need him.
“Good night, Rafe,” she said, hanging up the phone before she could do anything stupid like ask him what he’d wanted to be as a boy. Or to come back to Key West.
Four
Rafe secluded himself from the rest of the family in the office area of the suite of rooms he’d been given. The deal he’d struck for Montoro Enterprises to ship Alma’s oil was taking a lot of his time.
Alma was a major oil producing country to the north of Spain. Montoro Enterprises would be shipping the oil to its customers in North and South America where the bulk of their business interests were. It made good business sense but he also wanted it because he’d get a chance to explore the country of his ancestors. When he’d first done the deal he’d anticipated his father becoming King not himself.
Plus truth be told, he’d been so focused on work because he was avoiding his family and the coterie of diplomats who seemed to be lurking whenever he stepped out of his suite. He didn’t want to talk about his coronation or about the business of running the government. Yet.
But sitting around and hiding out went against the grain, so he’d been working nonstop. He hadn’t shaved in the three days, and Mozart had replaced Jay-Z and Kanye on the stereo because no one would ever be tempted to stop working and rap to Mozart. He hadn’t even contacted Emily, though he’d thought of her night and day.
She was an obsession. He knew that. He had the feeling that if he were in Miami maybe it wouldn’t be as fierce, but he was far away from her and thinking of her was nice and comforting in the midst of this storm that was brewing around him.
He banged his head on the desk.
“I can see I’m interrupting,” Gabe said as he entered without knocking.
“I’m working.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Gabe said, nodding toward the empty cans of Red Bull that littered the desk and the floor. He walked to the window and pulled back the drapes.
Rafe blinked against the glare of the sunlight. “What time is it?”
“Four in the afternoon. You’re expected for dinner tonight and if you don’t show up Juan Carlos is going to have a stroke. I know he’s been a pain lately with all this royal protocol, but we don’t want our cousin to have a stroke, do we?”
Rafe shook his head. “No.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. His eyes felt gritty and the stubble on his jaw felt rough. He was a mess. Truly. “This sucks.”
Gabe laughed that wicked, low laugh that Rafe had heard women found irresistible. He just found it annoying.
“Yeah, it does. Not so cool being the older brother now, is it?”
Not at all. “I should walk away...that would leave you holding the bag.”
A fleeting glimpse of panic ran across his brother’s face. “Dad would disown you. I’m pretty sure the board would fire you from Montoro Enterprises. Then what would you do?”
Run away to Key West.
Seemed simple enough, but to be fair he wasn’t sure what type of reception he’d receive if he just showed up on Emily’s doorstep.
“I think I’m too American to want to be a royal, you know? Maybe Dad still wants it, but it feels weird to me. I don’t want to be called ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Your Highness.’”
Rafe watched his younger brother. If there were the slightest sign that Gabe was interested in being king, Rafe would just walk away and let his brother have it. But Gabe rubbed the back of his neck as he paced over to the window. “Me neither.”
“Then I guess I’d better stop acting like a jerk and get out there,” Rafe said. “What’s the plan?”
“Dinner with some supporters. And a family who’d love for you to meet their daughter,” Gabe said with a wry smile.
Rafe shook his head. He’d do his duty to his family, but he was already involved with a redhead who wouldn’t take kindly to him catting around. He was getting to know her, starting a relationship with the woman who was going to be the mother of his child. What if she didn’t feel possessive toward him the way he did toward her? And he did feel possessive. Emily was his. “I’m not interested.”
