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“Does that worry you?”
“Yes. You see, I’m not one to share heartbreak stories, but in this case, I should probably share with you, why I’ve been—”
“Playing hard to get?” He couldn’t hold back a smile.
“Yes. Only I’m not playing. I’m seriously not interested in getting involved with a man with so much...glitter.”
“Glitter?” He laughed. “What’s that?”
“You’re always going to shine. No matter what.” His smile faded. She was dead serious. “And any woman who gets involved with you, will be giving up her identity, her dreams, her heart, to someone who has pledged his life to his country.”
“Who was he, Portia? Surely, someone has broken your heart.”
“Yes, my heart was broken. I don’t like talking about it, but since it’s important to our conversation, I’ll tell you about Travis Miles. He’s like a king in America, a big time Hollywood celebrity.”
Juan Carlos nodded. “Of course I know of him. I don’t go in much for entertainment news, but he sure has quite a résumé.”
“Travis knows everyone of substance in the country from sports figures and superstars to high-ranking politicians. We ran hot for a short time, and then...I became old news to him. He didn’t have time for me and we began seeing less and less of each other. Shortly after, I found out he’d been cheating on me with a woman on the staff of his TV show for a long time. Seems that everyone knew about it but poor little gullible me. He’d made me out to be a fool and my career and credibility suffered. It’s taken me three years to get my reputation back. Princess or not, I wasn’t immune to the blonde-bimbo stigma and so now, I’m cautious. Which is why your royal status isn’t a plus in my book.”
He stood with hands on hips, silent, taking it all in. He understood her caution. The pain in her eyes, the tremor in her voice were telling, and his heart hurt hearing her confession. He should leave and let her resume her vacation. He shouldn’t press her. But his feet were planted and they weren’t moving. He couldn’t face not seeing her again.
“If things were different, would you accept my offer?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes clear now. “I wouldn’t hesitate. It sounds far too exciting to pass up.”
“Then let’s pretend that we’ve just met. There was no amazing kiss from before. We haven’t danced and spent time together. This is a business meeting. And I promise to keep things completely professional between us.”
“Why is it so important to you?” she asked.
“Because, I...I see how much you want to say yes. I see that you’d love to locate the secret artworks.”
“And you promise that after we discover this wonderful treasure, we’ll just be friends?”
He let a split second go by. He was a man of his word. If he promised, he’d have to adhere to his vow, regardless of how much he wanted things to be different.
“I promise, Princess.”
She nodded. “I know you mean what you say. So yes, I accept your offer.”
* * *
The next morning, Portia informed the concierge that she’d be checking out earlier than expected from Villa Delgado and offered her thanks for his accommodations. He’d questioned her, hoping she hadn’t been disappointed in her stay, and she assured him that was not the case. She’d been called away unexpectedly, she explained. And his brows arched as if he’d suspected King Montoro had something to do with her sudden departure.
And so, her adventure was beginning. Dressed for the search, wearing a pair of Gucci jeans and a red plaid shirt tucked in and belted at the waist, she swopped out her Bruno Magli shoes for tall leather boots and stood outside the villa at precisely eight o’clock. Sunglasses shielding her eyes, her bags packed and ready to go, she gave one last glance to the Atlantic shoreline and the clear azure waters lapping the sands. There would be no five-star accommodations where she was going. She was told to expect rustic and that was fine with her. She’d gone camping before; she knew how to rough it.
Sort of. Jasmine had convinced her once to rent a motor home and they’d trekked as far as Pismo Beach, California. They’d parked the giant thing facing the ocean, and then had gone out for lunch and dinner every night. They’d hit a few clubs, too, dancing until dawn. So maybe that wasn’t roughing it per se.
But they had cooked their own breakfasts and hiked the beach in the mornings. Did that count?
