Ionie's tinkling laughter sounded around the room. "Just what I wanted to hear. It so happens that I have the perfect solution to your problem."
"I'm listening."
"Ever heard of Perez Paraiso?"
Antoinette wrinkled her brow slightly. "It sounds familiar. I know Paraiso is Spanish for paradise."
"Perhaps this will jar your memory." Rising gracefully, Ionie went to the end table and picked up a magazine and brought it over. "Page five."
She went back to sit and waited until Antoinette had leafed through the glossy tabloid.
"It's a village in Spain."
"More like a sovereignty. It's more than a village, honey, and is run by Queen Sofia Gabriella Garcia-Perez. Her husband, the king, died of a heart attack while sailing the Mediterranean Sea with one of his many mistresses. The man was a pig, but a very handsome one. But rumor had it that the monarchy was controlled by his wife. She took over fully after he died. It's a small place, but it's a literal paradise, as the name suggests.
"The queen is a whip-smart businesswoman and has turned what was a flagging city into one of the most lucrative in that area of Spain. They're famous for handling thousands of tourists year-round. The family, which includes the queen and her son, Prince Tomas Diego Luis Perez, are multi-billionaires. They have their hands in many pies, including banking, restaurants, energy, an airline and most recently a vineyard. How's the wine?"
She sent the woman a puzzled look at the unrelated question. "It's good. Sweet and mildly tart. Excellent vintage."
Ionie smiled in approval. "The queen would love to hear that. You should tell her in those exact words when you get there."
"Get--" Antoinette's eyes widened. "Spain? The job is in Spain?"
Ionie lifted an elegant shoulder. "You said you wanted to be far away. And I've been gushing your praises to her royal highness.She wants an admin assistant, one who's reliable, highly professional and most importantly, one who's not going to go throwing herself at her son."
Ionie's green eyes gleamed with mischief. "I assured her that wouldn't be you."
"Of course not."
"Before you respond so readily, why don't you take a look at the darling man?" She nodded to the magazine.
Antoinette's eyes went to the next page automatically, and what she saw had her lips curling in disgust. Prince Tomas was almost naked, the towel held up, barely, by one hand as he smiled for the camera. His body was golden brown, his thick hair dark and unruly. His teeth were startlingly white against his tanned skin. Instead of dark eyes, he had inherited the green eyes from his mother.
They sparkled with mischief and made him look reckless. He was tall, the caption noted, his height topping over six feet. And he was ridiculously handsome.
"I'm immune." She was unaware how her voice had turned icy cold.
"Just what I told the queen." Ionie sipped her wine and studied her friend thoughtfully. "Which makes you perfect for the job. The compensation package is out of this world, and as long as you do an excellent job, you will fit in. You already speak the language, so that's an added bonus."
"Why me? Why not hire someone from her country?"
"She wants a connection to the States." Ionie stretched her legs out and purred like a cat. "And I suppose her son's abhorrence to American women makes you a wonderful fit."
"What's his problem with us?"
Ionie laughed softly. "He's European and royalty, and his family has been around for almost a thousand years. He thinks we're too loud and aggressive."
"Well." Putting aside the magazine, Antoinette reached for her wine. "He has nothing to fear from me."
"Does that mean you're interested?"
"Oh, absolutely. I'm more than ready to get the hell away from here."
*****
"You summoned?" The disapproval in his deep voice clearly stated that he was not in the least bit pleased. Far from it.
Lifting her head from the contract she had been perusing, Queen Sofia gazed at her only child from a tumultuous marriage and hid the smile that was lurking. The prince was outrageously handsome. He was a stunning combination of her and his father, and she always thought he had gotten the best of them with some improvements. His thick dark hair had a tendency to curl and was now tumbling over his high forehead, no doubt from being outdoors. His skin was a smooth olive, a striking contrast to the eyes he had inherited from her.
