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In New York, they boarded his own plane. She’d expected something like the jet they’d flown from Texas, a small, handsome craft with a handful of seats.
She should have known better.
Lucas’s plane was enormous, a sleek silver bird outfitted in glove-soft black and beige leather.
Though she’d lived in New York long enough to know that men who headed up international corporations often traveled in corporate jets and saw them not simply as perks but as necessities, she refused to think that of Lucas.
The way he treated her, his easy assumption that he could walk into her life and take it over and now the luxurious plane, even the presence of a steward, seemed proof that the Spanish prince saw himself as better than the rest of the world.
She didn’t like this man. Didn’t trust him. That she’d been susceptible to his advances didn’t just embarrass her, it angered her.
He’d sensed how naive she was and made the most of it.
Not anymore, she thought as the steward served dinner on fine china that bore a royal crest.
Now, she had a plan.
Eating the meal set before her was part of it. Maybe the steak and salad, the coffee and brie and water biscuits were the equivalent of breaking bread with the enemy but she had to maintain her strength.
Lucas would be a formidable opponent in what she increasingly saw as a complex chess game.
He had made the first move and he thought he had command of the board.
He didn’t.
As soon as they reached Spain, she’d tell him he had three days to settle this thing. That was more than enough time to convince an old man that he stood to lose more than he’d gain by interfering in two lives.
Playing God was never a good idea, and Prince Felix Reyes had to understand that.
Three days. Then she was going home.
One year of law school hadn’t turned her into a legal hotshot but even a novice could see that this contract had holes big enough to swallow a truck.
She’d go to New York, see her former professors. Surely one would give her the advice she needed.
Already, she could see the bare bones outline of how to fight the sale of the ranch.
Aloysius’s body had wasted away. Toward the end, so had his mind. Who knew how long that had been going on? Had he been mentally capable when he’d sold the ranch? When he’d agreed to an unenforceable stipulation?
Maybe Felix Reyes had lied to him about what he was signing. Maybe Thaddeus had gone along with it, or maybe he’d simply been bowled over by a high-powered international law firm.
The bottom line was that the contract didn’t make sense. Why would Felix Reyes have wanted such played-out land? Why would he have wanted her for his grandson?
Lucas could surely have all the women he wanted.
Alyssa finished her coffee, put down the delicate cup and saucer and glanced over at him, seated in a leather armchair across the aisle. His meal lay untouched on the table in front of him. His hands were wrapped around a heavy crystal glass that held an inch of amber liquid; his face was to the window.
Despite what she knew of him, what she thought of him, her pulse gave an unwelcome little kick.
He was so incredibly beautiful.
Tall. Dark. Masculine. And, ever since they’d changed planes in New York, quiet and brooding.
In fact, to her relief, he’d ignored her. He spent most of the time on the plane’s satellite phone, speaking sometimes in English, sometimes in Spanish, his voice never loud enough for her to pick up more than a couple of words but enough so she knew his conversations were about his grandfather.
She almost found herself feeling sorry for him. She’d even come close to leaning over and—and what? Telling him everything would be okay? Offering her compassion?
What compassion had he offered her? He was a coldhearted, manipulative tyrant, clearly accustomed to having his own way.
