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The old man’s reply was a harsh rasp from the bowels of his wheelchair. “You will stay in Spain. As my heir.”
Santiago paced a step in the oversized salon, which was filled with Renaissance art and leather-bound books that he’d wager no one had touched in years, except perhaps by the maids dusting them. The two men were alone.
When he’d come downstairs to see his father, the man had wheeled over to the liquor cabinet, poured him a drink, and then spoken his demand without preamble.
Once he would have killed to hear his father say those words. But now...
Santiago took a gulp of Scotch, then said coldly, “You’ve ignored me for my whole life. Why would I want to be your heir?”
“It is your birthright.”
“It wasn’t my birthright for the last thirty-five years.”
“Everything changed with the death of my son.” Suddenly, the old man sounded weary. He ran a hand over his wispy head. “I am dying, Santiago. You are all that is left of the Zoyas now. If you do not take over this family, there will never be another Duque de Sangovia.”
Santiago’s jaw tightened. “Why should I care? You abandoned my mother. You abandoned me before I was born. What is the dukedom to me? I have my own company. My own empire. My life is not in Spain.”
“It could be.”
“I came to Otilio’s funeral to show my respect, nothing more. And because I was curious to meet the man who never wanted to recognize me as his son.”
The elderly Duke said slyly, “And to see Nadia?”
That brought Santiago up short.
The man continued, “She has been a good daughter-in-law to me. She is beautiful, elegant, powerful, famous. The perfect consort.” He paused. “Except for her inability to conceive the Zoya heir, but as for that, perhaps it is not too late.”
Santiago’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I know you and Nadia have a history. Perhaps this is fate. She could still bear the Zoya heir. To you.”
Santiago stared down at him, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Have you lost your mind, old man? You’ve met my fiancée. Belle is upstairs right now. Our baby is due in weeks—”
“You must give that woman up,” the Duque de Sangovia said harshly. “She will never be accepted, this country girl, not in Madrid nor in the elite circles of international aristocracy where you belong. It would be cruel to force her into a place where she would always be awkward, rejected, based on her unfortunate background.”
“Oh, so you’re just looking out for her—is that it?” Santiago said acidly. “You forget I was raised a bastard, without money or formal education—”
“You are different. You are my son, with Zoya blood. You have single-handedly built a business empire that must inspire respect.”
In spite of himself, Santiago felt a strange zing of pride at hearing his father speak those words. Then he caught himself. “So you expect me to abandon her,” he ground out, “as you did my mother?”
“Sí, and for the same reasons,” the duke said calmly. “I could not divorce my wife, the duchess, to run off with a maid. I would have lost all the fortune that came with her, and damaged my family honor and my name.”
“Seducing an eighteen-year-old maid and then abandoning your own son is what you call honorable?”
“Sometimes difficult choices must be made. This girl, this Belle, has nothing. She is nothing. Toy with her if you must, even have a child with her, but do not marry her. If you wish to be my heir, you must marry as befits the future Duke of Sangovia.”
“I will marry as I choose, and you and Sangovia and Nadia can all go to hell.”
“Do not marry this American girl.” The old man’s rheumy eyes turned hard. “Do you really think she could ever be happy here, in this world? It would be cruel to her. And the child. Let her go.”
Santiago opened his mouth to argue. Then he snapped it shut, thinking of the sad, haunted look in Belle’s eyes ever since they’d arrived in Madrid.
“Excuse me, Your Excellency.” A male nurse appeared at the door. “It is time for your medicine.”
The duke nodded grimly. He started to push his wheelchair out of the room, but as he passed Santiago, the duke gripped his arm with a shaking hand.
“You have the power to choose, mi hijo. Let the girl go. Accept your birthright as my son. Become my heir, and the future duke, to continue a legacy that has endured for hundreds of years. The dukedom, combined with your vast business empire, plus a marriage to Nadia, would make you one of the most powerful men in the entire world.” His beady eyes burned brightly in the shadowy salon. “Think about it.”
