The Keys' Prince (The Royal Heirs) (5 page)

“Are you okay?” Dario whispered into her ear while Auntie Elo asked the waiter to bring them another round of drinks.

The warmth of his breath sent shivers cascading into places that only he could reach.

“As good as can be expected after the day we’ve had,” she said, far from being able to believe a word she’d said.

“I know. Sure not what I expected when I woke up this morning,” he said shaking his head with the same disbelief running rampant through her.

“So what brings you to the Florida Keys?” Auntie Elo asked, evidently deciding to get the party started with the most important questions knocked off first.

Although Dario had claimed earlier that he was in town for rest and relaxation, Stella knew him way too well to think that was the only reason.

“As you know, everyone thinks life as a royal is a fairytale,” he said, swirling the finest of dark amber Remy Martin’s around the circumference of his brandy snifter.

“Try being a billionaire heiress,” Stella said, knowing exactly where he was coming from.

“No thanks,” Dario said, raising his glass in mock salute.

“I gather everything isn’t perfect in your Riviera kingdom?” Stella asked, hating to see the distress in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

“Far from it. Unless you’d like to agree to marry me, for the second time. Unlike our past attempt, we’d actually have to go through with it and produce an heir. Preferably a son. Within the next year. Sooner, if possible,” he said, a sarcastic grin lighting up his eyes with the wicked mischief Stella had always gotten a kick out of.

“Well it would take at least nine months for the little one to be born, and I doubt we could pull off a wedding fit for a future king in three months or less,” she said, trying to add humor to the situation while also keeping the conversation far away from how she’d failed him the first time. She’d never forgive herself for that decision, and he probably wouldn’t either.

“Why the rush?” Auntie Elo asked also maintaining a light and carefree mood, not venturing into their painful past.

“My father isn’t well,” Dario said, taking a long pull from his glass. “So, for months now, he and my mother have been trying to marry me off. But I’m not having it. I’m marrying the woman I want to, when I want to, and I’m marrying for love, not in order to spawn an heir.”

Stella’s insides ached, knowing that once she was that woman.

She’d denied him the one thing he wanted above all else, as did she—a loving family of their own.

“But what about your cousins? They can still assume the title in the event that something happens to you, right?” Stella asked, almost unable to breathe just thinking about something happening to Dario.

“As you probably remember, my Uncle Carlos, my father’s brother, has a son, who he insists is fit and ready for the throne. But, I know my cousin well, and he wants nothing to do with it. He’ll more than likely renounce his claim as soon as his father can be put in his place.”

“Oh,” Stella and Auntie Elo said simultaneously.

“To kingdoms,” Stella said, raising her glass for a toast, “and to those of us lucky enough to be left to rule them.”

The clink of their cocktail glasses sent a shimmer of painful recognition straight to Stella’s heart.

At least her father’s trustees weren’t forcing her to get married and have a child. At that thought though, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Auntie Elo asked.

“Can you imagine the reaction I’ll get when someday I inform the Rat Pack that I’m about to take a husband?”

Auntie Elo laughed. “You can bet all you have that I’ll be eavesdropping on that conversation.”

As quickly as she’d made the off-handed comment, Stella wished she could retract it. Although Dario didn’t let his facial expression or body language mirror his feelings about what she’d said, his eyes did. He knew, like she did, what the Rat Pack’s reaction would be. If it was anything like the last time they’d approached them, all hell would break loose.

Lost for a moment in his eyes, knowing that he was still wondering ‘What If’ too, Stella took a deep breath and tried to think of something else to say.

Dario reached for her hand, offering her the best comfort that he could—his touch. If anything could begin to heal their past, it was the simple act of him reaching for her hand. He’d always done that whenever life seemed like too much for them to handle, offering her a reminder that she wasn’t facing the world alone.

God, she missed sharing life with him.

It wasn’t long before a wicked grin formed across his lips, making the corners of his mouth crinkle.

That silly grin made him even more handsome. Stella had always thought a man looked his best when he was smiling or laughing. But Dario’s grin redefined best.

She sighed and stirred her mojito.

What a terrific couple they’d made. Back then though, they were too young to know it. C’mon, she chided herself. No they weren’t. They knew exactly how great they were together. She just didn’t have the courage to stand up for what they had. The reason Dario was still in need of a princess was her fault.

Auntie Elo’s phone started jingling to its Calypso ringtone. Even though it was rather loud for Stella’s tastes—she preferred the much more subtle Marimba option—she couldn’t help but start to move her body to the catchy rhythm.

“I still love that kind of music,” Dario said, drumming the sides of his brandy glass with his fingers, clearly enjoying the island beat. “How about you?”

“Me too,” Stella said, thinking about all of the times they’d danced together in the gardens behind the castle. The two of them with a boombox by the light of the moon.

“That’s it then. We shall be married. We like the same music, which means I have a lot more in common with you than I do with any of the prospective brides I’ve recently been offered.”

Stella laughed and snorted, but luckily her snort was drowned out by the deluge of rain that, without warning, descended from the sky.

“Wow! Now that’s what I call rain,” Dario said, scooting in his chair so that the runoff from the restaurant’s awning wouldn’t end up on his back.

“Should we move to a table inside?” Stella asked, having to almost shout into his ear to be heard over the rain.

“No. This is great! If it’s okay with you.”

“I like it too,” she said and smiled, taking another healthy swig of her mojito.

“What? I can’t hear you? Let me put you on speaker,” Auntie Elo said, placing her Swarovski crystal-studded phone in the center of the table and cranking up the volume. “There, Emma Lou, go ahead.”

“I said would it be okay if we closed up the shop a little early? With this rain setting in, there won’t be any customers.”

Auntie Elo looked at Stella, who nodded.

“Sure. Go for it. You got a hot date or something?” Auntie Elo asked, rolling her eyes and making the sign of the cross over her heart.

“No. No. No dates tonight. But Hollywood just got word that Mr. Sorenson’s wife died, so we’ve got baking to do.”

Stella couldn’t hold it in. She laughed so hard that she totally lost it and part of her mojito too. Still chuckling, she wiped up the mess with her napkin while tears fell down her cheeks. Dario helped tidy up their table with his napkin and raised his eyebrows.

Man, he had to think she was a total disaster, Stella thought. In the course of one day, she’d almost head-butted him, she’d knuckled him in the mouth, she’d played hardball again with a gang of thieves, and now she’d spit her mojito across the table. She definitely wasn’t making the grade for princess material, if she was interested a second time around.

“I can only imagine the baking you’ve got to do,” Auntie Elo said and shook her head. “When are you heading over to Mr. Sorenson’s home?”

“Not sure yet. And even if I was, I’m not telling you in case you slip up and tell Hollywood. She’s beat me to the door the last three deaths.”

Dario looked at Stella for an explanation, but she deferred to Auntie Elo. She wasn’t about to provide the details on this subject. Besides, she loved the way Auntie Elo explained her friends’ notorious behavior and knew Dario would too.

“The last three deaths?” Dario repeated after Auntie Elo had disconnected Emma Lou’s call.

“Emma Lou and Hollywood, as well as the rest of the single women in our retirement community, often find their next spouse right next door,” Auntie Elo said, dunking a gigantic shrimp from the shrimp cocktail they were all sharing into a wonderful, horseradish-spiked red sauce.

“So there are a lot of single men your ages then?” Dario asked.

“Not exactly. Well...they’re single after their current wives die. And according to Emma Lou and Hollywood’s way of thinking that means that whoever beats it to the poor chap’s door with the first homemade pie probably has a better chance of becoming the next wife.”

“That’s awful!” Dario said, although his tone and ornery smile indicated he found it as funny as Stella did.

“The last time this happened, Emma Lou got all bent out of shape because she told Hollywood she was going to the widower’s home at a certain time, only for Hollywood to end up getting there an hour earlier,” Auntie Elo said, raising her shoulders as if to say ‘what are you gonna do’.

“And don’t forget the time before that when Emma Lou decided to forego a pie and fixed an entire crock pot meal,” Stella said.

“Oh yeah. Hollywood was some kind of mad at that stunt,” Auntie Elo said.

“Mad because she didn’t think of it first,” Stella said.

Dario sat back in his chair, his entire upper body shaking as he laughed.

“So perhaps in order to find a wife, I should have some sort of cook-off,” Dario said.

“Whatever you do, don’t tell Emma Lou and Hollywood that, or they’ll both be purchasing one-way tickets to Kristianico,” Auntie Elo said, not a hint of humor in her serious tone.

“All of this talk of food is making me rather hungry,” Dario said, finishing off the last of the shrimp cocktail and picking up his menu.

“Me too,” Stella said and did the same.

Looking back up from her menu to ask Dario what sounded good, the scene taking shape in front of them left her speechless. She’d been preoccupied deciding between the Pompano Lido Key, topped with her favorite blue crab, or the seafood ravioli. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been paying attention to what was happening on the other side of the wrought iron railing lining the restaurant’s al fresco dining area. All she could do was wrap her hands around Dario and Auntie Elo’s arms and squeeze.

Lined up along the railing and now popping out of the bushes on the edge of the curb must have been at least a dozen paparazzi all shouting at once.

“Prince Adonis over here.”

“Why are you in Sarasota?”

“How long will you be here?”

“Where are you staying?”

“Who are you dining with?”

As if he would look at them or answer any of their questions.

Before Stella could grab her phone to text for her team, they were there—along with the two men she’d made earlier as part of Dario’s security force. Their teams pulled back each photographer and, in some cases, confiscated their cameras so that no more photos could be taken.

“If you’ll please follow me, Your Highness. We’ll get you secured,” a tall man with dark shades and an ear piece said to Dario while forcing opening a gate along the iron railing.

“Stella, this way, please,” Franco, Stella’s lead bodyguard said, coming up behind her and opening the sliding door leading back into the restaurant.

There were so many lights flashing from the photos still being taken, some while the photographers were being dragged backwards by their jacket collars that, Stella lost sight of Dario.

Franco had her and Auntie Elo by their elbows, gently guiding them inside the door, towards the kitchen at the rear of the restaurant.

“Franco, wait a minute. What about Dario? I want to make sure he’s—”

“We’ve made arrangements with his people to take all of you to a secure location. He’ll be fine. We’ll meet up with him shortly,” Franco said.

Stella breathed a sigh of relief and mouthed a thank-you. It wouldn’t have done any good for her to have told him out loud. There was no way he could hear her with the noise still filtering in from the obscene ruckus outside the restaurant.

This is exactly the kind of moment she’d tried so desperately to leave behind when she’d come to The Keys. And she imagined it was the same for Dario. All they wanted to do was escape. To live in peace. On their own terms.

Worse than the dread of having to be escorted out of what should have been a nice quiet dinner, Stella was terrified that her new cover was about to be blown. And if it wasn’t already, it would be by tomorrow or later in the week, after the pictures that had been taken were sold to tabloids around the world.

Dario was indeed The Keys’ new prince, but the people here had no idea that they were also sharing this bit of paradise with the wealthiest woman in the world.

CHAPTER SIX