Rich, Rugged And Royal. Catherine Mann
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glasses had told him she wanted to throw his offer back in his face. His ears still rang from the slamming door when she’d walked out. Most women he knew would have jumped at the prospect of money or expensive gifts. Not Shannon. If anything, she seemed put off by his wealth. It had taken him two months to persuade her just to have coffee with him. Then two more months to work his way into bed with her. And after nearly four weeks of mind-bending sex, he was still no closer to understanding her.
Okay, so he’d built a fortune from Galveston Bay being one of the largest importers of seafood. Luck had played a part by landing him here in the first place. He’d simply been looking for a coastal community that reminded him of home.
His real home, off the coast of Spain. Not the island fortress his father had built off the U.S. The one he’d escaped the day he’d turned eighteen and swapped his last name from Medina to Castillo. The new surname had been plucked from one of the many branches twigging off his regal family tree. Tony Castillo had vowed never to return, a vow he’d kept.
And he didn’t even want to think about how spooked Shannon would be if she knew the well-kept secret of his royal heritage. Not that the secret was his to share.
Vernon tapped the scarred wooden table in front of him. “Your phone’s buzzing again. We can hold off on this hand while you take the call.”
Tony thumbed the ignore button on his iPhone without looking. He only disregarded the outside world for two people, Shannon and Vernon. “It’s about the Salinas Shrimp deal. They need to sweat for another hour before we settle on the bottom line.”
Glenn rolled his coffee mug between his palms. “So when we don’t hear back from you, we’ll all know you hit the ignore button.”
“Never,” Tony responded absently, tucking the device back inside his suit coat. More and more he looked forward to Shannon’s steady calm at the end of a hectic day.
Vernon’s phone chimed again—Good God, what was up with all the interruptions?—this time rumbling with Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.”
The grizzled captain slapped down his cards. “That’s my wife. Gotta take this one.” Bluetooth glowing in his ear, he shot to his feet and tucked into a corner for semiprivacy. “Yeah, sugar?”
Since Vernon had just tied the knot for the first time seven months ago, the guy acted like a twenty-year-old newlywed. Tony walled off flickering thoughts of his own parents’ marriage, not too hard since there weren’t that many to remember. His mother had died when he was five.
Vernon inhaled sharply. Tony looked up. His old mentor’s face paled under a tan so deep it almost seemed tattooed. What the hell?
“Tony.” Vernon’s voice went beyond raspy, like the guy had swallowed ground glass. “I think you’d better check those missed messages.”
“Is something wrong?” he asked, already reaching for his iPhone.
“You’ll have to tell us that,” Vernon answered without once taking his raccoonlike eyes off Tony. “Actually, you can skip the messages and just head straight for the internet.”
“Where?” He tapped through the menu.
“Anywhere.” Vernon sank back into his chair like an anchor thudding to the bottom of the ocean floor. “It’s headlining everywhere. You won’t miss it.”
His iPhone connected to the internet and displayed the top stories—
Royalty Revealed!
Medina Monarchy Exposed!
Blinking fast, he stared in shock at the last thing he expected, but the outcome his father had always feared most. One heading at a time, his family’s cover was peeled away until he settled on the last in the list.
Meet the Medina Mistress!
The insane speed of viral news … His gaze shot straight to the windows separating him from the waiters’ station, where seconds ago he’d seen Shannon.
Sure enough, she still stood with her back to him. He wouldn’t have much time. He had to talk to her before she finished tapping in her order or tabulating a bill.
Tony shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly in the silence as Vernon’s friends all checked their messages. Reaching for the brass handle, he kept his eyes locked on the woman who turned him inside out with one touch of her hand on his bare flesh, the simple brush of her hair across his chest until he forgot about staying on guard. Foreboding crept up his spine. His instincts had served him well over the years—steering him through multimillion-dollar business decisions, even warning him of a frayed shrimp net inching closer to snag his feet.
And before all that? The extra sense had powered his stride as he’d raced through the woods, running from rebels overthrowing San Rinaldo’s government. Rebels who hadn’t thought twice about shooting at kids, even a five-year-old.
Or murdering their mother.
The Medina cover was about more than privacy. It was about safety. While his family had relocated to a U.S. island after the coup, they could never let down their guard. And damn it all, he’d selfishly put Shannon in the crosshairs simply because he had to have her in his bed.
Tony clasped her shoulders and turned her around. Only to stop short.
Her beautiful blue eyes wide with horror said it all. And if he’d been in doubt? The cell phone clutched in Shannon’s hand told him the rest.
She already knew.
* * *
She didn’t want to know.
The internet rumor her son’s babysitter had read over the phone had to be a media mistake. As did the five follow-up articles she’d found in her own ten-second search with her cell’s internet service.
The blogosphere could bloom toxic fiction in minutes, right? People could say whatever they wanted, make a fortune off click-throughs and then retract the erroneous story the next day. Tony’s touch on her shoulders was so familiar and stirring he simply couldn’t be a stranger. Even now her body warmed at the feel of his hands until she swayed.
But then hadn’t she made the very same mistake with her dead husband, buying into his facade because she wanted it to be true?
Damn it, Tony wasn’t Nolan. All of this would be explained away and she could go back to her toe-curling affair with Tony. Except they were already in the middle of a fight over trying to give her money—an offer that made her skin crawl. And if he was actually a prince?
She swallowed hysterical laughter. Well, he’d told her that he had money to burn and it could very well be he’d meant that on a scale far grander than she could have ever imagined.
“Breathe,” her ex-lover commanded.
“Okay, okay, okay,” she chanted on each gasp of air, tapping her glasses more firmly in place in hopes the dots in front of her eyes would fade. “I’m okay.”
Now that her vision cleared she had a better view of her place at the center of the restaurant’s attention. And when had Tony started edging her toward the door? Impending doom welled inside her as she realized the local media would soon descend.
“Good, steady now, in and out.” His voice didn’t sound any different.
But it also didn’t sound Texan. Or southern. Or even northern for that matter, as if he’d worked to stamp out any sense of regionality from himself. She tried to focus on the timbre that so thoroughly strummed her senses when they made love.
“Tony, please say we’re going to laugh over this misunderstanding later.”
He didn’t answer. His square jaw was set and serious as he looked over her shoulder, scanning. She found no signs of her carefree lover, even though her fingers carried the memory of how his dark hair curled around her fingers. His wealth and power had been undeniable from the start in his clothes and lifestyle,