“You seem to have quite a few preconceived notions about me. I thought journalists were supposed to be objective.”
“I am. Most of the time. You’re just… Hell, I don’t know.”
He was different, but telling him that would give him too much power over her. Was she being unfair to Duarte out of her own fear? Was she making assumptions based on an image of a privileged playboy prince?
Swinging her feet off the bed, she plucked her underwear from floor.
Duarte stroked her spine. “Tell me about the man who broke your trust.”
“It’s not what you think.” She pulled on her panties and bra. Where was her dress? And why was she letting his question rattle her? “I haven’t had some wretched breakup or bad boyfriend.”
“Your father?” Duarte said perceptively as he pulled on his boxers.
Kate slipped her kimono-sleeve dress over her head and swept it smooth before facing Duarte again. “He isn’t an evil man or an abuser. He just…doesn’t care.” Parental indifference made for a deep kind of loneliness she couldn’t put to words. Only through her camera had she been able to capture the hollow echo. “It doesn’t matter so much for me, but Jennifer doesn’t understand. How could she? He cropped himself right out of the family picture.”
“Where is he now?” He stepped into his slacks and reached for his chambray shirt.
“He and his new wife have moved to Hawaii, where he can be sure not to bump into us.”
“The kind to send his checks as long as he doesn’t have to invest anything of himself?”
She stayed quiet, tugging on her leather knee boots.
His hand fell on her shoulder. “Your father does send help, right?”
Bitter words bubbled up her throat. “When Jennifer turned eighteen, he signed over his rights and all responsibility. They were going to put her in the state hospital since she can’t live on her own. I couldn’t let that happen, so I stepped in.”
Duarte sat beside her, taking her hand lightly, carefully. “Have you considered taking him to court?”
“Leave it alone.” She flinched away from him and the memories. “Bringing him back into her life only gives him the option to hurt her more than he already has. Jennifer and I will be fine. We’ll manage. We always do.”
Duarte cursed low. “Still, he should be helping with her care so you don’t have to climb around on ledges snapping photos to pay the bills.”
“I would do anything for her.”
“Even sleep with me.”
His emotionless voice snapped her attention back to his face. The coldness there chilled her skin. Confusion followed by shock rippled through her. Did he really believe she could be that calculating? Apparently what they’d shared wasn’t as special to him if he thought so poorly of her.
Hurt to the core, she still met his gaze dead-on. “I’m here now because I want to be.”
He didn’t back down, his face cool and enigmatic. “But would you have slept with me to take care of her?”
And she’d thought she couldn’t ache more. “Turn the plane around. I want to go back.”
“Hey, now—” he held up his hands “—I’m not judging you. I don’t know you well enough to make that call, which is why I’m asking questions in the first place.”
Some of the starch flaked from her spine. Hadn’t she thought the same thing herself, wondering about ways she may have misjudged him? “Fair enough.”
“Has your father called you because of the publicity surrounding your engagement?” he asked, his eyes dark and protective. “People develop all sorts of, uh, creative crises when they think they can gain access to a royal treasure trove.”
“I haven’t heard a word from him.” Although now that Duarte had given her the heads-up, she would be sure to let voice mail pick up if her father did phone. “Other than the obligatory holiday greeting, we haven’t heard so much as a ‘boo’ from him. I guess that’s better than having to explain his dropping in and out of our lives.”
His hand slid up into her hair, cradling her head. “Your sister is lucky to have you.”
“Jennifer and I are lucky to have each other.” Kate stood abruptly, refusing to be distracted by his seductive touch.
This conversation reminded her too well that they knew precious little about each other. She’d known her jerk of a father all her life and still she’d been stunned when he dumped his special-needs daughter without a backward glance. What hurtful surprises might lurk under Duarte’s handsome surface?
Watching her through narrowed eyes, Duarte pulled on his shoes and gestured her back toward the main cabin. “We’ll have to put this conversation on hold. We should be landing soon. Would you like your first glance of the island?”
“The secrecy ends?”
“Revealing the specific location isn’t my decision to make.” He opened the window shade.
Hungry for a peek at where Duarte had grown up, she buckled into one of the large leather chairs and stared outside. An island stretched in the distance, nestled in miles and miles of sparkling ocean. Palm trees spiked from the landscape, lushly green and so very different from the leafless snowy winter they’d left behind. A dozen or so small outbuildings dotted a semicircle around a larger structure, what appeared to be the main house.
A white mansion faced the ocean in a U shape, constructed around a large courtyard with a pool. Details were spotty but she would get an up-close view soon enough of the place where Enrique Medina had lived in seclusion for over twenty-five years, a gilded cage to say the least. Even from a distance, she couldn’t miss the grand scale of the sprawling estate, the unmistakable sort that housed royalty.
Engines whining louder, the plane banked, lining up with a thin islet alongside the larger island. A single strip of concrete marked the private runway, two other planes parked beside a hangar. As they neared, a ferry boat came into focus. To ride from the airport to the main island? They sure were serious about security. Duarte had said it wasn’t his secret to reveal. She thought of his father, a man who’d been overthrown in a violent coup. And his brothers, Carlos and Antonio, had a stake in this, as well. None of the Medina heirs had signed on for the royal life.
God, she missed the days when her job had been about providing valuable information to the public. It had been two years since she’d been in the trenches uncovering dirty politics and the nuances of complicated wars as opposed to shining a public flashlight on good people who had every right to their privacy.
The intercom system crackled a second before the pilot announced, “We’re about to begin our descent. Please return to your seats and secure your lap belts. Thank you, and we hope you had a pleasant flight.”
A glass-smooth landing later, she climbed on board the ferry that would transport them to the main island. Crisp sea air replaced the recycled oxygen in the jet cabin. Her camera bag slung over her shoulder, she recorded the images with her eyes for now. Duarte would call the shots on when she could snap photos. Her stomach knotted even though there wasn’t a wave in sight, a perfect day for boating. A dolphin led the way, fin slicing through the water, then submerging again.
An osprey circled over its nest and herons picked their way through sea oats along the shore like a pictorial feature straight out of National Geographic. Until you looked closer and saw the guard tower, the security cameras tucked in trees.
A guard waited on the dock, a gun strapped within easy reach to protect the small crowd gathered to greet them. She recognized the man and woman from recent coverage in the media. “That’s your youngest brother, Antonio, and his fiancée.”
Duarte nodded.
The wedding he had mentioned made perfect sense now. She’d started the ball rolling digging up information about the shipping magnate and his waitress mistress. But then they’d fallen off the map. Apparently Alys Cortez hadn’t shared everything she knew about the Medinas.
The brothers shared the same dark hair, although Antonio’s was longer with a hint
of curl. Duarte had a lean runner’s build, whereas she would have pegged his brother as a former high school wrestler.
What sort of school experience would the young princes have had on a secluded island?
As the boat docked, she realized another couple waited with Tony and Shannon. Javier Cortez stood with a woman just behind him. They couldn’t possibly have permitted his cousin Alys to stay after she betrayed them. Although they allowed a reporter into their midst…
Duarte touched the small of her back as they walked down the gangplank. “There’s someone here to see you.”
She looked closer as Javier stepped aside and revealed—
Jennifer?
Disbelief rocked the plank under Kate’s feet. What was going on? She looked back at Duarte and he simply smiled as if it was nothing unusual to scoop her sister out of her protective home without consulting Kate. Not that Jennifer seemed to notice anything unusual about this whole bizarre day.
Jumping with excitement, her sister waved from the dock, wearing jeans, layered tank tops and a lightweight jacket. Her ponytail lifted by the wind, she could have been any college coed on vacation. Physically, she showed no signs of the special challenges she faced. But Kate was all too aware of her sister’s vulnerability.
A vulnerability that hit home all the harder now that Kate realized how easily someone could steal Jennifer away without her knowing. How could she ever hope to go on a remote shoot without worrying? What if her editor had been the one to pull this stunt?
Kate loved Jennifer more than anyone in the world. But the balance of that love wavered between sibling and motherly affection. The maternal drive to protect Jennifer burned fiercely inside her.
And Duarte had stepped over a line. How dare he use his security people to just scoop up Jennifer? He was supposed to be protecting her.
Her lips pursed tight, Kate held her anger, for now. She didn’t want to upset her sister with a scene.
Jennifer hugged her tight before stepping back smiling. “Katie, are you surprised? We get to visit after all. Isn’t it beautiful? Can we go swimming even though it’s January? It’s not snowing, like at home.”
Kate forced a smile onto her own face, as well. “It might be a bit cool for that even now. But we could go for walks on the beach. Hope you brought comfy shoes.”
“Oh, they have everything for me. He—” she pointed to Javier “—said so when he picked me up at school. I got to fly on an airplane and they had my favorite movie with popcorn. All these nice people were waiting to meet me when I got here a few minutes before you. Have you met them?”
Shaking her head, Kate let Jennifer continue with the introductions, which saved her from having to say anything for a while. More specifically, it offered her the perfect diversion to avoid looking at Duarte until she could get her emotions under control and him alone.
On the surface this seemed like a thoughtful gesture, but he should have consulted her, damn it. Thinking of Jennifer going off with people she didn’t know scared the hell out of Kate.
As for the supposedly great assisted-living facility, they never should have let Jennifer leave without calling her first.
So much for giving him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he could be an ordinary, everyday kind of guy. Duarte assumed his way was best.
No worries about joining the ranks of his three-month-rejects club. Because she would be walking out on Duarte Medina on their one-month anniversary.
Nine
Duarte wasn’t sure what had upset Kate, but without question, she’d gone into deep-freeze mode after the ferry crossing. He’d known the discussion about her dad made her uncomfortable, but not like this. He’d hoped seeing her sister would trump everything else and make her happy. He’d been wrong, and he intended to find out why—after he’d seen his father.
Two vehicles waited, as he’d requested. A limousine would take the women to the main house and Duarte would use the Porsche Cayenne four-wheel drive to visit the island clinic with Tony.
Watching Jennifer finish her introductions, Duarte was struck by how much she looked like her sister. They shared the same general build and rich brown hair, the strong island sun emphasizing caramel-colored highlights. But most of all, he couldn’t miss how much Jennifer adored her older sister. The love and protectiveness Kate displayed was clearly returned.
Bringing them together had been the right thing. And here on his father’s island he could offer the sisters some of the pampering they had been denied.
Duarte turned to Kate. “Javier will take you both back to the house. Shannon will help you settle in while I go see my father with Tony. Anything you need, just ask.”
He dropped a quick kiss on Kate’s cheek, playing the attentive fiancé.
Jennifer quickly hooked arms with her sister. “Let me see the ring…”
Their voices drifted off and Duarte faced his brother alone for the first time since he’d stepped off the ferry. Tony’s normally lighthearted ways were nowhere in sight today.
Duarte took the keys from his younger brother’s extended hand. “Any change in his condition?”
“His fever is down and the breathing treatments help him rest more comfortably.” Tony closed the car door, sitting in the passenger seat. “But the core problem with his liver hasn’t been solved.”
He turned the key and the Porsche SUV purred to life. “Has he considered a transplant?”
“That’s a sticky subject for the old guy.” Tony hooked his arm out the open window as they pulled away from the ferry. “For starters, he would have to go to the mainland. His doctors are of mixed opinion as to whether he’s a good candidate.”
“So we just wait around for him to die?” What had happened to their father, the fighter? “That doesn’t seem right.”
Enrique may have turned into a recluse, but he’d rebuilt a minikingdom of his own here off the coast of Florida. Duarte guided the vehicle along the narrow paved road paralleling the shore.
When he’d first arrived here as a kid, the tropical jungle had given him the perfect haven. He would evade the guards and run until his heart felt like it would burst. Over time he’d realized the pain had more to do with losing his mother, with watching her murder. Then he’d begun martial arts training as well so he could go back to San Rinaldo one day. So he could take out the people responsible for his mother’s death.
By the time he reached adulthood, he realized he would never have the revenge he’d craved as a child. His only vengeance came in not letting them win. He wouldn’t be conquered.
He’d thought his father carried the same resolve. Duarte forced his attention back on the present and his brother’s words.
“His health concerns are complicated by more than just the remote locale. There’s the whole issue of finding a donor. Chances are greatly increased when the donor is of the same ethnicity.”
“Which means we should be tested. Maybe one of us can donate a lobe,” Duarte said without hesitation.
“Again, he says no. He insists that route poses too great a risk to us.” Tony stared out over the ocean. While Duarte had used running to burn off his frustration, the youngest Medina brother had gravitated to the shore for swimming, surfing and later, sailing.
“He’s stubborn as hell.”
Tony turned back, his grin wry. “You’re one to talk. I’m surprised you actually brought Kate Harper here. And that you gave her our mother’s ring. You’re not exactly the forgiving sort.”
It wasn’t Beatriz’s wedding ring—Carlos had that— and in fact Duarte hadn’t remembered her wearing that one as clearly as he recalled the ruby she’d worn on her other hand. As a child, he’d toyed with it while she told him stories of her own family. She’d been of royal descent, but her parents had been of modest means. She’d wanted her sons to value hard work and empathize with the people of San Rinaldo.
What would life have been like if she’d made it out of the country with them?
But she hadn’t, and
what-ifs wasted time. Her death must be weighing heavier on his mind because of his father’s failing health. And now, he would see his father for what could be the last time.
The clinic—a one-story building, white stucco with a red tile roof—sported two wings, perched like a bird on the manicured lawn. One side held the offices for regular checkups, eye exams and dental visits. The other side was reserved for hospital beds, testing and surgeries.
Duarte parked the car in front and pocketed the keys. Guards nodded a welcome without relaxing their stance. They weren’t Buckingham Palace-stiff, but their dedication to their mission couldn’t be missed.
Electric doors slid open. A blast of cool, antiseptic air drifted out. The clinic was fully staffed with doctors and nurses on hand to see to the health concerns of the small legion that ran Enrique’s island home. Most were from San Rinaldo or relatives of the refugees.
Tony pointed to the correct door, although Duarte would have known from the fresh pair of heavily armed sentinels. Bracing, he stepped inside the hospital room.
The former king hadn’t requested any special accommodations beyond privacy. There were no flowers or balloons or even cards to add color to the sterile space. The stark room held a simple chair, a rolling tray, a computer…
And a single bed.
Wearing paisley pajamas, Enrique Medina needed a shave. That alone told Duarte how ill the old man was.
He’d also lost weight since Duarte’s last visit in May when he’d brought their half sister Eloisa over for her first trip to the island since she was a child. His father had been making a concerted effort to reconcile with his children.
A sigh rattled Enrique’s chest and he adjusted the plastic tubes feeding oxygen into his nose. “Thank you for coming, mi hijo.”
My son.
“Of course.” He stepped deeper into the room. The old man had never been the hugging type. Duarte clapped him on the shoulder once. Damn, nothing but skin and bones. “Antonio says you’re responding well to the treatment. When are you going to get a liver transplant?”
His Thirty-Day Fiancée Page 10
