“That’s fine, we’re almost done here.”
“What else do I have to do?” he asked.
Serafia shifted her gaze toward the two expectant women beside her without turning her head. Gabriel followed the movement and put on his practiced smile when he noticed who it was. She’d taught him well, it seemed. “Señora and Señorita Gomez have been waiting for you.”
“Your Grace,” Felicia said as both she and Dita gave a brief curtsey. “We’d hoped to have a moment of your time after the parade. The party had simply too many people for us to have a proper conversation.”
That translated to: You didn’t spend enough time with my daughter and if she’s going to be queen, she needs time to work her charms on you.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
Felicia seemed a little taken aback. “Hungry, Your Grace?”
“I was just telling Señorita Espina that I spied the most delicious-smelling tapas restaurant. It looks like a hole in the wall, but I’m anxious to try it. Would you care to join us?”
Serafia could see the conflict in Felicia’s eyes. The Gomez family wasn’t one to be seen at a run-down tapas restaurant. Serafia fought to hold in a twitter of laughter as she watched the older woman choose between two unpleasant fates—dining with commoners and being turned away by the prince once again. There was a pained expression on her face as she finally responded.
“That is very kind of Your Grace. We have already eaten, unfortunately. But perhaps you would give us the honor of hosting you at our home for dinner sometime soon.”
“That’s a very kind offer. I’ll see when I can take you up on it. It was good to see you both again. Señora Gomez. Señorita Gomez,” he said, tipping his head to each in turn. “Have a lovely afternoon.”
At that, he smiled and put his arm around Serafia’s shoulder. Together, they made their way from the disgruntled Gomez women over to his private car to track down some tasty tapas.
Serafia waited until the car door was shut and the tinted windows blocked them from sight, and then burst out laughing. “Did you see the look on her face when you invited her to go get some lunch? I nearly dislocated a rib trying not to laugh.”
“Did I handle it okay?”
“You did very well. It isn’t your fault she won’t stoop to the level of an average person. She isn’t going to give up, though. She wants you to marry Dita and she’ll keep trying until you do.”
Gabriel looked at her in a way that made her bones turn to melted butter. “She can try,” he said. “But I’ll be the one with the crown on my head. I make the decisions when it comes to who I date and who I’ll marry.”
Serafia felt her heart stutter in her chest as he spoke the words, looking intently at her. She knew in that moment that she needed to be very, very careful if she didn’t want the crown of Alma on her head, as well.
* * *
The following morning, Gabriel decided he wanted to take his breakfast out on the patio overlooking the sea. The weather was beautiful, the skies were blue and the fresh sea air reminded him of home.
Sitting in the shade of the veranda, he sipped the coffee Luca brought him and watched a sailboat slip across the bay. How long had it been since he’d gone sailing? Too long. Once this coronation business was over and he could settle into being king, he intended to remedy that.
He could just picture Serafia standing on the deck, clutching the railing and watching the water as they cut through the waves. He imagined her wearing nothing but a pair of linen shorts hugging the curve of her rear and a bikini top tied around her neck. Her golden skin would darken in the sun, her long dark hair blowing in the sea breeze.
That sounded like heaven. It made him wonder if there was already a boat in the possession of the royal family. If there was, he’d ensure that they took it out for a spin as soon as possible.
As he took another sip, Luca appeared in the doorway. “Luca, do you know if we have a boat?”
“A boat, Your Grace?”
“Yes. We have a beach house. Do we have a boat?”
“Yes, there is a sailboat at the marina. The youngest Tantaberra was an avid sailor.”
At the marina. Perhaps they could go out sooner than later. When he looked back at Luca, he realized he had the Alma newspaper in his hand. “Is that today’s paper?” he asked.
Judging by the concerned expression on Luca’s face, the latest royal coverage was not as positive as he’d hoped. He imagined the press had had a field day ragging on him about that panic attack at the vineyard. It wasn’t the most kingly thing he’d done this week. He’d thought the parade went alright, though.