The Princess and the Player

Which might have been true when the picture was snapped, but probably wasn’t now that he’d stepped aside. Will would be his charming self and Bella would realize that she could have the best of both worlds—the “right” Rowling and her father’s blessing. Probably better for everyone, all the way around.

Deep down, James didn’t believe that in the slightest. He and Bella had a spark between them, which wouldn’t vanish with a hundred warnings from the old geezer.

“The monarchy is in its fledgling stages.” Patrick hesitated for the first time since barging into the sunroom and James got the impression he was choosing his words carefully. “Rowling Energy has a unique opportunity to solidify our allegiance and favor through the tie of marriage. There is only one Montoro princess.”

“And only one heir to the company,” James said sourly. “I get it. Will’s the only one good enough for her.”

His father sighed. The weariness that carved lines into his face around his mouth had aged him quickly and added a vulnerability to his expression that James hadn’t been prepared for. Patrick had never been anything other than formidable for as long as James could remember.

“I would welcome you at Rowling Energy if you expressed but a smidgen of determination and interest.” Then his father hardened back into the corporate stooge he’d become since entering into the high stakes oil market. Dad had too many zeroes in his bank account balance to truly be in touch with his humanity. “Will has done both, with remarkable success. If you would think of someone other than yourself, you’d realize that Will has much to gain from this alliance. I will not be at the helm of Rowling forever. Will needs every advantage.”

Guilt. The best weapon. And it might have worked if James truly believed all that drivel. Marrying into the royal family was about his father’s ambition, not Will’s.

“Maybe we should let Bella sort it on her own, eh?” James suggested mildly. He didn’t mind losing to Will, as long as the contest was fair.

“There’s nothing to sort,” his father thundered, growing purple again. “Stay away from her. Period. No more risqué pictures. No more contact. Do not ruin this for your brother.”

To put the cap on his mandate, Patrick Rowling stormed from the sun-room in much the same manner as he entered it. Except now Bella Montoro had been transformed into the ripest forbidden fruit.

James had never met a scandal he didn’t want to dive headlong into, especially when it involved a gorgeous woman who clearly had the hots for him. Pissing his father off at the same time James introduced himself to the pleasures of Princess Bella was just a sweet bonus.

Four

Bella spent two wonderful hours catching up with her great aunt Isabella, but the sickly woman grew tired so easily. Coupled with the fact that Isabella’s advanced Parkinson’s disease meant she was bedridden, it was difficult for Bella to witness her once-vibrant aunt in this condition. Regardless, she kept a bright smile pasted on throughout their visit.

But even Bella could see it was time for her to leave lest she overtire Isabella.

Before she asked her aunt’s nurse to call a cab, Bella took Isabella’s hand and brought it to her cheek. “I’m glad you decided to come to Alma.”

“This is where I choose to die,” Isabella said simply with a half smile, the only facial expression she could still muster. “I will see Gabriel become king and my life will be complete.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

It was depressing and wretched to think of the world spinning on without Isabella, whom Bella loved unconditionally and vice versa. Her throat burned with grief and unreconciled anger over a circumstance she couldn’t change.

Geez, she’d been less upset when her mother had left. That had at least made sense. Parkinson’s disease did not.

“It is but truth. All of us must make our lives what we can in the time allotted to us.” Isabella paused, her voice catching. “Tell me. Have you visited the farmhouse yet?”

“What farmhouse?” Had her father mentioned something about a farmhouse and she’d been too busy ignoring him to remember? Shoot. She’d have done anything Isabella asked, even if the request came via her father.

“Oh, dear.” Her aunt closed her eyes for a moment. “No, I don’t believe I imagined it. It’s white. In the country. Aldeia Dormer. Very important. My mother told me and Rafael of it. My brother is gone, God rest his soul, so I’m telling you. You must find it and...”