Charlene Sands - The Montoros Affair - The Princess and the Player / Maid for a Magnate / A Royal Temptation

Oh, but miss a goal—that had earned James an earful.

Patrick leaned forward, shoving his nose into James’s space and into his business all at the same time. “If you don’t stay away from the Montoro princess, I will personally ensure you never play football again.”

James scoffed. “You’re off your trolley. You have no power in my world.”

And neither did James, not now. It pricked at his temper that his father would choose that method to strike at him. Patrick clearly failed to comprehend his son’s life crisis if he didn’t already know that James had managed to thoroughly subvert his own career with no help from anyone.

The threat gave him a perverse desire to prove he could come back from the twin failures of a missed goal and a dropped contract. He needed to play, if for no other reason than to show everyone James Rowling couldn’t be kept down.

“Perhaps. Do you want to wager on that?”

James waved nonchalantly with one hand and clenched the other into a tight fist. What colossal nerve. A supreme act of will kept the fist in his lap, though letting it fly against the nearby wall might have ended the conversation quite effectively.

“Seems like pretty good odds to me, so don’t be surprised if I roll the dice with Bella.” He waggled his brows. “I think that picture is enough of an indicator that she fancies me, don’t you think?”

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...”

Trailing off with a blank expression, Isabella sat silent for a moment, her hand shaking uncontrollably inside Bella’s as it often had even before her aunt’s disease had progressed to include forgetfulness and the inability to walk.

“I’ll find the farmhouse,” Bella promised. “What should I do when I find it?”

“The countryside is lovely in the spring,” her aunt said with bright cheer. “You take your young man with you and enjoy the ride.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bella smiled. Wouldn’t it be nice to actually have a “young man” in the sweet, old-fashioned sense that Isabella had meant? Bella had only mentioned Will because her father had apparently told Isabella all about the stupid arranged marriage. It was the first thing her aunt had asked after.

“Wear a red dress to the party tonight and take photographs.” Isabella closed her eyes and just when Bella thought she’d fallen asleep, she murmured, “Remember we all have a responsibility to our blood. And to Alma. I wish Rafael could be here to see his grandson take the throne.”

“Red dress it is,” Bella said, skipping over the royal responsibility part because she’d had enough of that for a lifetime.

Wasn’t it enough that she was going to the party as Will’s date when she’d rather be meeting James there? And if James happened to show, would it be so much of a crime if she danced with him once or twice? She’d still be Will’s date, just the way everyone wanted, but would also give herself the opportunity to find out if James had pawned her off on his brother because he didn’t like her or because of some other reason.

Guilt cramped her stomach as her aunt remained silent. Yeah, so maybe Bella considered it a possible bonus that she might run into James at the party. Was that so bad?