The Montoros Affair: The Princess and the Player / Maid for a Magnate / A Royal Temptation. Charlene SandsЧитать онлайн книгу.
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?
“Isabella, I—” Bella bit her lip before she spilled all her angst and doubt over what her father had asked her to do by giving Will a chance. Her aunt was tired and didn’t need to be burdened with Bella’s problems.
“The farmhouse. It’s part of the Montoro legacy, passed down from the original Rafael Montoro I, to his son Rafael II. And then to his son Rafael III. Remember the farmhouse, child,” her aunt wheezed out in the pause.
“I will.” Before she could change her mind again, Bella went for broke. “But I might take a different young man with me than the one my father wants me to marry. Would that be a bad thing?”
“You must make your own choices,” her aunt advised softly. “But beware. All choices have consequences. Be sure you are prepared to face them.”
Isabella’s shaking hand went slack as she slipped off into sleep for real this time. Bella took her leave reluctantly and slid into the waiting car her father had sent for her, wishing her aunt wasn’t so sick that they could only have half of a conversation.
What had Isabella meant by her warning? During the hour-long ride back to Playa Del Onda, Bella grappled with it. Unfortunately, she had a sinking feeling she knew precisely what her aunt had been attempting to tell her. Being born during a hurricane hadn’t infused Bella with a curse that meant she’d always leave broken hearts in her wake. It was her own decisions that had consequences, and if she wanted to be a better person than she’d been in Miami, she had to make different, more conscious choices.
Hurricane Bella couldn’t cut a swath through Alma, leaving broken pieces of her brother’s reign in her wake. Or broken pieces of her father’s agreement with Will’s father. Mentioning all of Bella’s ancestors hadn’t been an accident—Isabella wanted her to remember her roots.
Either she had try for real with Will and then tell him firmly it wasn’t going to work, or she had to skip the party. It wasn’t fair to anyone to go with the intention of running into James for any reason.
* * *
By the time the party rolled around, Bella was second-guessing the red dress. She’d never worn it before but distinctly remembered loving it when she’d tried it on at the boutique in Bal Harbour. Now that she had it on...the plunging neckline and high slit in the skirt revealed a shocking amount of flesh. But she’d promised Isabella she’d wear red, and it was too late to find another dress.
And honestly, she looked divine in it, so... Sexy red dress got the thumbs up. If she and Will were going to get along, he’d have to accept that she liked to feel beautiful in what she wore. This dress filled the bill. And then some. If a neckline that plunged all the way to the dress’s waistband caused a problem with Rowling’s business associates, better she and Will both find out now they weren’t a good match.
The chauffeur helped her into the back of the Montoro car. Thankfully, Will hadn’t offered to pick her up so she had an easy escape if need be. Please God, don’t let me need an escape.
Within ten minutes, the car had joined the line of Bentleys, Jaguars and limousines inching their way to the front steps of the Rowling mansion. Like the Montoros’ house, the Rowlings’ Playa Del Onda residence overlooked the bay. She smiled at the lovely sight of the darkened water dotted with lighted boats.
When Bella entered the double front doors, Will approached her immediately, as if he’d been waiting for her. His pleasant but slightly blank expression from earlier was still firmly in place and she bit back a groan. How long were they going to act like polite strangers?
Jaw set firmly, Will never glanced below her shoulders. Which sort of defeated the purpose of such a racy dress. What was the point of showing half her torso if a man wasn’t even going to look at it?
“Bella, so nice to see you again,” Will murmured and handed her a champagne flute. “That dress is stunning.”
Okay, he’d just earned back all the points that he’d lost. “Thanks. Nice to see you, too.”
His tuxedo, clearly custom-cut and very European, gave him a sophisticated look that set him slightly apart from the other male guests, most of whom were older and more portly. Will was easy on the eyes and commanded himself with confidence. She could do worse.
Will cleared his throat. “Did you have a nice afternoon?”
“Yes. You?”
“Dandy.”
She sipped her champagne as the conversation ground to a halt. Painfully. Gah, normally she thrived on conversation and loved exchanging observations, jokes, witty repartee. Something.
The hushed crowd murmured around them and the tinkle of chamber music floated between the snippets of dialogue,