The Keys' Prince (The Royal Heirs) (7 page)

Here it was early February, she reminded herself, and all she needed was a blanket to keep warm. This was living right. Well, it had been, until a few hours ago.

She couldn’t get over the way her life had changed in less than twenty-four hours. She’d woken up this morning, in her aunt’s small, park model home in one of Sarasota’s retirement communities, perfectly content with the new direction her life was taking. Twelve hours later, she and Auntie Elo couldn’t go back to that home. Worse yet, if her cover was blown, she may never make it back.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the tears threatening to come to her eyes. Even deep yoga breaths couldn’t get her back to the happy place she’d been in earlier in the day.

As it had been many times before in her life, all it took was the snap of a single photographer’s camera to take away her peace and freedom.

She ran her fingers through her chic blonde bob, wondering if it could still work its magic and hide her identity. Once known for her charcoal black, long, loose waves and curls, she’d been thrilled when her security team suggested that, as part of her disguise, she do something totally different with her hair. She’d had her stylist go short and blonde. A daring new look she’d come to love.

With that much of a drastic change in her hair and body type, could her true identity be exposed after just a few shots?

And what would her cover being blown mean for Neptune’s Treasures?

She’d been so careful to conceal her identity when she’d set up the shop, leaving no traces at all—thanks to the holding company she’d formed bearing not a single hint that it could be an Anastas corporation. And she never used her own name on anything she did in Sarasota. She paid for everything in cash, which was delivered to her as needed by a team she employed just for that purpose.

She’d given Dario her name—well, an abbreviated version—but he’s the only person she’d done that for. Even her business cards had an assumed name, for her protection.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Dario said, scooting over so that his thighs touched hers.

Stella laughed. Wouldn’t it be great if she could live life counting pennies instead of gold bars and multi-billion dollar bank accounts and properties?

“I was just thinking about what I’m going to do once my identity is broadcast to the world,” she said, refusing to feel sorry for herself anymore. She just needed to figure out how to handle the situation without losing the magnificent life she’d built in Sarasota. 

“Would a foot rub help?” Dario asked, his rakish grin making it impossible to refuse his request.

“Can’t hurt,” she said, turning around and putting her feet on his lap.

Dario took her feet between his hands and gently pressed his thumbs into her arches, moving his fingers in small, very controlled, circular motions.

Stella felt the dizzying effect of his touch not just in her feet. Tiny surges of pleasure fired through her legs, heated her lower abdomen and stomach and then ripped through her upper torso. Her body ached with desire.

Despite her arousal, the more he caressed every inch of her feet, the more she finally began to let go and relax. She never had been able to understand how his touch could both soothe her and excite her at the same time.

“If you’re feet are any indication, the rest of you must be a mess. They’re a bundle of knots,” he said, intensifying the pressure from his hands till Stella thought she’d have to jerk her feet out of his reach.

“Definitely matches the rest of me,” she said, groaning as he worked out one particularly sore spot.

“Well then, you’re a lucky lady.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are. I happen to be well-schooled in reflexology, so we can get to the roots of your condition.”

“A prince with a foot fetish?” Stella asked and giggled.

“Very funny. But you know how long I’ve been carrying around that glass slipper looking for the perfect fit,” he said and laughed. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s feet.”

Stella laughed out loud, but then gasped and jerked away when he landed on a spot that shot straight to her core.

“Sorry if that hurt, baby. Pain there means you’ve got something troubling you in your heart,” Dario said, looking at her with empathy that only the two of them would know the root of.

She moved her focus from his all-knowing eyes to the fireplace, letting the warm glow and heat help her get a grip on what he’d just said.

“I know we’ve been apart for what feels like forever, but I’m hoping to make that up to you,” Dario said, easing back from the strong-handed approach he’d taken with her feet, applying nothing but soft caresses on her cheeks. “I’ve never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

“Same here,” Stella said, wishing this moment would last forever. “Our luck though, we’ll turn into pumpkins at midnight.”

She met his smile with one of her own. Neither one of them spoke another word, choosing to let the comfort of their admissions speak for themselves.

With their lips only inches apart, it didn’t take long to join them. Stella wasn’t sure which one of them leaned into the other first. But it didn’t matter. Home for her had always been when she was wrapped in his arms, sharing a kiss.

What Dario’s lips and tongue took from her, she willingly gave back. She wanted so much more from him, but instead drank in every sweet bit she could take for now.

She collapsed back against the gigantic pillows behind her, Dario coming down softly on top of her. How being with him now could be any sweeter than it had been at eighteen was a mystery. But it was. She’d been so foolish to have ever believed she’d find this kind of magic with another man.

Before she could stop them, tears slid down her cheeks, their salty taste reaching her tongue.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. It’s okay,” Dario said, breaking their kiss and tucking her head into the hollow of his neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m just really happy,” she said, doing her best to stop the deluge by wiping her eyes and focusing on the spicy exotic scent and warmth of his skin.

“So happy that you’re crying?” He asked, his tone the tender tease that she’d always taken refuge in.

She playfully brought her fist against his rock hard chest.

“You know what I mean.”

“I suspect I do,” he said, lacing his strong fingers through her hair and gently massaging her scalp. “God, I’ve missed you, Stella.”

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” she said. Nothing had ever sounded as sweet as knowing they were once again each other’s baby.

• • •

Stella had no idea what time they’d fallen asleep. It had felt so good to be curled up in Dario’s arms, snuggled together on the sofa, sharing the same pillow and blanket, catching up on the last twenty-five years that, they’d simply lost track of time.

Her prince was still lying beside her, without his shirt, which was more than fine with her, lightly snoring as the sun shone beautifully over the aquamarine bay.

She glanced at the large, flat screen TV mounted above the fireplace, straining her eyes to see the time flashing on the banner scrolling along the bottom of the picture.

The Today show was on. Kathie Lee and Hoda were seated, wine glasses in hand, waiting on their social media expert to reveal the most-Googled topics from the weekend.

Stella grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume.

“Talk about super hot and chat-worthy,” the expert said, while the camera panned in to get a better shot of the graphic behind them announcing the number one searched item. “Folks, it doesn’t get any better than trying to figure out whether or not Stella Anastas is in our midst! This weekend’s most-Googled and searched for scoop is whether or not this beauty, pictured here in St. Armand’s Key with none other than Prince Adonis of Kristianico, is the billionaire heiress, Alexia Stella DeAngelo Anastas!”

Stella rose so fast from the sofa that she almost rolled Dario onto the floor.

“Whoa. What happened? What’s wrong?” He asked, catching himself against the coffee table with his outstretched arms and pushing back on
to the sofa.

“That’s it. The jig is up. Both of our covers are now officially blown,” Stella said, beginning to pace the room. “We’re the number one most-Googled topic of the weekend.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Oh boy,” Dario said stretching his arms high into the air.

He moved his head slowly from side-to-side, right ear to right shoulder, left ear to left shoulder then rolled his head in complete circles. Each grisly crack and pop made him grimace. Sleeping on the sofa all night had done a number on him. Not that he’d have traded being that close to Stella for anything, unless it was for a nice big bed with her snuggled up next to him.

“Now what do we do?” Stella asked, her eyes wide with fear, and if Dario wasn’t mistaken, brimming with tears.

She stopped pacing and sank back down onto the sofa, burying her head in her hands.

“First, we’ve got to relax. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to think our way through it,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and beginning to work his thumbs and then the rest of his fingers into a nice, slow massage.

Feeling her muscles relax under his touch warmed his heart. He was glad he still had that effect on her.

He sure didn’t like seeing her so worked up though. After this many years at the head of her father’s fortune, he would have thought that she’d have toughened up to the media, but it didn’t appear that she had. Maybe that was something he could help her with. Over the years, whether he’d wanted to or not, he’d gotten very adept at making sure these kinds of things worked to his favor.

“Relaxing and thinking make for a decent plan. But I also know a couple of things that are no longer an option,” Auntie Elo said, entering the room carrying a tray with a crystal pitcher of some kind of green juice and matching glasses.

Stefan, Dario’s chief protection officer, and Franco, Stella’s lead bodyguard, followed Elo, one carrying a carafe of coffee and the other a carafe of hot tea and several cups.

Despite the foul mood everyone seemed to be in, Dario had to laugh, even if it was all to himself. Knowing Stella like he did, he imagined that, after working for her for several years, Franco was used to also assisting Auntie Elo however Elo saw fit. He’d probably carried a carafe or two, perhaps juiced whatever fruits and vegetables were in the nasty-looking green stuff and done many other things outside of security duties.

But Dario would have bet money that he’d never see the day that one of his own protection officers would not only protect him, but also serve him coffee. He knew Auntie Elo was a force to be reckoned with, but obviously he had no idea just how convincing she could be.

Stella’s beguiling ways definitely came from Elo’s part of the gene pool. He had a feeling there wasn’t anything Franco wouldn’t do for Stella or Auntie Elo. And it sure hadn’t taken them long to work their charms on his staff, too.

“At least we’ve got juice, coffee and tea,” Stella said taking a seat at the large, umbrella-covered table on the sun-filled veranda just beyond the vaulted roof and motioning for everyone to join her.

She poured Dario a cup of coffee, not bothering to ask if he’d prefer either green juice or herbal tea. Something as simple as her knowing his tastes brought him comfort he hadn’t experienced in ages. His heart beat stronger because of it. She’d always made him more comfortable in his own skin with the most basic of everyday gestures. Who knew pouring his morning coffee was the way to his heart?

Serving Auntie Elo a glass of juice and herbal tea, and Franco and Stefan each a coffee straight up black, Stella filled a juice glass and tea cup for herself. After placing the carafes on the lazy Susan in the center of the table, she wrapped her hands around her tea cup, the same way Dario had always seen her do it. He still knew her so well, and he loved that. She liked to let the heat soak into her skin and warm her from the inside out.

“We definitely can’t go home or to the shop,” Auntie Elo said, already finished with her first half glass of juice. “Emma Lou and Hollywood called to check on us. They said both places are swarming with reporters and paparazzi.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Stella said, taking small sips of her tea. She’d never been one to finish off a cup with gusto. Dario used to tease her that he needed to get her a bottle instead of a cup and saucer.

“It doesn’t surprise me either,” he said, hoping his modicum of cool remained convincing. It was one thing for him to handle the media when they were hounding him, but it was another thing entirely when the people he cared about were also in the crossfire.

“I’m going to toss out an idea here,” Stefan said, tipping back in his chair, his suit jacket sliding away from his shirt just enough for the sun’s rays to settle on his shoulder holster and duty weapon. “I’m sure you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I ask that you simply hear me out.”

“Okay. Fair enough,” Dario said, always willing to listen to Stefan’s plans. He usually had good ideas, even if Dario wished his abundance of precautions weren’t necessary.

“What if we give the press what they want, so to speak?” Stefan asked making eye contact with each of them to make sure he had their undivided attention.