Seated in a tapestry wingback, Enrique Medina stared back at her from beside a stained glass window. Even with his ill health, the deposed monarch radiated power and charisma. His dogs asleep on either side, he wore a simple dark suit with an ascot, perfectly creased although loose fitting. He’d lost even more weight since her arrival.
Enrique thumbed a gold pocket watch absently. “Do not mind me.”
Had Tony sent her to this room on purpose, knowing his father would be here? She didn’t think so, given the stilted relationship between the two men. “I don’t want to disturb you.”
“Not at all. We have not had a chance to speak alone, you and I,” he said with a hint of an accent.
The musicality was pleasing to the ear. Every now and then, a lilt in certain words reminded her of how Tony spoke, small habits that she hadn’t discerned as being raised with a foreign language. But she could hear the similarity more clearly when listening to his father.
While she’d seen the king daily during her two weeks on the island, those encounters had been mostly during meals. He’d spent the majority of his time with his daughter. But since Eloisa and her husband had left this afternoon, Enrique must be at loose ends. Shannon envied them that connection, and missed her own parents all the more. How much different her life might have been if they hadn’t died. Her mother had shared a love of music.
She stroked the keyboard longingly. “Who plays the piano?”
“My sons took lessons as a part of the curriculum outlined by their tutors.”
“Of course, I should have realized,” she said. “Tony can play?”
Laughter rattled around inside his chest. “That would be a stretch. My youngest son can read music, but he did not enjoy sitting still. Antonio rushed through lessons so he could go outside.”
“I can picture that.”
“You know him well then.” His sharp brown eyes took in everything. “Now my middle boy, Duarte, is more disciplined, quite the martial arts expert. But with music?” Enrique waved dismissively. “He performs like a robot.”
Her curiosity tweaked for more details on Tony’s family. Over the past couple of weeks, their relationship had deepened, and she needed more insights to still the fears churning her gut. “And your oldest son, Carlos? How did he fare with the piano lessons?”
A dark shadow crossed Enrique’s face before he schooled his regal features again. “He had a gift. He’s a surgeon now, using that touch in other ways.”
“I can see how the two careers could tap into the same skill,” she said, brushing her fingers over the gleaming keys.
Perhaps she could try again to find a career that tapped into her love of music. What a gift it would be to bring joy deeper into her life again.
Enrique tucked one hand into his pocket. “Do you have feelings for my son?”
His blunt question blindsided her, but she should have realized this cunning man never chatted just for conversation’s sake. “That is a personal question.”
“And I may not have time to wait around for you to feel comfortable answering.”
“You’re playing the death card? That’s a bit cold, don’t you think, sir?”
He laughed, hard and full-out like Tony did—or like he used to. “You have a spine. Good. You are a fine match for my stubborn youngest.”
Her irritation over his probing questions eased. What parent didn’t want to see their children settled and happy? “I appreciate your opening your home to me and my son and giving us a chance to get to know you.”
“Diplomatically said, my dear. You are wise to proceed thoughtfully. Regrets are a terrible thing,” he said somberly. “I should have sent my family out of San Rinaldo sooner. I waited too long and Beatriz paid the price.”
The darker turn of the conversation stilled her. She’d wanted more insights into Tony’s life, yet this was going so much deeper than she had anticipated.
Enrique continued, “It was such chaos that day when the coup began. We had planned for my family to take one escape route and I would use another.” His jaw flexed sharply in his gaunt face. “I made it out, and the rebels found my family. Carlos was injured trying to save his mother.”
The picture of violence and terror he painted sounded like something from a movie, so unreal, yet they’d lived it. “Tony and your other sons witnessed the attack on their mother?”
“Antonio had nightmares for a year, and then he became obsessed with the beach and surfing. From that day on, he lived to leave the island.”
She’d known the bare bones details of their escape. But the horror they’d lived through, the massive losses rolled over her with a new vividness. Tony’s need to help her had more to do with caring than control. He didn’t want to isolate her or smother her by managing everything the way her husband had. Tony tried to help her because he’d failed to save someone else he cared about.
Somehow, knowing this made it easier for her to open her heart. To take a chance beyond their weeks here.
Without question, he would have to understand her need for independence, but she also had to appreciate how he’d been hurt, how those hurts had shaped him. And as Antonio Medina and Tony Castillo merged in her mind, she couldn’t ignore the truth any longer.
She loved him.
Approaching footsteps startled her, drawing her focus from the past and toward the arched entry. Tony stepped into view just when her defenses were at their lowest. No doubt her heart was in her eyes. She started toward him, only to realize his eyes held no tender feelings.
The harsh angles of his face blared a forewarning before he announced, “There’s been a security breach.”
Thirteen
Shock jolted through Shannon, followed closely by fear. “A security breach? Where’s Kolby?”
She shot to her feet and ran across the music room to Tony. The ailing king reached for his cane, his dogs waking instantly, beating her there by a footstep. Enrique steadied himself with a hand against the wall, but he was up and moving. “What happened?”“Kolby is fine. No one has been hurt, but we have taken another hit in the media.”
Enrique asked, “Have they located the island?”
“No,” Tony said as Alys slid into view behind him. “It happened at the airport when Eloisa and Jonah’s flight landed in South Carolina. The press was waiting, along with crowds of everyday people wanting a picture to sell for an easy buck.”