Had there really been so many?
The upshot of it was that a playboy billionaire, more intent on womanising and indulging in a hedonistic lifestyle than leading his country, was as far away from the man he was as it was possible to imagine. Duty came first. Now. Then. Always.
Not to say he had no appetite for pleasure, but that was then and this was now, and he always looked forward. Sofia Acosta had dredged up the past, embroidering the facts until they could only cast doubt in people’s minds. What he found almost harder to believe was the way she’d dragged her brothers through the same mire. So much for family loyalty!
Why should he forgive Sofia Acosta for making him and his friends of many years the butt of her argument when she hadn’t given him the courtesy of seeing her words before they had gone to print? The effect on his pride might have been fleeting, but the longer-lasting effect on his country, and on the trust of his people, was what he cared about. Had she thought of that before she had put pen to paper? He doubted Sofia Acosta had thought of anyone but herself.
And now he was expected to sit in the same room as this woman and make small talk with her?
‘Sofia Acosta won’t be the last unwanted guest you are forced to welcome,’ Dom pointed out, reading Cesar’s mind with his customary ease. ‘Think of this as a trial run for the many unpleasant duties you’ll face in the years to come.’ Dom turned the page in his notebook. ‘You requested a meeting with Sofia’s brothers and your sister Olivia after the formal dinner?’
‘Correct.’ Anything to avoid dancing with the twittering princesses his mother and sister had no doubt seen fit to invite.
‘And Sofia Acosta will be included as well?’ Dom pressed diffidently.
‘She will have to be included,’ he reluctantly agreed. He frowned. ‘That’s supposing we can drag Signorina Acosta away from her hippy commune.’
‘The facility is more of a retreat,’ Don ventured as he handed over a report, ‘funded entirely by Signorina Acosta.’
‘With money inherited from her parents?’
Don confirmed this.
‘So, the demon rider has some redeeming features,’ he murmured as he scanned the report Dom had offered for him to read.
‘This is my decision,’ he stated. Unfolding his athletic frame from the chair, he went to stand by the window. ‘I will meet with the Acostas, including Sofia Acosta, and my sister Olivia, after the state dinner while the other guests are enjoying dancing to the orchestra.’
‘A wise decision, sir.’
Dom had his head down, but why was he smiling? What was his equerry thinking? Recently, Cesar had begun to doubt Dom’s advice, because something had changed in his manner. His equerry wasn’t as open as he had used to be.
Before he could progress his thoughts, a pair of sparkling black eyes invaded his mind. They belonged to a voluptuous woman who could throw any man off his game. It was hard to avoid Sofia Acosta when they attended polo matches across the world, and when their paths crossed there was always fire between them.
There’d be no fire at his dinner. Sofia must learn that she could not profit from rumour and stolen, off-duty snaps. She knew nothing about him. He knew even less about her. If Dom handled arrangements for the dinner correctly, that was how it would remain.
Sofia Acosta’s rustic rural retreat, deep in the heart of Spain, where Sofia’s brother Xander is tired of sitting for his portrait
‘If you could stop painting for a moment and speak to me!’ exclaimed the magnificent brute on his towering black stallion. ‘I should never have agreed to this!’
‘If you would stop ranting for a moment and keep still,’ Sofia soothed, ‘maybe I could finish this...’
Paintbrush high, she checked her work, and silently admitted that it was nigh on impossible to capture the darkly glittering glamour of a man who overshadowed everything in his immediate vicinity, including the stallion he was mounted on. ‘Against all the odds,’ she declared as she laid down her brush, ‘I’ve finished. Come and see, if you like—I’m sure you’ll love to see yourself blazing like a comet, fiercer than your stallion Thor.’
‘Which is exactly the impression you intended to convey, I imagine,’ Xander commented in a husky drawl as he eased his neck. ‘Why must everything be sensational in your world, Sofia? Why can’t you settle for calm?’
‘If that’s a reference to the article—’ She stopped speaking as hurt overtook Sofia’s natural desire to defend herself. Xander was her eldest brother, and the only one of the four prepared to listen to her defence when it came to an article that had appeared in print under her name but had been written by someone else. As of now she had nothing to back up her claim.
‘You’re a talented woman,’ her brother insisted as he dismounted. ‘You have your retreat, your riding... And you’re a passable artist,’ he remarked grudgingly as he scanned the canvas she’d been working on. ‘You don’t need to add journalist to your quiver of accomplishments. Be content with what you’ve got. Settle down. Enjoy life.’
‘Like you?’
Xander ignored this reference to his continuing bachelor state. Having had responsibility for the entire family thrust upon him when their parents had died, he’d never loosened up and allowed himself to live.
‘Why this pressing urge to see yourself in print, Sofia? I’m guessing it must have paid well.’
That was what all her brothers thought—that she had sold her soul to the devil in return for a hefty pay-out. The truth was rather more complicated. She had never wanted to see her name in print, but the offer of lots of money to write ‘something harmless’ had proved irresistible. There were so many people she wanted to help at the retreat she had created. Without a constant flow of funds that was just impossible.
Since her mother’s death, Sofia had lived her life as she believed her mother would have wanted her to, which included building a haven where others could escape for a while to recover from their difficult lives. Never in a million years had she imagined that once the article was written it would be changed, or that her brothers would be put under the same distorted spotlight.
