‘Philanthropist?’ Dom suggested with an evil snigger, as if no one had any right to be kind to people, least of all Sofia.
‘If you’re referring to my retreat, it helps those who need it, and that’s all I care about. You can deride it all you like, but you won’t destroy it. I won’t allow you to.’
‘You think I’d waste my energy on destroying your pathetic little retreat?’
Judging by his expression, the only thing Dom would like to destroy was Sofia, she realised, feeling the first ice-cold frisson of fear.
Only fools don’t feel fear, her brothers had told her, and Dom’s small black eyes had turned as hard as marble. This was the other side of the smooth courtier’s coin. It showed a man eaten up by jealousy for a prince who was twice the man he was, and for his Queen, who was vulnerable and kind, and now, incredible though it might seem to her, Sofia. ‘I know you did it,’ she said calmly.
‘Did what?’ Dom demanded in a disdainful tone.
‘You’re the only person who could possibly know the details that appeared to back up those scurrilous comments in the article. You’re the only person with access to Prince Cesar’s diary. You know all the dates and the events he attends. I ran through everyone else it could possibly be in my head on my way to the airport, and realised that no one else knows as much about the Prince’s diary as you.’
A look of triumph sprang onto Dom’s face. ‘Are you admitting the details are true?’
‘I’m not admitting anything. I’m saying you embroidered the facts to suit you and your master, Howard Blake, and I’m accusing you of colluding with Blake to introduce a suitor for the Queen’s hand into court when Her Majesty was at her lowest ebb. You, above everyone, knows everything about the royal family, and how best to hurt them.’
Dom stiffened. She’d made a lucky guess but, having shown her hand, she was now in danger. Her brothers were out riding, and there was no sign of the SUV Cesar used on the ranch. He must have gone out somewhere, and there was no doubt that Dom, like his master Howard Blake, would stop at nothing to complete his mission of destroying everyone she loved. And she was alone with him in a kitchen full of potential weapons.
Contrary to popular belief, men could multi-task. On his way to the airport, speakers in his muscle car read out his texts. There was nothing from Sofia. While he was confirming that, he was calling up his security team on a second, secure line. The first thing he’d done on waking and finding Sofia gone had been to ask his team, comprised entirely of ex-Special Forces, to institute a full-scale search for Sofia to make sure she was safe. Whatever had pulled her out of bed that morning had to be serious. Sofia was a serious-minded woman.
When she wasn’t wild and abandoned in his arms.
He got an update from his team leader and smiled faintly. Nothing about Sofia could surprise him. ‘This has only just happened?’ he confirmed as he slowed the car.
His next call was to the airport, where his jet was ready and waiting. ‘I won’t be needing it,’ he told his people.
His last call was to check the facts. He was a meticulous man.
An impersonal voice on the other end of the line informed him that the aircraft due to take Sofia home to Spain would board in around an hour, though as yet there was no sign of a Señorita Acosta on the checked-in passenger list.
Burning rubber, he screeched into a tyre-flaying U-turn and headed back the way he’d come. The road was straight and empty. He was driving a car with a top speed of over two hundred miles an hour. It would be rude to ignore the vehicle’s potential.
As fast as it was, he still had time to think. If Sofia did something unusual, there was a good reason behind it. She’d slept in his arms. That was unusual. How had that made her feel? It had made him feel too much, which in itself was unusual. She’d trusted him, and that had touched him. What grabbed at his heart now and twisted it in knots was that whoever had their claws into Sofia wasn’t ready to let go. And that put her in danger.
Howard Blake was another matter. He’d been dealt with. Cesar was not just meticulous, once he’d made up his mind he moved fast. He couldn’t wait to tell Sofia that a cast-iron, signed and sealed document from Cesar’s lawyers had landed in his inbox a couple of hours ago. His legal team had been working through the night to draw up a contract that would secure the financial future of Sofia’s retreat for as long as it existed, thanks to an unbreakable trust that had been set up by none other than Howard Blake. Under Cesar’s instructions.
To make doubly sure Blake’s teeth were pulled, Cesar had purchased his newspaper empire, so Sofia was free to paint and ride to her heart’s content, as well as help as many of those who needed her arm around their shoulder as she could.
The journey home was exasperating as possibility and probability jostled for position in his mind. Had Sofia read the second newspaper article yet? Would she laugh or cry when she did? His brain refused to stop whirring. Was she having second thoughts about sleeping with him? Not that much sleep had been involved. Was that why she’d left his bed? If she’d never reached the airport, but had returned to the estancia because she had guessed, as he had, that the trouble lay right there, then she could be in danger. Concern hit him like a punch in the gut. He put his car to the test. Two hundred miles an hour was not only achievable, but vital in this situation.
The black beast didn’t let him down. The car did all but take flight.
‘What are you going to do about this discovery of yours?’ Dom sneered at Sofia as they faced each other in the kitchen. ‘Do you plan to tell Cesar? Do you really think he’ll believe you, after this second article? He might pretend not to believe you wrote it, but does he really know? Won’t he doubt your honesty?’
With each question asked Dom moved a step closer. Sofia was backing up. They had almost reached the door. She planned to take her chances and escape as soon as she reached it. ‘Of course I read the article on my phone,’ she confirmed—anything to keep him talking. ‘It was full of accusations, and insinuations about events supposedly taking place at the training camp.’
The lies had churned her stomach. With Sofia’s by-line at the top of the piece, it had made her relationship with Cesar read like a sting, calculated to trap him and prove him unworthy of the throne. If he believed those lies Cesar would cut her out of his life with surgical precision. Her brothers would never speak to her again. Funding would dry up for her retreat. It would have to close, leaving those she cared for with nowhere to go. She’d be a pariah, but that was nothing compared to the effect the damning article could have on a man who was brave and strong and principled, and who led by example, a prince who would one day be King. ‘Where is Cesar?’ she queried, heart clenching with lurid possibility. ‘What have you done with him?’
‘Me?’ Dom touched his crisp, tailor-made shirt just short of where his heart should be. And then he lunged for her.
Dom’s hand around her neck was removed so fast Sofia had no idea what had happened. One minute she was fighting a murderous opponent, and the next Dom was flat out on the kitchen floor with Cesar looming over him.
‘Cesar!’ It felt as if she’d shrieked his name but it sounded like a croak. He was at her side in an instant with his arm around her shoulders, bringing her so close in a clasp of relief that she could hardly breathe. ‘Help—’
He released her in an instant and, holding her at arm’s length, he stared down with relief, as well as something warmer and deeper. ‘The conventional phrase, I believe, is, “Thank you”.’
‘When have we ever been conventional?’ she managed hoarsely as she clutched her throat and coughed. ‘But thank you.’
