“Rowling is the most powerful businessman in Alma. Combining our families would strengthen our position here, both financially and socially. If he had a daughter I’d be shoving her under your nose, too.”
“Dad, it’s a marriage, not a business merger.”
“Same difference. I had a similar arrangement with your mother and now our company is in the Fortune 500.”
“And you’re divorced,” Gabriel added. Their mother was living happily on another continent and had been since Bella turned eighteen and she had fulfilled her obligation to Rafael and the children. That was just what Bella would want for her own marriage, Gabriel was sure. Turning from his father, he scanned the crowd again.
“Who are you looking for?” Rafael pressed.
“Serafia.”
Rafael popped a shrimp into his mouth and chewed it with a sour expression. “Don’t get too dependent on her, Gabriel. She’s just here through the end of the week. You’ve got to learn to stand on your own without her.”
Gabriel was taken aback by his father’s words. What did he care as long as Gabriel parroted all the right words and did all the right things? “I’m not dependent on her. I simply enjoy her company and I’m finding this party tedious without her.”
“Yes, well, don’t get too involved on that front, either. If you’re bored, I suggest you focus on the ladies here tonight. Take Dita Gomez or Mariella Sanchez for a spin around the dance floor and see if you feel differently.”
“And what if I want to take Serafia for a spin around the dance floor, Father? Stop treating her like she’s just an employee. The Espinas are just as important a noble family in Alma as any of these others.”
His father stiffened and the red blotchiness Gabriel had seen so often lately started climbing up his neck. “Now is not the time to discuss things like this,” he hissed in a low voice. “Now is the time to mingle with your new countrymen and start your search for a suitable queen. We will talk about the Espina family later. Now go mingle!” he demanded.
Gabriel didn’t bother arguing with him. If mingling meant he could get away from his father for a while, he’d do it gladly. Perhaps he’d find where Serafia was hiding in the process. With a nod, he set aside his plate and ventured out into the crowd. Every few feet he was stopped by someone and engaged in polite banter. How did he like Alma so far? Did the weather suit him? Had he had the opportunity to enjoy the beaches or any of the local culture?
He was halfway through one of these discussions when he spied Serafia over the man’s shoulder. She was standing across the room chatting with a gentleman whose name he had immediately forgotten when they were introduced in the receiving line.
Gabriel had seen a lot of beautiful women tonight, but he just couldn’t understand how his father could think that any of them could hold a candle to Serafia. She was breathtaking, catwalk perfection. Sure, she wasn’t as rail-thin as she had been in her modeling days, but the pounds had just softened the angles and filled out the curves that her gown clung to. The pale pink of her dress was like soft rose petals scattered across her olive complexion. It was a delicate, romantic color, unlike all the bold look-at-me dresses the other women were wearing.
Serafia didn’t need that for men to look at her, at least for Gabriel to look at her. He had a hard time looking anywhere else. Her silky black hair was loose tonight in shiny curls that fell over her shoulders and down her back. She wore very little jewelry—just a pair of pink sapphire studs at her ears—but between the beads of her dress and the glitter of her delicate pink lipstick, she seemed to sparkle from head to toe.
He felt his mouth go dry as he imagined her leaving a trail of glittering pink lipstick down his bare stomach. He wanted to pull her body hard against his and bury his fingers in the inky black silk of her hair. For all he cared, this party and these people could disappear. He wanted to be alone with Serafia and not for etiquette lessons or strategy discussions.
He hadn’t given much thought to the man she was speaking to, but when he laid a hand on Serafia’s upper arm, Gabriel felt his blood pressure spike with jealousy. Quickly excusing himself from the conversation he’d been ignoring, he moved through the room, arriving at her side in an instant.
Serafia’s eyes widened at his sudden arrival. She took a step back, introducing him to the man she was speaking to. “Your Majesty, may I reintroduce you to Tomás Padillo? He owns Padillo Vineyards, where we’ll be taking a tour tomorrow afternoon. I was just telling him how much you’ve enjoyed the Manto Negro from his winery since you arrived.”