“I just fired Jones,” Santiago told Kip. “Make sure he doesn’t make off with the silver.”
“Yes, sir,” Kip said, looking relieved, and he fled.
Santiago stood beside Belle as they answered the door, welcoming all their illustrious, powerful guests. The people were all strangers to Belle, and yet she gave each of them a warm smile, as if she were truly glad to see them. Some of the guests seemed pleased, others slightly startled.
Santiago was enchanted.
Over the next few hours, as he watched Belle mingle at the party, he felt a mixture of pride and desire. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was breathtaking.
In that dress and those high heels, with her makeup and hair so glossy and sophisticated, she might have fit in perfectly, except for one thing.
She stood out.
Belle was the most beautiful woman there.
Only he knew the fear and insecurity she’d hidden inside. That somehow made him even prouder of her. Tonight he admired her courage and grace even more than he admired her beauty.
The house had been filled with bright-colored flowers, and the hors d’oeuvres, overseen by Mrs. Green, were exquisite. But not half as exquisite as Belle, feverishly bright-eyed and lovely. The party was a huge success.
Because of Belle, he thought. She was the star.
Later that evening, he watched her across the crowded ballroom, now smiling at three of the board members of the Canadian hotel chain. He’d invited them to the party in an offhand way, but he hadn’t really expected them to come. He watched as Belle smiled and said something that made all three men laugh uproariously.
Belle was as good at this as Nadia, he thought in astonishment. Maybe even better.
He’d met Nadia his first night at the orphanage in Madrid, when he was fourteen. She was blonde, beautiful, a year older, with hard violet eyes and a raspy laugh. He’d been immediately infatuated. When he told her he was breaking out to go live with his father, the Duke of Sangovia, she’d been awed. “Take me with you,” she’d begged, and he’d agreed.
Nadia had watched from the bushes as the palace guards tried phoning his father, then at the duke’s answer, turned on Santiago scornfully, setting the dogs on him. He’d run away from the snarling jaws and snapping teeth, staggering past the safety of the gate, to fall at her feet.
“No luck, huh?” Nadia had said, looking down at him coolly. She’d looked past the wrought-iron walls, ten feet tall, over the palm trees, toward the rooftops of the palace, barely visible from the gate. “Someday, I’ll live in a place like this.”
“I won’t.” Wiping blood from his face, Santiago had looked back at it with hatred, then slowly risen to his feet, ignoring the blood on his knees, the rips in his pants. “My house will be a million times better than this.” He’d looked at the beautiful blonde girl. “And you’ll be my wife.”
“Marry you?” She’d looked at him coolly. “I’m going to be a movie star. There’s no reason I’d marry you or anyone. Not unless you could give me something I can’t get for myself.” Her lovely face was thoughtful as she looked back toward the palace. “If you could make me a duchess....”
That was one thing Santiago could never do. He wasn’t the legitimate heir. He was just a bastard by-blow, whose father couldn’t be bothered to give him a home, a name, or even a single minute of his time. A sliver of pain went through him, overwhelmed by a wave of rage.
He would be better than his father. Better than his half brother. Better than all of them.
Lifting his chin, he’d said boldly, “Someday, I’ll be a billionaire. Then I’ll ask you. And you’ll say yes.”
Nadia had given a low, patronizing laugh. “A billionaire?” she’d said, putting out her cigarette. “Sure. Ask me then.”
He’d officially made his first billion by the time he was thirty. But too late. The day his company went public, he flew his private jet to Barcelona, where Nadia was filming her latest movie. He’d fallen to one knee and held out the ring, just as he’d imagined for half his life. And then he’d waited.
One never knew where one stood with Nadia. She knew how to charm with a glance, how to cut out someone’s heart with a smile. Sitting on her film set, looking beautiful as a queen, she’d fluttered her eyelashes mournfully.
“Oh, dear. I’m sorry. You’re too late. I just agreed to marry your brother.” She’d held out her left hand, showing off an exquisite antique ring. “I’m going to live in the Palacio de las Palmas and be a duchess someday. I can only do that if I marry the Duque de Sangovia’s legitimate heir. And that’s not you. Sorry.”
Strange to think that Nadia was living with his father and brother, Santiago thought, while he himself had never met either of them. Nadia had been married to his brother for five years now, and as she waited to be duchess she comforted herself with the title of marquesa, along with the other title given her by the European tabloids—“the Most Beautiful Woman in the World.”
“Hell of a girl you’ve got there.”
Coming out of his reverie, Santiago abruptly focused on the man speaking to him. It was Rob McVoy, the CEO of the Canadian family firm. “Thank you.”
“Any man who could make a woman like Belle love him must be trustworthy. So I changed my mind. We’ll take the chance.” He gave a brusque nod. “We agree to the deal.”
Santiago blinked in shock. “You do?”