with you having an heir?” Stella asked, knowing how much the people of Kristianico loved their prince and embraced his ideas and efforts. “Other than the line of succession of course.”
“Our treaty with France says that, if for even one day, we don’t have a member of the Adonis family on Kristianico’s throne, the state reverts back to French rule.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that little caveat,” she said, not sure how she could have spaced something that important. But it had been twenty-five years since she’d been involved way too deep in Kristianico’s constitutional trickery.
“Not good for my family obviously, but even more importantly, it’s not good for our people. They’d be forced to pay French taxes and no longer have any say in the future of Kristianico. All of my ideas would be long forgotten and abandoned in favor of whatever the French government fancied.”
“No wonder your family is trying to help you make babies,” Stella said, for some reason, thinking that Dario’s father had already completed his negotiations with the French to change the line of succession requirements.
“I know. And I suppose, in a way, I can’t blame them,” Dario said, sighing heavily and taking a place next to her on the sofa.
Stella stretched her legs and reached for a blanket in the basket full of them next to the coffee table.
The palm trees outside the outdoor living space swayed in the gusty breeze blowing across the bay, many of them bent over to their sides as if they were doing a half moon yoga pose.
Here it was early February, she reminded herself, and all she needed was a blanket to keep warm. This was living right. Well, it had been, until a few hours ago.
She couldn’t get over the way her life had changed in less than twenty-four hours. She’d woken up this morning, in her aunt’s small, park model home in one of Sarasota’s retirement communities, perfectly content with the new direction her life was taking. Twelve hours later, she and Auntie Elo couldn’t go back to that home. Worse yet, if her cover was blown, she may never make it back.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the tears threatening to come to her eyes. Even deep yoga breaths couldn’t get her back to the happy place she’d been in earlier in the day.
As it had been many times before in her life, all it took was the snap of a single photographer’s camera to take away her peace and freedom.
She ran her fingers through her chic blonde bob, wondering if it could still work its magic and hide her identity. Once known for her charcoal black, long, loose waves and curls, she’d been thrilled when her security team suggested that, as part of her disguise, she do something totally different with her hair. She’d had her stylist go short and blonde. A daring new look she’d come to love.
With that much of a drastic change in her hair and body type, could her true identity be exposed after just a few shots?
And what would her cover being blown mean for Neptune’s Treasures?
She’d been so careful to conceal her identity when she’d set up the shop, leaving no traces at all—thanks to the holding company she’d formed bearing not a single hint that it could be an Anastas corporation. And she never used her own name on anything she did in Sarasota. She paid for everything in cash, which was delivered to her as needed by a team she employed just for that purpose.
She’d given Dario her name—well, an abbreviated version—but he’s the only person she’d done that for. Even her business cards had an assumed name, for her protection.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Dario said, scooting over so that his thighs touched hers.
Stella laughed. Wouldn’t it be great if she could live life counting pennies instead of gold bars and multi-billion dollar bank accounts and properties?
“I was just thinking about what I’m going to do once my identity is broadcast to the world,” she said, refusing
“Our treaty with France says that, if for even one day, we don’t have a member of the Adonis family on Kristianico’s throne, the state reverts back to French rule.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that little caveat,” she said, not sure how she could have spaced something that important. But it had been twenty-five years since she’d been involved way too deep in Kristianico’s constitutional trickery.
“Not good for my family obviously, but even more importantly, it’s not good for our people. They’d be forced to pay French taxes and no longer have any say in the future of Kristianico. All of my ideas would be long forgotten and abandoned in favor of whatever the French government fancied.”
“No wonder your family is trying to help you make babies,” Stella said, for some reason, thinking that Dario’s father had already completed his negotiations with the French to change the line of succession requirements.
“I know. And I suppose, in a way, I can’t blame them,” Dario said, sighing heavily and taking a place next to her on the sofa.
Stella stretched her legs and reached for a blanket in the basket full of them next to the coffee table.
The palm trees outside the outdoor living space swayed in the gusty breeze blowing across the bay, many of them bent over to their sides as if they were doing a half moon yoga pose.
Here it was early February, she reminded herself, and all she needed was a blanket to keep warm. This was living right. Well, it had been, until a few hours ago.
She couldn’t get over the way her life had changed in less than twenty-four hours. She’d woken up this morning, in her aunt’s small, park model home in one of Sarasota’s retirement communities, perfectly content with the new direction her life was taking. Twelve hours later, she and Auntie Elo couldn’t go back to that home. Worse yet, if her cover was blown, she may never make it back.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the tears threatening to come to her eyes. Even deep yoga breaths couldn’t get her back to the happy place she’d been in earlier in the day.
As it had been many times before in her life, all it took was the snap of a single photographer’s camera to take away her peace and freedom.
She ran her fingers through her chic blonde bob, wondering if it could still work its magic and hide her identity. Once known for her charcoal black, long, loose waves and curls, she’d been thrilled when her security team suggested that, as part of her disguise, she do something totally different with her hair. She’d had her stylist go short and blonde. A daring new look she’d come to love.
With that much of a drastic change in her hair and body type, could her true identity be exposed after just a few shots?
And what would her cover being blown mean for Neptune’s Treasures?
She’d been so careful to conceal her identity when she’d set up the shop, leaving no traces at all—thanks to the holding company she’d formed bearing not a single hint that it could be an Anastas corporation. And she never used her own name on anything she did in Sarasota. She paid for everything in cash, which was delivered to her as needed by a team she employed just for that purpose.
She’d given Dario her name—well, an abbreviated version—but he’s the only person she’d done that for. Even her business cards had an assumed name, for her protection.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Dario said, scooting over so that his thighs touched hers.
Stella laughed. Wouldn’t it be great if she could live life counting pennies instead of gold bars and multi-billion dollar bank accounts and properties?
“I was just thinking about what I’m going to do once my identity is broadcast to the world,” she said, refusing
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