your trust again.”
Before she could unscramble her thoughts, he slid his arms from her and ducked out the door as silently as he’d arrived. Colder than ever without the heat of Tony all around her, she hugged the blanket closer.
No worries about any more nightmares, because she was more than certain she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.
By morning, Tony hadn’t bothered turning down the covers on his bed. After leaving Shannon’s room, he’d spent most of the night conferring with his lawyer and a security firm. Working himself into the ground to distract himself from how much he hurt from wanting her.
With a little luck and maneuvering, he could extend his week with her into two weeks. But bottom line, he would ensure her safety.
At five, he’d caught a catnap on the library sofa, jolting awake when Vernon called him from the front gate. He’d buzzed the retired sea captain through and rounded up breakfast.
His old friend deserved some answers.
Choosing a less formal dining area outside, he sat at the oval table on the veranda shaded by a lemon tree, Vernon beside him with a plate full of churros. Tony thumbed the edge of the hand-painted stoneware plate—a set he’d picked up from a local craftsman to support the dying art of the region.
Today of all days, he didn’t want to think overlong on why he still ate his same childhood breakfast—deep fried strips of potato dough. His mother had always poured a thick rich espresso for herself and mugs of hot chocolate for her three sons, an informal ritual in their centuries-old castle that he now knew was anything but ordinary.
Vernon eyed him over the rim of his coffee cup. “So it’s all true, what they’re saying in the papers and on the internet?”
Absurd headlines scrolled through his memory, alongside reports that had been right on the money. “My brother’s not a Tibetan monk, but the general gist of that first report from the Global Intruder is correct.”
“You’re a prince.” He scrubbed a hand over his dropped jaw. “Well, hot damn. Always knew there was something special about you, boy.”
He preferred to think anything “special” about him came from hard work rather than a genetic lottery win. “I hope you understand it wasn’t my place to share the details with you.”
“You have brothers and a father.” He stirred a hefty dollop of milk into his coffee, clinking the spoon against the edges of the stoneware mug. “I get that you need to consider their privacy, as well.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
He wished Shannon could see as much. He’d hoped bringing her here would remind her of all that had been good between them. Instead those memories had only come back to bite him on the ass when she’d told him that he was her first since her husband died. The revelation still sucker punched the air from his gut.
Where did they go from there? Hell if he knew, but at least he had more time to find out. Soon enough he would have her in his private jet that waited fueled and ready a mile away.
The older man set down his mug. “I respect that you gotta be your own man.”
“Thank you again.” He’d expected Vernon to be angry over the secrecy, had even been concerned over losing his friendship.
Vernon’s respect meant a lot to him, as well as his advice. From day one when Tony had turned in his sparse job application, Vernon had treated him like a son, showing him the ropes. They had a lot of history. And just like fourteen years ago, he offered unconditional acceptance now.
His mentor leaned forward on one elbow. “What does your family have to say about all of this?”
“I’ve only spoken with my middle brother.” He pinched off a piece of a churro drizzled with warm honey. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed and tried not think of how much of his past stayed imprinted on him.
“According to the papers, that would be Duarte. Right?” When Tony nodded, Vernon continued, “Any idea how the story
Before she could unscramble her thoughts, he slid his arms from her and ducked out the door as silently as he’d arrived. Colder than ever without the heat of Tony all around her, she hugged the blanket closer.
No worries about any more nightmares, because she was more than certain she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.
By morning, Tony hadn’t bothered turning down the covers on his bed. After leaving Shannon’s room, he’d spent most of the night conferring with his lawyer and a security firm. Working himself into the ground to distract himself from how much he hurt from wanting her.
With a little luck and maneuvering, he could extend his week with her into two weeks. But bottom line, he would ensure her safety.
At five, he’d caught a catnap on the library sofa, jolting awake when Vernon called him from the front gate. He’d buzzed the retired sea captain through and rounded up breakfast.
His old friend deserved some answers.
Choosing a less formal dining area outside, he sat at the oval table on the veranda shaded by a lemon tree, Vernon beside him with a plate full of churros. Tony thumbed the edge of the hand-painted stoneware plate—a set he’d picked up from a local craftsman to support the dying art of the region.
Today of all days, he didn’t want to think overlong on why he still ate his same childhood breakfast—deep fried strips of potato dough. His mother had always poured a thick rich espresso for herself and mugs of hot chocolate for her three sons, an informal ritual in their centuries-old castle that he now knew was anything but ordinary.
Vernon eyed him over the rim of his coffee cup. “So it’s all true, what they’re saying in the papers and on the internet?”
Absurd headlines scrolled through his memory, alongside reports that had been right on the money. “My brother’s not a Tibetan monk, but the general gist of that first report from the Global Intruder is correct.”
“You’re a prince.” He scrubbed a hand over his dropped jaw. “Well, hot damn. Always knew there was something special about you, boy.”
He preferred to think anything “special” about him came from hard work rather than a genetic lottery win. “I hope you understand it wasn’t my place to share the details with you.”
“You have brothers and a father.” He stirred a hefty dollop of milk into his coffee, clinking the spoon against the edges of the stoneware mug. “I get that you need to consider their privacy, as well.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
He wished Shannon could see as much. He’d hoped bringing her here would remind her of all that had been good between them. Instead those memories had only come back to bite him on the ass when she’d told him that he was her first since her husband died. The revelation still sucker punched the air from his gut.
Where did they go from there? Hell if he knew, but at least he had more time to find out. Soon enough he would have her in his private jet that waited fueled and ready a mile away.
The older man set down his mug. “I respect that you gotta be your own man.”
“Thank you again.” He’d expected Vernon to be angry over the secrecy, had even been concerned over losing his friendship.
Vernon’s respect meant a lot to him, as well as his advice. From day one when Tony had turned in his sparse job application, Vernon had treated him like a son, showing him the ropes. They had a lot of history. And just like fourteen years ago, he offered unconditional acceptance now.
His mentor leaned forward on one elbow. “What does your family have to say about all of this?”
“I’ve only spoken with my middle brother.” He pinched off a piece of a churro drizzled with warm honey. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed and tried not think of how much of his past stayed imprinted on him.
“According to the papers, that would be Duarte. Right?” When Tony nodded, Vernon continued, “Any idea how the story
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