The Keys' Prince (The Royal Heirs) (4 page)

She pushed him away once, but she wasn’t going to do it again. Not after he’d finally found her.

His eyes remained locked on hers, asking for answers they weren’t prepared to give even though destiny thought otherwise.

“Yes. Yes, you do,” Stella said, her eyes finally giving in and telling him what she couldn’t seem to find the words to say.

It was time to quit dodging their identities, quit guarding their hearts from what could be another devastating blow and deal with the consequences of their stars once more aligning.

“Shall we call in your team or mine...or both?” She asked.

Not about to waste the opening she’d given him, Dario excused himself, retreated to a table nearby filled with glitter and sequin-dusted starfish, and spoke into his gold and navy Patek Philippe watch. Stella stayed where she was and sent a text that would also more than likely have her shop secured in seconds. Without speaking another word, she came to him, reached for his hand and led him to the rear stock room of the shop.

This time, no matter who ordered him to do what, Dario wasn’t leaving her side. He
wasn’t eighteen anymore, unsure of himself and his wealth and power. He’d do whatever he had to do to protect the only woman he’d ever loved.

CHAPTER FOUR

Walking through the curtain of seashells she’d hung across the stock room’s entrance, Stella mad
e her way through the maze of inventory shelves with Dario at her side.

Normally, the sound of the shells clinking off of each other filled her with positive, vibrant energy. Today, it did nothing but whip up her already unsettled nerves. The Rat Pack’s presence would probably ruin that bit of bliss too. They ruined just about everything she found peace and possibilities in.

Reaching the small, quaint sitting area she’d created near the back of the room, Stella couldn’t help but laugh. Seeing three giant men trying to appear relaxed and in control while sitting in her wicker furniture—pieces that were at least two sizes too small for their hulking frames—did wonders to begin to restore her confidence.

The initial shock and dread of realizing they were in Sarasota was gone. No matter where they decided to appear, she could handle them. After all, she’d done so for years.

All of her five-feet-four inches and one hundred twenty-seven pounds rebounded with a fierce edge.

Odysseus Anastas, her father, was a short and stocky Greek, whose wealth and power, and his willingness to leverage both, had more than made up for what he lacked in size. If Stella ever hoped to win her battle against the Pack, she’d have to do the same. And she didn’t hope to win, she was determined that victory would be hers.

Her father had taught her to never fear anything or anyone larger than she was. She only had to worry about those who were smaller and coming at her from behind.

As the richest man in the world, Odysseus Anastas had been at the top. Following his death, Stella had maintained his status. She was now the wealthiest person in the world, filling her father’s small-but-mighty shoes.

The three men sitting in front of her wanted everything she had, everything she and her father had built. Once her father’s most trusted associates, they were now her worst enemies. If her father knew what they’d been trying to do to her ever since she’d turned twenty-one, of full age to assume the leadership of and controlling shares of her inheritance, he would have made sure they ended up in the bottom of the Ionian Sea.

“Welcome to St. Armand’s, boys,” she said, with a ton more of her father’s confidence than her own. “What makes you visit so soon?”

She motioned for Mr. Rousseau to scoot over on the couch then squeezed into the small space left on the olive green cushion, effectively placing herself in the middle of her enemies.

Dario came to stand behind her, his hands resting on the tops of her shoulders. She took a deep breath and focused on the feel of his skin meeting hers. The commanding strength and heat in his palms radiated from her shoulders straight to her spine. Within seconds, having traveled completely through her, his strength bolstered hers.

She looked at Mr. Brandenberg, who was seated on a chair to the left of the couch and then at Mr. Gersbach, who was tediously balanced on the front half of the chaise lounge to their right.

“So who’s going to speak first? Probably you, Mr. Brandenberg, am I right?” Stella asked, ready to get this unpleasant conversation started and finished.

She knew she was right without having to ask. Brandenberg was by far the strongest willed of the three and the most dangerous. The other two wouldn’t dare say nor do anything unless he ordered them to.

“We’ll make this brief,” he said, opening up his high-dollar, Halliburton attaché.

“I hope so. I have customers that you’ve locked out. And, just to let you know,” she said, glancing at her watch, “you have about five minutes before I have you removed from my shop.”

“Shall we continue in front of your guest?” Brandenberg asked, his angular jaw twitching, his eyes narrowing into the sinister slits that made Stella’s stomach roil.

“By all means. At least he’s been invited to this party,” Stella said, maintaining the tart tone that had so far served her well when challenging Brandenberg. “But you certainly know better than to think of Prince Adonis as a guest. He’s almost like family.”

“Almost being the operative word, Stella. You ended that relationship...what...twenty-five years ago?” Brandenberg said.

The harsh reality of his jab cut her deeper than any knife he could have stabbed into her heart. She let the words hang between all of them, not yet trusting herself to respond. Perhaps this was a moment best handled by saying nothing at all.

“Enough with your rather unfortunate past. We need you to sign these papers, which will ensure that your father’s fleets remain the primary transport service for all the Foundation’s Arabian oil interests,” Brandenberg said, his tone back to all-business as if he hadn’t just hit her again way below the belt.

Stella didn’t move a single muscle even though she was ready to explode. Explode or laugh her ass off. What idiots. They were trying to push her into signing the agreement way too early, a major miscalculation on their part.

Contrary to what they believed, which was to her advantage for now, Stella had read every contract for every one of her father’s companies—amounting to one hundred and seventy-four, at last count. She kept track of what was due for renewal and when, and she’d made notes on all of the clauses she wanted redone or removed. She had three more months to ponder the fate of her tanker fleet. So she was in no hurry.

“First, they’re my fleets, not my father’s, and subsequently, they’re my oil interests. You boys may run the Anastas Foundation, but you no longer have the controlling shares of the entity that bankrolls it and pays your salaries,” she said, waiting a moment before she continued, enjoying watching them squirm. “Second, even if you were to try to forge the deals without me, you’d lose. The sheiks don’t trust you. What was it that we were we told during our last trip to Dubai? In case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. They would only trust an Anastas. Only agreements that I personally negotiate and sign will they honor.”

Gersbach and Rousseau looked at Brandenberg, their harried expressions indicating they’d told him that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought it would be.

Stella wished she could see Dario’s face to gage his reaction to her performance, but he was still behind her. Judging from the fact that with each insult Brandenberg hurled at her, Dario’s fingers twitched, she figured he was about to break their necks. Not that she blamed him. But she’d rather see the Pack suffer for the long term, and she’d been working toward that reality for years. She almost had them. It was only a matter of time.

She hated that Dario had once more seen her playing hardball, let alone just hours after they’d reconnected. So much for convincing him that anything had changed in her life over the last twenty-five years. Some things never change or at least it appears they don’t.

“Time is of the essence,” Brandenberg said.

“For you, maybe. But not for me,” Stella said, never forgetting her father’s advice that to maintain control of a situation, one made damn sure time moved according to his or her own hourglass.

“We’re not going to go away, Stella,” Brandenberg said, the exasperation clearly coming through his otherwise carefully tempered tone.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that possibility. Probably wishful thinking on my part. But never say never. I’m sure you heard my father say that a few times.”

Brandenberg closed his attaché—the bang of the metal to metal closures ricocheting from Stella’s ears all the way down to her toes. He stood. Rousseau and Gersbach followed his lead.

“Must you go so soon?” Stella said and laughed then checked her watch. “Oops. Looks like your five minutes are up.”

“We’ve warned you, Stella,” Gersbach said, looking from Stella to the polished tips of his wingtips.

Of all three members of the Rat Pack, Stella liked Gersbach best. On second thought, liked really wasn’t the right word, she supposed. Tolerated. She tolerated Gersbach better than Brandenberg and Rousseau, sensing that he wasn’t quite the hard-hearted monster and thief that his partners were.

“You’ve warned me? Is that a threat?” She asked certain that it was but hoping they’d say so, especially since she’d been recording the entire conversation on her cell phone.

Dario’s hands tightened against the tops of her shoulders, his fingertips pressing into her flesh, making her flinch. She put one hand over his to let him know she was okay and rose from the couch.

“Take it as you wish,” Brandenberg said. “But we mean business.”

“As do I,” Stella said, slipping out of Dario’s grasp and moving toward Brandenberg till she was mere inches from the tip of his nose. “If anything, and I mean anything happens to me, Auntie Elo, Prince Adonis, any of our families or friends, or this shop, I will make your lives hell. Don’t you ever underestimate me. Since I was a small child, I watched my father work, and I learned his methods. Some of them, I’ve even chosen to improve upon.”

Brandenberg held her glare, but said nothing. Instead, he turned and walked out the back door of Neptune’s Treasures, with Rousseau and Gersbach at his heels.

Gersbach, as usual, was the last one out. Before he closed the door, however, he turned back, looking at Stella with what she swore was an apologetic expression.

She watched for those kinds of nuances, just like her father had taught her. There was definitely something else Gersbach wanted to say, and she’d make sure he had that opportunity as soon as she could arrange it.

For a long moment, an awkward silence filled the stock room.

“I see the Pack is up to their nasty tricks again,” Auntie Elo said, the shell curtain clinking and tinkling in her wake.

“I’m sure you heard the whole thing, right?” Stella asked, knowing darn well that her aunt had been eavesdropping from the moment she and Dario had stepped through the curtain.

“Pretty much,” she said.

Dario cleared his throat and began to pace the room. “So then, Alexia Stella DeAngelo Anastas, daughter of billionaire tycoon Odysseus Anastas and sole heir of his fortune, what do we do now?”

“That’s me, and as you can see, my life is still anything but easy or pleasant,” Stella said, somewhat relieved that at least with Dario, she no longer had to continue keeping up her charade of secrets. “But I’d love to hear more about you, Prince Adonis. What have you been doing for the last twenty-five years? Being next in line to the throne of Kristianico must be very exciting with lots of wonderful things I’ve missed out on.”

At least her sarcasm filled the room with laughter, which was much easier to bear than her father’s evil trustees.

CHAPTER FIVE

After the Rat Pack’s visit, Stella didn’t feel like shop-keeping. Besides, it was time she got reacquainted with the new prince in town.

She had Auntie Elo call in a favor due from Emma Lou and Hollywood. They loved to help out at Neptune
’s Treasures and jumped at the chance to take over the shop for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

Seated at one of the outdoor patio tables at The Colombian, her favorite Cuban restaurant, Stella stirred her mojito with the stalk of raw sugarcane garnishing her glass. The delicious blend of rum, mint and lime somewhat soothed her.

Given the day’s events, she’d never again be able to enjoy the kind of carefree living she’d had in Sarasota the past few months. Too much had happened, and frankly, no matter how she tried to explain it away or justify it, the implications were terrifying.

She tried to forget about what all of this meant and focus instead on the idyllic paradise surrounding them. A fantastic breeze rustled the palm trees lining the sidewalk between the patio dining area and the curb, sending a pleasant cooling sensation rushing over her shoulders. Thousands of twinkling white lights—which she loved—wrapped around each tree trunk, matching the warm glow cast by the tealight candles on their table.

Despite the ambiance, she was sitting next to the man who would forever own her heart. A man she hadn’t seen for over twenty-five years. So how was she supposed to relax?