Page 5 of A Ring to Claim Her Crown
‘Apologies, I take personal issue with the necessity of strangling oneself in the name of high fashion.’
Minerva let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-squeak as a small triangle of curling hair was revealed inch by inch. That was it; she needed to move away before she made an utter fool of herself. Saved by duty... An aide appeared to guide her to get ready her for her speech.
‘My apologies, I hope you enjoy the rest of the festivities.’ She smiled politely, noticing that he still hadn’t bothered to remove his sunglasses. He hadn’t introduced himself either, but there was no time now as he lowered himself to a polite bow and she was guided quickly away. But, even as she put distance between them, the strange, unsettling feeling of anticipation remained. She fought not to look back, to get one more good look at him...no matter how intrigued she was.
Liro scowled as Crown Princess Minerva walked away from him. He had fought not to imagine how their first meeting might go. He had been prepared for myriad potential scenarios...but not one in which she politely smiled at him like a complete stranger. But, of course, no one else here had recognised him, why would she after fourteen years?
He owned a mirror—he knew that he hardly resembled his younger self at all. Still, he felt the need to down the remnants of his fruity cocktail, unsettled as he watched Minerva’s diamond-topped chignon disappear into the crowd.
When the invitation had arrived, signed by Her Majesty Queen Uberta of Arqaleta, Liro had believed it to be a practical joke. Why on earth would the woman who had formally banished him want him to come to her celebration event? Of course, once his own righteous indignation had passed, he had realised that there was a far more obvious and infinitely more hilarious reason...
Her Majesty, like most of the rest of the world, had absolutely no idea of the true identity of shipping magnate Liro San Nicolau. His alter ego had amassed a fortune and mystery like none other, allowing him a comfortable anonymity that he had never known in all twenty years of his former life. He felt no sense of nostalgia because it had been Prince Oliveiro of Cisneros who’d spent countless summers here. But, while Liro was quite used to crowds gathering around the hulking, sleek black yacht upon which he lived exclusively, he was not used to exiting said vessel and becoming the centre of attention himself. The afternoon sun was not the only thing that had made him sweat as he’d adjusted the sleeves of his sleek black tuxedo.
He had waited for a breath before he had entered the palace grounds, every one of his senses piqued and ready to respond to the first sign of recognition amongst the crowd...but none had come. Murmurs of curiosity had been the predominant sentiment through the sea of faces, but none of them had shouted out his true name.
It had been fourteen years since he’d had last set foot on Arqaletan soil, fourteen years since he had come to this island kingdom for the last time before his lengthy exile, and it seemed that just enough time had passed to render him completely unrecognisable. Of course, he was not surprised, considering he had gone from a slender and pampered prince to a labourer aboard an international cargo ship—a job he still performed quite often, despite having worked his way up to owning that vessel and numerous others, amassing countless headquarters around the globe.
He had built his wealth from nothing, fuelled only by pure anger and regret. Now, as he looked around the manicured gardens of the royal palace of Arqaleta, he waited to feel an ounce of sadness or emotion at the events that had set his new course in life.
Memories of countless balls that he had attended in these palace grounds came and went from his attention. He felt no sadness or regret about the time he had spent here. He felt nothing any more. This was not an emotional plot for revenge, this was simply business.
Having been banished from Arqaleta under his royal name, he had been careful to avoid any trade with the small country for the entire duration of his rise amongst the shipping world, despite the kingdom’s perfect placement in the Alboran Sea, midway between Spain and northern Africa. Its unique position had long made it an enviable trading partner and port and now, with recent plans announced, he could no longer ignore it.
Over the past year he had heard murmurs of plans for a large developmental tender in the works being pitched by new up-and-comers in the parliament. His own competitors had showed signs of readiness to jump at the first sign of availability.
So, when his secretary had informed him of an invitation to a week-long celebration of Her Majesty Queen Uberta, he had been able to see through the first flush of red anger that’d initially clouded his vision. After some careful research, he had discovered that Her Majesty had absolutely no idea that his alter ego had any connection to the young prince she’d once known. And as for her daughter the crown princess... He had no need to think of her at all.
He had chosen to come here to make connections, to hunt in the way he knew best. If there was a weakness in Arqaleta’s parliament that he might exploit to his own advantage, he would find it. If there was an opportunity here for him to take, he would take it without question.
He stalked along the periphery of the crowd with ease, glad that he had decided against bringing any security. Guards and teams of assistants reminded him far too much of his father, and his business model was that he preferred to operate alone. Living on a ship, he had very little need for security escorts or personal assistants. He kept a skeleton crew on board to keep the vessel running, and he hired virtual assistants to deal with most of his correspondence. Most of his meetings were performed remotely, and any site visits were informal, quick things.
He was renowned for his unusual mode of operation: he did not throw fancy dinners or wine and dine potential clients or business partners. If he wanted something, he went in direct pursuit of it and he offered what it was worth. He did not play games and did not tolerate them.
He recognised numerous faces from past business dealings here among the elegant guests. That realisation should have filled him with pride at how far he’d come and yet, as the crowd pushed and the royal family procession moved out of his view, he felt more tense than ever.
Her Highness Crown Princess Minerva had been quite busy over the past decade, travelling the world as he had hoped she would. Her talent at archery had always astounded him every time he had watched her practice, which had been a lot, during the five summers he had spent here in his youth. He had enormous amounts of respect for her drive and the things she had achieved since...
The media had always had an unhealthy interest in the young princess, a fact that had not changed at all in present times, judging by the reporters camped out all along the boundaries of the royal palace compound.
He had watched from afar as Minerva grew from a beautiful, carefree young woman into a future queen. Still beautiful, but not the same girl whom he had followed around these palace grounds. With every interview that he had read from his tiny bunk, he had witnessed the irreverent sparkle in her eyes dim a little more. Even when she had won her first Olympic gold medal, the smile that she’d given the camera had never quite been real enough for him. It was a fact that had filled him with frustration and eventually led him to ban himself completely from keeping track.
He was self-aware enough to know that was what he had been doing. It had taken years to work away the remnants of his lovesick obsession. But work it away he had. He had taken on every extra shift available on board, working, lifting and hefting heavy ropes and crates until his hands had been raw and his body ached enough to fall asleep. His body had transformed and his mind had grown sharper and more able to manage the riot of thoughts and worries that always consumed him.
The work had helped. The solitude had helped. He was in control now, so the decision to return here to hunt down a deal had not been a difficult one. He was a businessman, after all. This wasn’t personal.
He had the answer to his question when Princess Minerva once again came into view, her bright smile glistening in the sunlight as she waved and followed her mother out into the centre of the courtyard. He hadn’t believed it possible for her to become more beautiful than she had been at nineteen. She had always turned heads with her tall, lithe build but, at some point in the last decade, she had stopped wearing her dark hair down in its loose, natural curls. She was always perfectly put together in tailored dresses and blazers, her brown skin glowing with just the barest hint of expertly applied make-up. It infuriated him. He had watched his own mother and brother undergo the same tightening down of their images, the same relentless attention.
‘Every eligible bachelor in Europe must be here. We all know what that means,’ someone nearby announced, speaking loud enough in a heavy Irish accent for Liro to overhear the conversation. He followed the voices, spying a trio of lavishly dressed men standing a few feet away.
‘She’s given up the archery now. I suppose it’s time to start securing the line. Pop out some royal brats!’ a tanned, blond man with an American accent answered, his smile much too wide for Liro’s comfort.
‘She’ll need to find someone to marry first.’ Another voice joined the conversation. The handsome black man leaned closer to the other two, his accent distinctly French and his demeanour one of supreme confidence. ‘Why else do you think I accepted Queen Uberta’s personal invitation?’
The other two men frowned, looking upon one another with shrewd interest. The Frenchman made a tutting sound as Minerva smiled brightly up at the stage. ‘I wouldn’t mind waking up to that face each morning, that’s for sure. Game on, gentlemen.’
Liro felt a low growl in his throat and stopped himself from taking a step towards the men. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus on the speech and ignore the urge within him to give the so-called eligible bachelors a piece of his mind. The sun had gone behind a cloud and Liro removed his sunglasses at the same time that the crowd in front of him moved forward.
The princess paused mid-sentence and her eyes became locked on him with a sudden intensity that made every fibre of his being stand to attention. She frowned, clearly trying to gather her words as the crowd waited with bated breath. He didn’t move or turn away from her silent scrutiny. Instead he felt himself will her to look...to see the truth, as no one else seemed to.
