Chapter 2
The flight was uneventful, thankfully. The clouds hanging low in the sky had caused some slight turbulence, but nothing to write home about.
She had spent the seven to eight hours ruminating over her past life, including the packing, the subletting of her apartment, boxing up her things and putting them in storage, and trying to avoid her worthless trash of a fiancé and former best friend.
She had done that by staying with Ionie for the last couple of weeks, only swinging by her place when it was time to pack, and of course, shutting off her phone. The most painful part of all of it had been looking at the gifts that had come in the mail and the task of sending them all back.
Ionie, thank God for her, had taken it over and insisted, actually. Antoinette never deemed it cowardly to let her. She would have been getting married in December.
"Just think of it this way, darling." Ionie had begun in her usual brittle reasoning voice. "You dodged the bullet. You might have gone on ahead to marry the bastard only to discover he was a lying, cheating asshole."
She supposed the woman was right. But it did not stop the questions, the uncertainties, or the enormous blows to her heart as well as her ego.
On the plus side, she had been sent a first class ticket and treated like a queen.
Now the flight was over, and she was making her way through customs at the bustling Adolfo Suárez Madrid-Barajas airport.
She was whisked through customs and immigration in an efficient manner and in no time was collecting her luggage.
As soon as she stepped outside, she saw the uniformed chauffeur holding up a sign with her name.
"Senorita Carter." The man's swarthy face split in a friendly grin as she made her way toward him. "Welcome. Welcome." His English was clipped, with hardly a trace of accent.
"Thank you." She slid into the back seat and stretched her legs out with a sigh as he stowed her luggage.
"There's refreshment in the compartment if you're interested. By the way, my name is Ronaldo. Just plain Ronaldo. I will be taking you to the airfield where the jet will transport you the rest of the way." He grinned, revealing slightly crooked incisors. "You're in for a treat."
And was she!
After being whisked through the busy streets of Madrid with its old and stately buildings, she was taken to the airfield where the elegant jet, emblazoned with the red, white and blue emblem, waited on the tarmac.
The pilot, a middle-aged man with iron-gray hair, tipped his hat to her, stepping aside to allow Ronaldo on board to stow her luggage.
The interior took her breath away and reminded her of a five-star hotel.
The stewardess, looking smart and exotically beautiful in her chic maroon uniform with blue stripes, smiled at her pleasantly as she guided her to a comfortable sofa with extended legs.
"Can I get you something to drink? Refreshments?"
"How long is the flight?"
"Approximately two hours. My name is Ramona."
"Antoinette. For now, I'll have a glass of sparkling water, thanks.
" She sat back as soon as the flight attendant left and simply basked in the incredible luxury.
It was her first time on a private jet, but she had seen pictures in magazines.
Nothing she had seen so far had prepared her for this.
It was decorated more like an elegant living room than the inside of a plane.
There was an actual conversation area with a group of sofas surrounding a sturdy table.
The carpet was thick and of the palest blue.
"Thank you." She smiled as Ramona brought her the glass of water, some plump-looking fruits and pastries.
"Please call if you need anything else."
"I will. This is something."
With a dazzling smile, the woman retreated.
Turning her attention to the porthole, she watched as the land retreated and became nothing but a speck. Munching on the fruits, she listened with half an ear to the announcements from the pilot as he described their altitude and traveling time.
*****
"I had forgotten about this charity brunch for the children's benefit. Gracias, Maria." Queen Sofia accepted the gloves from the maid with a smile before turning to look at her son. "Which means I won't be here when Ms. Carter gets here."
"You want me to stick around and wait for an employee?
" The very idea of it had his hackles rising.
"We have a palace filled with other employees whose job it is to welcome their peers.
This woman is not some visiting relative or royalty.
She's simply an employee. Why are you making it such a big deal?
Why can't she simply be shown to her living quarters and be done with it? "
Tugging on the gloves, Sofia eyed her son, the exasperation evident. "Because she's coming all the way from another country and is a stranger here. I want her to feel welcome."
"I have somewhere to be, Mother."
"You mean going shopping with that...that woman?"
His lips quirked in a smile. "Her name is Gabriella and she happens to be visiting from France. I'm much more interested in showing her around."
"You will do this for me." Sofia never usually used her authority with him, but this time it was called for. "You will put off your plans for a few minutes to welcome Ms. Carter to our home. That's not too much to ask for."
Tomas' face went stiff, his eyes cooling. "Is that a command?"
"Call it what you will, but if you disobey me on this, I will not forgive you."
His shoulders straightened, the regal bearing in every inch of his body.
"I'm not a child."
"Then for the love of God, stop acting like one!"
The silence that followed was strained with tension.
"As you wish, Mother. Is that all?"
"Yes. Tomas-"
"I will go and get myself, how shall I put it, appropriately turned out to meet this woman. Have a good day." With that, he turned on his heels and left.
Staring after him, Sofia found herself wondering why everything with him had to be so difficult.
*****
"Holy God!" Antoinette did not care if the driver thought she was gauche, but she could not help her reaction. A car had been waiting to whisk her away as soon as they landed. Now they were winding their way through what seemed like a maze with flowers and trees on either side of the narrow road.
The man, who said his name was Manuel, whipped around hairpin bends as if he was on a straight road.
She pressed herself against the glass and took in the amazing sight.
It truly was paradise, she thought in amazement.
Acres of green trees waved in the wind, not to mention the profusion of flowers winding through the mossy green of the lush grass.
It was as if someone, or whoever was in charge of taking care of the side streets, had decided that there would be nothing there to spoil the untouched beauty of the place.
There wasn't a scrap of paper, a stray leaf, a bubble gum wrapper. Nothing. Everything was pristine.
The blades of grass were lined up like soldiers waiting for inspection.
They had traveled several miles before coming to what she supposed was the community.
One minute they were passing foliage with not a building in sight, and the next minute there were pink and white stucco buildings dotting the streets.
They passed through what looked like a small, well-run town with shops, restaurants, business places and a park.
"We'll be there in precisely five minutes.
" Manuel flashed a smile at her as he slowed down.
"Over there is the museum. You should take time out to see it.
And right next to it is the most beautiful art gallery in the world.
" The pride in his voice also showed on his swarthy face.
"We had Jackson Colby and his brother Jason visiting just last month for a showing. Ah, here we are."
The road was narrow and winding and went on for two miles.
She had seen the photos in various magazines as Perez Paraiso happened to be a tourist destination.
The towering building was white and reminded Antoinette of a bride decked out in all her glory.
Flags flew from the conical-shaped roof, depicting the Spanish colors. It was breathtaking.
When the driver pulled up to the entrance of the building, Manuel jumped out and came around to open her door with a flourish. "Don't worry about the bags, Senorita, I will have them sent in for you."
"Thank you."
With a smart bow, he stepped aside for her to move past him.
As soon as she ascended the steps, the huge gleaming double doors were swept open by a uniformed maid with salt-and-pepper hair and a smile on her lined face.
"Senorita Carter." She bowed slightly. "Welcome. My name is Lucia and I'm the head housekeeper here. Please come in. Queen Sofia had to run out to an appointment but instructed the prince to be here to greet you."
"Oh, that's not necessary-"
"He's waiting in the gold salon. This way, please."
All she wanted to do was be shown to her quarters and lie down for a little bit. Meeting the damn prince in her travel-weary state had not been on her schedule. She felt rumpled and untidy, which should not matter anyway. She was just an employee, and he was the fricking prince.
Lucia swept open the double doors to reveal a room that was seriously done up in gold.
The furnishings were of a pale gold color and shone in the lights seeping through the blinds.
Lush plants made a perfect backdrop for the color, and she felt her feet sinking into the dull gold-colored carpet.
The man standing by the hearth turned as soon as the doors opened and nodded curtly to the housekeeper.
He did not look pleased. And she realized the magazines had not captured the incredible beauty of his eyes or the tone of his skin or how dense his hair was. Or even his height.