The Broken Prince (Royal Billionaires of Mondragón Book 3) Read online

  The Broken Prince

  Jewel Allen

  The Reckless Prince

  Copyright © 2020 Jewel Allen

  Cover design: Josephine Blake

  Editing: Christina Schrunk

  Interior formatting: Jewel Allen

  First publication: January 2020

  No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations for critical articles and reviews. All rights reserved.

  The next book in the Royal Billionaires of Mondragón series is The Reckless Prince, about soccer star, Diego. Subscribe to Jewel’s newsletter to get release alerts. Check out Jewel Allen’s books here.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Redding, Utah, by Lake Powell

  Alvaro Assante, fourth in line to the throne of Mondragón and the Duke of Abiva, pulled into the dirt parking lot at The Duke’s Steakhouse. He stared at the cloud of dust enveloping the hood of the red Corvette he’d paid cash for at the start of his great incognito “American tour.”

  This was supposed to be a break from his recording schedule. Just “him, himself, and he,” traveling the American continent. Frankly, it was a humbling experience. Most Americans had never heard of his rock band, The Royal Ruffians, which played in European venues to modest crowds, so no one recognized him. At least, not for his music. If they read the tabloids, they would probably write him off as the Playboy Prince, which was a tiresome nickname in itself. It was all thanks to their band manager, Seth, who claimed it was good for publicity. Alvaro couldn’t care less. He certainly didn’t need the notoriety. Besides, he’d be turning twenty-five soon and figured it was time to grow up.

  Case in point. He could’ve given up on his music career, but he stuck with it. Fronting a rock band was a lot of work, and the allure had worn off. As a billionaire heir to a diamond empire, he didn’t need the money, but his pride suffered from his band’s obscurity. What could one expect, anyway, from a bunch of European blue bloods who had access to expensive musical equipment but who weren’t willing to train or put in the work to practice and get better?

  To decide his musical future, he needed to get his head back on straight. This road trip away from his principality off the coast of Spain was just what the doctor ordered. A month or two on the major interstates, and then he could make up his mind.

  So why in the world was he sitting in the middle of nowhere in a Utah town called Redding, considering dinner at this steakhouse? The name “Duke” on the clapboard siding decided him. The play on his royal title was a sign that he should enter.

  As he swung open the glass door, he immediately noticed the walls were covered with portraits of an old, sour-faced cowboy. The whole place was empty. He waited a couple of minutes, and when no one came out to help him, he craned his neck into an open doorway of what looked like a kitchen.

  A minute later, a middle-aged woman in a blue apron came out. She had a no-nonsense haircut and an expression that came across as even more forbidding. Though slightly intimidated, Alvaro decided he would give this place a chance anyway. He didn’t know where else he could eat, and it looked like the road would be empty of towns for miles.

  “We’re not open,” she said.

  He gestured to the door, confused. “I got in.”

  “Well, yes, the door was unlocked. But we don’t serve until eleven.”

  “What time is it?”

  She grimaced as though she couldn’t be bothered to look at her wristwatch, but look she did. “10:55 a.m.”

  He stared and blinked at her. “That’s five minutes away.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and heaved a sigh. “This way, please.”

  He followed her to a corner of the restaurant, and she handed him a menu. She moved to leave, but he asked, “Who’s the fellow in the portraits? The owner?”

  She glanced at the photos and raised a brow. “That’s John Wayne.”

  He waited. “And he is…?”

  Her mouth tightened with impatience again. “A popular actor in old cowboy movies.”

  “A cowboy?” He frowned in confusion. “Then why ‘Duke’?”

  She raised her voice as though she were talking to an imbecile. “He was nicknamed the Duke.”

  “Ah, thank you,” he said, even though her explanation didn’t make any sense.

  She cocked her head. “Do you want anything to drink other than water?” Her body was at the ready to pull away. Her glance said he’d better not be a bother. How in the world did this place stay open with such bad service?

  “How about some wine?”

  Her gaze narrowed as she put a hand on her fist. “We have no wine. Mike!” She disappeared into the kitchen as a male server came out.

  The young man with a pimply face flashed him a nervous smile. “Sorry about Pam. She’s not very patient.”

  Alvaro leaned forward. “Maybe you should tell your boss.”

  The waiter winced. “She is the boss.”

  “That’s a problem, then.”

  Fortunately, the employee more than made up for the boss’s abrasiveness, and he was set to give a big tip at the end of his delicious steak dinner. As he counted up a few twenty-dollar bills to Mike’s open-mouthed reaction, Alvaro asked, “So, is a stop at Lake Powell worth it?”

  Mike nodded. “Oh, yes.”

  “Why?”

  He considered Alvaro’s question for a minute. “Well, it’s pretty, for one. And you’ve come at a good time. There are no crowds. School is starting, and everyone is staying away.”

  No crowds. That sold him on the idea. He’d seen the sign “To Lake Powell” at the interstate and turned off out of curiosity.

  Mike hesitated. “The only thing is, it’s usually more fun to have a boat. A houseboat or a motorboat.”

  “What a good idea.” Alvaro looked out the window at the sunny weather. “I only have this afternoon, though.”

  “Then I would for sure get a motorboat. A houseboat would be too much trouble.”

  “I don’t want too much trouble. Where could I rent a good motorboat?”

  Mike’s eyes lit up. “I definitely recommend the Hills next door. They have a boat rental and mechanic place.”

  Thanking him, Alvaro left the restaurant and drove a half-block until he saw the “Over the Hill Boat Shop” sign. In smaller letters, a slogan said, “If your boat is over the hill, get it into our shop.” He was surprised when he pulled into the parking lot. The business had the front of an old Western home, with wood siding and varnished pine furniture. Cu
shions covered benches, and two rocking chairs looked inviting.

  The air was so hot it took his breath away as he stepped onto the porch. As he’d gone west in America, the landscape had become starkly more different than the land in temperate Mondragón. Rare were the lush trees he was used to, replaced by scrawny bushes. But that made up the charm of this place. It looked rugged, like someone needed grit to survive.

  Like that cowboy on the wall. John Wayne. The Duke.

  He smiled to himself. All these Americanisms he was discovering.

  He went inside the shop and found it partially lit by an overhead bulb and warehouse-style windows. No one was at the desk, which was covered with little pop-up ads for boat parts. Alvaro craned his neck to look for a bell, when a door banged open somewhere from the back. In came a young woman.

  His first impression was a profusion of blonde hair piled carelessly in a ponytail, framing a slender face. She stopped short when she realized she wasn’t alone and stared at him with the bluest eyes imaginable. They were that deep azure of the Mediterranean right before a storm. The kind of blue-green one could get lost in.

  He could sense her withdrawing, probably used to having guys stare at her all day. They would, too.

  She was, in a word, ravishing. Like a princess…in a mechanic’s dirty clothes. She wore a white shirt stained with grease and jeans coveralls faded at the edges. Her clothes didn’t detract from her beauty, however.

  “May I help you?” she said.

  Alvaro cleared his throat and used his best rockstar voice. “Yes, you may. I am interested in renting a boat for the afternoon.”

  Her demeanor turned a notch cooler, her glance more frosty. She pulled a sheet out of a file folder and handed it to him. He stared with fascination at her nails, short and stained black with grease as well. As he took the paper, she closed her fist and clutched it to her chest with a pointed glance, as though to keep him to the task at hand.

  “Go ahead and fill it out,” she said in a businesslike tone. No flirting from her, he supposed. Which was a shame. She would be fun to get to know better.

  You’re here for only a day, Alvaro.

  So? Since when has that stopped you from pursuing a girl?

  Was she even pursuable? She’d unclutched her fist, and her ring finger was bare, but it could just be because of her mechanic job.

  He glanced at the form, trying to focus because she was making it somewhat difficult with the way she blew at her bangs to keep them away from those amazing eyes.

  Taking a pen from a cup, he started to fill out the blanks. The first one made him pause.

  Full name.

  He had been incognito so far on this Great American Tour, why stop now? He’d been giving aliases all over and paying cash. He could do it here just the same.

  John Wayne, he scrawled into the blank, adding Duke in quotes. He smiled to himself. He could sense the woman watching him, suspicious.

  He had to give an address too, so he gave a PO Box he’d gotten in New York. When he was done, he handed her the form. “Cash okay?”

  Studying the sheet, she pursed her lips and frowned. “John Wayne. Duke. Seriously?” She raised her eyes to his and blinked.

  He nodded and smiled.

  Her expression cooled even further. “Yes, cash is okay. That will be $600 even for an Axis that can seat seventeen passengers.”

  “Mmm, I think the boat might be big enough…for me.”

  She didn’t smile.

  From his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and counted out hundred-dollar bills. Her eyes narrowed slightly. If he gave her other reasons to, she’d probably call the police on him for forgery.

  She studied the bills, one by one, in the soft afternoon light filtering through the windows. While she did that, he looked around the shop. It was spic and span, with everything in its place, but with a few piles. Matchbox cars, boat parts in boxes, catalogs, accessories…

  By the time he finished his casual inventory and turned back to her, she was done checking the money and was giving him a speculative look. And, dare he say—her eyes held a spark of interest. Which quickly disappeared.

  “Great. You’re all set, then…Duke.”

  “Thank you, um…”

  Her lips tightened, but she said, “Brooke.”

  ”Brooke.” He let her name roll off his tongue. It was a strong name, one that suited her.

  She jangled a key hooked on an orange fish-shaped fob and gazed at him. He could picture them having an intimate dinner sometime, across a little table, with him hanging on her every word. He would raise his glass for a toast, and she would…

  “Well?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

  The imaginary table popped into thin air. He blinked. “Well what?”

  “Have you driven a boat before?”

  “And if I haven’t?”

  She raised her chin. “Then I could go over the basics with you at the marina, where the boat is docked.”

  He flashed her what he hoped was a charming smile. “That would be lovely.”

  Again, that immune, cool stare. “All right, then. I will meet you down at Bullfrog Marina in fifteen minutes.”

  He raised a brow. “You’re not coming with me in my car?”

  “No,” she said, her expression impassive. “It’s against company rules to ride in a client’s vehicle.”

  He nodded slowly and looked out to the road. “And how do I get to this marina?”

  “Just follow the signs,” she tossed over her shoulder. “If you start going off into the boonies, you’ve probably gone too far.”

  Chapter Two

  Brooke Hill didn’t know what possessed her to tell “Duke” a lie about company policy. She sometimes rode in client cars, but she did reserve the right to exercise caution. As she wanted to in this case.

  This guy was so full of himself. First, that ridiculous alias. She could tell when he smirked and shrugged pseudo-innocently that he was pulling her leg. And then flashing that wad of bills like he thought he could impress her. Not to mention the way he was looking at her like he wanted to take her out on a date.

  Those dark eyes traveling over her face and tracing her cheek. That clipped beard that made him look dangerous and sexy. The way he gazed, absorbed, into her eyes as though she fascinated him.

  Okay, so he was gorgeous as can be, which was why she should stay away from him.

  These fly-by-night tourist romances just didn’t turn out with a happy ending…for her. She’d been burned before. The girl in the small town falling in love. She’d met them all…the Frenchman who turned out to already be engaged. The Russian who asked her to hike to Rainbow Bridge under the full moon. All the guys who worked seasonal—from the law enforcement park rangers to the Marina store employees. Many were cute. Some downright gorgeous like this fella. All temporary.

  She’d heard every line there was, and this was no different. In fact, this “Duke” was more potent because he wasn’t blatantly flirting, just communicating the feels with her through his intense dark gaze and the language of his muscular body.

  Men, ugh. She was so done with them. The only guy she trusted anymore was her brother, Oscar, who owned the boat shop. On the flip side, he was such a softie she needed to sometimes protect him from leeches.

  Like that divorcée who pretended to like him a lot but turned out to only want him to pay for her little girl’s hospital bills. Or the never-ending stream of clients who were always trying to dicker him down to practically giving away his services when he was already operating in the red because he was such a nice guy.

  Brooke had to be the tough one who told the clients no—to Oscar’s time and money. She could get a job elsewhere, but she worried about her brother. Maybe someday, if he found someone who could love him for his true self, she would feel like she could go off and leave Redding. For now, she was staying put.

  Sometimes, she got the itch to ditch her small town, but every time she le
ft to try taking a job somewhere else, she missed Redding after only a few weeks. Which was why she came back, every time.

  Despite her aversion for the Duke—she loved dogs, but it didn’t mean she wanted one…okay, poor metaphor; it’s not like she loved the newcomer—she wondered where he was from. He looked foreign and had a slight accent, rolling his R’s like Spaniards did. She wondered why he would waste his time coming to Redding.

  But then when she came to the dock in her vehicle, she knew.

  The lake spread as far as the eye could see, blue as can be, and was ringed by a wall of red rock. Her heart squeezed with pleasure at the sight she could conjure up even when her eyes were closed. The scenery was accompanied by the intense dry heat of the desert that would probably defeat most people, but which energized her. She loved hot temperatures. She was born for this.

  Squinting in the sun, she noticed Duke standing at the dock in a pair of swim shorts, Tevas, and a snug gray T-shirt, his body turned away from her partially, his profile proud and serious. For a moment, there was no fakery, no flirtation. She almost thought he looked noble.

  He turned, and those dark eyes danced, teasing.

  She averted her gaze. She didn’t like how he seemed to turn everything into a joke, even her presence on the dock. As though they were performers in a sit-com. She schooled her expression and faked a scowl. She didn’t want him to think they were friends or anything. This was purely business.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said, flashing her an easy smile.