The Maverick Prince Read Online Free PDF

high-profile family jam-packed with political influence and a fat portfolio. Could she be at fault for bringing the media down on their heads for some free PR for her new in-laws? Duarte seemed to think she wanted anonymity as much as the rest of them. But could he have misjudged her?
    “Why were you visiting Eloisa?” Tony tucked the band into his pocket.
    “Family business. It doesn’t matter now. Her in-laws were there. Eloisa’s sister-in-law—a senator’s wife—slipped on the dock. I kept her from falling into the water. Some damn female reporter in a tree with a telephoto lens caught the mishap. Which shouldn’t have mattered, since Senator Landis and his wife were the focus of the picture. I still don’t know how the photographer pegged me from a side view, but there it is. And I’m sorry for bringing this crap down on you.”
    Duarte hadn’t done anything wrong. They couldn’t live in a bubble. In the back of Tony’s mind, he’d always known it was just a matter of time until the cover story blew up in their faces. He’d managed to live away from the island anonymously for fourteen years, his two older brothers even longer.
    But there was always the hope that maybe he could stay a step ahead. Be his own man. Succeed on his own merits. “We’ve all been caught in a picture on occasion. We’re not vampires. It’s just insane that she was able to make the connection. Perfect storm of bad luck.”
    “What are your plans for dealing with this perfect storm?”
    “Lock down tight while I regroup. Let me know when you hear from Carlos.”
    Ending the call, Tony strode back into the living room, checked on Kolby—still snoozing hard—and dropped to the end of the sofa to read messages, his in-box already full again. By the time Tony scrolled through emails that told him nothing new, he logged on to the internet for a deeper peek. And winced. Rumors were rampant.
    That his father had died of malaria years ago—false.
    Supposition that Carlos had plastic surgery—again, false.
    Speculation that Duarte had joined a Tibetan monastery—definitely false.
    And then there were the stories about him and Shannon, which actually happened to be true. The whole “Monarch’s Mistress” was really growing roots out there in cyberspace. Guilt kicked him in the gut that Shannon would suffer this kind of garbage because of him. The media feeding frenzy would only grow, and before long they would stir up all the crap about her thief of a dead husband. He tucked away his phone in disgust.
    “That bad?” Shannon asked from the archway.
    She’d changed into jeans and a simple blue tank top. Her silky blond hair glided loosely down her shoulders, straight except for a slight crimped ring where she’d bound it up on her head for work. She didn’t look much older than the babysitter, except in her weary—wary—eyes.
    Leaning back, he extended his legs, leather creaking as he stayed on the sofa so as not to spook her. “The internet is exploding. My lawyers and my brothers’ lawyers are all looking into it. Hopefully we’ll have the leak plugged soon and start some damage control. But we can’t stuff the genie back into the bottle.”
    “I’m not going away with you.” She perched a fist on one shapely hip.
    “This isn’t going to die down.” He kept his voice even and low, reasonable. The stakes were too important for all of them. “The reporters will swarm you by morning, if not sooner. Your babysitter will almost inevitably cave in to one of those gossip rag offers. Your friends will sell photos of the two of us together. There’s a chance people could use Kolby to get to me.”
    “Then we’re through, you and I.” She reached for her sleeping son on the sofa, smoothing his hair before sliding a hand under his shoulders as if to scoop him up.
    Tony touched her arm lightly, stopping her. “Hold on before you settle him into his room.” As far as Tony was concerned, they would be back in his