Chapter Text
15 Years Ago
It was when Andrés pulled the car over to the McDonald's drive-in that Sergio decided this was going too far.
"No, we are not doing this."
He reached out to the door handle in order to escape only for his brother to lock it with a definite click. He gave it one useless yank. Sergio, the prince of Asturias, the future king of Spain trapped by a childproof lock - this Saturday night had truly reached a new low.
"There is no chickening out now," his brother warned. "By agreeing to come with me, you also agreed to everything else this escape might entail, and that includes midnight snacks in the case of any sudden peckishness."
Sergio was about 75 percent sure Andrés was doing this only to annoy him and was not even remotely peckish.
"This is a stupid risk and you know it. What if someone recognizes us?"
"Stop fretting. If you can handle the risk of getting recognized where we are going, you can handle the risk of potentially giving some poor night shift employee at McDonald's a story to tell his friends."
Sergio was starting to regret saying yes to Andrés after he had coming knocking on his door at the Zarzuela Palace just when he was getting ready for bed. One night of freedom, he had promised. A live show at midnight in a teeny tiny venue in downtown Madrid he had to see. No personal protection detail, just two brothers having fun like two perfectly regular guys.
He certainly wouldn't have agreed to come if he had known Andrés hadn't even notified their protection teams or any of the staff before taking off. Now they were completely off the radar, and probably on fast track to giving their father a heart attack once he discovered they were gone.
"C'mon, don't tell me you're suddenly too good for McDonald's."
Sergio absent-mindedly shook his head. He had been to a McDonald's plenty of times before, more times he could count with his friends from the rowing team, but he always had a tail of secret service agents lurking nearby and his panic button at his fingertips. But now, they were both vulnerable to any and all attacks. Both Sergio and Andrés were big men and any potential abductors would have a hard time taking them, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen.
Not that Sergio was especially afraid of someone targeting them. He just wished at least one measure of security to plead to when he would inevitably be skinned for this tomorrow morning. If only the car Andrés had somehow managed to steal from the groundskeeper was at least bulletproof..."
"It is a slippery slope from taking one extra stop for a burger to getting kidnapped, or worse, on the cover of tomorrow's ¡Hola!," Sergio grumbled and pushed his glasses up his nose. There was something comforting about the gesture. It reminded him of his childhood when he had not yet been forced to wear contact lenses to look better in official pictures. Besides, it was amazing how much glasses changed one's appearance. Hopefully, there was no mistaking him to heir of the throne with them and his grey newsboy cap; he looked more like a substitute teacher from 1960s than a man with any ties to the royalty.
"If someone wanted to kidnap a royal, they would go for the British kids. Who wants some Spanish nerd when you have got William and Harry?"
"Hey," Sergio said. His glasses slid down again, but he refused to nudge them up. That wouldn't be doing him any favors in this argument.
"And speaking of the other alternative... it would do you for some good to end up on at least a couple of tabloids. You're 26, and you have to yet get arrested for public intoxication or get photographed with your tongue stuck deep in the throat of some French underwear model. The press is going to start to worry if you don't cause at least one scandal at this pivotal age. It's time you had a little adventure - even if that involves some minor kidnapping."
Sergio gave him a glare.
It was easy for his brother to talk so light-heartedly about tabloids. He had been notorious even as a toddler. He was the bastard son the reigning king had gotten with an Italian actress and whom he was determined to raise alongside his legitimate son. That was already enough material to keep the scandal sheet industry funded for decades. And on top of it, Andrés turned out to be a well that would never dry up. With his three divorces already at the age of 30 and penchant of getting involved in incidents ripped straight out of telenovelas, he was the apple of every gossip columnist's eye, and the fond feelings were mutual. He loved seeing his face under outrageous headlines.
Sometimes, Sergio wondered whether his brother pursued debauchery because everyone simply expected it of him. It was a vicious cycle.
He felt quite differently about people who made a living tormenting the people closest to him. Andrés might not care what they said about him in the papers, but Sergio did which was he'd make any paparazzo that would try to harass him tonight regret their life's choices.
Finally, it was their turn on the box. First trial of whether this had been a colossally bad idea or only an astonishingly bad idea.
Andrés was wearing sunglasses, but the smile he flashed the cashier was the one so frequently plastered on the covers of the trashiest tabloids of Spain that it would be a sheer miracle if he wasn't recognized. Sergio prepared for the impact by sinking as down in his seat as humanly possible.
Luckily, the young girl said nothing. The glasses were either able to fool her or she was simply too far into her shift to care.
"Card or cash?"
The rest of the transaction passed by in an odd haze. Sergio was filled with odd nervous energy throughout it. They really were doing this. They were really just ordering late-night snacks before heading to a show like two perfectly normal and forgettable people. It was exhilarating, in a way.
Once a brown paper bag containing their food was thrust to Sergio, he couldn't help a smile from breaking out on his face.
They drove off, and Sergio was barely able to keep his elation in until they were out of the driveway.
"That was... he began, the smile still glued to his face. "Magnificent."
"Told you!" Andrés nudged him into the shoulder with his elbow.
He continued with a reverent voice. "It is about time you learned about what true freedom is. Going wherever you want whenever we want. Eating when you are hungry, sleeping when you are tired. Stopping by the side of the road, zipping down your pants and relieving yourself when you feel like it. You have never truly lived before you have done it."
"I'm going to stick to the burgers for now," Sergio said, wondering what the press would think about the royal dick flopping free on the side of M-30.
Finally, he eagerly unwrapped his burger and bit into it. He was pleased to discover the dry steak tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten in his life.
After they had enjoyed their meals and spent a painstaking amount of time trying to figure out how to work a parking meter, they were finally walking to the venue in the cool autumn air of Madrid.
So, who exactly are we going to see tonight?" Sergio asked, pushing the cap a little deeper into his head. He was no longer too nervous about being spotted by a paparazzo or a criminal syndicate, but now that he'd gotten the first taste of freedom in the form of a cheap burger, he would hate for someone to recognize him and take the illusion of normalcy away from him.
"Ah yes, we are going to see..."
Andrés paused, his pupils rolling up his eyes as if trying to retrieve a fragment of a memory. Sergio frowned.
"It is was some basque band. They had a pretty singer, R.... something."
"Please don't tell me you dragged me all this way to see "the hottest new band in all of Spain" you can't even remember the name of."
His brother made a dismissive hand gesture.
"The name of the band is not important. Tonight is about the experience! You get to enjoy a proper night off, free from your duties and your titles. You get to listen to some good music, and it has to be good because otherwise they wouldn't be playing here, and you get to drink, and most importantly, you get to chance to pick up a girl for once in your life."
"In case you forgot, I have a girlfriend," Sergio said dryly.
"You mean that prissy heiress that has basically been contracted to make a few public appearances with you just that papa can keep the press convinced you are a perfectly normal heterosexual man with a perfectly healthy libido? Do you really think of her as your girlfriend?"
"Well, no, but it would look bad if anyone caught me talking up someone else than her."
What Sergio didn't want to disclose to his brother was that lady Rosalie had quitted their little arrangement just a few days prior. Despite being a well-bred daughter of a Marquess, the press had gone after her like a pack of ravenous vultures, sinking their claws in her and only spitting her out when every stain in her personal life and ancestry had been exposed. It was no wonder she couldn't take it anymore. Sergio would have done the same in her situation.
The real reason he was not too enthusiastic about the prospect of picking up a girl was the fear of what she would have to endure if the press got a whiff of even one flirty exchange. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.
Besides, Sergio was fairly certain there was little chance of him even succeeding in what seemed to be as easy as breathing to his brother. Andrés seemed to have put his conversation on a pause in order to eye at some of the girls flowing down to the same venue.
"Tonight is shaping up to be better than I even dared to hope. So many gorgeous, classy women without a date, just waiting for a refined gentleman to approach them…" he glanced back at his brother. "Sorry, what were we talking about again?"
Sergio rolled his eyes in the irritated but fond manner usually reserved for one's brother. What else had he truly expected from Andrés arranging a night off for him?
"Something about girls, as always."
"Ah, right! Have you thought about the fake identity you are going to give any girl you hit it up with?"
"Actually, I have," Sergio said proudly. "It's Salvador Martín. Salvador from my favorite surrealist painter, and Martín from a character in Voltaire's philosophical satire Candide. Salva for short. I am studying to be a history teacher and bottle cider as a side hustle."
To Andrés' credit, he resisted the urge to sigh wearily for entire four seconds after hearing Sergio's answer. "Just when I'm beginning to think you actually have hope of not remaining a virgin for life, you open your mouth and let out something like that."
Sergio shrugged and pushed his hands in his pockets, smiling. He didn't mind his brother's teasing. "Salva is not supposed to be a high society rake like you. He is designed to attract as little attention as possible. He is just a simple guy, coming to enjoy the renowned musical talent of R... something and go home as soon as it is over."
"Sure, but you are going to have to be at least a little more exciting if you don't want to end up boring the girls I'm going to bring to our table into tears."
"Very funny. I'm going to kill you if you even think about bringing strange women to our table."
Andrés laughed.
Both of them thought the other one was joking.
Andrés did bring women to their table.
They were perfectly nice, good sort of girls who seemed to think him handsome, but his paranoia that they wanted something other than what women usually wanted from a man they were flirting with did not relent. The second he got even the slightest suspicion that they knew who he was, he became aloof and tight-lipped which effectively drove them away one by one.
After the second pair Andrés had managed to convince to join them had left, tossing back their heads and scoffing, his brother's patience finally wore out. "Could just relax for one second? They are girls, not piranhas. Though I suppose you wouldn't know the difference."
Sergio ignored him and fixing his eyes on his shoes. There was something about the crowded hall and all those eyes sweeping over him that made him constantly want to loosen his tie. He simply couldn't blend in for the life of him. Earlier when he had gone up to the bar to get himself a drink, there had been a woman there who had smiled at him. Not knowing what to do, he had simply nodded at her like she was the Ukrainian ambassador standing on the other side of the room at the annual royal Christmas banquet, and then escaped with his drink as if afraid of pursuit.
He had not stopped feeling nervous ever since, and it was starting to look like he wouldn't be able to unwind enough to even simply enjoy the performance. Maybe this simply wasn't his scene and it was foolish to pretend otherwise.
He tried to lean back in his seat and relax, but he couldn't tune out the sounds of his brother talking to the people of the neighboring table. Based on their voices, both of them seemed to be women.
Sergio deemed it the wisest to just get up and leave before his brother would thrust a yet another problem on him.
"I'm going to go," he muttered, causing his brother to groan out loud.
"Don't be an idiot. The show hasn't even begun yet."
Not bothering to answer, Sergio simply got up from his seat and stepped up to the hallway.
That was when the lights dimmed a fraction. The show was about to start. Bloody perfect timing.
Still, he could be able to slip out if he was quick. He turned to leave but found his feet unable to budge.
They were rooted to the spot for the simple reason that the most beautiful woman he had ever seen had walked up to the stage, and there was nothing else he could do but stare.
For a moment, no one else but Sergio could see her. Everyone around him was still immersed in their conversations and their drinks. He alone watched as she walked up to the microphone in her little black dress. She had to rise on her tiptoes in her ballerinas to be able to readjust the height of the microphone. When it was finally at the level of her cherry-red lips, she smiled and wrapped her fingers around it.
"As much as I hate to interrupt your lively conversations, we are legally contracted to do a show here tonight, and they'll throw us out if we don't. So please, oblige us.
Gentle laughter followed from the audience who only now seemed to have woken up to her presence. Sergio was still standing, too stupefied to move for a reason he couldn't understand.
Her eyes passed through the crowd, studying everyone who was going to be listening to her tonight. Her gaze stopped at him, and their eyes met for one breathtaking second.
Then she smiled teasingly as if she was admonishing from trying to leave.
"The first walk-out before we even started. This must be a new record," she rasped out.
More laughter from the crowd. A bashful smile spread across his features, but he was not embarrassed. Instead, there was something gut-stirring about being noticed by such a woman. He hadn't quite heard what she had spoken to the audience. Instead, he had only taken in the message he had seen in her brown eyes. Stay.
And so he did. He lowered himself back onto his seat, his eyes never leaving hers.
The band started playing after the woman had finished counting down from three, and the pleasant melody made Sergio happy he had decided to return to his seat. But then she started singing, and that made him regret he'd ever considered leaving in the first place.
Her voice was soft and raspy like molten chocolate. It made him feel heady and the most attentive he'd ever been at the same time. His throat suddenly feeling dry, he took a gulp of his drink and focused on the lyrics.
Her first song was about longing after one's home after which followed a lighter song about life on the road that really roused the atmosphere in the room, making the crowd clap and stomp their feet against the floor. The third song was more similar to the first one and by the time he heard the first lilting words of it, he was completely enrapt.
Not even a volcano erupting under his nose could have moved him from his seat. He was faintly aware of his brother having vacated the table for the neighboring one, but for the life of him, he couldn't say when it had happened. In the whole world existed only a single moment, and that consisted of her sweet voice and dark brown eyes, and nothing else.
Sometimes, her eyes met his as she sang, making him momentarily think that she was singing to him. He didn't think it was because she recognized him. There was never even the remotest hint of surprise or curiousness in her eyes. Instead, they were filled with something he couldn't put into words. Something that made him feel like just a man, listening to a beautiful song. It was wonderful.
He knew it was ridiculous, but he could swear he was the one man of all the people in the room she most sought out and on who her gaze lingered on the longest. Had she noticed he couldn't take his eyes off her? Did she feel it too, this thread insistently pulling him to her?
But her eyes always eventually flickered away, and he decided he was only imagining it.
And then, she looked into his eye again and he felt quite differently once more.
"And there is no rest, no freedom, only a song from the radio," she sang, and it was hard not to feel like she didn't see into his very soul. Only when she lowered her eyes from his, Sergio was able to breathe again.
After the first song, he had not taken a single sip of his drink and it lay quite forgotten in his hand. Only when the seventh song of the night began, he found his fingers nervously tightening around it. This far in the show she had stayed on the stage with her band as Sergio generally anticipated musicians to do, but now, she stepped out of the stage with one light step.
She started circling amongst the tables in the room, singing a song that made Sergio shiver. It was about a man loving a woman who was completely ill-suited for him. Every time he went to see her in order to tell they couldn't be, he ended up falling back into her arms. The crowd didn't seem as engaged with it as with the other songs, perhaps because it was getting rather late and the alcohol was slowly vacating their systems. Sergio thought it a great crime because this had to be their best song yet. The rich, velvety tone of her voice as she sang about persistent desire was almost unearthly.
She stopped sometimes to run a teasing finger along the arm or a leg of a listener which only added to the sensuality of the song in Sergio's mind. She walked past his table, and his eyes landed the lacy trail of her high-low dress which was treacherously close to him.
He was briefly consumed by a compelling, unexplainable desire to grasp the fabric with his hand and let it slide through his fingers. Just one innocent touch and whatever it was that was burning inside him would be sated. Unconsciously, he reached out his hand to do just so.
Just when he'd managed to brush his thumb against the fabric for the briefest of moments, the singer happened to turn her head and saw him.
Her eyes met his much like a flame meets a drop of gasoline and for a second, the world stuttered to a halt. An enigmatic look flickered across her face. She parted her lips to sing the next lyric, and this time there was no mistaking who it was directed for.
And he touches, but it is not enough, and he goes home wishing he'd done more...
Listening to the words felt much like someone pouring heated water over his naked skin. Sergio looked up her, breathless. She stepped closer. She continued singing and put her hand on his shoulder as she'd done with the other members of the audience. To Sergio, it felt like someone had grazed him with a hot poker, and he was not sure how the others who she'd done this to had been able to continue drinking and talking to their companions after this as if nothing had happened.
But it did not stop there. Her hand on his arm was only the precursor for what was to follow. Slowly, torturously, the woman lowered herself to partly sit on his knee.
"Wishing he'd done more..." she continued softly, pushing herself bit by bit up his thigh.
He was quite positive his heart had stopped the second he had felt the heat of her body on him, but that didn't quite explain the hummingbird-like speed of his pulse in his throat.
He tried to stay something but was robbed of his breath when she fixed her brown eyes on his. He had never seen them so close before. Her pupils were dark and dilated. It was almost as if he was seeing the burn he felt inside reflected back from hers.
His fingers twitched and clenched, desperately trying to stay put but she was so near. The divine sensation of her breath caressing his skin as she looked at him sent a blaze spreading through his body. He was completely lost in her.
After what was like an eternity and a blink of an eye at the same time, she was gone. She rose and walked away from the table, leaving Sergio breathless and stupefied and hungry - hungry for her to come back and finish the song whole looking into his eyes.
Watching her walk back, he was consumed by yet another kind of desperation. It was almost as if something primal to his very being had been wrested from him and he couldn't imagine life after.
He had never felt like this.
He sank deep into his seat, trying desperately to snap out of it. There had to be a rational explanation to the feverish state he was in. The sense of intoxication he felt in this room was only because of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins at his escape from the royal palace and from the fact that she a gorgeous woman only moments before been sitting on his leg.
Hell, it was not as if something like this happened to him every week.
He grabbed his drink from the table and finally downed it. With the bitter liquor burning in his throat, he watched the woman finish the song after which it was the time for thank yous and farewells. That had been the last song for tonight.
The audience exploded in applause in which Sergio joined only several moments later after being startled out of his stupor. The woman smiled and gave a tiny bow along with the band members. He desperately hoped for an encore, but it seemed that this was it. The bear-like bass player had already hopped off the stage to start untangling the jungle of cords connecting their instruments to the stereos. A man with harsh, serious features approached the stage, and Sergio saw her crouch down in order to talk to him.
Sergio began feverishly leafing through the booklet that he had found in the menu tray, trying to find even a crumb of information about the performer. Finally, he found tonight's schedule.
SAT 22:00 - Raquel Murillo & Indarra
Raquel, he whispered in his mind. It was nice to finally learn the name of the woman who had bewitched him so. Raquel, Raquel.
At once, his brother seemed to materialize in front of him. He clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning.
"Nice. Next time I'm going to leap off to my feet like an idiot too if that's how I will be rewarded."
Sergio wasn't sure what he was talking about for a moment, so stupefied he still was, but then Andrés pantomimed the motion of the singer sliding up his leg and quirked his eyebrow.
Sergio evaded his eyes, unable to form a verbal answer. He found himself at quite a loss of words from which he wouldn't recover anytime soon.
"Hell, that truly was one of the most breathtaking women I have ever seen," Andrés sighed wistfully and slumped into his own seat.
Sergio could only nod in mute dismay.
"I've decided; after she has wrapped up there I'm going to go to her and offer to buy her a drink."
Sergio's reaction was lightning-fast. His grip around his glass tightened into a vice and he snapped his head into his brother's direction.
"No, you won't."
There must have been something genuinely threatening about this tone because Andrés actually looked unnerved for a second. Then his eyes crinkled and his face brightened into one of his insufferable smiles.
"It seems that she left quite a mark on you. Can it be true? My little brother, attracted to an actual woman? Is this real or am in the wet dream of the Spanish press?"
"Oh fuck off, will you?" Sergio grunted. He turned to look into the direction of the stage and saw Raquel marching away, looking strangely agitated. She stopped by a door at the back wall, but before opening it, she cast one more look at the audience. For a fraction of a second, it was almost as if she was looking straight at him. But then she turned and vanished through the door, leaving Sergio clueless to the meaning of the gesture.
Andrés released a hearty laugh at that drew his chair closer to his. "I really touched a nerve there, didn't I? You should have just said so. I'm a gentleman, I never pursue someone else's quarry."
"First of all, you have to stop referring to women with hunting terms. And secondly, it's not like. She gave a fantastic performance and deserves more than some man propositioning to her right afterwards," Sergio said, still staring at the door.
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind if it was the crown prince propositioning to her."
"If I go to her, I go to her only to thank her for tonight's performance. There will be absolutely no propositioning nor talk of my title. I'm just Salva, a regular guy who enjoyed the show."
"Suit yourself. You might even stand a chance as regular old Salva. If I was that sort of a performer, I'd only get handsy like that with people I was attracted to."
Having Andrés point this out had a weird effect on Sergio. His stomach knotted as he considered the possibility.
She had been attracted to him.
He didn't have the faintest idea whether it was true or whether this was just a bit she did at every show, but his own feelings on the matter were harder to deny. He had quite possibly never wanted any woman this badly in his life.
It was as if he was burning up with a fever, and the only way to get any semblance of relief was to follow her through that door and slam her against the wall and-
He didn't know exactly what he wanted to do. All he knew was that he wanted his hands on more than just the fabric of her dress and to see the look in her eyes as she had sung to her once again.
"What are you waiting for? Go talk to her before she is gone and you miss your chance."
Sergio was not entirely sure whether that been something his brother had said or whether it was his internal voice. He was in a haze, all of his thoughts pinpointed in one thing. Her.
He slowly rose from his seat and walked to the door. No one paid any mind to him, the rest of the crew was too busy packing up their equipment and none of the staff even glanced his way. If they had tried to stop him, Sergio would have been very tempted to pull up "heir to the throne" card for the first time in his life just so that they would let him see her.
He entered in a dimly-lit hallway that had stairs going up, probably to the dressing rooms of the venue's performers. His fingers curled around the handrail as he prepared to ascend.
He imagined her already having kicked her shoes off and taken her hair down in the room. Perhaps she was currently rolling her pantyhose slowly down her legs. The vision made him swallow, hard.
But his feet refused to move. He remained standing at the bottom of the stairs, feeling more and more ridiculous by each passing second.
What was he doing here?
He knew he wanted desperately to find her. But what would happen after?
He knew what would be his first instinct after seeing again, but he couldn't just march up there and crush his mouth against hers and slide his hand under her little black dress. No, that wouldn't be proper.
He couldn't even go up there and tell her the truth of the unbearable pitch of yearning she'd roused him to.
No. Even if she had felt the same connection and welcomed him with passion equalling his, what was next?
He would have to leave soon in order to avoid his personal protection officers from noticing he was missing, and he didn't know the next time he would be even able to see her again. He was half-tempted to just take her with him, but that would only lead to bigger trouble.
What could he offer besides the damned spotlight and the same that had happened to Rosalie?
He was probably mistaken in what he'd thought he'd seen in her eyes anyway. It was better - and certainly safer - to stay away.
His decision was sealed when he saw a man emerge out of the room upstairs. It was the same man that had spoken to Raquel before. Perhaps he was someone special to her, far more special than Sergio would ever be.
His fingers uncoiled and let go of the rail. He slipped back out of the door before the man could see him.
"Thank you for the show," he told the crew members who were finishing up packing. They smiled and nodded at him. "Please, tell your singer she was unforgettable," he continued.
Before any of them could answer, Sergio walked away, feeling oddly heartsick.