Chapter Two

Ireneo Aristide stepped out of the limousine and nodded a greeting to the man who was holding the car door open for him.

Other members of the security detail fanned out around them. Ireneo didn't travel anywhere without his team. After all, he was a king.

He smiled slightly as he surveyed the scene before him. Other diplomats and world leaders were emerging from their limos, too. An air of self-importance hung over most of them, so tangible one could almost reach out and grab it.

King Ireneo chuckled to himself. He took his role seriously, sure. He had people back home on his small island nation who depended on him.

His people.

But the arrogance that was always on display at a United Nations General Assembly was past the point of ridiculous.

He could endure it. He needed to. It was important that his nation be represented, no matter how small it was—and no matter if their primary economic driver was the tourism they received from Littles and Bigs.

Of course, not everyone at the Assembly knew that fun fact about the country. Many hadn't even heard of the nation. And to others, it was just one of the many little islands in the Caribbean. People didn't realize they were a proud nation with a rich history. True, they weren't the oldest in the world. But there had been indigenous people on that island for centuries. Their blood coursed through Ireneo's very veins—along with a healthy dose of African and English descent.

No matter where his ancestors hailed from, that island was his birthright. His father had been king. His grandfather had been king. His great-grandfather…and so on down the line.

"Are you ready, sir?" the chief security officer asked.

He was a big, strong, Black man with close-cropped hair that showed a hint of gray on the sides. He spoke with a faint Caribbean accent, though the earlier military career that had taken him around the world had eroded it some.

"I'm ready, Tariq," Ireneo said. He buttoned his black, expertly tailored suitcoat, and then straightened his red tie. "Let us proceed."

"This way, my king," Tariq said.

The men were best friends. Ireneo didn't revel in such displays of monarch formality. But when at the UN, they had agreed it was best. Ireneo needed to portray confidence and strength.

Because someone wanted to take over his nation. And he wasn't going to allow that.