The Millionaire's Royal Rescue

by Jennifer Faye

  Without another word, Berto stepped aside.

  The man approached her table. He didn’t smile at her. She couldn’t blame him. Berto could put people on edge.

  “I’m sorry about Berto. He can be overprotective. I’d like to thank you again. You’re my hero—”

  “Stop saying that. I’m no one’s hero.”

  “But you stopped that thief and without you, I probably wouldn’t have gotten my purse back.” Or more importantly, the journal.

  “I was just in the right place at the right time. That doesn’t make me anything special.”

  “Well, don’t argue with me. It’s all over social media.” She withdrew her phone. She pulled up the feed with all of the posts that included photos of this man holding her purse, but his head was lowered, shielding his face.

  She noticed how the muscles of his jaw tensed. He took modesty to a whole new level. What was up with that? She was definitely intrigued by this man.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t track me down to claim a reward.”

  The man in a pair of navy dress shorts and a white polo shirt lowered himself into a seat across the table from her. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  Was this man for real? “Of course I do.”

  He shook his head. “I meant, do you know my name?”

  She was definitely missing something here, but what? “I take it you know me.”

  “Of course. You are Lady Annabelle DiSalvo, daughter of the Duke of Halencia and niece of the king. Also, you are in charge of the South Shore Project.”

  If he was hoping to impress her, he’d succeeded. Now, she had no choice but to ask. “And your name would be?”

  “Grayson Landers.”

  Wait. What? He was the genius multimillionaire?

  Surely she couldn’t have heard him correctly. He removed his sunglasses and it all came together. Those striking cerulean blue eyes were unforgettable—even from an online photo. At the time, she’d thought they’d been Photoshopped. They hadn’t been. His piercing eyes were just as striking in person—maybe even more so.

  Somehow, someway she’d missed a voice mail or an email because the last she knew she was supposed to be meeting Mary. She swallowed hard. She should be happy about this change of events, but her stomach was aflutter with nerves. She resisted the urge to run a hand over her hair, wishing that she’d taken the time to freshen up before this meeting.

  “Mr. Landers, it’s so nice to meet you.” She stretched her hand across the table.

  His handshake was firm but brief. She had no idea if that was a bad sign or not.

  “I, uh, wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I know. You were expecting Mary, but my plans changed at the last minute, making it possible for me to attend this meeting.”

  “I see. I...I mean that’s great.” She sent him a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

  There was just something about this man that made her nervous, which was odd. Considering who her uncle and her father were, she was used to being around powerful men.

  But most of the men in her life wore their power like they wore their suits. It was out there for people to see, maybe not flaunting it, but they certainly didn’t waste their time trying to hide who and what they were. But this man, he looked like an American tourist, not a man who could buy a small country. And that beard and mustache hadn’t been in any of the photos online.

  His brows rose. “Is there something wrong with my appearance?”

  Drat. She’d let her gaze linger too long. “No. No. Not at all. In fact, you look quite comfortable.”

  Her words did nothing to smooth the frown lines marring his handsome face. “Do I need to change for today’s meeting?”

  “Um, not at all.” She jumped to her feet. “Shall we go?”

  He didn’t say anything at first. And then he returned his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose as he got to his feet. There was something disconcerting about not being able to look into his eyes when they spoke.

  The sooner she got this presentation under way, the sooner it’d be over. “Would you like a tour of the South Shore?”

  “Yes.”

  Short and to the point. She wondered if he was always so reserved. She started to walk, thinking about where she should begin. Of course, she’d given this tour a number of times before to other potential business owners, but somehow it all felt different where Mr. Landers was concerned. Everything about him felt different.

  Annabelle straightened her shoulders as she turned to the small piazza where an historic fountain adorned the center. “I thought we would start the tour here. The South Shore is a historic neighborhood.”

  “I see that. Which makes me wonder why you think one of my cafés would fit in?”

  “This area has had its better days.” She’d hoped her presentation would make the answer to his question evident, but she hadn’t even started yet. She laced her fingers together and turned to him. “Where buildings had once been left for nature to reduce them to rubble, there is now a growing and thriving community.”

  “That’s nice, but you haven’t answered my question.”

  She moved closer to the ancient fountain where four cherubs in short togas held up a basin while water spouts from the edge of the fountain shot into the basin. At night, spotlights lit up the fountain, capturing the droplets of water and making them twinkle like diamonds. Too bad she couldn’t show him. It was a beautiful sight.

  “If you will give me a chance, I’m getting to it.”

  He nodded. “Proceed.”

  She turned to the fountain. “This is as old as the South Shore. The famous sculptor Michele Vincenzo Valentini created it. It is said that he visited Mirraccino and fell in love with the island. Wanting to put his mark upon the land he loved, he sculpted this fountain as a gift to its people. The sad thing is that not long after the project was completed, he passed on.”

  “Interesting.” Grayson glanced over his shoulder at Berto. “Will he be coming with us?”

  “Yes.” Without any explanation about Berto’s presence, Annabelle moved toward one of her favorite shops lining the piazza, the bakery. She inhaled deeply. The aroma of fresh-baked rolls and cinnamon greeted her, making her mouth water. Perhaps they should go inside for a sampling. Surely something so delicious that melts in your mouth would put a smile on her companion’s handsome face.

  “This bakery is another place that’s been around for years. In fact, this family bakery has been handed down through the generations. And let me tell you, their baked goods can’t be surpassed. Would you care to go inside?”

  He didn’t say anything at first and she was starting to wonder if he’d even heard her. And then he said, “If that’s what you’d like.”

  Not exactly the ringing endorsement that she’d been hoping for, but it was good enough. And the only excuse she needed to latch on to one of those cinnamon rolls. She yanked open the door and stepped inside. The sweet, mouthwatering aromas wrapped around her, making her stomach rumble with approval. It was only then she realized that due to her flight delay not only had she missed an opportunity to freshen up but she’d also missed her lunch.

  After Grayson had enjoyed a cannoli and some black coffee and she’d savored chocolate-and-pistachio biscotti with her latte, they continued the tour. They took in the new senior facility that was housed in a fully refurbished and modernized historic mansion. They walked along the waterfront and visited many of the shops and businesses where Annabelle was friends with most everyone.

  “This place must be very special to you,” Grayson said.

  At last, he was finally starting to loosen up around her. She knew fresh pastries and caffeine could win over just about everyone. “Sure. I’ve been working on the project for two years now. It’s given me a purpose in life that I
hadn’t realized before.”

  “A purpose?”

  She nodded. “I like helping people. I know from the outside it might seem like I’m doing the crown’s bidding, but it’s a lot more than that. I’ve been able to help people find new homes here in the South Shore. We created that new seniors’ residence. Wasn’t that seashore mural in the ballroom stunning?”

  “Yes. It was quite remarkable. And it’s very impressive how you’ve taken on this project and found a deeper meaning in it than just selling parcels of land. But I meant you personally—you seem to have a strong link to this place. When you talk about it, your face lights up.”

  “It does?” Was this his way of flirting with her? If so, she liked it.

  “Did you spend a lot of time here as a child? The way you describe everything is way more personal than any sales pitch I’ve ever heard. And trust me, I’ve heard a lot of them.”

  “Well, thank you, I think.” She smiled at him, still not quite sure how to take him or the things that he said. “But I didn’t spend much time here as a kid. I grew up in Halencia. It’s a small island not too far from here.” But he was right, this place did have a very familiar vibe to it. She’d noticed it before when she was working but had brushed off the sensation. “My mother grew up here. When she talked about her homeland, it always seemed as though she regretted having to leave here. But as for me, until recently, I only came here for the occasional visit.”

  “Really? Hmm... I must have been mistaken.”

  “I think it must just be from me working so closely on this project.”

  “Of course. Mirraccino seems like it would be a great place for a young family. And that fountain, I can imagine kids wanting to make wishes there. And that bakery, it was fantastic...”

  Grayson’s voice faded into the background as Annabelle latched on to a fuzzy memory of her mother. They’d been here, in this very piazza the day before her mother was murdered. The memory was so vague that she was having a hard time focusing on it. But she did recall her mother had been upset. She definitely hadn’t been her usual happy, smiling self.

  “Annabelle? Are you okay?”

  Grayson’s voice jarred her back to reality. Heat rushed up her neck and settled in her cheeks. She was embarrassed that in the middle of this very important meeting she’d zoned out and gotten lost in her memories. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I can see something is bothering you.” He led her over to one of the benches surrounding the fountain and they sat down. “I know we barely know each other, but maybe that’s a good thing. Sometimes I find it easier to talk to a stranger about my troubles.”

  What did she say? That she had some vague flashback? And why did she have it? What did it even mean?

  It was best to deflect the question. “What troubles do you have?”

  He glanced away. “We...um, aren’t talking about me right now. You’re the one who looked as though you saw a ghost.”

  So he did have a skeleton or two in his closet. Was it bad that she took some sort of strange comfort in knowing that he wasn’t as perfect as she imagined him to be, not that she’d done any digging into his past. When she’d done her research on Fo Shizzle, she’d been more interested in his company’s financial history and their projections for the future—all of which consisted of glowing reports.

  “Annabelle?”

  “Okay. It’s not that big of a deal. I was just remembering being here with my mother.”

  His brows drew together. “I don’t understand. Why would that upset you?”

  She’d told him this much; she might as well tell him the rest. After all, it wasn’t like the memory was any big deal. “It’s just that the memory is from a long time ago and it’s vague. I remember that day my mother wasn’t acting like herself. She was quiet and short-tempered. Quite unlike her.”

  “Was your father with you?”

  Annabelle shook her head. “I don’t know where he was. I’m assuming back home in Halencia with my brother.”

  “You have a brother?”

  She nodded. “He’s six years older than me. But what I don’t get is why I’d forgotten this.”

  “It’s natural to forget things that don’t seem important at the time. Do you think the memory is important now?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Why not just ask your mother about it?”

  “I can’t.” Though Annabelle wished with all of her heart that she could speak with her mother.

  “You don’t get along with her?”

  In barely more than a whisper, Annabelle said, “She died.”

  “Oh. Sorry. If you don’t mind me asking, how old were you at the time?”

  “I was thirteen. So I wasn’t really paying my mother a whole lot of attention.”

  “I remember what it was like to be a kid. Although I spent most of my time holed up in my bedroom, messing around on my computer.”

  “So that’s how you became so successful. You worked toward it your whole life.”

  He leaned back on the bench and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I never set out to be a success. I was just having fun. I guess you could say I stumbled into success.”

  “From what I’ve read, you learned to do quite a bit as far as computers are concerned.”

  “Coding is like a puzzle for me. I just have to find the right connections to make the programs do what I want.” He glanced at her. “It’s similar to the way you have snippets of a memory of your mother. You need to find the missing parts for the snippets to fit together and give you a whole picture.”

  Annabelle shrugged and glanced away. “I’m sure the memory isn’t important.”

  “Perhaps. Or maybe it is and that’s why you’ve started to remember it.”

  “It’s not worth dwelling on.” Who was she kidding? This was probably all she’d think of tonight when she was supposed to be sleeping. Was there some hidden significance to the memory?

  Just then she recalled her mother raising her voice. Her mother never shouted. Born a princess, her mother prided herself in always using her manners.

  “You remembered something else.”

  Annabelle’s gaze met his. “How do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Read my mind.”

  “Because it’s written all over your face. And just now, you went suddenly pale. I take it whatever you recalled wasn’t good.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe it would help if you remembered a little more. Perhaps it’s not as bad as you’re thinking.”

  “Or maybe it’s worse.” She pressed her lips together. She hadn’t meant to utter those words, but the little voice in her head was warning her to tread lightly.

  “Close your eyes,” Grayson said in a gentle tone.

  “What?”

  “Trust me.”

  “How can I trust you when I hardly even know you?”

  “You have a point. But think of it this way, we’re out here in the open and your bodyguard is not more than twenty feet away. If that isn’t enough security, there are people passing by and people in the nearby shops. All you have to do is call out and they’ll come running.”

  “Okay. I get the point.”

  “So do it.”

  She crossed her arms and then closed her eyes, not sure what good this was going to do.

  “Relax. This won’t work otherwise.”

  She opened her eyes. “You sound like you know what you’re doing. Are you some kind of therapist or something?”

  “No. But I’ve been through this process before.”

  “You mean to retrieve fragmented memories?”

  “Something like that. Now close your eyes again.” When she complied, he said, “Recall that memory o
f your mother. Do you have it?”

  Annabelle nodded. All that she could see was the frown marring her mother’s flawless complexion and the worry reflected in her eyes.

  “Now, was it sunny out?”

  What kind of question was that? Who cared about the weather? “How would I know?”

  “Relax. Let the memories come back to you. Do you recall perhaps the smell of the bakery?”

  “I’ve heard it said that smell is one of the strongest senses—”

  “Annabelle, you’re supposed to be focusing.”

  And she was dodging the memories, but why? Was there something there that she was afraid to recall?

  She took a deep breath and blew it out. She tried to focus on any detail that she could summon. Together they sat there for countless minutes as she rummaged through the cobwebs in her mind. Grayson was surprisingly patient as he prompted her from time to time with a somewhat innocuous question. These questions weren’t about her mother but rather about sensory details—she recalled the scent of cinnamon and how her mother had bought her a cinnamon roll. The sun had been shining and it had taken the chill out of the air, which meant that it was morning.

  “And I remember, my mother said she had to speak to someone. She told me to wait on a bench like this one and she would be right back.”

  “She left you alone?” There was surprise in his voice.

  “No. She stayed here in the piazza, but she moved out of hearing range. There was a man that she met.”

  “Someone you know?”

  “I’m not sure. I never saw his face. I just know their conversation was short and he left immediately after they spoke.”

  “What did your mother say to you?”

  Annabelle opened her eyes. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t think she said much of anything, which was unusual for her. She was always good at making casual conversation. I guess that’s something you learn when you’re born into royalty—the art of talking about absolutely nothing of relevance.”