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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“THIS IS A MOMENT we’ve been waiting for.” The king’s deep voice rang out loud and clear.
Annabelle quietly sat at the heritage dinner that evening. Back at the palace the note had been brushed with chemicals that hopefully would illuminate the print on it. And while she waited, she’d been treated to the most amazing home-cooked food.
She wasn’t alone in her enjoyment. Everyone had oohed and aahed over the entrees before devouring them. And the sinfully delightful desserts had just been served, but before people could dive in, the king wanted to make a special toast.
Grayson sat next to her at the long wooden table. They were having dinner in the village streets of Portolina. It was a community affair and this was the only spot big enough for such a large turnout. Annabelle smiled as she gazed around at so many familiar faces.
Her eyes paused on the man next to her—Grayson. He’d surprised her today when he’d opened up to her with what must have been one of the most tragic moments of his life. And the fact that he’d done it because he was worried about her was not lost on her. This man who said that he wasn’t interested in a relationship was now throwing out very confusing signals.
And the fact that he’d been willing to keep her secret for just a little while longer made him even more attractive. He was not like the other men in her life. He was not domineering and insistent on having his way. He was willing to listen and consider both sides of the argument. That was a huge change for her. And it was most definitely a big plus in her book.
Not to mention she was getting used to having him next to her—really used to it. She didn’t know what she was going to do when he left Mirraccino. Because no matter what was growing between them, she realized that he intended to leave and return to his life in California.
“And that’s why I’d like you to help me welcome Mr. Grayson Landers,” the king’s voice interrupted Annabelle’s thoughts.
Applause filled the air as Grayson got to his feet. He smiled and winked at Annabelle before he made his way toward the king. Hands were shaken. The contract for the South Shore Project was signed. And Grayson offered a brief thank-you.
Annabelle hadn’t realized how much this moment would mean to her. She thought that it would be monumental because at last she could show her father that she could take care of herself. But she realized that this moment meant so much more because Grayson now had a permanent tie to Mirraccino. He would be housing his Mediterranean operations right here in addition to starting one of his famous cafés. Maybe it wasn’t such a far-fetched idea to think that they might have the beginning of something real.
“Annabelle.”
She turned to find her father standing behind her. “Poppa, what are you doing here?”
“Is that the way you greet your father?”
“Sorry.” She moved forward to give him a kiss on the cheek followed by a hug. ?
?I didn’t know you were coming.”
“We need to talk.” His voice was serious, as was the expression on his face.
She started to lead him away from the crowd. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, it is.”
Fear stabbed at her heart. It had to be serious for him to come all of this way on the spur of the moment. And then a worst-case scenario came to mind. “Is it Luca? Has something happened to him?”
“No.”
She let out a pent-up breath. She could deal with anything else. Curiosity was gnawing at her. “What is it?”
“We’ll talk about it back at the palace.”
Annabelle walked silently next to her father. He was never this quiet unless he was really agitated. She had a sinking feeling that she knew the reason for his impromptu visit. And this evening was most definitely not going to end on a good note.
Annabelle stopped walking. “Let’s have it out here.”
Her father sighed as he turned to her. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not going to talk out here in public.”
“There’s no one within earshot. And I don’t need the palace staff overhearing this and gossiping.” She wasn’t about to say that there was someone out there who thought they had a vested interest in anything having to do with her mother’s murder. Right now, she wasn’t sure who she could trust and who she couldn’t.
“Fine.” Her father crossed his arms and frowned at her just as he had done when she was a little girl and had gotten into the cookies right before dinner. If only this problem were so easy to remedy. “I know what you did. I know you stole some of your mother’s belongings.”
“Stole? Really?” The harsh word pierced her heart, but she refused to give in to the tears that burned the backs of her eyes. “She was my mother—”
“And her journal is none of your business.”
