Jennifer Faye - The Millionaire's Royal Rescue

“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 of 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.”

“At least nothing bad happened.”

“Thanks for helping me to remember.”

“I wonder what it was about that day that the memory stuck in your mind.”

“I’m not sure.”

The truth was, it happened a day or two before her mother died. Could it mean something? Had the police been wrong? Was her mother’s death more than a mugging? Or was she just letting herself get caught up in her father’s suspicions?

Annabelle didn’t want to get into details of the murder with Grayson. As it was, she’d exposed more of herself to this stranger than she’d ever intended. It would be best to stop things right here.

CHAPTER THREE

GRAYSON HAD RESERVATIONS.

The site for Fo Shizzle was not what he’d been envisioning.

Sure, what he’d seen so far of Mirraccino was beautiful. Maybe not as striking as Annabelle, but it definitely came in a close second. The South Shore was a mix of history and modernization. The view of the blue waters of the Mediterranean was stunning. But it just didn’t seem like the right fit for one of his Fo Shizzle Cafés.

“So what did you think?” Annabelle’s voice drew him from his thoughts.

“I think you’ve done a commendable job with this revitalization project. I think it’s going to be a huge success.” Now how did he word this so as not to hurt her feelings? After all, she’d been a wonderful hostess. And to be honest, he didn’t want this to end. This was the most relaxed he’d felt in more than a year...ever since the accident and the ensuing scandal.