The Millionaire's Royal Rescue. Jennifer Faye

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.”