The Millionaire's Royal Rescue. Jennifer Faye

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.

      “But...?”

      “What?” He’d let his mind wonder and hadn’t heard what she’d been saying.

      “You like the South Shore, however I detect there’s a but coming. So out with it. What isn’t working for you?”

      He paused, struggling to find the right words. “I was under the impression that the site of the café would be in the heart of the city. This area is nothing like the locations of the other cafés. The way the South Shore was described in the proposal was that it was an up-and-coming area. This,” he outstretched his arms at the varying shops, “is very reserved. It’s an area that would be frequented by a more mature clientele.”

      “We are in the process of revitalizing the area—the proposal was a projection. I was certain if I could get a representative of Fo Shizzle here that they would see the potential. I’m sure your café will be a huge draw. I’ve spoken with the tourism department and they can insert photos and captions prominently in their promo.”

      His brow arched. He had not expected this bit of news. He couldn’t deny that free advertising would help, but would it be enough? “The thing is, my cafés are designed for younger people, high school, college and young adults. The cafés do not cater to a more mature audience. They can be a bit loud at times, especially during an online tournament. The decor is a bit dark with prints of our most popular avatars. Do you know much about our games?”

      She shook her head. “Since you can only play on a closed circuit within one of your cafés, I’ve never had the opportunity. But the research looks intriguing. And I think it would be a hit here with the young crowd.”

      “To be a success, this area would have to be heavily frequented by young people—”

      “And that’s what we want.” She smiled at him as though she had all of the answers. “I have research studies broken out by demographic.”

      He liked numbers and charts. “Could I take a look at them?”

      She nodded. “Most definitely. I had a copy in my purse, but I also have them at the palace along with an investment package with detailed figures and projections. I wanted you to have a feel for the area before we dove into the numbers.”

      He glanced around the piazza. “I’m just not sure about this setting. Don’t get me wrong—it’s beautiful, but it’s not quite as urban as our other locations.”

      “In the reviews I’ve read about Fo Shizzle, they say young people come from miles away just to hang out and take part in the high-stakes gaming tournaments. You’ve definitely latched on to a great idea. And I hear the coffee’s not so bad either.”

      “The coffee is actually quite good.” He’d made sure of that. Being a coder, he lived on a steady stream of caffeine when he was on a roll. And he was picky about the flavor. He wouldn’t have anything less than the best for his cafés—just as he would only have the top-of-the-line games. The newest titles. And the best quality.

      Annabelle gave him a speculative look as though figuring out his unshaven appearance and his longer-than-usual