Modern Romance February Books 1-4. Maisey Yates

a neat bun, her makeup expertly done. Her fingernails were painted the same pale coral as the skirt she was wearing, her low, sensible heels the same cream as her blouse.

      “I see,” the queen said, setting her teacup down on the table in front of her. “And what did he want?”

      “This is not something we’ve ever discussed before, I know, but he was...he was inquiring about a painting. The Lost Love.”

      Her grandmother continued to sit there, poised, her hands folded in her lap. Were it not for the subtle paling of her complexion, Gabriella would have thought she had merely been commenting on the weather. There was no mistaking her grandmother’s response to what she had just said.

      “But of course,” Gabriella continued, “I told him that it has never been confirmed that there is any such painting. I told him it was nothing more than salacious rumor. And I sent him on his way. Though he may be meandering around the gardens.”

      Her grandmother turned her head to the window and Gabriella did the same. Just in time to see a figure in a dark suit pass by quickly before disappearing down the path.

      Something in Lucia’s expression shifted. “Call him back.”

      “I can’t. I just...I just sent him away. That would be... Well, it would seem fickle. Plus, it’s rather silly.”

      “You must call him back, Gabriella.” When Lucia used that tone there really was no point in arguing. Still, Gabriella thought she might try.

      “I don’t trust him. I didn’t want him to upset you.”

      “I need to know who he is. I need to know why he is asking about the painting. It’s important.” There was a thread of steel woven into her voice now, a command that Gabriella could not deny.

      “Of course, Grandmother. I will go after him right away.”

      “For heaven’s sake, girl, put some shoes on.”

      Gabriella nodded, turning and scampering out of the room, heading down the corridor toward her bedroom. She found a pair of easy slip-on canvas shoes, then continued to head out to the front door. It was firmly closed, the visitor nowhere to be seen.

      She opened the door, heading down the paved walk, toward one of the gardens. He didn’t exactly seem like the kind of person who would take her up on the offer of a garden tour, but she had to make sure. He might still be here.

      Her grandmother had commanded an audience with him, and she would be darned if she would disappoint the older woman.

      Her grandmother meant the world to her. Her parents had preferred a life of partying to that of raising children. Her brothers were so much older than her so she could scarcely remember a time when they had lived in the same household. As soon as Gabriella had been old enough to have a say in her own situation, she had asked to go to Aceena to live with Queen Lucia. The older woman had been more of a mother to her than her own had ever been, and she could deny her nothing.

      She looked around, and she didn’t see him. Of course he was gone. And she hadn’t gotten any of his contact information, because she hadn’t wanted it. She was annoyed. At him, at herself. But mostly at him.

      She walked farther down the manicured lane, turned left at the first hedge, ran squarely into a broad back covered in very high-quality black fabric. She could tell the fabric was high quality, not just because of how it looked, but because of the way it felt squished up against her face.

      She stumbled backward just as he turned to face her. He was even more arresting, even more off-putting, up close. He exuded... Well, he just exuded.

      “Well, I see you were making use of my offer to tour the gardens.”

      He straightened his tie, the action drawing her eyes to his hands. They were very large. Naturally, as he was quite a large man. So really, they were nothing quite so spectacular. They were proportional. Useful. In possession of the typical number of fingers.

      “No. I was skulking. I thought I might hang around long enough that I can try my hand at getting an audience with your grandmother later.”

      “That’s quite sneaky.”

      “Sneaky is not typically a word I associate with myself, but I’ll take it. Determined, I think sums it up.”

      “I don’t see why you can’t be called both.”

      “Whatever makes you happy. Why exactly are you looking for me?”

      “It turns out...my grandmother wants to speak to you.”

      “Oh,” he said, a slow smile spreading over his arrogant face. “I take it you’re not the voice of authority when it came to your grandmother’s desires, then?”

      “I was trying to protect her. Surely, you can’t fault me for that.”

      “Sure I can. I can fault you for anything I like.”

      She looked hard at him. It was impossible to tell if he was teasing. Impossible to tell if he had the capacity to tease or if he was deadly serious down to his bones. “Which, in a nutshell is exactly why I couldn’t allow you to see her. You’re a strange man. A stranger, I mean. You also don’t seem very...sensitive.”

      “Do I not?”

      She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

      “Well, I shall endeavor to work on that during the walk from the garden to where your grandmother is waiting for me.”

      Her lips twitched, but she wouldn’t allow them to stretch into a smile. “If you would be so kind as to do just that, it would be greatly appreciated.”

      “I live to serve.”

      She had no doubt he did not.

      She led the way from the palace gardens back through to the estate; as they walked through the halls she kept her eyes on his face, trying to suss out exactly what he was thinking. His expression was neutral, and he wasn’t nearly as impressed as she felt like he should be. The halls of the Aceena estate were filled with beautiful, classic art. Paintings, vases, sculpture. Really, he should be quite impressed.

      She supposed that was the hazard with very rich men. It was hard to show them anything they hadn’t seen before.

      She had grown up in this luxury and she never took any of it for granted. There was always new beauty in the world to discover. It was why she loved art. Why she loved history. There were centuries of beauty stretching back as far as humanity had been in existence. And the future stretched before them, too. Limitless. Infinite in its possibilities. There was hardly a chance to get bored with anything.

      Gabriella didn’t see the point in jaded cynicism, though she knew some people found it a sign of intellectual superiority.

      She just found it sad.

      He was probably like her parents. Sensory seekers who were never satisfied with what was around them. Things had to be grand, loud, crowded. Otherwise, they could scarcely feel, could scarcely see.

      Gabriella on the other hand needed very little to be entertained. A nicely appointed room, a good book. A lovely piece of art.

      She appreciated small things. Quiet things.

      She felt very sorry for those who didn’t.

      “She’s in here,” Gabriella said, pausing at the doorway.

      He arched his brows. “Is she? What are you waiting for? Are you going to go in and announce me?”

      “Well, very likely I should. I’m very sorry, I know you gave your name to the staff member who greeted you, but I seem to have forgotten it.”

      She was lying. Alessandro was his name, she remembered. But she didn’t want him to think that he was so important he had taken up any space in her brain.

      “Alex,” he said.

      “No last name?” she