The Millionaire's Royal Rescue

“Let him go,” Marta said.

“But he...” Annabelle’s voice faded into the breeze.

The more he walked, the calmer he got. And his jumbled thoughts smoothed out. Needing a diversion, he pondered the strange note that Annabelle had found among her mother’s things. There was something about the message that continued to nag at him.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. On it was an image of the note. He’d taken the photo because his gut was telling him there was something about it that wasn’t quite right. But what was it?

He read the note once, then twice and a third time. Was it the misspelled words that bothered him? Or perhaps the mix of lowercase and uppercase letters? Or was it the fact the message just didn’t say much of anything?

Who in the world would write such a cryptic note?

And why would Annabelle’s mother place it in her journal?

There was more going on here than they knew. But what was it?

CHAPTER SEVEN

THIS WAS HER FAULT.

Annabelle felt horrible about the paparazzi’s appearance at the university and the ensuing chase. Though Grayson was a multimillionaire and famous, he didn’t appear used to the hounding press.

She hadn’t thought of that aspect when she’d made arrangements to take him there. She’d been so anxious to show him how well his business would fit in here that she hadn’t taken time to plan a rear exit from the campus to avoid the press.

If it hadn’t been for Grayson’s adverse reaction, she might have turned the situation around and given a public statement about the pending contract with the Fo Shizzle Café chain. But on second thought, she would have been rushing things. There was no verbal or paper contract...yet.

And after today, there might not be one. Unless she could turn things around. First, she needed to get the press off their trail. And then she needed to smooth things over with Grayson.

She called the palace’s press secretary and set up a brief statement to be given just outside the palace gates where the paparazzi were lying in wait. She knew from past experience that they wouldn’t go away until they got a story—whether it be the truth or a bit of fiction that they conjured up.

And next, she called the kitchen and requested a candlelit dinner to be served on the patio overlooking the sea. She didn’t know if Grayson would be in any mood to join her, but she wanted to make the effort since their prior dinner plans had been ruined.

With all of the arrangements made, she put on a pair of dark jeans, a white blouse and a navy blazer. She piled her hair atop her head. She wore a modest amount of makeup and chose gold hoop earrings and a necklace to match. Simple and presentable.

Her stomach churned with nerves. She never liked talking with the press. Some would say that she should be used to it, being part of a royal family. But she was the same as everyone else and longed for a private life.

Knowing she had to do this if she wanted the press to lay off, she made her way down the grand staircase. In her mind, she went over and over what she would say to the reporters. It was her intention to give a statement and not accept questions because quite honestly, she wouldn’t know how to answer any questions about her relationship with Grayson. It was very complicated to say the least.

This time not only was her bodyguard present, but a bunch of palace security met her in the grand foyer of the palace. And then she spied her uncle talking with the palace guards. She inwardly groaned.

Knowing there was no way to avoid the king, she walked directly toward him. “Hello, Uncle.”

“Don’t hello me. What’s going on?” His voice grew husky with concern. “I heard there was a high-speed pursuit with the paparazzi today. You know that’s dangerous. You should have used the protocols that we have in place if you are going to do something high profile.”

“But it wasn’t high profile. It was a visit to the university.”

“The university?”

Annabelle explained what had led her and Grayson to the school. And she admitted to the fact that she hadn’t anticipated the students making a big deal of the visit via social media. It was her slipup and no one else’s.

The king nodded in understanding. “You have to be careful. Your life is not like other peoples’. You must take precautions.”

“You know, sometimes when you say that you sound just like my father.”

“Well, that’s because your father is right.”

“Right or wrong, I have to go talk to the press.”

“You could let the press secretary handle it. That’s what we pay her to do.”