The Millionaire's Royal Rescue

He headed for the door. There was no way he’d be able to go to sleep anytime soon. He was wide awake and he had a decision to make: cut his losses and leave Mirraccino as soon as possible or stay and try to make this up to Annabelle.

Deciding to burn off some of his pent-up energy, he headed for the beach. The sand was highlighted by moonlight, but he barely noticed the beauty of the evening. His thoughts were solely on Annabelle.

He started walking aimlessly. He had to work all of the frustration out of his system so that he could think clearly. He didn’t know how far he’d walked when he finally stopped.

He’d known the truth before he’d even set off on this stroll—he wasn’t going anywhere. At least not yet. He had too much to wrap up here, from testifying over the purse snatching to judging at the festival. But he knew those were just excuses. He wanted to stay and make things right with Annabelle. At this point, he had to wonder if that was even possible.

By the time Grayson returned to his suite, his body was exhausted. After a cool shower, he stretched out on the king-size bed. He closed his eyes, but all he saw was Annabelle’s face with that hurt expression that sliced right through him. He tossed and turned, but he couldn’t find any solace or drift off to sleep.

He turned on the bedside light and reached for his phone. Annabelle may have taken all of the paper copies of the note with her, but she’d forgotten that he still had a photo of it on his phone. He pulled it up and stared at it for a moment.

For being a genius, he sure hadn’t displayed much intelligence when it came to revealing the secrets of this note. What was up with that? He was usually very good at this type of thing. And then the answer came to him. He hadn’t wanted to solve the mystery of the note. He liked having an excuse to spend time with Annabelle.

But now that he’d gone and ruined all of that, there was no reason for him not to finish it. Perhaps it could be some sort of peace offering. After all, he wanted Annabelle to find the truth about her mother. He just hoped it would bring her the answers she craved.

He stared at the message. He believed the key to solving it was more obvious than he’d first surmised.

He read it again. Tea is my Gold.

Could that mean T equaled G?

Grayson retrieved his computer and set to work setting up a spreadsheet to imitate a cipher wheel. In the end, he determined that the capital letters and misspellings were red herrings.

He set the cipher wheel with T equals G. The other sentence in the message referenced the first and forth. After trial and error, he decided that it was referring to the first letter in the first and fourth words.

In the end, he ended up with: SUNDIAL. FIVE. TWO.

Grayson went over the message again and again. It always came back to the same thing. He stared at the message. That had to be right.

What were the chances that he’d got it wrong and the words were so clear?

None. This was it.

He was holding the answer that Annabelle had been seeking. But where was this sundial? And what would they find when they got there?

He wanted to go wake her up, but he didn’t dare. She’d been so upset with him earlier that perhaps some sleep would improve her mood.

In the meantime, he searched on the internet for a sundial in Mirraccino, but he couldn’t find any. That was odd. Was it possible this mysterious sundial was on another island? Or in a different country?

He yawned. At last, he was winding down. He glanced at the time on his laptop. It was well past two in the morning. If he didn’t get some sleep, he’d turn into a big grumpy pumpkin come sunup.

* * *

Talk about overreacting.

Annabelle made her way to the village for today’s baked goods competition. She’d delivered her entry early that morning and returned to the palace to finish some work on another of the South Shore revitalization projects.

The truth was that she hadn’t slept much the night before. Once she’d calmed down and gotten over the sting of Grayson’s rejection, she’d realized that she could have taken his words better. A lot better.

Did she really have to storm out of the room? Heat rushed to her face. He was honest with her and that’s what she’d wanted. She just hadn’t expected him to turn away her kisses.

Was she that bad at it?

The thought dug at her. Or was there something wrong with him? After all, what did she really know about him? That he lived in California. That he was rich. And that he was estranged from his family. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t a whole lot of information. Perhaps she’d been saved from an even bigger hurt. She clung to that last thought, hoping it would ease the pain in her chest.

She approached the tent where her triple chocolate cake was to be judged. It was then she realized that she’d forgotten to notify the festival officials that Grayson wouldn’t be judging. She was certain after the scene last night that he wouldn’t waste any time leaving Mirraccino.

And the fate of the South Shore? Her stomach clenched. She hated the thought of letting down her cousin, the king and the students at the university. Everyone was very enthusiastic about the trendy café.