was feeling more confused than anything else. Shouldn’t she get coffee before an event like this? And maybe a cinnamon roll?
“Walk to the window,” he said.
She raised the poker again and shook it at him. “You walk to the window.”
He sighed. “I see you are still stubborn. Very well, Mia, we will walk together.”
She eyed him warily as he moved to the window and pulled open the drapes. Keeping him at arm’s-plus-poker length, she glanced down and saw a very shiny black car complete with what looked like flags flying from the front. Flags amazingly similar to the royal coat of arms of Calandria.
“So you have access to a limo, and an active imagination. That proves nothing.” Actually, it kind of proved something, but she wasn’t going to admit that.
He raised both hands. “As you wish. May I show you my passport?”
Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry. Man, she really wanted to brush her teeth and take a shower and get some coffee. Because after all those normal activities, none of this would be real anymore.
“Sure,” she muttered. “Whatever.”
But her heart began to beat faster. She didn’t know if she accepted the premise that he was Diego, back from the dead, but she was halfway to being convinced. Which made no sense and gave her a stomachache.
If Diego wasn’t dead, then where the hell had he been for the past five years and why hadn’t he found her and told her the truth? She’d mourned him and ached for him, and what, he’d been off being some prince?
Because that’s what scared her the most. That he really was Diego and Diego was in fact the prince of Calandria. The knowledge would rock her world and she didn’t know how she was going to recover. Because having the child of a bad boy turned art thief was one thing, but having the child of an heir to a throne was quite another.
He pulled his passport out of his suit jacket and handed it to her. She glanced at the cover, then nodded at Grandma Tessa. “Let her read it.”
Mia told herself she didn’t want to look at it because she needed to keep her attention on Diego…or possibly Prince Rafael of Calandria. But in truth, she didn’t want to see the words printed there.
Tessa opened the passport. Grammy M moved in close and stared over her shoulder.
“A very flattering picture,” Grammy M said, smiling at him.
“Thank you.”
He was all graciousness and confidence, and he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the poker in Mia’s hand, which made her want to bonk him with it.
Grandma Tessa stared at the print on the page, then looked at Mia. “It says he’s the prince. Crown Prince Rafael of Calandria.
Oh God. This couldn’t be good.
“Of course it could be a fake,” Tessa said cheerfully. “People do it all the time. A couple of hundred bucks and you have a new passport.”
Definitely too much TV, Mia thought.
“A prince,” Grammy M said, eyeing Rafael. “There’ll be a castle, then, with the title?”
He nodded. “Of course. We’re also very rich.”
Grammy M beamed at Mia. “So, maybe you’ll be inviting your friend the prince to breakfast?”
Mia wanted to scream. “He broke in to my
Grammy M slipped her arm through Diego’s…or Rafael’s…and walked him to the door. “So, how will you be taking your coffee?”
Mia watched them go, then dropped the poker to the floor. “Somebody shoot me now. I know matchmaking is a time-honored Marcelli tradition, but could we please first find out the man in question isn’t an ax murderer?”
Grandma Tessa handed her the passport. “You’re the one who’d know that. Is he who he says he is?”
Mia stared at the picture. So much the same and yet so much different, she thought. Was it possible Diego hadn’t died that night? That he was really the Crown Prince of Calandria?
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know anything.”
Grandma Tessa moved to the door. “He was supposed to have been killed five years ago?”
Mia nodded.
“So he’s Danny’s father.”
She nodded again.
“Then this is going to be interesting.”
Twenty minutes later Mia walked into the kitchen. She’d showered and dressed in record time. She would have been down sooner, but she’d debated both putting on makeup and blow-drying her hair. On a normal summer morning she wouldn’t have bothered with either, but this was hardly normal. Besides, if Rafael was really who he said he was, a little mascara and lip gloss were probably a good thing.
She found the man who claimed to be Diego sitting at the kitchen table, being force-fed coffee and toast. Judging from the yummy smell coming from both ovens, fresh scones and cinnamon rolls were already on the way.
“Morning,” she said as she approached the table.
Rafael immediately stood and smiled. “Mia.”
He sounded so pleased to see her, as if he’d been waiting for this moment forever. But he couldn’t have been. They’d been apart for years, and he hadn’t once gotten in touch with her. She had a feeling she was only a simple Google away from being found, so why hadn’t he looked before? And why was he here now?
“Your prince is very charming,” Grandma Tessa said as she held out a cup of coffee. “Too charming, if you ask me.”
“No one did,” Grammy M said tartly. “You’re always looking for the bruise on the apple. Sometimes there isn’t one.”
Grandma Tessa sniffed. “How can you be as old as you are and still so foolish about the world?” She narrowed her gaze as she looked at Rafael. “Crown prince or not, what do we really know about him?”
At that moment, Rafael’s lineage was the least of Mia’s problems.
“This has been fun,” she said, and grabbed Rafael’s coffee cup along with one for herself. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Stay close to the house,” Grandma Tessa told her. “I’ve called Joe. He’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“Joe?” Rafael asked as they left the kitchen and stepped into the sunny late June morning. There was still dew on the flowers, and the scent of grapes from the acres of vineyards filled the air.
“The ex-Navy SEAL brother I mentioned before.”
“He lives nearby?”
She handed him his coffee and nodded toward a large house on a hill, less than a quarter mile away. “He lives there.”
“A very close family,” Rafael said.
“You have no idea.” She clutched her coffee in both hands and turned to the man walking next to her. “Who are you and why are you here?”
“I told you. I am the man you knew as Diego.”
“As simple as that?” She tried to laugh, but the effort fell flat. Her mind wouldn’t accept what was happening. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Her anger had faded, leaving behind confusion and a sense of loss. As if seeing Diego after so long made her miss him all over again. “Nothing makes sense. You’re supposed to be dead.”
“You have mentioned that before. Are you disappointed to find otherwise?”
“I haven’t decided.” A lie. There were a thousand emotions swirling through her right now, but disappointment wasn’t one of them. “I saw you die.”
“You saw me shot and fall to the ground. There is a difference.”
Not to her. That night was forever etched in her brain. The roar of the helicopter, the way the wind whipped up by the blades slapped her. She’d been crying, screaming, afraid. And then the gunshots. Diego had staggered back before falling. The world had slowed to just that moment, as he hit the ground and the blood poured out of him.
