Page 9 of Royal Caleva: Luis

“We must test Grace Howard’s DNA to confirm she is the same person as the baby named on this birth certificate.” Luis did not need to be reminded of his duty to the crown. It was grafted onto his bones. He turned back to Quinn. “Have you found her?”

“Yes, we have.” Quinn pulled a black binder from her portfolio and pushed it across the desk. “This is not a full report,” she said. “I pulled it together quickly once I found the DNA and birth certificates. I will get you more soon.”

Luis quelled his impatience long enough to smile at his nephew’s fiancée. “You have done more than I could expect in such a short period of time. Thank you for this.”

“It was an honor to be asked to work on such an important project,” she said, her brown eyes glowing at his praise.

“We are keeping all this information off the palace servers,” Mikel said, gesturing to the binder. “These pages reside only on the highest-security storage in my private office. I would recommend that you read this while we wait and return it to me so that I may destroy it.”

“Of course,” Luis said.

Mikel and Quinn stood, which reminded Luis of something. “Gabriel is traveling to recruit new talent for the next music festival, is he not?”

Quinn nodded. “I’ll be joining him in a couple of days.”

“I will not ask you to keep this information from him, because there should be no secrets between you and your betrothed,” Luis said. “I will request that he not tell anyone else, though.”

“I understand,” she said, hesitating a moment before she added, “I hope this is really your daughter, Señor. I want her to be yours. She seems like someone I would like to know.”

“I hope you will have the chance to do so,” Luis said, touched by her sympathetic support.

“We will leave you to absorb the report in private,” Mikel said. “Let me know when you would like me to return for it.”

Mikel held the door for Quinn and closed it with a quiet click.

Luis opened the folder to see a full-page photograph of a beautiful red-haired young woman smiling directly at the camera. With his fingertip, Luis traced the strong, straight line of her nose, the clean-cut angle of her jaw, the slashing cheekbones, and dark, winged brows. He saw those features every day in the mirror. He saw them when he looked at Raul and Gabriel.

Her face was his face but softened into the female version.

A drop of water spattered onto the photo. Only then did he realize that tears were running down his cheeks.

Mikel must have seen the extraordinary resemblance, too, but the security expert would not let that sway him until he had incontrovertible proof. Nor could Luis.

Luis sat back, pulling a handkerchief out of a drawer to wipe the tears away. When he was a young man, he had looked forward to having a family of four or five children of his own. His brother, Lorenzo, had expected to do the same. They had envisioned the private wing of the palace filled with children’s voices, unlike their own quiet, restrained childhood.

But life—and death—had changed their plans. As had Hélène. She had chosen Lorenzo instead of Luis, shocking both brothers.

Luis had believed his heart was shattered, but he had been young and only a prince then. With the arrogance of his youth, he had thought he had plenty of time to find a new love.

Then his father, el Rey Carlo, was diagnosed with brain cancer. He commanded Luis to wed before the cancer killed him. Luis had married the woman his father chose, a political marriage, and it had been a disaster in almost every way.

The only joy in that period of his life had been Raul’s birth. When Luis had felt overwhelmed by the demands of his dying father, his fragile wife, and the thousands of decisions he felt unprepared to make, he would sneak off to the nursery and cradle his infant son in his arms. At first, the nurses had been flustered by his presence, but they became accustomed to his sudden appearance at all hours of the day and night and simply handed over Raul without question. The sweet, innocent scent of Raul’s tiny head had soothed Luis’s soul and given him the strength to face his challenges again.

When his father and wife died within six months of each other, and Luis was drowning in a maelstrom of pressure, self-blame, and loneliness, Odette Fontaine had come to visit Hélène in Caleva. Odette had seemed to be everything his dead wife was not. Strong. Confident. Independent. Adventurous in bed. He had ignored all the red flags and plunged into a mad affair with her.

Until one too many red flags had snapped in the breeze, and he had broken off the relationship. To say Odette had taken it badly was an understatement.

He shook his head. If Grace Howard was truly his daughter, he could not entirely regret his lapse in judgment.

He leaned forward to devour the photo once again. He wanted to savor the knowledge that he was the father of two children.

He drank in the sweetness of Grace’s smile, the intelligence that glinted in her ice-blue eyes that matched the color of his, and the way her thick auburn hair—Odette’s genetic contribution—waved away from her temples.

There were several more photographs, taken from different angles. Luis lingered over each one.

Then he turned to the printed pages and began to read. He finished and closed the folder, his hand splayed over the cover protectively.

He pressed the button that summoned Mikel and sat back to think.

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