Page 18 of Royal Caleva: Luis

Grace took a deep breath and let it out again. “Go for it.”

Eve retrieved her phone from the kitchen and called the number for Mikel. The man answered on the first ring. “Good evening, señora. How may I help you?”

“I’ve spoken with my daughter. She would like to take the DNA test as soon as possible.”

“That is good news,” Mikel said. “Could I come to your home to take the samples in half an hour?”

So soon. Events were spiraling out of Eve’s ability to control them. But Grace was driving this, too, and Eve had to respect that.

“Let me check with her.” Eve muted the phone. “The king’s assistant can be here in half an hour. Are you okay with that?”

Grace stroked Army’s big square head as she hesitated, her eyes still wide with shock. To give her time, Eve put the call on speaker. “What is involved in the test?” Eve asked Mikel.

“Just a cheek swab,” Mikel said. “I will be bringing some legal forms giving consent for the test. If you feel uncomfortable signing them without a lawyer’s review, we can delay the procedure until tomorrow.”

Eve glanced at Grace. “As medical professionals, I think we can interpret legal permissions ourselves. Will the king be coming too?”

Grace shook her head frantically.

But Mikel was already on the same page. “I believe it would be better if he and your daughter met only after any question about their biological relationship has been laid to rest. Then it can be a joyful occasion without reservations.”

That protected both Grace and Luis. “We support that plan,” Eve said.

“Shall I come in half an hour?” Mikel repeated.

Eve hit the mute button. “It’s perfectly reasonable to delay the test until tomorrow.”

Grace was silent for a moment before she sat up straighter. “There’s no point in waiting. It won’t change anything.”

Eve reached out to squeeze her daughter’s hand as she unmuted the phone. “Grace will be ready.”

“Very good. Please ask your daughter not to eat or drink anything from now until the samples are taken,” Mikel said before he disconnected.

“I’m glad the king isn’t coming,” Grace said, a quaver in her voice. “It would be too uncomfortable not knowing whether our relationship is real or not.”

Eve thought of Luis’s almost overwhelming presence and agreed. “I’m going to put the dogs out in the yard so they won’t bother Mr. Silva. Remember not to drink any more of that wine.”

“Wine is not nearly strong enough for how I’m feeling right now,” Grace said.

Eve herded Army and Trace outside. When she came back into the living room, her daughter wore a worried frown.

“Mom, how do you feel about all this? I mean, having my father walk into my life and having him be a king, for God’s sake. It’s going to change a lot…if it’s true.”

Eve’s heart clenched, both at how right Grace was and at how sweet she was to think of her mother’s concerns. She sat beside Grace on the sofa. “I’m okay with anything you want to do. All I care about is that you’re happy.”

Tears brimmed in Grace’s eyes before they overflowed down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. Maybe happy, but also like I’m in an alternate reality.”

Eve stroked her daughter’s hair. “You look like your father, except for your hair color. I guess that came from your mother.”

“I look like the King of Caleva?” Grace pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and tapped at the screen.

Eve peered over her shoulder to see a gallery of images of Luis Dragón. Some showed him in an elaborate uniform at various state occasions. Most showed him in perfectly tailored suits, standing beside or shaking hands with world leaders. Grace scrolled past those before she stopped at a photo of the king when his hair was still dark brown and he was clean-shaven.

“I do look kind of like him,” she murmured.

The resemblance was also in the way Grace held herself. She stood exactly the way her father did—straight-backed, shoulders squared, chin lifted. Maybe royal genes affected posture too.

Grace flicked the screen to display more photos. Eve’s attention snagged on one—clearly taken by a paparazzo with a long lens—in which the king was walking up the steps of a swimming pool on what appeared to be a yacht. Water glistened on well-defined shoulder and chest muscles and an abdomen carved like a Michelangelo statue.

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