Page 26 of Royal Caleva: Luis

Mikel led her to a clump of tall shrubs at the corner of her house. A wiry young man with light brown hair and a charming smile stepped out of the shadows, startling her.

“Ms. Howard, this is Pierre,” Mikel said.

“A pleasure,” he said as they shook hands.

They visited seven more guards in their places of concealment among the trees and shrubs around her house—four men and three women, all very fit, all dressed in jeans, dark shirts, and jackets. She was pretty sure they all had guns hidden under their outerwear, but it wasn’t obvious. She was grateful for the overgrown hedges on either side of the property, blocking the next-door neighbors’ views of her house with its lurking guards.

After the tour to meet the security guards, Mikel accompanied her to the back door. “Once the king arrives, Bridget will also be outside, while Ivan and I will be upstairs.”

In case she or Grace tried to attack Luis? “You’re very thorough.”

“Do you have any questions for me, señora?” Mikel asked.

So many questions, and none of them happy ones.

“I’m good for now.” Such a lie.

Mikel nodded. “I will leave you to your preparations.”

He left so swiftly that she barely had time to call out a goodbye.

She stared blankly at the door, stunned by the number of armed guards arrayed around her creaky, old farmhouse. This was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to all the changes Grace’s new father would wreak in their lives. What else did she have no idea was headed for them like the Titanic at full speed?

Her phone sounded an alarm she had set earlier as a reminder to start the next phase of prep. Time to kick into high gear.

CHAPTER 8

Fifteen minutes before the King of Caleva—no, he was Luis here—was due to arrive, Eve and Grace stood in the archway that separated the living room from the dining room, nervous tension vibrating around them. Mikel and Ivan had arrived half an hour before and glided up the stairs to the second floor.

She and Grace had tried out curtsying and decided they looked awkward. They were going to take Luis at his word and pretend that he was not a king.

“You made the dining table look lovely,” Eve said.

“It helps that Nana Nelle gave you her Victorian sterling flatware,” Grace responded.

Eve had dug all the good stuff out of storage in the basement, but the slightly yellowed antique lace tablecloth, the gleaming silver, and Eve’s wedding crystal looked elegant under the light of the brass chandelier. The faint scent of melted chocolate and butterscotch still threaded the air. It might not be castle-level, but it looked—and smelled—darned nice.

“I’m so nervous, Mom,” her usually unflappable daughter admitted. “Do I look okay?”

Grace had decided to wear her “interview outfit.” The dark plum dress with its narrow black belt and box-pleated skirt projected poise and self-confidence. Grace had brushed her hair into smooth, shining waves and finished the ensemble with black box-heeled suede pumps. In the V-neckline of the dress, she had fastened the necklace Eve had given her when she got into veterinary school, a pair of tiny gold wings on a slender chain. Grace fiddled with it now.

Eve felt tears pooling in her eyes as she took in the luminous beauty of the young woman she had raised. Her daughter stood tall and strong in the face of meeting a king—and her father—for the first time. “Your father will be knocked sideways by how extraordinary his daughter is.”

“I don’t know about that.” Grace’s voice quavered a bit. “Kings are surrounded by extraordinary people.”

“Sweetheart, no one is more incredible than you are.”

“I think we established that you’re biased.” Grace managed a shaky smile. “You look beautiful too. Very elegant with your hair in that sleek do.”

Eve touched the hair she had swirled into a low bun. “I stuck every bobby pin I possess into it to keep it up.” Eve had tried on all three of the dresses that she owned before choosing the royal blue silk sheath. She had accessorized the dress with a gold rope chain, also inherited from Nana Nelle, and gold ear-hugging hoops that Grace had given her to match the chain. After doing her makeup with painstaking care, she had spritzed on Chanel No. 5.

Maybe the whole effect would fool the king—and Grace—into thinking she was calm and self-assured when her insides were quaking like jelly.

“The weird thing is that we could be having dinner with a king a lot in the future,” Grace said.

“You should think of him as your father, not a king.” The thought of future dinners with Luis added another knot to Eve’s stomach.

Grace opened her arms. “Hug for luck.”

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