Page 64 of Royal Agenda

Grace’s head spun with her explanation. It wasn’t exactly linear, but the gist of it was that Ryker was a good man. “Thanks for the advice.” She hugged her.

Mrs. Thompson was the last one out. Mack leaned against the wall on the other side of the hallway. He stepped over and shut the door, giving her a wink and some privacy.

She rounded on Ryker. “Why are you really here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He took a step closer. “I do not like being away from you, Grace, it feels . . . incorrect.”

She knew exactly how she felt; but wasn’t ready to admit that to him. Unbalanced by his confession, she moved around the room, turning off computers and straightening workstations. “Ryker, I can’t be with someone who keeps secrets.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “La mia sirena, you ask for more than you know you are asking.”

She pulled up short. “What do you mean?”

He wagged a finger. “You are much too smart. If I tell you even a little, you will unravel the mystery. I cannot. There is more at stake than you and I, although it is difficult for me to say so. I am truly torn. Please do not ask me to choose between you and—” he cut off, searching for the right word, “i miei doveri,” my duty.

Grace sucked in a breath. His duty? What kind of duty required a man to hide his past and true identity? In Isola de la Famiglia they placed family at the top of their responsibilities and treasures. Loyalties to family and country ran deeper than the ocean.

Family and country . . .

She cocked her head as she studied Ryker’s face. Pronounced cheekbones. Strong jaw. Thick but tame eyebrows. And those eyes. Not to mention his posture was positively royal.

An idea popped into her head.

One that was tantalizing and delicious.

What was more rare than an Islodian in America? An Islodian prince in America.

That couldn’t be right, though. There were, she tapped the ends of her fingers against her thumb as she counted, five princes around Ryker’s age. Scratch that–four because Angelo was crowned king. Four princes. Two who stayed out of the spotlight as much as possible. One who was second in line to be king and stayed close to the castle. Which left . . . It couldn’t be . . . could it? But–he’d died!

Her fingers tingled with the need to get on a computer. Why had she just shut them all down?!

“Will you have dinner with me?” His dark eyes pleaded with her.

She gulped. If her hunch was correct, she’d found the lost prince of Isola de la Famiglia. Why was he hiding in Diamond Cove? With a Scotsman? She glanced at the door.

If he was the prince—oh my gosh, why did she turn off the computers?!—then here, in Diamond Cove, and right now, maybe all he could give her.

Heart thudding wildly in her chest, she let the words slip quietly from her lips, “I’ll go.”

Twenty-Four

“No.”

Ryker’s shoulders dropped, and he sagged.

Contrite and probably feeling bad for destroying all of Ryker’s hopes and dreams with one word, Mack rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, it’s not like we don’t want to help you.”

“It’s just that we don’t want to help you,” Sean said with a smirk as he shoved Mack. Mack shoved him back. They eyed one another to see who would make the next move. The situation could blow off or turn into a wrestling match–furniture beware.

“It is dinner–a simple meal that lasts less than an hour–with a beautiful woman who loves me.” Ryker continued to argue his point. He was not ready to admit defeat. Somewhere in these men’s chests beat hearts–actual hearts–he would reach them if it was the last thing he did.

Grace had agreed to go out with him, which was a miracle. He was not a selfish man, he would take that one miracle and hold it tight. “I get one chance and if tonight is not perfect, I will lose her forever.”

“It’s a security risk.” Mack dropped to Bob’s couch. The springs protested loudly. “I like Grace, I do. But our mission is to keep you alive and taking her to dinner in a public restaurant with large windows doesn’t help.”

Ryker turned to Sean.

“What do you think?”

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