Taming the Royal Beast (Royal House of Leone Book 6)

by Jennifer Lewis

  At least his mother never found out. Or any of their other siblings. He’d confided in Darias so he wouldn’t explode, but otherwise he’d kept his father’s sordid secret to himself.

  “When did they break up, though?” Darias frowned. “I’d all but forgotten about her. What if they were still together? Could she be involved in the murders?”

  An icy chill slithered down Rigo’s spine. He looked at Darias. “Damn. You’re right. We need to investigate her.” Every cell in his body shrank away from the prospect of even uttering her name. “Gibran doesn’t know about her?”

  “I don’t think so. No one knows about her except you and me.”

  “Then don’t tell anyone. I’ll handle it myself.”

  Bella was in the palace garden letting Squiggles walk around on his harness when she noticed Rigo thundering toward her across the lawn looking harder and gloomier than ever. What was eating him anyway? He had a charmed life as a handsome prince with more money than God, and he walked around like everything wrong in the world was his problem. What a waste!

  “Hi.” She smiled and waved, hoping she wouldn’t get in trouble being away from her work. Even ferrets needed to pee sometimes. “I’m through the first box of Altacord returns, and I’ve started on the second.”

  Rigo glanced around, possibly looking to see who could hear. Should she not have said that aloud? She didn’t think anyone was within earshot.

  His stony expression softened very slightly—like from granite to marble. “Did you find anything unusual?”

  “Only what I told you before about the amounts being unimpressive. I suppose all these people have other businesses too, but two of the years the company actually declared a loss.”

  Rigo frowned. “Good work.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Probably nothing.” He studied her for a moment, making her stomach tighten. “What do you think it could mean?”

  She shrugged. “They’re lucky to still be in business?” She couldn’t even pretend to be interested in corporate profits from the late 1960s. “Did you see there’s a golden eagle nest in this tree?” She pointed up at it—a huge nest high in the branches of a tall fir. She could barely take her eyes off it.

  His eyes swiveled to the tree, and she suddenly regretted mentioning it. He’d probably want to cut it down. “Golden eagles don’t nest in Altaleone.”

  You’re not supposed to argue with your boss. She couldn’t help it. “Apparently this one does.”

  “It must be an osprey or a buzzard.” He peered at the nest.

  “I’ve been watching it for a while. The mother is sitting on the nest. You’ll see her head when the father comes back with food for the babies.”

  Rigo’s eyes hadn’t left the nest. “There are nestlings in there?” He sounded like he was cross-examining the defendant.

  “Two. Maybe more.”

  “I need my binoculars.” He dashed off across the lawn before she could say anything. She gathered Squiggles up and put him in her bag and was about to head back into the house when Rigo came sprinting back from the palace, binoculars in hand.

  She fought the urge to laugh. He looked so funny in motion, with his deadly serious expression and his muscles pumping. Like a legal superhero.

  Which, according to his reputation, he was.

  He swept the binoculars up to his eyes—she almost had to press her hand to her mouth to keep a laugh in—and peered through them like he was checking the horizon for pirates. “Good Lord. It is a golden eagle.”

  Ha.

  “One hasn’t been sighted nesting in Altaleone since 1954. They were almost extinct in the whole region at the beginning of this century.”

  “There’s an older nest in that tree over there. Could be their nest from last year.” She pointed to a ragged nest high in another majestic fir.

  He swung his binoculars around and stared at it. “They could have been nesting here in the palace gardens for years, and no one cared enough to notice.”

  “You’re the only bird-watcher in the family?”

  “Yes.” He pulled the binoculars down and stared at her. “And I might have flown back to New York without even seeing it if it wasn’t for you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled a genuine smile. He seemed so totally poleaxed and delighted by the discovery. For a half second she almost liked him. “I enjoy watching raptors, as long as I’m not letting Sapphire play on the lawn at the time.”

  “Who’s Sapphire?”

  “My rat.”

  “Of course.” She could swear a faint ghost of a smile almost traveled across his lips. Shame he was so good-looking. Her body had an unprofessional reaction when he looked at her like that.

  She probably needed to try dating again but the thought terrified her. It was much safer to stay home alone with her animals on evenings and weekends, except that sometimes her body sent up signal flares of distress—like now, when Rigo raised his hands to shade his eyes, which pulled his shirt material tight over the thick muscle of his broad back.

  Why did a lawyer have a muscled back anyway?

  She dragged her eyes away, determined not to notice the taper of his waist or the tight curve of his backside.

  He’s your boss.

  I know.

  “I should get back to the files.” Poring over yellowed tax documents should kill this unfortunate state of arousal. “Oh, and I called the other people on the list this morning and they can all come.”

  He spun around so fast she almost didn’t notice the way his muscles rippled under the shirt. “All of them?”

  “Yup.” She felt a flare of pride.

  His habitually stony face had an eerie glow to it. “Bella, I think I love you.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Are you busy?” Rigo’s gruff voice made Bella jump. She’d been lost in a reverie that had nothing to do with Altacord’s 1983 tax return and everything to do with her animal sanctuary plans.

  “Yes?” She resisted the urge to add your majesty.

  “I have a research project for you.”

  “Oh?” Somehow she had a feeling it would involve researching her father. Luckily, nothing at all interesting or unusual had showed up in the paperwork.

  “Can you come into my office?”

  She frowned, rising from the table. It must be fairly top secret if he didn’t want the staff to overhear.

  She followed him down the wide hallway past portraits of his distinguished ancestors. Rigo walked like a panther on the prowl. No wonder he scared the heck out of opponents in court.

  He let her go in first, then closed the door behind him.

  She sat down opposite his chair at the desk. “What kind of research?”

  “I need to find someone. A woman. She might be living in Altaleone, or she might have moved.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. He looked even more grim than usual. “Her name is Francine Petrie.” He spelled it out, and she wrote the name on the notepad in her phone. “She calls herself France for short.

  She waited for him to give her more information to go on, a picture perhaps. He didn’t.

  “How old is she?”

  He inhaled and shrugged. “About forty? I’m not sure. Woman can so easily lie about their age.”

  “What does she do?”

  The shadow of a scowl crossed his lips. “Prey on rich men.” He shone his unforgiving gaze on her.

  “I can tell you don’t like her.”

  “I could care less about her one way or the other. I simply need to know where she is and what she’s doing.”

  “As part of the investigation? Is she a suspect?” She liked that idea. Then maybe he’d forget his dumb idea that her father or his friends were involved.

  “Everyone is a suspect.”

  “Even me?”

  “Especially you.” He didn’t smile, but she could swear she saw a teeny twinkle of…something in his dark eyes.

  “I don’t know how to prove my innocence. It’s har
d to prove a negative.”

  “Then you’ll just have to find the real murderer, won’t you?”

  “And you think this woman could be her?”

  “No, but I can’t completely ignore it as a possibility.”

  “Who is she? How does she fit into the picture?”

  “That is…none of your business.” He rose to his feet. “You can go back to your files now.”

  Summarily—and rudely—dismissed, Bella took her time standing up. “You want an address? A phone number? Her head on a platter?”

  His brow lifted slightly as she offered option number three, and she had a feeling he’d rather like that one. Which intrigued her. What had this woman done to piss Rigo off so royally?

  “Her address would be adequate.”

  “I don’t want to be adequate.” He was silently ushering her out the door. She couldn’t resist teasing him. “I aim to be impressive.”

  “Good. Then do it today.”

  He closed the door behind her, staying in the office. At least she’d managed to make him smile. Well, almost smile. She’d take her victories where she could get them. Her father was coming in for his interview tomorrow, and she wanted Rigo to feel favorably disposed toward her family.

  She could probably Google this woman and find her address in less than a minute. Nothing was private anymore. She sat down at her table of files and opened the browser on the laptop. Squiggles had grown anxious and fussy in her absence so she fished him out and draped him over her lap.

  “Francine Petrie.” She murmured the name as she typed it into the search engine. Then glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard her. She really should be more circumspect if she was to be an impressive lady-in-waiting.

  Nothing came up.

  “Nothing? How is that even possible?”

  She tried France, then Ms. F. Petrie. No Facebook page, no Twitter, no Instagram. None of those services offering to show her Ms. Petrie’s arrest records. No cheerful listing of her five previous addresses or her open debts or any of that other fun stuff that was readily available online.

  “Now what?” She could hardly go back to Rigo and immediately admit failure. She needed this job to help get her sanctuary off the ground.

  Which meant she had to locate Francine Petrie come hell or high water.

  Back at Bella’s rented flat the animals were delirious with joy at her return—as usual. That never happened with humans, did it? There was an envelope pushed half under her door about an elderly cat whose owner had died needing a home. Clearly word about her was getting around. And now Ari would have a feline friend.

  Except that she wasn’t sure what the landlord would do if he found out.

  Oh, well, she’d come here to rescue animals, not make landlords happy, and she was very careful to keep the place clean and odor-free. She phoned and the person agreed to bring the cat over that night with its bowls and toys.

  As she arranged their dinner she racked her brain about how to find Francine Petrie. If she weren’t working for Rigo and the royal family, she’d ask around town. That was the best way to get information in Altaleone. It was a small enough country that people often knew of one another even if they’d never met.

  Everything seemed so cloak-and-dagger at the palace, and she’d signed a lengthy agreement promising not to reveal palace business or the royals’ private affairs to anyone. She’d probably already said too much to her dad, but they could hardly expect her to keep secrets from her own family.

  Her phone rang, and an idea occurred to her. “Dad! Hi, I was just about to call you. Do you know someone called Francine Petrie?”

  There was a silence. She heard the familiar snick of his lighter. “Yes,” he said slowly.

  An odd twinge of apprehension unfurled in her belly. Should she not have told him? He was coming to the palace tomorrow for this long-awaited “chat.”

  Still. This was too good an opportunity to miss. “Do you know where she lives?”

  Another long pause. “No.”

  “Her phone number?”

  “Why would I know that? I didn’t call to talk about the king’s sex life. Do you know what they’re going to want to talk to me about tomorrow?”

  “I don’t really know. Rigo didn’t say.”

  “For God’s sake, Bella, you’re there for a reason!”

  “I know. To earn money for my animal sanctuary.” Ari swirled around her ankles.

  “Don’t be obtuse.”

  “I’m not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alarm prickled through her.

  “I wanted you there to keep tabs on things. To let me know what’s going on. Did you see anything…interesting, in the files you’ve been going through?”

  “No. They were deadly boring. The main thing I noticed was that the company didn’t make very much money, but that’s hardly a crime.”

  “Did you point that out to his majesty Prince Rigo?”

  “About it not being a crime? Of course not. I was surprised, that’s all. I thought there was a lot of money in diamonds.”

  “Overheads, expenses, distribution costs,” he murmured. “Middlemen take it all.”

  “I thought we were the middlemen. I mean, the diamonds are mined in Africa and sold in Paris, London, and New York.”

  There was another pause, then she heard him inhale deeply. “Francine Petrie had a long-term affair with Prince Emil. He maintained her in a house in town. On Alvona Street, I think it was. A yellow house with blue shutters.”

  “You’ve been there?” She was shocked.

  “Once or twice. But there’s no need to tell Prince Rigo that. And keep your opinions to yourself about my businesses too. I don’t want him thinking I’m a lousy businessman.”

  She laughed. They both knew her dad took spending money very seriously. She wasn’t entirely sure how he earned it, though. “I’m sure he doesn’t think that. And anyway, you’ll find out what he’s interested in tomorrow.”

  A knock on the door drew her to it, and she opened it to see a blond haired man with a cat in a carrier and a big canvas bag of stuff. She took them both, balancing her phone between her cheek and shoulder and smiled. “Dad, I’ve got to go, there’s someone at the door.”

  By the time she’d put the cat, the bag, and the phone down inside the house, the man was gone. She rushed out the door and peered down the street, but there was no sign of him. “Oh, dear, I hope he left some of your food so I know what it is.”

  She rifled through the bag but there wasn’t any. And when she let the cat out of the carrier, it was black with a white belly and paws, and quite thin. She wondered when it was last fed. “We’ll give you what we have, okay?”

  Ari came over to investigate, and the new cat arched its back and its claws shot out. “He’s just trying to be friendly, sweetie. What shall we call you?” His name wasn’t on any of the items—a few worn toys and two scarred plastic bowls. “How about Martini? You look like you’re dressed up for an elegant cocktail party.”

  Martini looked very suspicious of her. And when Pepe started loping over she could see a situation about to develop so she swooped Pepe up on her arm and headed back to his cage. “I think we’d better put you in protective custody until we all get to know each other a little better.”

  Pepe squawked his disapproval, so she gave him some nuts to keep him busy.

  “The king’s mistress?” She chewed her lip. “I wonder if Rigo knows that.”

  Still, she knew where she was going tomorrow.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bella left for work half an hour early, leaving Martini in her bedroom and hoping the carpet wouldn’t be shredded when she got back. She walked through the town, following the map on her phone toward Alvona Street.

  It was a quiet, leafy street on a steep hill. The houses were old and solid, with tall stoops. It didn’t take long to find a yellow one with blue shutters. It was big enough to contain several apartments so she hoped there might be a series
of names next to the doorbell, but no such luck.

  Since she had time she decided to hover outside in the hope that someone would come out whom she could ask. She was just telling Squiggles that they’d have to leave in two minutes when an elderly man came out with an adorable long-haired terrier on a red leash.

  After making a fuss over his cute dog she asked if he knew which apartment Francine lived in. She tried to make it sound like she was a friend of hers. The man’s face instantly clouded over. “She’s gone, thank the heavens.”

  “Oh.” Rats. “Do you know where she moved to?”

  “Far away, I hope,” he growled. “She should be ashamed to show her face in Altaleone.”

  “Why?” The bold question burst out before she could think better of it.

  He snorted and muttered something she couldn’t quite catch about minding his own business and how she should do the same. Then he shuffled off down the steep pavement with his dog toddling along next to him.

  Dammit! So near and yet so far. She could be anywhere. “How long ago did she leave?”

  The old man turned and stared at her for a moment, looking her up and down. She grew suddenly self-conscious of her yellow flowered dress and the vintage lace petticoat that almost touched the ground. “When her fancy man stopped paying the bills, that’s when. Good day!”

  He uttered the last words with a brusque finality that made her heart sink. Her fancy man? If that was Rigo’s father Emil—a married man—no wonder he didn’t want to talk about it. Either way, she needed to head for the palace now or she’d risk being late.

  She and Squiggles hurried through the village to the palace gates, where she greeted the guards with a smile, and up the wide drive to the palace. She was rather breathless when she arrived at her dining table/desk and found Rigo’s imposing form bending over the file boxes, pulling papers out of the folders.