Affixing an unimaginative “nice” to his phenomenal hotness is the understatement of the century. But you reap what you sow, my friend!
He clasps his hands behind his back. “Prince Richard summoned me to the palace. Then, I was told to wait here. Any idea what this is about?”
“Yes. I’ll explain.”
I gesture for him to follow me down an aisle. We meander for a few minutes in silence, our steps measured. Henri’s presence is too distracting. I struggle to find the right words, to decide how much to reveal now, and how much to leave for tomorrow’s briefing.
Why didn’t Adam or Uncle Richard just give me the exact message to relay?
Maybe because I’m turning thirty next week, and I’m the new key seeker, and they trust my judgment?
Act the part, Gigi!
“What have you been up to these last ten years?” I ask by way of an introduction.
“I settled in Dordogne, tried a few ventures. Failed. Ended up in truffles.”
It’s funny he mentions his failures…
“Truffles, huh? Are they lucrative?”
“Quite, as it happens. There’s a lot more to it than just digging in the dirt.”
“Do tell!”
“Three years ago, my associate, Jocelyn, and I started a company called Black Diamonds of Quercy,” he begins. “We’re a specialized business focused on the cultivation, harvesting, and distribution of high-quality truffles, particularly sought after in gourmet culinary circles.”
I nod supportively, and he goes on about his truffle empire. Phrases likeculinary gold, traditional techniques andsustainable practices, direct sales, distribution, international markets,anddiversified revenue streamsfloat around. I insert sounds and questions at appropriate intervals. My somewhat contained interest is due to the weight of my mission more than to Henri’s explanation being dull.
In fact, it isn’t dull at all. He talks with passion in his voice. He’s found something he loves, something that gives him purpose.Good on him!It also occurs to me that, while I’m in Dordogne I should take some photos and write an article about truffle cultivation for my travel blog. Truffles being a luxury food, they’re a great fit with my “Traveling on a Big Budget” brand.
I flash him a smile. “Hey, would you like me to cover your truffle business in a future blog article?”
There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. “That would be great.”
I expect him to ask when and how, but instead he looks me straight in the eye. “So, what’s this really about, Gigi?”
“It’s about saving Mount Evor.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Is Mount Evor under threat? From whom?”
“You’ll have all the details at a briefing at your parents’ place, probably tomorrow,” I say. “But for now, let me just say the threat is very serious. The proverbial sword of Damocles is hanging over the principality’s head. A ticking bomb we’ve been working hard to disarm. We believe you can help us.”
“When you say ‘we,’ you’re referring to…?”
“The royal family,” I reply, almost apologetically.
Henri doesn’t know it, but I’m aware of his anti-royal stand. I can only hope his love of his country is greater than his opposition to our form of government.
“What can I do for you, Gigi?” he asks.
Before I can respond, determined footsteps draw my gaze to the end of the aisle. Marquess Julian Castellane marches towardus in all his dignified glory, and his presence fills the library like a one-man parade.
“Gigi, there you are!” he exclaims. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I plaster on a smile. “Julian, what a surprise!”
He comes closer, invading my personal space. “I wanted to personally invite you to a charity dinner hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Rohinn on Sunday, the twenty-fourth.”
