Page 61 of Meet Cute the Virgin

“Because you’re a good stalker.” This man really does know me inside and out.

“Right.” He shakes his head. “When I saw your father’s autopsy photos—” Tristan pauses, then runs a hand down his face. “I should take a step back; I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start with his death.”

“It wasn’t a heart attack!” I slam my hand down on the table, making everything on it jump. I also jumped, having scared myself with how loud it was. “Sorry, I’m not excited about it; I just always had that in my head. That his cause of death didn’t fit. Didn’t make sense.”

“And you’re right, princess.”

“And don’t you forget it.” I take a bite of my well-buttered toast. “Continue.”

“He was ambushed. Everyone has been quiet about it all. No leads, and maybe they don’t have any, but someone has to have it in the back of their minds. He brought you back to the States after a mission. That means paperwork had to have been handled for him.”

“You’re saying my father kidnapped me.”

“I didn’t?—”

“Birds of a feather,” I say, making his lips twitch.

“Seems you’re very kidnappable.”

“Why, thank you.” I take a sip of my orange juice, taking this all in stride. “I take it my parents sucked or something, so he saved me?”

“I went searching around the time you were born. The area Victor was in at that time because I couldn’t chase down why he and a team were there. But Grandeurs is pretty small for a country, so I went digging through the news article searching for anything that could be a cover-up, which most often is a fire.”

“So I’m from Grandeurs?” I ask, but none of this makes sense still. I don’t know a ton about Grandeurs.

“I believe so. In fact, I believe you’re an heir to the crown.”

I stare at him, his words for once stunning me into silence. “The crown?” It only lasted a moment.

“Yes, Grandeurs is a monarchy. I think the late king was your father.” I take that in. “You okay?”

I give a small nod. “Are you saying I’m like a real,realprincess?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose it’s fitting,” I joke. “Hey, you’ve been calling me ‘princess’ lately.”

“Want me to go back to brat?”

“Kinda like them both.” I sit back in my chair. “What’s the rest? Is this why someone tried to snatch me up? Those men tell you anything while you were gardening together?”

Tristan starts talking. He tells me about the fire he believes I’m connected to. Where I was stashed away as a bastard child. Do people still use that term? That he believes after the king’s death, the wife, the queen, must have found out about me and feels I’m a threat to not only her but also her son, who is heir to the crown. I could try to come in and steal it all away. Well, I can’t really steal what’s rightfully mine.

“This is insane, and it doesn’t fully make sense.”

“There are missing pieces,” Tristan says in agreement.

“Was this king on good terms with other countries and stuff, or was he a power-hungry nut?”

“At the present, there were no issues that I’m aware of.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “What if the queen knew about me but thought I died in the fire? Then found out after his death I’m still alive?”

“It’s possible, but I still don’t know how Victor comes into play. How he got you. But I do know those men were sent by the queen yesterday.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay?”