The Princess Test

“Daddy, you gotta read. I wanna know if the princess lives happy ever after. And so does Princess Carrie.”

Daniel glanced at Carrie and arched a brow. A teasing grin darted across his face. Was he … flirting with her? Or merely playing into Annabelle’s game? “Well, Princess Carrie? Do you want me to keep reading?”

She waved toward the book. “Please do, Mr. Reynolds. I’m dying to hear how this one ends.”

His gaze met hers and something hot pooled inside her. “I am, too,” he said. Then he opened the book again and began to read.

CHAPTER THREE

“OKAY, new guy, what have you got?”

At the sound of his boss’s voice, Daniel jerked to attention in his chair. He faced Matt Harrod and the rest of the production team, a motley crew of producers, cameramen and the two hosts who provided commentary for Inside Scoop, all gathered for a quick Saturday-morning meeting. Daniel was the only one with a hard news background, and in the few days that he had been working here, he’d begun to feel like he was living on an alien planet. Everyone at Inside Scoop wanted the next sensational spot, the next media meltdown. They were like vultures hovering over a steaming carcass of scandal. Daniel missed the days when he produced stories that had meaning, the kind that brought viewers an important message or changed a life. The kind that his father had done, the kind that were part of the Reynolds family legacy.

But those stories came with a job that demanded long hours, frequent and last-minute trips around the world, and a daughter who was raised by strangers. Daniel told himself the job he had now was perfect, and he better start acting like it.

“I found a princess … or rather, someone who claims to be a princess,” he said to Matt, “living temporarily in Winter Haven.”

Matt let out a gust of disbelief. “Like real, honest-to-God royalty?”

“Seems it, though I’m still researching her.” He pulled his notes before him. “This woman, Carlita Santaro, is claiming she’s the third daughter of the king of Uccelli, a country near Italy. I checked, and there is a real Carlita who fits the age and looks similar. Her middle sister, Allegra, ascended to the throne last year, and her oldest sister, Mariabella, is married to an American and spends part of her time running an art gallery in Massachusetts. Her mother spent time here more than twenty years ago, which is what Carlita says drew her to this town.”

“I think I heard about the art chick. She was in the news last year. Wish I’d gotten that scoop.” Matt made a few notes on a pad of paper. “So what’s number three doing in Indiana?”

“Her country makes wine. And she’s running a small wine shop that is the first in the United States to sell Uccelli wines. Sort of a test market with the tourists.”

“You sure she’s the real deal?” Matt asked.

Daniel shrugged. “So far, her story checks out.”

“So far?” Matt arched a brow. The rest of the production team turned toward Daniel.

“Well, there’s not much information on Carlita Santaro.” He opened the folder before him and withdrew the few pictures he had of Carrie in her royal element. He scattered them across the long conference table while he spoke. “Partly because she has always shunned the spotlight and partly because she’s the third daughter, and thus not as interesting to the media. So it’s been a bit of a challenge proving this Carlita’s story.”

Matt picked up one of Carrie’s headshots, this one a few years old and a little grainy. “Did you run a blood test?”

Daniel chuckled. “Seriously? I can’t do that.”

“Seriously. I don’t want to put this station on the line for some half-baked crazy who thinks she’s the latest Romanov descendent.”

Daniel bristled, and forced himself to tamp down his anger. This was his job here— his first chance to prove himself to his new boss—and he needed to stay in control. Good paying media jobs in the middle of the country weren’t exactly plentiful, and if he didn’t succeed at this one, he’d be forced to move back to the coast and put Annabelle back into the same nanny/day care/absent father nightmare he had worked so hard to leave behind. That was assuming he could find another job in the news, considering how his reputation had fallen apart last year. He’d applied to twenty places with no luck before he’d been hired here. He needed this job, as much as he hated that his options had narrowed to this. “The stories I read about her fit the woman that I met. I’m not a hundred percent positive she’s the real princess yet. I still need to do a bit more legwork to make sure.”

Matt considered the information for a while, twirling his pen between his fingers as he thought. His face was filled with skepticism, and the trademark scheming that had helped his show rise in the ratings. Whatever he was thinking, Daniel was pretty damned sure it was going to be some harebrained idea, and undoubtedly something Daniel wouldn’t like. In the two weeks Daniel had been working here, he’d watched Matt cross the journalism line a hundred times. In fact, Daniel wouldn’t call much of what Matt did journalism.

Daniel had met interns out of college with more tact and experience. But this was the job he had, and that meant he had to buck up and tolerate Matt’s insensitive personality. For now. Soon as he had a success back on his résumé, Daniel was heading for a job that had more meat than sugar.

“All right, we’ll give it a shot,” Matt said. “But I don’t want to do the typical profile piece.” He mocked a yawn. “We need something that will put us on the map. The kind of piece that the other stations will want to run on their shows. Something that really puts Inside Scoop into the public eye. I want to go global, baby, and this is the kind of story that can help us do that. World, here we come!”

“Okay,” Daniel said. “I’ll think of an angle that—”

“I don’t want an angle. I want something that says wow. Something like …” He twirled the pen some more, and then his face brightened in a way that Daniel knew meant something bad was coming out of Matt’s mouth. “A test.”

“A test?”

“Yeah, like that fairy tale. What is the name of it again?” He smacked the arm of the young male intern beside him. The kid—no older than twenty—jumped.

“Uh … . Cinderella?” he said in a squeaky voice.

“No, no, the other one.”

“Snow White,” Emily, the female half of the cohost team, volunteered.

“No. God. I work with a bunch of idiots.” Matt cursed. “What the hell is the name of that fairy tale? The one where they test the princess. Make sure she’s Grade A.”

“The Princess and the Pea,” Daniel said, then hated himself for supplying the answer. He could already see the road ahead and he didn’t like the direction Matt was traveling. As much as anyone, he wanted to prove—or disprove—Carrie’s claim, but not in some sensationalized circus.

“Yes! That’s it!” Matt pointed at Daniel and beamed. “New guy, you just earned your keep. I think you’ve got the best story idea out of all these idiots. You run with your princess and get a little background on her. We’ll work on developing the test to prove she’s royalty.”

“What possible test could there be?”

Matt grinned, the kind of grin that Daniel knew meant this was going in the wrong direction. Dread filled the pit of Daniel’s stomach and he wondered if it was too late to retract the story.

“Oh, we’ll think of something,” Matt said. “But whatever we think of, I can guarantee one thing.”

“What’s that?” Daniel asked.

“It’ll be great TV.” Matt grinned. “Great, memorable, big bucks TV.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Daniel muttered as he gathered his things and left the production meeting. And tried like hell to think of a way to tell Carrie about this without her wanting to shove that tiara down his throat.

Annabelle skipped in a circle around the kitchen. She had on her plastic tiara and a purple dress that blossomed out from her waist in a wide bell. He’d tried like hell to talk her out of the tiara, but Annabelle had insisted, and Daniel hadn’t wanted to see a frown on his little girl’s face. Not when she’d just started smiling again.

“You ready, pumpkin?”

She stopped twirling and turned to face him. “Uh-huh.”

She’d been ready and waiting when he got home from the production meeting. Now her excitement shimmered on her face, danced in her eyes. “All right then, let’s go.” He put out his hand for Annabelle. She started toward him, then stopped and grabbed a bright pink bag sitting on the kitchen table. “What’s that?”

“I can’t tell you, Daddy. It’s a s’prise.” An impish grin spread across her pixie features.

“A surprise, huh?” He bent down and pretended to try to peek inside the bag. “For me?”

She jerked the silky bag away. “No peeking, Daddy! It’s not for you.”

“For Grandma?”