Chapter 28
“Mr. Calis, please take a look at the landscaping layout.”
“Yes! I’ll be right there!”
“Calis! Should we place these frames over there?”
“Careful, that one’s extremely expensive! Handle it gently!”
Though spring had yet to fully arrive, the weather in Florence was mild and pleasant.
Even so, Calis was dripping sweat from his forehead.
Not that it was only the weather’s fault.
Ever since his appointment a year ago as manager of this place, Calis had been running himself ragged day in and day out.
Now, with the grand opening just around the corner, his schedule was a whirlwind of endless demands.
In truth, the preparations weren’t just for completion of construction but for opening day itself.
The resort had become a battlefield.
Furniture and facilities for the rooms needed inspection, staff had to be trained, and dozens upon dozens of items had to be checked meticulously.
Still, when the resort’s owner—Grand Duke Dante Venachert—arrived on site a few days ago,
Calis thought at least a tenth of his burden might be lifted.
“Have you seen His Grace the Grand Duke?”
“No, I’m afraid not…”
But today again, the Grand Duke was nowhere to be found.
On the verge of tears, Calis asked the chauffeur, who had served Dante faithfully since their days at the Behern palace.
The man shook his head awkwardly—after all, he had neither car to drive nor master to escort.
Calis should have realized something was strange the moment Dante began leaving without his aides, let alone his personal attendants.
But never in his life did he imagine the Grand Duke would act this way.
How could he?
The memory of Dante working sleepless nights, tirelessly resolving flood damage a year ago, was still vivid in his mind.
Because of that, when Dante arrived in Florian, Calis had braced himself for another storm of work.
And yet… contrary to his fears, Dante attended a formal dinner with the mayor and then, every morning since, disappeared somewhere on his own.
No one knew where he went.
By the time he returned to his office in the afternoon, all they could do was report the day’s progress.
“Calis! The finish on the newly delivered table looks a little off. What should we do?”
“On my way!”
There was no time even to sigh.
Bowing briefly to the driver, Calis hurried toward the workers calling for him.
With manuals and checklists clutched to his chest, he dashed through the resort.
To the laborers, this frantic figure was already a familiar sight.
“Haha, he looks busy as ever. At least the boss won’t feel his salary is wasted!”
“…Do you even know who the boss here is?”
Kalis ignored their chatter, wiping sweat from his brow as a troubled thought crossed his mind.
Surely His Grace isn’t here for a vacation… right?
It was the only conclusion.
Otherwise, what reason would the Grand Duke have to vanish every morning—driving himself, no less?
***
“Your name is Reina, is it?”
“…”
Whether she answered or not, Dante hardly cared.
He rolled the name on his tongue, murmuring it softly to himself several times.
“Whoever chose it clearly lacked imagination. Sounds like you just spat out the first thing that came to mind.”
“…”
“Your surname.”
The relentless questioning finally made Riena scowl.
She spun to face him.
“Brontë.”
Ah.
Dante exhaled as if in sudden realization, a wry chuckle slipping from him.
“So you kept that part, did you?”
“…Sir, I’m working. If you don’t have an actual order, please stop calling me over like this.”
Her apron clutched tight in her fists, Riena’s tone was firm.
It has been days now.
For years the Grand Duke had buried himself in endless work, yet suddenly he had all the leisure in the world—to appear daily at the café where she worked.
Her nerves had frayed by the second day, but soon she realized there was little to fear.
He spent his time making petty complaints, giving her meaningless tasks, or tossing out mischievous questions meant only to provoke.
Even Sharon, who at first bristled every time he walked in, eventually grew weary of his antics and now merely shook her head.
Dante tilted his head, eyes lingering on Riena.
Her expression was anything but apologetic.
If anything, her face broadcast open discomfort, bordering on insolence.
Suppressing a laugh, Dante arched a brow.
“Isn’t tending to customers part of your job?”
“Under the condition that customers don’t pry into private matters. And I think you’re mistaken—customer service in a café does not include what you’re doing.”
“Poor service, Miss Bronte.”
“Apologies. But I can’t invent tasks that don’t exist.”
Her reply was crisp, her gaze less so—shaking ever so slightly.
That surname.
His casual use of it had stirred a dangerous thought.
Dante did not yet know about Lieutenant Henry Bailey.
For now, it wasn’t a problem.
But if the two were ever to meet…
…He’d put the blame on the lieutenant.
The grim thought had only just passed when Dante, glancing out the window, narrowed his golden eyes.
A sharp click of his tongue.
Then, leaving his untouched coffee, he rose abruptly.
Startled, Riena looked up at him.
“Go inside.”
“…What?”
“Into the kitchen. Bake cookies, mop floors—I don’t care. Just get inside.”
He jerked his chin toward the counter, then pressed a hand lightly against her back.
“Don’t come out until I’ve left.”
“…Excuse me, what?”
She glared at him, utterly baffled.
Wasn’t he the one who clung to her, refusing to let her walk away?
Now he was forcing her off the floor?
His eyes thinned dangerously at her hesitation.
Tch.
With a habitual click of his tongue, Dante leaned close until his lips brushed her ear.
“Do as I say, Riena.”
His low whisper made her flinch violently.
She recoiled, then bolted for the kitchen as if fleeing.
Dante watched her vanish, expression unreadable, before striding out of the café.
***
“Your Grace! Have you been here this whole time?”
Calis rushed forward, relief washing over his face as he spotted Dante leaving the café.
He craned his neck, attempting to peer inside.
But Dante stepped deliberately into his line of sight, irritation clouding his brow.
“Why aren’t you working?”
“What? I was working, Your Grace! But a telegram just arrived from the palace, so I came looking for you!”
Protesting furiously, Calis dug into his coat and produced a neatly folded envelope.
The sender: Hudson, the butler.
Dante unfolded the message.
His jaw tightened, a sharp sigh tearing from him.
He hadn’t even been gone from the palace that long.
[His Highness the Crown Prince has arrived.]
That single line crumpled mercilessly in his grip.
***
At Behern Palace, a tension unlike that of the resort brewed from early morning.
The source: Crown Prince Reichert had appeared unannounced.
His sudden arrival had thrown the household into chaos.
“I would like to see the Grand Duke.”
“We are deeply sorry, Your Highness, but His Grace is currently away from the palace. I’ll send a message at once—please wait just a little longer.”
The worst possible scenario when the Grand Duke was absent.
And as the hours slipped by, it was nearly noon.
Hudson, glancing anxiously at the clock, finally spotted the postman cycling through the palace gates.
At last! Relief spread over the butler’s face.
He hurried down the stairs, careful not to make a scene.
“A telegram from His Grace.”
“Thank you. Please keep this discreet.”
Hudson slipped the messenger a generous coin, then tore the envelope open.
[My affairs are not yet concluded, so I cannot return to the palace. Tell His Highness I will visit Arbern myself soon.
—Dante Venachert]
Swallowing hard, Hudson examined the second slip tucked inside.
Two messages had been sent from the start.
One, clearly, for him.
[Say I am meeting investors in nearby Raheln. The other note, hand it directly to the Crown Prince to read.]
In other words, cover for him.
Hudson cast the note a long look, then carried it straight to the kitchen hearth and tossed it into the fire.
Folding the remaining message neatly back into its envelope, he climbed the stairs with deliberate calm.
At the drawing room door, he steadied his breath and knocked softly before entering.
“My deepest apologies for the wait, Your Highness.”
“Why are you here alone? Where is the Grand Duke?”
Reichert’s eyes flashed in annoyance.
He had expected those infamous golden eyes to greet him, not an old butler.
His tone was edged with disbelief.
Hudson bowed deeply, choosing his words with care.
“His Grace regrets that he cannot attend you at this moment. Instead, he has sent this message.”
“What? After keeping me waiting all this time? Brother or not, that’s rather discourteous, don’t you think?”
Rising from his chair, the Crown Prince strode toward Hudson, voice brimming with indignation.
