Free Becoming the Prince's Wife (Princes of Europe) by Rebecca Winters Page B

grandparents’ small farm and work it.” Her green eyes clouded for a moment. “I’m a farmer’s daughter at heart.”
    “I understand your parents are not alive.”
    “No, nor are my grandparents. Their farm was sold. There have been Barettis in Arancia for almost a hundred years. I’m the only Baretti left and want to keep up the tradition by buying the place back.”
    Had her fiancé been a farmer, too? Valentino knew a moment of jealousy that she’d loved someone else enough to create such a powerful emotion in her.
    “I had no idea,” he murmured, “but since it’s in your blood, that makes you doubly valuable for the task at hand.” His mind was teeming with new ideas to keep her close to him.
    “Abby said you and Vincenzo were planning something monumental for both your countries. I confess I’m intrigued.”
    “Hey, you two,” Abby called to them. “Come and help yourselves to lunch first, then we’ll get down to business.”
    He followed Carolena to the serving table. After they’d filled their plates, they sat down at one of the round tables where the maid poured them iced tea. Once they’d started eating, he said, “Vincenzo? Why don’t you lay the groundwork for the women and we’ll go from there.”
    “Our two countries have a growing problem because of the way they are situated on coastal waters. We all know the land around the Mediterranean is one of the most coveted terrains on earth. Over the years, our prime properties of orange and lemon groves that have sustained our economies for centuries have been shrinking due to man’s progress. Our farmers are being inundated with huge sums of money to sell their land so it can be developed for commercial tourism.”
    “I know that’s true,” Carolena commented. “My grandfather was approached many times to sell, but he wouldn’t do it.”
    Vincenzo nodded. “He’s the type of traditional farmer fighting a battle to hold on to his heritage. Farmers are losing their workers, who want to go to the city. In the process, we’re losing a vital and precious resource that has caused Valentino and me to lose sleep. Something has to be done to stop the trend and rebuild the greatness of what we’ve always stood for. We’ve come up with an idea to help our farmers by giving them a new incentive. You tell them, Valentino.”
    Carolena’s gaze swerved to him. He could tell Vincenzo had grabbed the women’s attention.
    “We need to compete with other countries to increase our exports to fill the needs of a growing world market and build our economies here at home. The lemons of Arancia are highly valued because of their low acidity and delicate flavor.
    “Likewise the blood oranges of Gemelli are sought after for their red flesh and deep red juice. The juice is exceptionally healthy, being rich in antioxidants. What we’re proposing is to patent our fruit in a joint venture so we can grow an enviable exporting business.
    “With a unique logo and marketing strategy, we can put our citrus fruits front and center in the world market. When the buyer sees it, they’ll know they’re getting authentic fruit from our regions alone and clamor for it.”
    “That’s a wonderful idea,” Carolena exclaimed. “You would need to be filed as a Consortium for the Promotion of the Arancian Lemon and the Gemellian Blood Orange. The IGP logo will be the official acknowledgment that the lemons and oranges were grown in your territories according to the traditional rules.”
    Vincenzo leaned forward. “That’s exactly what we’re striving for. With the right marketing techniques, the citrus business should start to flourish again. We’ll come up with a name for the logo.”
    “That’s easy,” Abby volunteered. “AG. Two tiny letters stamped on each fruit. You’ll have to make a video that could be distributed to every country where you want to introduce your brand.”
    Bless you, Abby. She was reading Valentino’s mind. He needed more time