The Billionaire King’s Heir (European Billionaire Beaus Book 3)

by Leslie North

At the mention of the press conference, Felicity’s face fell. She sat all the way up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. A robe hung over the chair next to the wall, and she tugged it over her shoulders, still not looking at Rafael. “Sometimes,” Felicity said softly, “I don’t even feel like it’s my wedding. I really haven’t been involved in any of the details. There have been packets here and there, but…”

  She looked back over at him, and Rafael shrugged. “That’s just the way it’s done with a royal wedding. It’s for the public more than anything else.”

  Felicity ran a hand through her hair. “I think I hear Hope,” she said. “Oh—and there’s Sara, too. I should get in the shower.”

  The moment was broken, but Rafael didn’t know how or why, and he still wanted to repair it. He stood up next to her and kissed her cheek, then pulled her into his arms. “It’s just a few more photo ops,” he said. “Then we can plan our vacation.”

  “Sure,” Felicity said, and as she headed to the bathroom, he felt stuck in the feeling that she didn’t believe him at all.

  * * *

  The press conference was held in the Rose Room, which was one of the palace’s smaller ballrooms. Two winged armchairs were set close together, angled carefully next to a window to maximize the natural light. They were close enough to the wall that, on camera, it gave the illusion that Felicity was sitting with the King in an intimate sitting room. In reality, the two of them faced a bank of reporters with cameras and microphones, arranged in a semicircle so that each person could jockey for the shot they wanted. Felicity had been trying to smile at every camera in turn, giving everyone an equal opportunity.

  One of the smiling reporters addressed a question to Felicity, but she was focused so much on seeming normal in front of the cameras that she only caught the end of it. “—dream come true?”

  He could only be asking one thing.

  “Of course!” A wave of heat came to her cheeks. There were so many things about her life here in Stolvenia that were a dream come true, and others that were…not. The real answer, however, was far too complicated for a press conference leading up to their wedding. “I’m so happy.”

  “What about you, King Rafael?”

  “I’ve never been happier,” he answered firmly.

  “Do you look forward to exchanging views with your new wife?” called someone from the back.

  Rafael didn’t let the smile fall from his face. “Exchanging views? We already do that on a daily basis.”

  There was a brief chuckle from the assembled reporters, but the voice piped up a second time. “Her sister’s interview with the Capital Daily gave us quite the hint into the future queen’s liberal views. Will you be taking them into consideration as you begin your lives together? By that I mean, will you be taking steps to further women’s rights in Stolvenia after the wedding?”

  Felicity forgot to look at the cameras. Her eyes were glued to Rafael’s face, and though he didn’t turn to look at her, she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. The silence went on a few heartbeats too long. “I’m not prepared to discuss that now.” His tone landed flatly, and there was a flurry of camera shutters and scribbling on notepads.

  “King Rafael, if you don’t feel comfortable discussing it now—”

  Rafael stood up so abruptly that the cord of his lapel microphone pulled taut. He slipped it off with a deft hand, motioning for Felicity to do the same. “That’s all the questions for today,” he said. “Thank you all for coming.”

  Felicity’s heart was in her throat. That hadn’t been the plan. They were supposed to take questions for another fifteen minutes at least, and then sit for some staged photos. She hurried to keep up with Rafael on the way out of the Rose Room, then followed him all the way down the next hall to his office, where he shut the door behind them.

  He went to the window, looking out, and said nothing.

  “I’m not completely comfortable with how that went,” offered Felicity.

  “And you think I am?” Rafael turned to face her. “If we can’t get through one interview without them hounding me about—”

  “I’m not comfortable with the fact that you won’t take a position on something as cut and dried as women’s rights.” Felicity was finally feeling anger creep through the adrenaline of being in front of so many cameras. “Are you just faking interest in my opinions in the first place?”

  Rafael’s eyes flew open wide and he scoffed, sticking his hands in his pockets, looking petulant. “In case you’ve forgotten, all of this was supposed to be fake. I don’t know that you even have a right to be making those kinds of comments or directing policy. You had your chance at last week’s events. That was enough, I’d say.”

  Felicity drew herself up to her full height. “When we’re married, my right to comment on policy will be absolutely real. As real as anything I say to the press right now.” Her chin trembled, but she locked her teeth together to keep from letting her upset show. “You can’t possibly expect me to fake my entire life so you can keep looking good to the public.”

  She couldn’t bear to stand there another moment, and she spun toward the door. Felicity wanted to be with Hope right now, and nobody else. Hope was all that mattered. None of Rafael’s stubbornness did. Not in this moment. Maybe not ever. And if he couldn’t see—

  Felicity spun back. “I have half a mind not to go through with the wedding at all, just so you know.” She threw the words at him like barbs. Rafael opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could speak. “Don’t bother saying anything else. There’s no point, remember?” She gestured to the rest of the room. “No cameras. I’ll see you at the rehearsal.”

  16

  After the wedding rehearsal, Rafael was early for the dinner.

  Felicity had been swept away for a last-minute fitting with Joy, and he found himself in a liminal space with nothing to do but wait. The banquet hall in the palace, thankfully, had a bar set up at one end, by the dais where he’d sit with his brothers and their wives.

  “Great minds think alike,” said his middle brother, Artur, coming to get a drink himself.

  “Great minds find opportunities even in the midst of chaos,” agreed Rafael. “Where’s Amy?”

  “Not drinking, obviously.” Artur laughed. Rafael had never seen him as happy as he was with Amy. For most of his life, Artur had been the scapegrace brother, the one who seemed to care most about having a good time. The media had loved him but few had respected him…up until he did some growing up. Since Amy had come into his life, he’d turned things around, taking responsibility and stepping up to be the prince his nation needed—not to mention the husband and soon-to-be father he wanted to be for his family.

  Rafael took a sip of the whiskey the bartender had just handed him to disguise his jealousy.

  “She’s with Felicity, at the final fitting,” Artur continued. “They’re going over other wedding day details. Surely, nothing you need to know anything about.”

  “Surely,” echoed Rafael. Going over wedding day details seemed a little silly at this point in the process. With the wedding taking place the next day, everything should be already set in stone. But what did he know? Maybe Felicity had confided in Amy the same thing she’d expressed to Rafael—that it felt like someone else’s wedding. He was still stewing about that. Rafael had never, and would never, have a wedding as anything other than the king of Stolvenia, so he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of control Felicity expected. And if she expected complete control—well. That would be an exercise in frustration. Royal events were always massively complicated.

  He felt Artur looking at him. “What is it? Are you getting cold feet?”

  “About the dinner?” Rafael joked.

  “About the wedding,” said Artur, crooking one eyebrow.

  Rafael let out a sigh. There was no one in earshot—even the bartender had taken several steps away to give them a modicum of privacy. “There’s been some…friction between us.”

  “Regar
ding?”

  “Regarding the fact that Felicity doesn’t think this is her wedding. She feels like she’s been on the outside of the whole process.”

  “In a way, she’s right.” Artur had had his own royal wedding.

  “Yes, but I can’t find a way to tell her…” He shook his head. This was not the kind of thing he was used to putting in words.

  Artur wasn’t having it. “You can tell me, you know. I’m not going to go running to the press. My days in that kind of spotlight are over.”

  “Fine.” Rafael was exasperated on perhaps every possible level. “The wedding ceremony is the least of my worries. It’s just another ceremony.” He waved his drink in front of him as if he were batting away the ceremony itself. “It’s an important one, to be sure, but the most important part is the marriage. And maybe I brought her here at first because of the referendum, and because I wanted Hope to be raised in Stolvenia, but now…marrying her isn’t for the public. But it seems that she can’t see that it’s not for the public.”

  “Oh no, it certainly is.” Artur sipped his own drink. “All of what we do is for the public, but maybe you’re looking at it the wrong way.”

  “What way is that?” Rafael swallowed another burst of frustration with a sip of whiskey.

  “Perhaps…” Artur studied him. “Perhaps you’ve been thinking of this as a way to…distract our citizens. To entertain them.” He lifted his own glass. “God knows I was good at that. But the purpose of what we do is actually to serve the people.”

  There was a stab of guilt if he’d ever felt one. It was precisely what Felicity had been trying to get at. He’d brushed her off. “Of course,” he said lamely.

  “You know, I think the majority of our people only want to see you happy. And you have been happy since you’ve brought Hope and Felicity here, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.” The truth was there, all in one word. “It’s been hard, but I’ve been happy. I never knew how much I wanted—” His throat tightened. “I never knew how much I wanted to be a father until I met Hope. I never knew how happy that could make me. I didn’t know anything could make me that happy. I thought I could only look forward to being the best king possible.” He had to admit, at least to himself, that he hadn’t even done that lately. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t loved every moment.

  “It’s Felicity who seems a little less happy, if you ask me. Sometimes, the way she looks in pictures…” Artur shrugged. “It can be difficult, with the press attention. Maybe she needs more time.”

  “Did you start the party without us?” Amy’s voice cut in, and Artur’s face lit up at the approach of his wife. She stepped to his side and he wrapped one arm around her, laying his palm on her belly and grinning down at her in a way that bordered on breaking the modesty rules. Then he kissed her, and all that flew out the window.

  Rafael became aware of Felicity standing at his side, looking at the other couple with an expression that was caught between envy and curiosity. She looked absolutely stunning, in a white sleeveless dress and a low tiara, but when she turned to him he didn’t see much joy. Only duty.

  “Well,” she said dryly, keeping her voice low and confidential. “While those two lovebirds are at it, we should get some champagne.” She laughed. “That’ll be completely fine according to protocol, right?”

  That, as far as Rafael was concerned, was the high point of the rehearsal dinner.

  Once Felicity heard they had a delicious brand of white wine at the bar, she settled for that. Rafael went for his customary red. After a few moments, Amy detached herself from Artur and the two of them joined the little clutch by the bar. Artur followed Rafael’s lead with the red wine, and Amy had a sparkling cider. By the time Amy had a chance to ask Felicity how she was doing with the runaway freight train that was a royal wedding, other guests were filtering in—including a few photographers.

  Rafael watched as Felicity straightened her back and smiled at Amy, her face perfectly calm. “Oh, I’m all right,” she said. Nothing in her face betrayed the doubt he knew she felt. Artur caught Rafael’s eyes but said nothing. “All this…” She waved around the room, putting on a bigger smile as she did so. “It’s the way things are.” Felicity sounded perfectly calm when she said this, but as the dinner progressed, Rafael knew it wasn’t true.

  Felicity sat at the table, back straight, face carefully arranged. She was meticulous with her silverware, every movement constrained.

  She looked…trapped.

  No matter what she did, whether it was leaning over to hear what his brother Artur said or nodding across the table at a point one of the high-ranking Stolvenian court members made, her face was guarded. It was true that she was playing the role of the gracious queen, but the more Rafael watched her, the more it became obvious—the role was more than a role.

  It was a cage.

  Right in front of his eyes, Felicity was practically shrinking away from the boundaries. She sat at the table, yes, but there were invisible bounds all around her. All those rules, all those protocols…he’d so badly wanted her to be able to navigate them all, but now that Felicity was doing it, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities to a bird with clipped wings.

  He picked at his food. There was a painful fact he didn’t want to admit, even to himself…that their wedding would do more than act as a happy press event for the monarchy. It would, in fact, tie Felicity closer to him than ever. It would make it harder for her to disappear on him again.

  Harder…but not impossible. And Rafael knew that a person who felt trapped would either make a play to escape or wither away.

  He was on his feet before he’d consciously made the decision, but it caught up to him as he approached her, several seats down at the table. Felicity turned her face up toward him as he bent down low, her eyes wide. “Can I see you in the hallway for a moment?”

  “Of course,” she said stiffly, then got up and followed him out without another backward glance.

  Out in the hall, there was no one to watch them but a few staff members hustling by. Rafael sucked in a breath and forced out the words before he had a chance to lose his nerve. “I can’t go through with this.”

  Felicity’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead. “The wedding?”

  “Forcing you to stay with me.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think—”

  “I’ve watched you at this party,” he said urgently. This was not a time to play games, not a time to waver. “You looked like a caged bird, and I—some part of me wanted us to be bound together in a way that would be hard to undo.” Rafael ran a hand through his hair. “The last time you ran from me was so painful that I thought I would do anything to protect myself from getting hurt like that again. Just…not this. I can’t keep you here under the pretense that you have no choice.”

  “Everything is already planned,” said Felicity. “Everyone—”

  “It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks, or does. My mother was wrong to control you the way that she did. I won’t do the same thing under the guise of good public relations. I simply won’t do it.”

  Felicity bit her lip. “The wedding is in two days.”

  “And I don’t intend to cancel it.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I intend to give you a choice. I intend to…set you free. This is your decision now. If you come to the wedding, then I’d gladly have you as my wife. You must know that. But if you don’t, I’ll use the public space to announce that our romantic relationship won’t be continuing.” He swallowed hard. “You deserve better, but this is what I can give you now.”

  “What about the referendum?” Her voice was soft, but not small. “It’s scheduled for the wedding day. Any sign of—”

  “Your happiness means more than that.”

  Felicity nodded slowly, realization dawning in her eyes. Then, one more time, she stepped forward and kissed Rafael on the cheek.

  “Thank yo
u,” she whispered, and though he knew he should argue with her, should tell her that she didn’t owe him a thank you or anything else, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He could only watch as she turned and went, disappearing down the hall.

  The kiss lingered there long after she’d gone.

  17

  As part of the “traditions” surrounding the wedding, Felicity’s things had already been moved out of Rafael’s suite and into her own rooms—custom demanded that they spend the last night before the wedding apart. So there was no question about where she’d retreat to, closing the door behind her as she struggled to process it all.

  She was still wearing the white dress she’d worn to the rehearsal, and her calves ached from her high heels as she made her way back to her own suite of rooms. What was Rafael doing now? Had he made some excuse for her? The thoughts flitted in and out of her mind, but a dull ache behind her rib cage made it impossible for them to stick. No matter what he did, it was over.

  Wasn’t it? She couldn’t very well head back to the rehearsal dinner and pretend everything was fine. Not after what he’d said.

  Felicity peeked in on Hope’s nursery, which took up a good third of the suite. Sara had put her to bed an hour before, and the toddler slept peacefully in her crib, her breathing even. Felicity went to the side of the crib and laid her hand on Hope’s curls, gently so that she wouldn’t wake up. The little girl stirred at her mother’s touch, turned over, and hugged her bear tighter to her chest.

  Felicity felt more than a little adrift now that she didn’t have a schedule for the rest of the evening. It was surprising, in a way, how fast someone could get used to an unending structured schedule. Then again, she’d never really had a choice about staying busy. Since Joy’s accident, there had always been more to do when the work of the day was done. It only added up when Hope was born. Her heart squeezed. Not that she’d take back a single day of it.