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

by Leslie North

She waited until she was outside Hope’s room to take in a big breath and let it out slowly.

  Time.

  That’s what Rafael had wanted to give her—time and space to make the decision about them on her own. That’s what she should do. She should set aside the hurt she couldn’t quite explain and think.

  First things first, Felicity went back to her bedroom and wriggled out of the white dress and the white heels. It was only when she’d put on a pair of lounge pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt and gone into the bathroom to splash water on her face that she discovered she was still wearing the tiara. It was so light she had long since forgotten its weight. She pulled it out of her hair and set it on a stand next to the sink.

  Did she even want to be queen? It didn’t feel good, exactly, taking off the tiara—even if Felicity knew the decorative headgear didn’t give her any title. She’d expected to feel more of a weight lifting from her shoulders, but there it was, still settled there like a heavy blanket whether she wore the tiara or not.

  Felicity moved around the living area, putting toys into baskets and absently gathering together books, stacking them on the coffee table. She wasn’t packing, exactly, but there was no way she could think about this without some kind of movement.

  She went back into the bedroom and took out a hanger for the white rehearsal dinner dress. It wouldn’t do to leave it sprawled on the bed like that, and she’d only worn it for a couple of hours. As she slid the dress onto the hanger, her mind flashed forward.

  What about Hope? Would she wear a dress like this one day, at her own rehearsal? How was she going to feel about all this? No matter what Felicity did, Hope would be a princess. It was in her blood, and unavoidable as the sunrise.

  Felicity shrugged, though there was nobody there to see her. No matter what Rafael said, would she ever really be free of all this if Hope wasn’t?

  The questions swirled in her mind as she hung up the dress and put the shoes on the shelf inside her walk-in closet. There was also the question of bearing this life if she couldn’t be near Rafael. Even when she had been at her most exasperated, it had lit her up inside to see him…and to touch him.

  Couples were supposed to have different periods of adjustment. But Felicity didn’t want to change herself completely to be with him. There had to be a balance, somehow. She had to have control over some aspect of her life. Things had been hard in Des Moines, that was true. The bills caused relentless stress. But palace life had its own set of stresses. How could she account for the happiness she’d found in each? Which carried more weight?

  She closed the closet door. The scale in her mind tipped back and forth, swinging wildly, and Felicity wiped a hand over her eyes. This was not how she had expected the rehearsal dinner to go.

  “I just don’t know,” she said into the still air. “I have no idea what to do, or where to go.” It was uncanny, how much she felt like the younger version of herself who had been newly pregnant with Hope.

  “You don’t know what?”

  Joy’s voice was even, but it still made Felicity jump. Her sister rolled in through the door, still wearing her blush pink dress from the rehearsal. It was the same shade as the bridesmaids dress she was set to wear at the wedding, but a different cut. The couture designers in charge of the wedding fashion had coordinated everything.

  “Come on, tell me,” Joy said. “You disappeared from your own rehearsal dinner. I figured something big was up.” Her eyes scanned the room. “But I don’t hear Hope crying like she’s sick or injured, so she must be okay.”

  Felicity sat down on the bed, her knees going out from beneath her. “Hope is fine.” She clutched that fact close, just like Hope had been clutching her bear. “She’s blissfully ignorant that anything is going on at all. You know, I don’t think she remembers the old apartment we had.” Felicity laughed, but it was a sad sound, even to her. “Not that I’d expect her to. She’s so little.”

  Joy rolled closer and put a hand on Felicity’s knee. “Is this really about Hope? Or is this about what Rafael said to you after the two of you stepped outside?”

  Felicity met her sister’s eyes. “Did he tell you?” Her stomach dropped at the thought of him making that kind of announcement at the rehearsal dinner. Not only would it destroy the illusion of a happy couple, it would create endless fodder for the tabloids.

  “Of course not. I’m just observant. When your sister, the bride, gets up from the table with a resigned expression and doesn’t come back…” Joy smiled ruefully. “It was easy to put two and two together.”

  “He didn’t—” Felicity swallowed a lump in her throat. “He didn’t cancel the dinner, did he?”

  Joy cocked her head to the side. “Do you really think he’d do that? No.” She shook her head definitively. “Rafael came back in and said you needed a moment. I think everyone assumed it was something to do with Hope.” Joy sat up straight in her chair. “Spill it.”

  “He—” Felicity’s chest went tight and hot. “He told me he couldn’t go through with the wedding…not the way things stood. He told me that he saw how trapped I felt, with all the rules, and how unhappy…”

  “Unhappy? With him?” Joy’s expression was skeptical. “He can’t have meant that.”

  “With the whole…production of it all.” Felicity wiped at an errant tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye. “Last week I told him the wedding didn’t really feel like mine. At the time, it seemed like he shrugged the comment off, but it looks like it must have stuck. I guess I’ve been thinking that this was going to be my life. Showing up for events that aren’t really under my control and waiting for the ones that mean something.”

  “You did love the International Women’s Day stuff,” Joy agreed. “You really seemed to hit your stride at those events.”

  “I did,” said Felicity. “I did. I didn’t feel so enthusiastic about today, and Rafael saw. So he gave me an out.”

  “An out?”

  Her hands were trembling. “He said he wouldn’t cancel the wedding, but it was up to me whether I’d show up or not. Now I don’t know what to do. I have no idea, Joy.”

  Joy raised her eyebrows. “It seems simple enough to me.”

  She gaped at her sister. “Does it? Because all of this seems massively complicated from my perspective.”

  “All of this?” Joy gestured around at the room around them, and by extension, the rest of the castle. “All of this pales in comparison to one fact.”

  “What fact is that?”

  Joy laughed. “That Rafael is the love of your life. And you’re the love of his.”

  Felicity blinked. “That’s—no. He moved on within minutes after I left. He never even bothered to come find me.”

  “Oh please.” Joy was having none of that. “You didn’t reach out to him, either. And we both know his mother played a big part in that. But what she did—that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that he still loves you now. He brought you here to be close to him.”

  “What about being royalty?” Felicity swallowed another round of tears. “I don’t even know if I’m capable of being a good queen.”

  “You already are being a good queen.”

  “I don’t like it,” Felicity admitted. “I don’t like the PR and the rules and the protocol.”

  “I’m not talking about that. Those things…those are just trappings. Being a queen is about things like the International Women’s Day events. And guiding a country toward a better future. In the end, the protocol will be what you make it.”

  Felicity heard the truth ringing in Joy’s voice.

  “We do better when we’re breaking rules, anyway,” Joy said with a sly smile. “You can’t argue with that.”

  Another truth. The country had loved her best when she was stepping a little outside the lines.

  “You know, if you can set aside the hurt you feel about all this, I don’t think there’s any reason you can’t start over with Rafael.” Joy looked her straight in the eye
. “A fresh relationship. A fresh start with your marriage. He’s obviously willing to do that for you, and it’s a huge risk for him. We all know that.”

  “It is,” Felicity agreed softly. She looked down at her hands. They hadn’t bothered with an engagement ring—not when the wedding was so soon. Somehow, though, Felicity missed the feeling of the wedding ring she hadn’t yet put on. “He set me free, Joy.”

  “I know.”

  She lifted her head. “He set me free from my past in more ways than one.” The decision had been made. “I have to set him free, too.”

  Epilogue

  Rafael stood at the altar in the Capital Cathedral, looking out into the crowd. There were six hundred guests seated in the cathedral. He’d never felt so alone in his life.

  There had never been a day longer than today’s endless morning. Rafael had kept his distance from everyone, especially Felicity and Hope. His body had ached to be with them, but he knew it wouldn’t have been fair to Felicity. He’d promised to give her the space to make her decision, and he had to uphold that.

  That didn’t mean it had been easy.

  His brothers, Armin and Artur, had been in and out of his rooms all day, joking and teasing him about getting cold feet, until finally he’d dismissed them both. After the rehearsal dinner, he’d spent as much of the evening as possible working on the statement that was now tucked into the custom-made tuxedo that formed the base of his formalwear. On top of that, there was the royal sash that identified him as king.

  He didn’t feel much like a king in this moment. He felt, in fact, entirely human, with a gut-churning nervousness.

  Nobody knew what was going to happen, least of all Rafael.

  The statement he had prepared was both heartfelt and truthful. He would not deny that he loved Felicity. The days of denying that emotion were over. But he also wouldn’t mislead the country. Not even at the expense of the referendum. The voting was happening now, and would close in a few hours. Then the counting would begin, and then…

  Rafael could hardly think of it. Not when everything in his life, and in his heart, seemed to hinge on this moment.

  It was all clear now what he needed in life, and that was Felicity. Yes, he was the king. And yes, he would do all he could for the people of Stolvenia. But monarchy or not, he still had a life to live.

  So did she.

  The guests had been seated, and his processional had advanced up the aisle. First Armin, then Artur, then Rafael himself. The priest stood off to the side, waiting.

  Just stay standing, he told himself.

  The seconds ticked away. There was a low murmur of chatter among the guests, their voices floating up toward the ceiling, and Rafael felt their anticipation growing. They’d long since lost interest in the intricate decorations of the cathedral, the blush pink flowers that spilled everywhere, the meticulous arrangements. No one was paying attention to the cameramen and the media representatives who had dressed all in black, hovering close to the walls. They were waiting for Felicity’s grand entrance.

  No—Joy would come first, with Hope.

  Rafael’s blood rushed in his ears. Even if Joy did come down the aisle, there was no guarantee Felicity would follow.

  Artur leaned in. “Feeling all right?”

  “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth. There was no way to force out another word. His attention was glued to the back of the cathedral, where shadows moved in front of the double doors, which were already thrown open wide.

  Was she out there? Or was she already running from this life?

  The string quintet struck up the processional song, the music swelled, and Rafael’s heart stopped.

  The shadows at the door moved…

  And Joy rolled into sight, with Hope perched on her lap. Both of them were dressed in the same pink shade. His heart rocketed against his chest at the sight of his daughter with the sunlight in her hair, so happy with her aunt…

  And then it stopped.

  The music changed.

  This was the moment Rafael’s entire life hinged on, and he hadn’t even known it. All along, he had been so blind…

  There was one long beat. It was a wait that had him reaching for the speech in his pocket, bracing himself, preparing…

  Felicity stepped into the doorway, centered there, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

  Everything else in the cathedral faded away.

  It was a long nave, an enormous center aisle, but it didn’t matter—Rafael could see Felicity’s face as clearly as if she were standing right in front of him. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but there was a determined smile on her face. A real smile that shone from her eyes and brightened everything around her.

  I love you, she mouthed.

  “I love you.” He answered her aloud, and his voice must have carried farther than he thought, because there was a sigh from the crowd as if it were the most romantic moment they’d ever witnessed.

  Rafael’s heart started beating again, harder and faster than ever, as he watched Felicity come up toward the aisle toward him. She came unaccompanied, looking every inch a queen…and every inch a woman who was confident in her path. More than confident. Delighted.

  After what seemed like a century, she reached him at the front of the cathedral. He offered her his hand and helped her up the steps, and finally they stood there together, waiting for the priest to make his way behind them.

  “I didn’t know if you were going to come,” he said, his voice low and choked.

  She shrugged one shoulder, just a fraction of an inch. “I decided that loving you is the most important thing. If we’re committed to that, and respecting each other for who we are and what we need, then everything else is just details.” Felicity tilted her head and threw a wink at someone behind him. “Joy had some words of wisdom for me after the rehearsal dinner. You might want to thank her for those someday.”

  “I’ll thank her every day, if it means you’re staying with me.”

  “I couldn’t leave you again.” Now it was Felicity whose voice was tight with tears, though she was still smiling up at him. “There are stressful moments and obstacles to overcome no matter where I go. If I face them here, I can do it with you. By your side. And I can help other people while I do it, too. It’s the best of all worlds.”

  “The best of all worlds is you,” Rafael said. “I love you.”

  “I love you. And I think the whole cathedral knows it.”

  The ceremony passed in a blur of vows and readings, and Rafael cleared his throat and repeated everything the priest told him to repeat. The words themselves didn’t seem to matter. That is, they mattered, in the sense that he voiced his commitment to Felicity in front of all of his guests and the rest of the country and millions of people across the world, but what mattered more was the look in her eyes, and the feel of her hands in his, and the way his own hands didn’t shake at all as he slipped the ring on her fingers.

  “You may now kiss the bride,” the priest said, his voice ringing out over the congregation, and that was the first thing that Rafael heard clearly over the beat of his heart and the sound of his bride’s voice.

  He dipped her back and kissed her, deep and long and hard, not caring about who was watching. Thunderous applause brought him back to reality.

  That, and Hope, who had scrambled down from Joy’s lap and clambered up the stairs to grab her mother’s white dress with both of her little hands. “Mama! Daddy!” Her eyes were wide with delight. “They’re clapping!” she shouted, and all three of them turned to face the crowd together. Felicity lifted Hope into her arms, balancing her on one hip, and Rafael took her other hand in his.

  He had accomplished many things in his time as king, but this topped them all. Rafael was certain that not much else could eclipse a moment like this.

  The quintet began playing the recessional music, and Rafael walked his new family back down the nave, followed closely by his brothers and Joy. The wedding party walked s
traight out of the church and into a caravan of waiting limousines, which whisked them all back to the palace for the reception. There was time to kiss Felicity once more, and then he was plunged into the blur of the receiving line. Person after person stepped forward to congratulate them, and the moments flew by. They reached the end of the receiving line in time to sit down for a lavish dinner that Rafael hardly tasted. He was too busy watching Felicity enjoy it.

  Then came the music and dancing. His brothers and their wives formed a little circle with Rafael and Felicity, and he couldn’t remember another time they’d all been so joyful and playful. One minute, Felicity tugged him through the steps of a ballroom dance they’d learned in one spare hour before the wedding, and the next she was taking his face in her hands, pulling him down for a kiss that was wildly against protocol. Rafael didn’t care at all.

  He didn’t know what time it was when the tug came on his elbow.

  Rafael blinked down at Salem, the head of his intelligence agency. His face didn’t make sense in the context of his wedding reception.

  Something must’ve been wrong.

  “What is it?” He turned away from where Felicity was still dancing, Hope in her arms, and put a hand on Salem’s shoulder. “Tell me.”

  “I’m the messenger,” said Salem, looking bewildered. “I don’t know why, but—”

  “The message, man,” Rafael urged.

  “The referendum—it went in our favor, by a landslide.” The words took a moment to sink in. “They voted for the monarchy. They want you to stay king. They want a queen—”

  By the cheers going up around them, the news was already spreading through the crowd. Rafael let out a whoop and leaned over to Felicity, telling her the news.

  “I’m going to be a queen,” she said, awe spreading over her face. “You did it, Rafael.”

  “You’re my queen,” he said, kissing her temple, drawing her close. “And that’s what matters.”

  End of The Billionaire King’s Heir

  European Billionaire Beaus Book Three