The Irish Prince (The Billionaire Dynasties)

by Nelson, Virginia

  A full hour passed, during which she disobeyed Aiden’s direct orders not to work and checked emails, messaged her family, and otherwise fiddled around with things on her phone. Her best friend Kimmie was among those who messaged her. So did you chicken out, or are you in the car with Tony Stark right now?

  Chelsea snorted a half giggle, then got paranoid about Aiden seeing the message. A glance to the back seat showed both father and daughter plugged into chargers and engrossed in their own phones. Way to bond, she thought.

  To Kimmie, she answered, Yeah, I’m in the car now, but I can verify that the only power suits Aiden owns are not operated by battery nor can they change him into a super hero. I checked.

  Kimmie’s answer beeped into her phone seconds later. So…is he being a dicknugget, or is he being charming?

  Twisting her lips into a grimace, she snuck another peek behind her before responding. Neither. He’s being my boss, and this is a job, and that’s all there is to it. He’s been nothing but polite. I’m being well compensated for this; I get to go see the Grand Canyon for free. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Ha! Kimmy responded. Are you kissing his ass because he’s reading over your shoulder or what?

  The sound of Aiden’s seatbelt unclicking was followed by Aiden leaning forward in the seat to peer over her shoulder. “Why do you keep peeking back here with that guilty look on your face? Are you working or something?”

  She stuffed her phone into her purse and glared at him. “You make me sound like a workaholic.”

  He smiled in a slow way that had her toes curling in her sensible flats. “You’re the one that wore a power suit on vacation, Chels.”

  “I am still technically working,” she reminded him.

  His chuckle floated forward as he relaxed back into his seat and refastened his seatbelt.

  …

  Aiden

  Aiden snapped awake only to realize he shouldn’t move. His daughter’s small head leaned on his shoulder. She smelled, unexpectedly, like some odd combination of crayons and little girl sweetness… Then again, perhaps that was what a daughter smelled like. It wasn’t like he had any room for comparison.

  What had she been like as a baby? How old was she when she learned to walk? What was her first word?

  Had she ever wondered about him?

  As he scrubbed a hand across his face, it occurred to him that he didn’t know what woke him up. He could see the back of Chelsea’s head well enough to tell that she’d also dozed off, leaning against the glass of the passenger side window. The driver, though…

  Where was the driver? And why were they parked? Fears of kidnappings and ransoms danced in his paranoid head like unwelcome sugarplums.

  The sun still beamed down from outside, so he carefully moved Waverley until she rested against the seat so he could look around and figure out what was going on.

  The view outside his window wasn’t the city at all. Heavy flowerpots hung from streetlamps, and green grass stretched out in front of what looked to be a town hall. A hand-painted sign on the lawn proclaimed they were throwing their 75th Annual County Strawberry Festival in the depot village, whatever that meant. On the other side of the road, he could see a gas station next to what looked like a diner right off a movie set.

  “Where are we?” Chelsea asked, twisting around to face him from the front seat. Apparently, while he’d been considering the view and wondering the same thing, she’d awakened with the same confusion.

  “I don’t know,” Aiden answered honestly, but then he spotted his driver coming out of the gas station. He weaved a bit, looking not well whatsoever, yet he made his way back to the car. “You okay, Jimmy?” he asked the driver once he’d taken his seat behind the wheel.

  “No, actually,” Jimmy admitted. He met Aiden’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Migraine.”

  The one-word explanation caused ice to skitter over Aiden’s skin. His pulse thumped in his ears, and he could feel his hands beginning to shake, so he fisted them in his lap. Jimmy’s eyes looked a little puffy and bloodshot, meaning the man was telling the truth, but that left them stranded.

  Him, Waverley, and Chelsea, stranded who knew where? His heart raced, and it felt like someone had placed a lead weight on his chest.

  Get it together.

  He was the Irish Prince. He’d built a company from scratch, stood up against fierce competitors, and come out ahead of them all.

  Nothing bad would happen. He could call…

  Who exactly could he call to fix this? He didn’t even know where they were. If he’d just taken the plane…

  Chelsea’s hand landed on his knee, oddly comforting, although he should be the one making things easier for her. After all, she hadn’t even wanted to go on this trip.

  “Are you okay?” Chelsea said.

  “I’m fine.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Because you look a little panicked.”

  “I don’t get panicked.”

  “Okay. But you get anxious in situations where you haven’t planned everything down to the last detail. And you didn’t exactly plan on being stranded here with your daughter.”

  He looked back at Waverley, the pinch of panic tightening a little. How had she noticed? He made a point of keeping his anxiety carefully hidden, and this wasn’t the first time she’d hinted she recognized his unwelcome reaction to situations outside the realm of his control. “Exactly why I can’t afford to be panicked.”

  “Okay. Where are we, Jimmy?” she asked the driver. He’d closed his eyes and rested his head back on the seat, but he stirred and peered at her.

  “Ohio. Some small town not far from the interstate. I needed to get some ibuprofen, sorry.” Jimmy sounded truly apologetic, but it didn’t tamp back on the lump rising in Aiden’s throat.

  A cop car pulled up alongside their vehicle. Waverley stirred, sat up, and blinked around. “Where are we?” she asked, sounding disoriented.

  “Ohio,” Chelsea answered, removing her hand from Aiden’s knee. He felt the loss of it and was tempted to snatch her hand back. “Have you ever been to Ohio?”

  “No…” The little girl elongated the o’s at the end of the word, her wide eyes focused on the police car. “Are we pulled over?”

  “Nope.” Chelsea opened her door, letting more bright sunshine into the vehicle. Jimmy cringed, but Chelsea didn’t look back inside, instead stretching her lovely little body out in the warm rays from above. “Looks like there is a parade coming through. C’mon, Waverley. Let’s go check it out.”

  “But—” Aiden began. It wasn’t safe. And where was the car with his security team?

  Neither of the girls listened to him. Waverley popped out of the car, leaving her door hanging open, and Jimmy seemed to wither a bit more. Probably too much sunlight. Aiden remembered reading somewhere that light was bad for migraines.

  “Hey, Jimmy, why don’t you crawl into the back and shut your eyes for a while?” Chelsea said, peeking in her door. “It’s darker back there. We’ll go check out this parade and be back in a bit. Sound good?”

  Aiden opened and closed his mouth like a fish. The panic still scraped at him, but he recognized his own weakness—he hated feeling out of control, as if by simply maneuvering the world around him, he kept sanity in place. Chelsea was breaking all the rules. One didn’t just go roaming around a strange town in the armpit of America. “Chelsea, I think…”

  She grinned back at him, taking Waverley’s hand when the girl reached her side. “Oh, hush, Aiden. It’ll be fun. Come on. Live a little.”

  He was way outside his element, in a situation beyond his control and in an unfamiliar place. He could see now that Chelsea had been right—some sort of parade was making its way down the broad country street—and likely his daughter would enjoy the experience.

  But it was also a place of unfamiliar potential dangers. A really bad idea.

  For Waverley, and all the years he’d missed with her, he’d try, though. “Yeah, Jimmy. Grab some
shut eye, and we’ll be back shortly.”

  “Thanks, boss,” Jimmy said, while Aiden got out of the car and stepped into the unknown.

  Chapter Six

  Chelsea

  She knew Aiden didn’t do surprises well. Hell, he’d abolished company surprise parties, even in cases of birthdays and retirements, not because he didn’t like them socializing…but because he hated disorder.

  After working with him for so many years, she’d realized that what others mistook as him being a control freak was something else entirely. The man might be wealthy, powerful, and sometimes even feared—but he freaked out when he was off his precious schedules. She wasn’t a doctor, so she couldn’t begin to try to label what was off about Aiden Kelley, but she could recognize it and had in the past found ways to make some things easier for him and those around him.

  For instance, a surprise party was fine, so long as the surprise wasn’t on Aiden—she had to warn him in advance so he could plan it into his day. Just about anything, in fact, was fine, so long as it was in his schedule.

  This trip? She knew he’d planned most of it down to the hour. Impulsive and spontaneous were two words he was practically allergic to, so this little stop in small town Ohio? Had to have him near panicked.

  Which was why she’d reached out to touch him. Funny thing, that…no one ever seemed to touch Aiden. Well, other than the women he dated, but that was hardly a touch intended to inspire comfort. He lived in this bubble of his own superior-ness, and few felt comfortable enough with him to do more than shake his hand.

  But Waverley showed none of her father’s reticence at the impulsive. The little girl was alight with excitement. So far, she’d collected candy off the street when the firefighters threw it from their place in the parade, managed to make friends with a little girl in a princess dress, and danced when the marching band went by. While her father, looking stoic and worried, stood a few feet back—well on the curb—with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a dark expression on his handsome face.

  She stepped back to join him and was able to hear Aiden’s soft words, clearly intended for her ears only. “I hope you’re not planning to let her eat that candy. They threw it on the road. The same road those horses are using for a toilet over there.”

  He gestured with his shoulder, and Chelsea bit back a giggle. “Five-second rule?” she tried.

  Her boss glared at her. “I can call back to the city, have the service send me another driver. I have no clue how we lost the car load of security, but likely they’re stopped behind this parade somewhere. I’m sorry that this happened. I should’ve had a backup plan.”

  From Chelsea’s perspective, that would’ve been a terrible idea. “Sometimes, in life, we are better off working without a plan. I can drive.”

  She waited, watching Waverley as she grabbed more candy, this time thrown from a float covered in local cheerleaders. Her father cringed as she unwrapped a sucker and popped it into her mouth without the slightest hesitation. “I could’ve bought her candy if she’d wanted it,” he said, ignoring her offer to drive. “I know of some great gourmet chocolatiers and candy makers back in the city.”

  Chelsea didn’t bother to resist the eye roll that his words evoked. “Dude, seriously…she’s a kid, not one of your paramours. She likely prefers that candy to anything you could’ve bought her. Besides, she’s having fun.”

  He grunted. She took that to mean he couldn’t disagree to the fun but wasn’t thrilled with Chelsea right that second. She reiterated, “I can drive, Aiden.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he practically snarled. One of his hands came out of his pocket briefly, reaching out as if to stop Waverley, who’d bounced back into the road to pick up more candy. But the child was clearly safe, and the little girl in the princess dress was by her side as they each accepted a balloon from a clown in the parade. His hand went back into his pocket, and he didn’t say anything more.

  “Look.” She turned to face him head on so that she knew he had her attention. “The pamphlet says there are rides, fun, games, and food at the Strawberry Festival. When this parade is over, I vote that we walk over there,” she pointed in the general direction that the signs indicated led to the depot where the festival was to take place, “and have a fun little distracting day. No one knows who we are here. Security will just draw attention, and then someone might recognize us, so this is a unique opportunity. Waverley will have a blast, it will give Jimmy time to recover if you don’t want me to drive, and we’ll be back on the road in no time. Sure, we’ll lose part of a day of travel time, but according to your itinerary…”

  She tried not to sound as disgusted by the itinerary as she felt, but none of her family trips included a schedule. Planning time like that didn’t allow for any fun, in her opinion, but it wasn’t her place to argue with him. Only to help him make the best of what was going on, help him bond with his kid, then go back to her normal life at the end of this fiasco.

  “I’m not obsessed with my schedule,” he asserted, looking down his nose at her.

  This time, she resisted rolling her eyes, but it was a real struggle. “I never said you were.”

  “But you think I am. You think I can’t just have fun, roll with the punches, be spontaneous,” he accused.

  No, she didn’t think that… She knew it. Well, unless it involved “entertaining” in her office. He managed spontaneity then, apparently. “I didn’t say you couldn’t be spontaneous, either,” she pointed out.

  “Can we go with Mabel over to the festival?” Waverley asked. The cop cars were moving, freeing the street up to traffic again. Both girls—the princess and Waverley—were holding hands, and a woman stood nearby, jiggling a baby on her shoulder. Chelsea would guess she was the mother of the princess.

  Chelsea didn’t answer Waverley, instead looking at Aiden expectantly. She could try to loosen him up, but she couldn’t force him. After all, at the end of the day…he was the boss. Even if he was entirely out of his element and adorably frustrated by exactly that.

  “Sounds like fun, Waverley,” her father said. His hands were still stuffed in his pockets, and his shoulders were tight with tension. Chelsea could see that he was vastly uncomfortable, but he was trying.

  Sometimes, people didn’t have to be perfect, in Chelsea’s opinion. They just had to be trying.

  “We were thinking of staying for lunch and some rides… Does that sound fun to you?” he asked the little girl, following close on the heels of his daughter and her princess friend.

  “Yes, thanks!” Waverley practically bounced, her red hair gleaming in the sunshine, and her father looked like some angry guardian as he kept close on the walk toward the depot.

  Chelsea smiled at them both. Maybe they’d be able to make this whole thing work, after all.

  …

  Aiden

  Scratching at his neck, Aiden watched his daughter as she climbed the rickety-looking staircase to the top of the bright yellow, plastic slide. Once she’d mounted the dangerous-looking structure, a worker handed her a burlap sack and helped her get into position to ride the steep slide. The child’s laughter pleased him, but none of it would’ve happened without Chelsea.

  Glancing at the woman in question, he saw her head bent over her phone. Although it was likely a violation of her privacy, he took advantage of his greater height and peered over her shoulder.

  Annoyance flared, making his neck itch even more than it had moments before. “Really, Chelsea? I thought I said no work during this trip.”

  Her brown eyes were wide when she glanced up at him. He recognized her guilty expression but was more amused than annoyed. Not that he planned to reveal that to her.

  “You did,” she agreed. He saw her click send before stuffing the phone back in her purse. She might feel guilty about getting caught, but it didn’t stop her from working anyway. “But since you hired me to come with you, I can’t not work, now can I?”

  Her triumphant smile said she’d th
ought she managed a neat bit of circular reasoning, but he wasn’t letting it go. He scratched his wrist and nodded toward the lemonade stand. “Need another drink?” he offered.

  “Thanks, but no,” she answered. Her smile got bigger as Waverley hopped off the sack at the bottom of the slide and rejoined them. “Having fun, kiddo?”

  “Sure am! Uh, is his face supposed to look like that?” Waverley peered up at him, her expression a bit worried.

  “Like what?” Chelsea asked before she, too, stared at Aiden. “Oh, dear…”

  “What?” he asked. He resisted scratching his neck again, but it was a battle. Maybe he was allergic to country life.

  Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Aiden, do you have any food allergies that I don’t know about?”

  “I…” He glanced around. “Strawberries, but just being around them shouldn’t bother me.”

  “No.” Chelsea caught his wrist and tugged him to follow her. “But eating them probably is a dumbass idea.”

  “I didn’t eat any strawberries,” he pointed out. Although Waverley and Chelsea had enjoyed what looked like a delicious strawberry shortcake in the old rail station portion of the historic depot village, he’d abstained.

  “The lemonade,” Chelsea said.

  “Ah,” said Waverley.

  “What?” he asked. “Lemonade has lemons, not strawberries.”

  He allowed her to tug him but mostly because the itching was distracting.

  The look Chelsea narrowed on him was annoyed past frustration. “It was pink,” she pointed out.

  “So?” He’d had pink lemonade before. No problem.

  “Pink because they had strawberries in it, you goon.” He might have complained at her choice of words, but she looked genuinely worried. Chelsea stopped at one of the booths, one selling a bunch of handmade soaps, and he considered them. Yeah, he had a food allergy, but how bad could it really be? He hadn’t had strawberries since he was a kid, but he wasn’t that concerned.