The Prince’s Passion: A Fake Engagement Royalty Romance

by Styles, Peter

  The ministry building, like most of the functioning governmental offices, lined an avenue adjacent to the river. I pulled up in front, an attendant nearly jumping out of his suit in order to open my door.

  “Your Highness! What a welcome occasion.”

  I smiled slightly, sure it might not be welcome for everyone. “Please stay with my car. I don’t expect to be overly long.”

  I scarcely noticed the doors to the building that opened as if by magic. The brief nods of thanks were as bred into me as my need to safeguard the security and prosperity of Calonia. And right now, our country was being threatened from without and—I feared—from within.

  The hallway to the office I sometimes used at the ministry was quiet. No one had expected me, and by keeping the attendant with my car, he had no doubt had little time to notify anyone of my presence. What did surprise me, was that the door to my office was ajar.

  The plush carpeting silenced my footsteps as I strode forward. Eyes narrowed, I flung wide the door. Ricard wheeled about from where he was rifling through one of the file cabinets, his eyes widening in dismay.

  “May I help you find something?” I inquired.

  “Amand! What are you doing here?”

  I closed the door, locked it, and pocketed the key. “I rather think the question should be, what are you doing here?”

  Ricard slammed the file drawer shut and faced me defiantly. “I have as much right to be here as you do.”

  I stepped forward. “Do you now? Am I to take it then that you have developed a sudden interest in Calonian finances? Would it not have been simpler to talk to the person who has been handling them for nearly a decade now?”

  Two more steps brought me into a position to block Ricard’s exit.

  “Or is it that you’re looking for information for someone else?” I kept my tone soft, my gaze steady, hoping that he would not implicate the American. Why that mattered, I wasn’t even sure, but it did.

  Ricard shifted uncomfortably, darting a look at the door. I smiled at him, though it was merely a mask for the fury boiling below my surface calm.

  “I don’t believe you will be leaving yet, my brother. Perhaps it would be best if we both took a seat.” I gestured to the chair behind the desk. “Please. Try it on for size, see if you are man enough to fill it.”

  Ricard’s eyes narrowed. “You are a cold bastard, Amand.”

  “I am loyal to my family and my country! What are you?”

  “You have no right to accuse me of anything.”

  I took my phone out.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Constantin. What you were doing would likely kill Papa,” I added with disgust.

  The silence from the other end once I explained the situation to our elder brother was telling. I was right in not letting Papa know. The Crown Prince was shocked enough, but not so much that he was unable to think.

  “Find out why he needed the information. Use that to force him to help us. What happens to him after, we will have to decide after the situation is resolved.” I heard Constantin sigh. “I do not like keeping information from the King.”

  “Neither do I. Have no fear, Constantin. I will handle this.”

  After pocketing the phone, I stared into Ricard’s resentful expression.

  “Before we begin this conversation in earnest, I must tell you that breaking into this office, into my files…were you anyone else, Ricard…would be treason. Calonia no longer executes traitors. You would be exiled, stripped of your title, and your allowance. And that is what you need most of all, isn’t it? Money?”

  His gaze shifted again, giving him away.

  Taking a stab in the dark, I said, “Tell me about the loans, those deposits to your accounts in addition to your allowance.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I leaned forward and slapped my hand on the desk. “Do not lie to me! Do you not understand that you are balanced on a string across the very pit of Hell? I hold one end, Constantin the other. Tell me, Ricard, who is waiting for you should you slip off?”

  “I have a payment to make. I don’t have the money for it.” Sweat beaded on his upper lip.

  “So who offered you a trade?” I fired back.

  “I don’t know. The loans came through a friend of a friend. In return for a little information, I was assured this month’s payment would go away.” He threaded his fingers through his hair, his hands shaking.

  “And next month? Would there be a little more information? And then what?”

  Ricard met my gaze, his eyes welling with tears. “I don’t know what to do, Amand.”

  I leaned back. A friend of a friend loaned him money. I wondered if one of those friends might even now be a guest at the palace.

  “I will provide you with information to give to them.”

  “What?” Ricard’s eyes widened in shock.

  “I will provide you with information. You will give them exactly what I give you, and we will trace them so we can discover who they are…and stamp them out. For now, you will return to the palace with me.”

  The ride back was completed in silence. I sent Ricard to his suite until I could work with Stephano and the head of our security on exactly how we would leak the information to Ricard. Once the details were in place, I sent Stephano to get my younger brother as it would arouse less suspicion.

  Ricard was nervous, but cooperative. In spite of the fear I saw in his eyes as I explained what he would do, I also saw resolve. Perhaps he was redeemable after all. What I was not so sure about was his friend.

  There seemed to be no logical reason for Ricard and Daniel to have been roommates, let alone friends. Despite their travels together, and their outings around the city, they appeared to have little in common. As I sat in my study once more after dinner, I flipped through the dossier on the American. No family, no apparent ties. He was in a career that allowed him to wander the world. Could it be that his photography and travel books were simply a front for other activities?

  I picked up the office phone. “Stephano, have security bring Mr. Leifsson to my office. I believe we will need to question him as well.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  6

  Daniel

  I rubbed my eyes as I saved another edited photo into the file I would upload to my blog before going to bed. After spending most of the day in the surrounding countryside, I had a wealth of photos. Of course, the landscapes were dramatic and colorful, but so were the people of Calonia.

  Slowly, I was improving my ability to communicate, so I could add personal stories to the photos I had taken of farmers I had met cutting hay, many of them still using scythes to cut and horses to haul. Calonia was a curious mixture of both old and new. Their preservation of their traditions made my chest ache with longing. This was a place where I wanted to put down roots.

  As I studied a close-up of a smiling, wrinkle-faced farmer, his hat tilted back to reveal brilliant pale, green eyes just like my grandmother had possessed, the door to my room burst open.

  “What the hell?” I stood, careful not to jostle my laptop from the table where I had been working.

  “Mr. Leifsson,” one of the guards who had initially escorted Ricard and me to the palace spoke, his tone harsh. “You are under arrest. We are to escort you downstairs for questioning.”

  My mind reeled. “This is a joke, right? Ricard pulled this crap all the time.”

  “There is no joke,” the guard fired back. “You will come with us now.”

  I shut the lid of my laptop. “Am I allowed a phone call? Maybe a question like…hmm…exactly what am I accused of?”

  “It will be better for you, sir, if you come with us.”

  I looked from one face to the other. This really wasn’t a joke unless these guys were actors worthy of an Oscar. Somehow, I had gone from being an honored guest to being last week’s trash, and I didn’t have a freaking clue why.

  “All right. May I put m
y shoes back on, at least?” Not waiting for an answer, I slid my feet into my loafers. “Lead on.”

  They marched on either side of me as though afraid I was going to bolt at any second. Where exactly did they think I was going to go, I wondered. It wasn’t exactly as if I knew anyone other than the royal family. I certainly hadn’t yet located any of my own relatives.

  I thought back to dinner. The King, the Crown Prince, everyone seemed to be as friendly as usual…except Amand. I wasn’t sure exactly when I had quit thinking of him as Prince Amand, but I had noticed this evening that he had been quieter and moodier than usual. For that matter, Ricard had also seemed subdued and turned down my suggestion for a night on the town..

  That still left me with exactly no clue as to why I was under arrest.

  When we marched to a stairwell that led underground, I balked, but my escorts nudged me forward. Were we going to the dungeons? I held out hope this was a farce, but the stone steps circling into a basement level I had never entered before made me nervous. What the hell had I gotten into? We stopped before a heavy wood and iron door that looked as though it was straight from a horror movie. At the older guard’s knock, a muffled response to enter came.

  I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t Prince Amand flanked by two men, one in a suit, one in what appeared to be a police uniform.

  Amand gestured to a chair in the middle of the room. “Sit. We require some answers from you, Daniel.”

  Furious, but also confused, I sat. I certainly wasn’t going to volunteer information. They would have to ask their questions.

  “To start, we would like you to explain how you and Ricard became friends.”

  “We met at school. He was new, said he needed a place to stay, and I needed a roommate who could help with expenses.”

  “You claim to have no money, yet you recently acquired an expensively tailored dinner suit. How is that?” Amand’s dark eyes were nearly black.

  “What does this have to do with anything?” I asked, frustrated that no one would tell me what was happening. “I get paid every month, royalties from books and advertising income from my blog. You said I needed dinner attire. Ricard turned me on to a tailor, so I splurged.”

  I glanced away, hoping not to blush that I had wanted him to notice how great the tux looked on me.

  “You didn’t get money from Ricard?” Amand asked.

  I couldn’t help the wry laugh that emerged. “He always seemed to have less money than me. Ricard would have been the last person I would have asked for money.”

  “Would he have given you money for any other reason?” This question came from the one in uniform.

  “We’ve traded out buying each other meals, coffee, that kind of thing. What is this all about?”

  Amand stared at me. “We’ll ask the questions, Daniel. How about your contacts around Europe and your finances?”

  I started to stand, but the guard still standing behind me pressed me back into my chair.

  “I travel light. I don’t have contacts unless you want to count the Calonian hay farmer whose picture I took today. He did say I could join his wife and him for a meal anytime I wanted to stop by. Amand,” I began, addressing him as I fantasized about him I was so flustered, “what’s going on?”

  “You will address him as Prince Amand or Your Highness,” the stranger in the suit snapped.

  Amand held up a hand. “I have no reason to share that with you.”

  “Then what the hell do you want from me? Is Ricard in some kind of trouble?” In the back of my mind that concern had lurked. Ricard had been acting strangely ever since we left the United States. Then there was the whole thing with the baseball cap and sunglasses when we arrived in Calonia. I had written it off as not wanting to be recognized as the Prince, but what if it had been more?

  “Something has occurred to you?” Amand inquired in the quiet, commanding voice of his that sent chills down my spine.

  I shook my head, disillusionment washing over me. “He’s my friend. I don’t know anything about his finances other than he seemed always to be short of cash. If you’ll just tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help.”

  “Were you aware that Prince Ricard gambles and had taken out some rather extensive loans?” The man in the suit asked.

  “No.” If he gambled, he certainly hadn’t been showy about it.

  “Have you ever seen him associating with people you thought were not who they seemed to be?”

  “No. Look. I hadn’t seen him in a while when he called and proposed this whole trip.”

  “It was his idea?” Amand was quick to ask.

  “Yes. He said he wanted to see some of the places firsthand that I had written about, even suggested the places and gave me an idea about writing a book from the perspective of showing someone else around Europe.”

  “And we are also supposed to believe you had no idea he was a member of the royal family of Calonia?”

  “Not a single fricking clue. Not until this guy behind me pulled us over and said we were going to the palace.” I shifted in my chair but kept my gaze on Amand. “What do you want me to do? Am I in trouble because of whatever Ricard has done?”

  What did I even care what this man thought of me? Any other man, any other place, and I’d be getting out as fast as I could. But this man, I wanted him to see me as something other than his flaky younger brother’s flaky friend. What a joke. Someone as correct and formal as Amand Juvany was never going to look at a nobody like me.

  Amand’s expression softened ever so slightly. “We need access to your finances to insure there are no payments that shouldn’t be there. You will need to turn over your laptop and your phone.”

  I shrugged. “I have no money and nothing to hide. Feel free to take a look.”

  Prince Amand glanced at the two men flanking him. At their nods, he said, “You’re free to go pending any other inquiries. However, you will need to remain on the palace grounds until further notice.

  The guards followed me back to my room. I turned over my phone and my laptop, aware that until I got them back, my work was at a standstill. I couldn’t post pictures, couldn’t write, couldn’t continue my genealogy work.

  It was late and I was so angry, I didn’t dare try to contact Ricard.

  I waited until morning and met with a brick wall. When I tried to use the house phone, I was told Prince Ricard was not taking calls. Fan-freaking-tastic. I would just walk to that part of the palace. But again, I got nowhere. The servant standing outside the Prince’s door told me that on Prince Amand’s orders, I was barred from His Highness, Prince Ricard’s quarters.

  By early afternoon, my frustration had spilled over into anger again. I still had no phone, no computer, and no way to continue to work. Without waiting for an invitation, I found my way to the door of Amand’s office, walking in without knocking, something I knew was a cardinal sin when it came to the reclusive prince.

  He remained seated behind his desk, as always immaculately attired in a suit and tie. I had never seen him in anything less formal. He arched a brow.

  “It is customary to knock, particularly before barging into the office of a member of the royal family.”

  “I’ve had enough,” I said walking slowly toward his desk. “You still have possession of my phone and my computer, I can’t speak to, or see my friend, and I can’t leave the castle. You told me last night I wasn’t under arrest, so what exactly is the status of your investigation?”

  Amand leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing about his mouth. “We have found no trace of wrongdoing on your part, but something is going on, Daniel. For your own protection, you will be under surveillance by our security force.”

  Under surveillance for my own protection? That sounded like a load of crap. At the same time it angered me, I also felt a surge of relief that they no longer appeared to believe I was involved in something criminal.

  “Will there be anything else?” The Prince arched that brow a
gain.

  “Am I allowed to leave the palace grounds? I purchased concert tickets for an outdoor performance by your symphony. I was planning to surprise Ricard.”

  Amand tilted his head. “You are free to go. You are not charged with any crime. Ricard may attend only with a security escort.”

  Did that mean Ricard was under arrest? I had to wonder exactly in what my former roommate had become embroiled. “It seems Calonia does at least have some laws protecting due process. I hope those extend to your brother as well.”

  Amand’s gaze narrowed. “I am continually amazed at the brash arrogance of Americans. You seem to believe you are the only people who live by the rule of law.”

  I raised my chin. “Fuck you.”

  I spun on my heel, desperate to get away from a man whose coldness seemed never to crack. His voice stopped me at the door.

  “If you enjoy the symphony, Mr. Leifsson, you should also make an effort to visit the music festival in the old town while you’re here. There’s plenty of jazz and cabaret tunes there.”

  I heard the mockery in his tone, but no way was I going to respond. I stepped out and shut the door with a bit more of a click than was probably necessary.

  * * *

  Amand

  I had riled the American. Excellent. Angry men made mistakes. As soon as the door shut, I picked up the phone and dialed. When my chief of security answered on the second ring, I said, “I just finished with Mr. Leifsson.”

  “Did you get any more information from him this afternoon?”

  “No. I have given him leave to go where he will.”

  “Do you think that is wise, Your Highness?”

  “I think that if he believes he is no longer a suspect, he will relax his guard. That’s when mistakes happen. I have told him we will continue surveillance for his own protection, but I would like your men to make it appear they have little interest in it, make it seem they are easy to shake, and keep the real surveillance unobtrusive.”