Prince Billionaire: A Royal Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  I sighed. “That’s what I feared.”

  “Is it true?” he asked me.

  That took me aback. “What?”

  “Are you distracted, Trip? I’m not asking as your advisor. I’m asking as your friend.”

  I frowned. It was very, very rare for Maximillian to break protocol like this, incredibly rare. In fact, I think he’d only done it once or twice before in my entire life. He was normally so stuffy and serious, but he looked genuinely concerned.

  “Maybe,” I admitted. “I enjoy her, Max.”

  “I know you do, but you must be careful. This country hasn’t seen a crisis like this in a very long time.”

  “I understand,” I said. “I know what my duties are.”

  “I know you do, but I only wish to counsel caution. Do not get overly involved with this girl, at least until the current crisis is over.”

  “You want me to send her away?”

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “That would look bad in the press, truth be told. But I do think you need to spend less time with her. Distance yourself.”

  “I hardly spend time with her as it is.”

  “True,” he agreed. “But unfortunately, every second of your time is worth thousands of everyone else’s, at least in this country. You’re the king, Trip, and that means your time is not entirely your own anymore.”

  I looked away, out the window. I knew that deep down in my bones, but I hated to admit it. No part of me wanted to be indebted to anyone, not even my own country, but I did owe them.

  The rule of the country had fallen on me. It was my responsibility. They were my people, nobody else, and I was the only one who could get this country through the war.

  “Damn,” I said softly. “Fucking damn.”

  “Yes, I agree.” Max stepped toward me. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted for you is happiness, Trip. When you were still just the prince, when your father and Leo were alive, I wanted you to find a woman like Bryce. It’s a shame you found her now.”

  “I found plenty of women back then,” I said, grinning.

  “You did,” he agreed. “But did that fulfill you?”

  “No. Not like she does.”

  “Therein lies your dilemma. Your country on the one hand, and your woman on the other.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I wish it didn’t have to be so.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  As I glanced out the window again, my mind getting tugged toward Bryce once again, there was a knock at the door, insistent and loud. I nodded at Max, and he opened up.

  General Hardcourt was standing there, looking flustered. “Your Highness, Maximillian.”

  “What is it, Hardcourt?” I asked.

  “Sir, a small rebel army was spotted in this region.”

  That surprised me. We were all the way out in the easternmost province of Starkland. It was mainly poor farmlands and the estates of the lords. There were no real strategic targets in the east that the democrats could possibly want.

  Except for my estate and me.

  “How large?” I asked.

  “Hard to say. Hundreds, possibly thousands.”

  “Where are they going?”

  “Our scouts are unsure. We’re tracking them with satellites. They seem to be moving in our general direction.”

  “Fuck,” I said, standing. “They’re coming here.”

  “My thoughts exactly, Your Highness.” Hardcourt looked very serious.

  “What’s the closest detachment?” I asked him.

  “Three days away. The rebels are two days out at best.”

  “How did they escape our attention?”

  “They likely traveled separately and only came together overnight. We spotted them as soon as they moved.”

  “Bastards,” I said.

  “Your Highness, we can leave,” Max said.

  “Run?” Hardcourt asked.

  “Yes,” Max said. “Run and live another day.”

  “No,” I said. “We don’t run. We fight.” I looked at Hardcourt. “How many men do we have here?”

  A smile toyed at his lips. The old general could see where I was going, and he liked it, the violent old dog.

  “Around four hundred or so. We’d need to leave at least one hundred behind in case this fails.”

  “Very well. Get them ready.”

  “Your Highness, you can’t be serious. You’re outnumbered.”

  “And they’re out classed. We have superior firepower. We have drones and high-powered rifles. They’re a bunch of untrained assholes who want to kill us all. We’re going.”

  “I’ll start preparations,” Hardcourt said, and then he bowed and left.

  “I’m going too,” I said to Max.

  “No,” he said. “You can’t.”

  “I’m sick of sitting on the sidelines. Leo rode into war as the king, and so will I.”

  “Look at what happened to Leo. He got himself killed, and that only made the country less stable. Your Highness, we can’t survive your death.”

  “Starkland can survive anything. We’ve survived worse.”

  “No. This is different. There’s no direct heir. This hasn’t happened in hundreds of years. Listen to me, Trip. You cannot go.”

  I furrowed my brow. I wanted the feeling of rolling down a rutted road, gutted with bombs, crackling gunshots in the distance. I wanted the rush as I tried to kill my enemy before they tried to kill me. I wanted to be in the trenches again, so to speak.

  But Max was right. If I died, there was nobody to take control of the country. There would be total chaos, and the ministers would fight amongst themselves. The democrats would win, without a doubt.

  That was what they’d wanted when they sent the assassin. And maybe it was what they wanted in this situation. Maybe they wanted to get me into the open and give killing me another try.

  “Very well,” I said to him. “I won’t go.”

  “Good,” he said, visibly relieved. “I’ll go assist Hardcourt, make sure he doesn’t completely strip the estate of defenses.”

  “Give him what he needs,” I said.

  “As you wish,” he said. “One last thing before I go. We followed up the leads on Nicolai Corvin but found nothing. He petitioned to be allowed into the estate.”

  “Grant his petition,” I said. “As much as I dislike the man, he’s still a minister. If he was cleared, he can join us.”

  “Very good.” Max bowed and left.

  I looked out the window, annoyed and frustrated. I wanted to get out there, but I knew my duty to the country was to stay here and to survive in order to lead them to victory.

  My damn country was going to always come first, even if it was getting in the way of what I really wanted.

  What I really wanted was Bryce. I’d give up war for her in a second.

  But none of that mattered. I had a duty, and I was going to follow through with it. I finished my coffee, stood, and headed out to my morning briefings.

  29

  Bryce

  It was a day after the picnic with Trip, and I still hadn’t heard a word from him.

  Which was fine. I was reading the news, and I could tell that he was clearly incredibly busy. The rebels were making moves and the people in the capital city were very restless.

  At least that was what I could find out in the English language news. I found a ton of press in Starklandian, but I couldn’t get reliable translations. I even asked a servant, but he just shook his head and looked terrified.

  I stretched out on my couch, tired and bored. It was around three in the afternoon, and I had no plans for the rest of the day. I figured I was going to watch some TV, maybe go for a walk on the grounds, or maybe even go for a swim. As it turned out, hanging out with nothing to do was boring, regardless of whether you were in a beautiful estate or just at home.

  As I sat there, I heard a strange sound. I looked up and noticed something odd: a white envelope on the floor.

  I
walked over and picked it up. I tore it open and realized that it was an invitation to some kind of dinner tonight in the formal dining room. Apparently it wanted formal dress, too, though I didn’t know what that meant.

  And I didn’t have any fancy clothes. I’d had just enough time to grab the bare necessities.

  As I stood there trying to figure out what I could do about this, there was another knock at the door. I pulled it open and in walked two servants pushing a rack of dresses between them.

  Maximillian followed them in. “For the dinner,” he said, and then he dismissed the servants. They left quickly.

  I stared at him. “I can pick one?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I should warn you, though. This is a formal thing for the local lords. It’s a way to try to win more local support. I don’t know if Trip will have much time for you.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I’d never gotten the sense that Maximillian liked me, but that was outright hostile.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I know Trip is busy.”

  “King Christophe,” he corrected.

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “Whatever.”

  He pursed his lips. “Choose, please.”

  I looked over the dresses. They were all so beautiful, some sleek and tight and some layered and lovely. I picked through for a moment before pulling off a navy green dress with vintage-looking lace and beautiful layers.

  “Good,” Maximillian said. “Please don’t be late.” He pulled the dresses out of the room without another word.

  I gaped after him. I wasn’t even sure I wanted the dress, but apparently I was stuck with it. There were no second chances in Starkland as it turned out.

  Shrugging, I smiled to myself and went into the bathroom to try it on. I hoped it was going to fit, though I suspected it would.

  Trip was the kind of man to pay attention to that sort of thing.

  I stepped out into the hallway, feeling good.

  It took me about an hour to get dressed. I was ready in plenty of time, and I felt reasonably confident about how I looked. At least, as far as that went. I was never perfect, but I felt good enough.

  The dress fit, at least.

  “Honey,” Dad said, coming toward me down the hall, “you look lovely.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Lucy smiled. “Very pretty dress. Good color.”

  “Thank you.” At least she was in a good mood.

  The two of them were in their formal clothes, and I guessed they had servants bring them things as well. Lucy looked nice in a floor-length beige gown that offset her nice, dirty blond hair.

  “Ready?” Dad asked.

  “Let’s go.”

  The three of us walked down the hallways and headed down the stairs. Some servants spotted us and took us the rest of the way to the formal dining room.

  It was a lot bigger than I had expected. It was probably more of a ballroom than a dining room. There were at least fifty people milling about, and we entered into the fray knowing nobody and not even speaking the language.

  We managed to find our table, marked with nametags. We were seated with other ministers we didn’t recognize. I looked around the room, but I couldn’t find Trip anywhere.

  We sat down, and instantly Lucy began to talk to the older woman on her right. The woman was clearly some kind of baroness or countess or something like that. She wasn’t really interested in Lucy, but her grasp of English wasn’t the best, so she probably didn’t know how to get herself out of her situation. Lucy, for her part, didn’t care who listened or spoke English, so long as she could speak.

  Suddenly, there was a small buzz of energy, and I saw Trip walk into the room. He instantly started smiling and shaking hands, and I felt a pang of excitement. I hadn’t seen him since we returned back to the estate and dismounted, and I had been yearning to finally see him again.

  But he never looked over at me. He made the rounds of the room, but he never bothered to even look in my direction. He looked so damn handsome, though a little tired, but he wasn’t giving me the time of day.

  Which was fine. It didn’t matter. Maximillian had warned me about this, though I had assumed he was just being a pompous asshole.

  Dad leaned toward me as everyone began to filter toward their seats. “So, do you know any Starklandian yet?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “You?”

  “Nope. Sounds like barking to me.”

  I smiled. “It kind of does. Barking and grunting.”

  “It’s not a beautiful language, whatever it is.”

  I laughed and felt a little bit better. As people found their seats, Trip stood up at the front of the room and began to speak.

  Entirely in Starklandian, of course.

  I didn’t understand a word of it, but he looked impassioned. People seemed genuinely into whatever he was saying, and by the time he finished speaking, the applause was heartfelt and loud.

  I glanced at Dad and he made a face, like he was very impressed.

  “Wonderful speech, don’t you think?” Lucy asked the woman next to her, who nodded politely. I stifled a smile.

  When Trip was finished speaking, he nodded to the crowd and then left the room. I watched him go, curious, but everyone else went back to their conversations. Servants appeared from the sides of the room with food, and dinner began.

  But Trip was still gone. I did my best to try to enjoy the meal, but Trip had left without so much as even looking at me or acknowledging me. I was tempted to text him, but I realized that would come off pretty bad. I was sure he was just playing the politics game and couldn’t break character to come talk to me. I was sure it was meaningless.

  The meal was lovely and rich, all traditional Starklandian food. Conversations drifted around us, including at our own table, but it was all in Starklandian, except for Lucy’s prattling, of course. Dad, for his part, noticed that I wasn’t in the mood to chat, so he didn’t force me.

  After the first course, people began to mill about the room again. I half turned in my chair when a man came toward me, a sleazy man with a creepy smile.

  “Bryce Koch?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes?”

  “Hello, dear. My name is Nicolai Corvin. The king speaks very highly of you.”

  I put on a smile, despite how uncomfortable he made me. I’d never seen this man before and couldn’t remember his name, but if he was at this dinner, he was important. I couldn’t be rude and risk messing things up for Trip. Besides, this was the first person to actually seek me out all night.

  “That’s flattering,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you, Nicolai.”

  We shook hands. His grip was weak, and he held my fingers for far too long before dropping them.

  “How do you find our country, dear?” he asked.

  “It’s lovely,” I answered.

  “What have you seen?” His English was surprisingly good, with a very small accent.

  “Stehen,” I said. “Plus this estate, and whatever you can see from the window on the drive here.”

  He laughed. “So nothing then.”

  “Stehen is a beautiful city,” I said.

  “True,” he conceded. “It is beautiful. But I’m the agricultural minister, and it’s my duty to inform you that the farmland in Starkland is lovelier still.”

  “Well, I’ll have to see it someday then.”

  “Soon,” Nicolai said, smiling big. “Very soon.”

  “Good. I look forward to that.”

  “I’m glad. Starkland can be a very unforgiving country, especially to foreigners.”

  “I haven’t found that.”

  “You’ve been protected by the king,” he said, laughing. “Nobody would dare offend the king’s mistress.”

  That took me aback. I gaped at him before gathering myself. “I’m not his mistress,” I said.

  He looked genuinely confused. “I’m sorry. Is this not the correct word?”

  “I don’t know what you’re
trying to say.”

  “Translation error then, let us say. You’re the king’s friend, how about?”

  “Yes. That’s true,” I said softly, my eyes narrowed.

  This man wasn’t stupid and his English was great. He knew exactly what he had said.

  “Good speaking with you, dear,” he said. I wanted to say something else, but he was already walking away.

  I was completely blown away by that exchange. Was that how people in Starkland saw me, just as the King’s mistress? That was crazy.

  Or was it? We were sleeping together, and we weren’t formally dating or something like that. Oh god, maybe I really was the King’s mistress. I glanced over at Dad, but he hadn’t heard a word. He was too busy tucking into his food with surprising gusto.

  “I’m not feeling well,” I said to him.

  He stopped for a second and glanced at me. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I’m going to head back to my room.”

  He put his fork down. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “No, no. Please, stay. Lucy would kill you if you left.”

  He sighed. “Very good point.”

  I smiled and stood. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Feel better.”

  I quickly turned and left the room. I felt some eyes follow me as I left, but I didn’t care.

  They all already thought I was the king’s foreign whore. What did it matter if they saw me leaving the dinner early? I didn’t want to ruin things for Trip, but I also wasn’t going to sit there and be embarrassed for a second longer.

  I should have seen this coming. I saw whispers of it in the media, but nothing in English, and the articles I got translated just came back as jumbled messes. I knew my name was in the papers, but I couldn’t tell why.

  Now I knew. They were saying I was Trip’s mistress, and who knew what else. They were probably blaming me for the war and for all the attacks in the city.

  I got back to my room, feeling tired and angry. That Nicolai bastard was such an asshole for coming up to me and making me feel awful like that. It wasn’t as if I asked for any of this.

  And why hadn’t Trip even talked to me? Probably because he knew everyone thought I was his whore and didn’t want to be seen speaking with his harlot.