The Billionaire Prince’s Daughter (European Billionaire Beaus Book 2)

by Leslie North

  There was only one word she could say, because Amy was on her way to another release that would definitely ruin the couch. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  2

  “The strategy has not been successful.”

  Artur’s eldest living brother, Rafael, the reigning king of Stolvenia, spread out his hands in front of him on the table as everyone else at the meeting nodded their agreement. It stung—of course it did. Artur had given up most of his favorite pastimes in service of “repairing his image,” and here they were, saying he’d failed.

  They was a rather large group of people who had decided as a unit that Artur’s image needed reformation. He’d gone along with it in the beginning because it was what his family needed from him. The world might think he didn’t take anything seriously, but those who were close to him knew he loved his family, would do anything for them. And it hadn’t seemed like too much to ask, for him to tone down his partying and behave himself at a few boring events. If it would help Stolvenia and his king—who was also his brother—he’d do it.

  But as much as he wanted to argue he’d done his best, he knew it hadn’t been quite enough. Not when the opposition was working overtime trying to prove that it was all smoke and mirrors. They called the galas “more of the same from the party prince” and spread rumors that he was siphoning charitable donations to his personal bank account. It was an absolute lie, and one for which they’d provided not a single scrap of evidence, but there were some people willing to be convinced.

  It wasn’t good.

  The murmurs of agreement settled. Artur sat at one end of the table, and Rafael sat at the other. Arrayed between them was their middle brother, Armin, who had come to the capital city just for this occasion. He normally made his home at the smaller palace in Valbourg, where he held his official dukedom. His wife, Katie, sat next to him. They’d brought their girls, Seraphine and Lily, along for the trip, though the six-year-old twins weren’t stuck in here right now. Artur would rather be joining in whatever misadventures they were getting into than sitting at this meeting, but for the time being, it was his lot in life.

  Then there were the people in charge of the palace’s public relations team, who had been put in charge of the extensive project of rehabilitating Artur’s “party animal” reputation, as they called it. Kostya and Zia both took the project seriously enough to decide that the palace’s own resources wouldn’t be enough to handle it, which is why they had hired a PR firm to handle all the logistics.

  It was Kostya’s turn to jump in. “The original firm simply didn’t meet expectations. That’s not due at all to your hard work, Prince Artur.”

  Artur managed a tight smile. He couldn’t blame Kostya entirely, but the original firm had been a disaster—an endless stream of deathly dull events that had accomplished absolutely nothing. They barely ever gave him an opportunity to entertain, which was what he was good for.

  “How bad is it?” asked Armin. “Not your work, Artur, of course. The numbers.”

  The numbers. Kostya flipped a page in the folder in front of him on the desk. “Your approval ratings haven’t budged. In fact, in recent months, they have dipped.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised. I’m not playing the part people expect—of course they don’t like it,” Artur said, leaning back in his seat. “They want fun from me. Entertainment. That’s what they’re used to seeing.”

  Everyone else at the table exchanged meaningful glances. “That’s something to consider,” Rafael said. “And it’s why I’ve called this meeting. I know Kostya and Zia have some ideas for how to pivot.”

  “One in particular,” Zia said, shooting a razor-sharp glance at Artur. “We need to pivot to a new PR firm.”

  He nodded as if the prospect of this ordeal didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Are you opening the call to everyone in Stolvenia?”

  “No.” A smile curved the corner of Zia’s mouth. “The one gala that was successful—by any measure—was the last one in New York City. And that was planned and executed by Holliday Public Relations out of New York.”

  “An unconventional choice,” commented Armin.

  “Unconventional, but it’s clear we need an unconventional approach. The quick thinking of the prince, in coordination with their person on the ground, turned a brewing fiasco into a public relations win for both of you.” Zia glanced at Kostya. “We’re impressed. And glad that you brought Amy Branch’s name to our attention.”

  Artur felt pride rise in his chest. He had broken up a fight, after all, and then he and that angel who’d waded into the fray along with him had tag-teamed to produce massive auction bids which had led to another sizable donation for the foundation the gala was supporting. He’d even waited until the checkbooks had come out to learn her name. Amy. She was the staff person on the ground, and he’d looked her up after she slipped out of his suite early the next morning. She’d had a lot of good PR experience, but when he thought of her, he was more likely to linger on her experience in bed.

  Or on the sofa.

  “Artur?” Rafael’s voice broke into thoughts that were descending into a full-color replay of every moment of that night. He hadn’t planned on seeing Amy again, since she’d made her home in New York and he was a prince of Stolvenia, but now they’d actually listened to him and were bringing her in? This was an opportunity not to be missed.

  Artur cleared his throat. “Obviously, I agree with your assessment. Will you be bringing Ms. Branch to Stolvenia or consulting with her and the Holliday Firm remotely?”

  Kostya pursed his lips. “Oh, I think we’d better have her here.” His tone was deadly serious.

  “Wonderful.” Artur stood up, his fingertips resting on the surface of the table. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Then I think we’re done here. Agreed?”

  Amy held up another top from her closet and sighed. “Why do I even bother? Honestly, none of this fits. I’m going to have to go shopping if I want my wardrobe to be up to the task in Stolvenia.”

  Her best friend, Petra Holliday, met her eyes in the full-length mirror attached to the closet door that was still closed, an amused smile on her lips. “Your current wardrobe has done just fine at the office. So insulting.”

  With a snort, Amy hung the top back in her closet. “I got a week’s worth of new clothes, just because I knew you’d want me to.”

  “And I so appreciate it,” Petra said, holding up her phone and reclining on Amy’s bed. It was Saturday, and the two of them wore leggings and tanks for a relaxing morning in. “But I think the more important consideration is what you’re going to say to Prince Artur when you get there.”

  Amy frowned into the closet, not meeting Petra’s eyes. It was all a bit...unconventional, from her original job to this new assignment. She’d joined Petra’s firm knowing that working for and with her college best friend would be a risk. Friendships had been destroyed over much less in the history of the world, and Amy didn’t want that for herself. The way that everything had turned out for the best had been a pleasant surprise.

  Discovering she was pregnant with the prince’s baby had been…a different kind of surprise.

  The condom must’ve broken, though honestly Amy hadn’t been paying attention at the time. She’d been busy looking out at the New York City skyline and reveling at the sensation of Prince Artur’s lips on the side of her neck, his hand tugging at her hair, while he was driving into her with his—

  She shook her head, trying to keep herself firmly in the present. It had been a one-night stand, and nothing more. Amy certainly wasn’t going to force herself into a relationship with him just because she’d turned out to be pregnant. That would be worse for her, when it came to appearances, than simply taking single motherhood in stride.

  Which she had, to her shock. It hadn’t made any sense when her period didn’t arrive. It was only after she’d hurled in Petra’s kitchen garbage that her best friend suggested a pregnancy test. The sentence had stop
ped her in her tracks.

  “I don’t think I can go,” Amy said, pulling her closet closed and flopping down on the bed next to Petra. “I don’t have anything to wear.” Now that she was five months pregnant, nothing fit because her belly had popped, which was why she’d finally had to give in and buy maternity clothes. But it seemed so...frivolous, buying a whole business wardrobe when she’d only be pregnant for four more months. Amy had limited herself to pieces that would last a week if she mixed and matched...and did laundry every week. Twice. She probably wouldn’t have that kind of time in Stolvenia.

  She could feel Petra considering her. “Just expense it to the account when you get there. But you know you’re going to have to say something about the fact that you’re sporting a pregnant belly.”

  Amy sighed. “And you know that I tried to reach out when I...discovered all this was happening. But there’s no way to call Prince Artur and speak privately.”

  “They have cell phones in Stolvenia.”

  “I don’t have his number.” Amy pushed herself up on her elbow. “And neither do you. We’ve been over this, Petra.”

  “What are you going to say?”

  “Maybe I’ll just show him the picture of the home pregnancy tests.” Petra looked disgusted, and Amy laughed. The tests themselves had long been relegated to the garbage bin, but she’d taken the picture to remind herself that it was happening.

  “You know, he might take one look at you and do the math for himself. You should be ready with an answer.”

  Amy looked down at her bedspread. Maybe he would. But it wasn’t as if she’d been on Prince Artur’s mind. She might not have his phone number, but he had the number to her private line at work. Clearly, she hadn’t made so much of an impression that he hadn’t been able to resist contacting her in the months since then.

  “I’m serious, Amy. I’m...a little worried about what you’re going to do when this is all in the open.”

  She sat up straight, tossing her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to PR the hell out of Prince Artur. That’ll give me enough on-the-ground experience to head up your new European branch.”

  Petra looked skeptical. “I don’t doubt your ability to do that at all. And if I do put you in that role—which would be crazy, since I’d be sending my best friend to live across the ocean for god knows how long—it would be nice for you to have the experience. But a job isn’t going to solve this.”

  “I’m not worried about solving it, P.” Amy raised her chin an inch. “I’ll just keep things under control. It’ll work out.”

  “This is going to be more complicated than you think,” Petra insisted.

  “Not if this pregnancy isn’t the center of attention. And I don’t intend it to be. I’ll just keep my head down, do the same killer job I’ve always done for you—” Amy reached out and patted Petra’s hand. Petra laughed. “—and everything will be fine.” She stood up from the bed, stretching. “Now. The more pressing matter is that I’m starving.”

  “We just went out for breakfast.”

  Amy grinned, heading for the door. “So how about brunch?”

  3

  Artur had never once whistled on his way to a meeting involving anyone from the palace’s PR team. Those inevitably featured bad news couched in careful praise that was meant to make him feel like he’d done his best, but something hadn’t measured up. Those people could tie themselves in knots trying to diplomatically tell Artur that his vacation in Bali had been an excellent example of international outreach, but the fact that his out-of-control party had done significant damage to a luxury suite necessitated a bit of outreach on everyone’s behalf.

  Luckily, that wasn’t the case this time. He’d been on such a tight leash that there was no chance of destroying anything, and this meeting wasn’t with just anyone. It was with Amy Branch.

  She’d landed in Stolvenia yesterday, and it was like he could feel her presence in the air. They’d all decided—his brothers and Kostya and Zia—that Amy could head up the renewed efforts to repair his image, since the gala in New York had been the only success they’d had in months. Nobody needed to say the rest of it, which was that things in Stolvenia were precarious when it came to the monarchy’s stability. He already knew. Everyone already knew.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to fret about it. He was meeting with the most intelligent, beautiful woman he’d ever met.

  He made his way to the wing of the palace where Rafael had his offices with a spring in his step. They’d set up a command center of sorts down a side hallway for Amy. That way, she’d have easy access to the palace personnel she needed. And since Artur lived in his own wing of the palace, it made things easier for everyone.

  This was going to be the turning point. He could feel it. Maybe he could finally be more than the prince who provided entertainment. Maybe she could help him strike a balance so that people would also see him as a good prince, an asset to the country. At his age, it was probably time.

  Amy wasn’t in the office suite when he arrived. He’d never seen this part of the palace before—why would he have bothered?—and he was a little surprised to see how large the room was. Zia had told him it was one of the smaller offices, but it had an attached bathroom. “She’ll need it,” Zia had said. Artur wondered why for a fleeting moment, then forgot all about it.

  “Good morning, Prince Artur.”

  Artur turned at the sound of Amy’s voice. The first thing he noticed was her eyes. They were blue, shining with determination. She looked ready to tackle this assignment.

  The second thing he noticed sent a cold shock through his body. But...she couldn’t be.

  “I trust you have everything you need.” Kostya had come in behind her. “If there’s anything you’re missing, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  “I won’t.” She turned and shook Kostya’s hand. “It was so nice to meet you. And thank you for the tour of the palace.”

  Kostya shot Artur a look. “There’s much more than meets the eye,” he said, then excused himself.

  Artur had seen...everything, though his mind could hardly process it. When Amy had turned to shake Kostya’s hand, the baby bump had been unmistakable. The cut of the sheath dress, which was clearly made for a pregnant woman, made it obvious. She wasn’t hiding anything.

  He realized he was still standing there with his mouth open. Amy blushed, holding her head up high. “Yes. The baby is yours. I’ve been trying to contact you, but there’s no way to reach you without having to explain a million different things to a million different people, and I didn’t want the news—”

  Artur caught his breath. “What do you mean the baby is mine?”

  Amy turned a darker shade of red. “I thought you—when you looked at me like that, I thought you must have done the math.”

  The laugh that tore out of his throat sounded a little wild, even to him. “I was still processing the sight, honestly. I thought maybe you’d gotten married. Or had already been married when we—”

  “I would never do that,” insisted Amy. “No way. Go home with another man if I was—no.” She took a big breath in and let it out. “Look. It’s—it’s your baby. I tried to tell you when I first found out, but getting ahold of the royal family for personal news is next to impossible.”

  Artur’s head spun. “You could have...called. You could have emailed.”

  Amy gave him a skeptical look. “You know that your email is vetted, right? I couldn’t just send some cryptic message to your public address.”

  Come to think of it, Artur did know this. It was only that he didn’t much bother with checking the email. It was a kind of public letterbox, and occasionally one of the palace staff brought some message or other to his attention. He assumed it was the same with his brothers. The email addresses only existed so that the people of Stolvenia felt like they had direct access, when in fact it wasn’t direct at all. “I did know that. I’m only—” He ran a hand through his hair.

  �
�I didn’t want to take the chance that this information might get leaked. And it seemed wrong to leverage my connection to the firm and go through palace staff.” She bit her lip. “It took me by surprise, too.”

  “Well, I—” Artur didn’t know what to say. He knew what kinds of things men said in the movies, when a woman came to tell them she was pregnant with their baby. But this was no movie. This was real life, stark and cold as it ever was.

  “You don’t have to say anything now.” Amy came farther into the office, walking briskly around where Artur stood and stepping behind the desk. She pulled the chair out and sat down. “I’m here to do a job.” She folded her hands on top of the desk. “Getting to tell you this news in person is...just a bonus. I’m glad you know—but now we can put it behind us. It doesn’t have to be an issue going forward.”

  He came to the other side of the desk and sat down across from her, woodenly, as if he was sitting down for a meeting with Kostya or Zia. His mind was still struggling to sort out what she’d said, as if she’d put the words in front of him in the form of a complicated puzzle. One by one, they clicked into place...and then he found his voice.

  “Hold on. I’m not about to just put this behind us. For better or for worse, I’m involved now.” When she was sitting down, Artur could only see the top of her bump, but there it was. It was real. She was pregnant, and it was his. “I’ve made a baby with you. It doesn’t get much more involved than that.”

  Something about her expression changed, and it took him a moment to realize what it was. She’d clearly gone from personal news mode to professional mode.

  “You’ve got enough problems as it is,” Amy said briskly, opening a folder in front of her on the desk and scanning the sheet on top. “Now is not the time to add the complication of an unexpected pregnancy resulting from a one-night stand. We’re not even in a relationship. Can you imagine the headlines?” She snapped the folder shut and looked back up at him.