The Billionaire Prince’s Nanny (European Billionaire Beaus 1)

No matter what she did, Katie was on the verge of losing everything that mattered to her. And she was a little afraid to find out what she might do to hold on to it just a little while longer.

“Katie, look!” Lily called to her from her easel. The lesson had ended while Katie wasn’t paying attention. “Come see what we’ve done.”

She put her brush down on the holder on her easel and went to admire the girls’ work. Rafael did too, giving no sign that anything was wrong—that they’d even talked. He was so calm and collected that Katie could almost believe the conversation hadn’t happened.

Until he left the room, giving her a meaningful look before he went.

So it was real. The stakes had never been higher.

Katie delivered the girls to their final lesson of the day, which was one of their favorites—tennis. Armin had squeezed sporting lessons in as a way to let them blow off steam, and they genuinely loved it. It was so much better than the violin, they said.

When they were engaged on the court, Katie slipped away and back to her room.

Back to her desk.

Back to her notepad.

Her hand shook a little as she opened the book to a fresh page and scribbled down the note.

Rafael seemed to believe in the possibility that someone in the royal family has a secret child. Other heirs?

The words made her sick. She didn’t want

to be this person.

But what other choice did she have?

11

Rafael and his entourage had just swept out of the building when Natalia came into his office.

“All the paperwork is filed, Prince Armin.” She gave him a proud little smile, then seemed to hesitate. “I know this project has taken a lot of work. I wanted to congratulate you on the accomplishment.”

His own chest swelled with pride, though Armin never wanted to gloat. It had been a hell of an undertaking.

“Everyone played an essential part,” he told her.

Out at Natalia’s desk, the phone rang. She dipped her head and went to answer it. A moment later, Armin’s phone blinked—an incoming call.

“Prince Armin.” The voice on the other end of the line boomed. It was Stephen, the man in charge of repairs and renovations on the orphanage. “We’ve heard the excellent news. I hate to monopolize your time, but—”

“Yes? What is it?”

“We were hoping you could come out here for an hour. Meet with us. Now that the plans are finalized, the logistics will begin. I want to make sure all of us are on the very same page so that your vision can be brought to life. And—it’ll be good for the press to see a little groundbreaking ceremony. A few shovelfuls of earth, and it’ll be clear we’re on our way.”

Armin cleared his throat. “I’ll be available in a few hours. However, this isn’t my vision. This is the vision of Stolvenia. All our people should agree that caring for those who have lost the most is our top priority.” This was slightly embarrassing. Yes, it had been a good idea to present a more caring, open front to the people, but he didn’t want everyone thinking this was about his ego rather than about the orphans.

“Of course, of course,” Stephen said quickly. “We’ll be waiting for your signal.”

Armin hung up the phone, then called to Natalia to rearrange his schedule and call a car. Her phone rang again as he headed out of the office. There would be scheduling to do, and quickly, but the press would pull it off for an announcement like this.

Katie—Katie needed to know he was leaving. And the girls. It wouldn’t be too awful to let them know what he’d accomplished. She’d be so proud.

But Katie and the girls were not to be found in the nursery, or in any other of the various playrooms and studios he’d set aside for their lessons and general living space. Armin pushed open the door to each one, expecting to be greeted by hushed concentration or peals of laughter and conversation between the three of them, but no, no, and no. They weren’t anywhere.

His last stop was at Katie’s suite.

He hesitated at the door, even though this was his own palace and he had every right to look for his girls anywhere they might be. They almost never came to her rooms, but who knew—maybe she’d stopped there in some transition or other, and any moment they’d burst back out—