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

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.