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.