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

She was satisfied, and for a moment she saw herself the way he must...and wow. What had she been worried about?

“Come with me,” Artur said. “Don’t stay alone in your room for the gala. It’s the last event of the trip, and you should be there. You deserve to be there. At my side.”

She shook her head, tracing his perfect lips with her fingertip. “I am not coming as your date. Don’t you remember? You’re not dating anyone on this trip.”

“Except for you.” He looked down between them and grinned. “And I wouldn’t exactly call this dating.”

“I’ll go,” she said finally. “But only as a member of your entourage. You’re the one who needs to be in the spotlight.”

“Is that so?” Artur looked down at her, hazel eyes fiery. “Well. In that case, you need some more attention.”

They didn’t speak again for a long time.

12

Amy couldn’t have hoped for things to go better at the gala. She felt light as a feather, despite the fact that her belly seemed to have grown another inch overnight. The tour was going to end with a bang, not with a whimper.

And it had helped—more than she ever wanted to admit—that Artur and Tatyana split off soon after they were finished with press interviews. Everyone in the room wanted a moment of Tatyana’s time, and Artur was talking with everyone. He looked...thoughtful, earnest—no sign of the playboy prince. Amy thought she might burst with pride.

She swung by to hear him in mid-conversation with the highest-ranking official in the area.

“—quarterly meetings?” Artur was saying. “Face-to-face if possible, but if not, some kind of digital solution might be more than—”

Her stomach growled. There hadn’t been time for a snack after Artur was finished with her, and the food at the gala looked out of this world. Her first stop was the cookie table. It was at least ten feet long and practically creaking under the weight of all the desserts. Amy took a small plate in her hand, knowing even then that she’d want more than could fit on that small porcelain circle, and surveyed the options.

She was debating between a blonde and a brownie when she caught a glimpse of...a little boy.

He was sitting behind the table in a chair that looked like he’d dragged it into the small alcove in the wall. His face was in shadow, but the moment he turned his head, Amy recognized him. It was Ruslan, Artur’s nine-year-old cousin. She’d seen him in press photos of the family during her research. His mother was the much-younger sister of Artur’s late mother. Amy took a quick glance around. She didn’t see her in the crowd, though she could still be nearby.

Amy looked back at the boy, who was wearing such a long face it tugged at her heart. She maneuvered her belly around behind the table. His eyes, hazel like Artur’s, came up to meet hers, then went back to the floor.

“Ruslan, isn’t it?” She lowered the plate down to his eye level. “Would you like any dessert?”

He shrugged. “I’ve already eaten so much of it that my stomach hurts.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Amy couldn’t bear the thought of squatting down, but she leaned against the wall. “Are you all right otherwise?”

He sighed. “I’m just not made to be royal.” The frown on his face deepened. “I don’t want to shake people’s hands. I don’t want to kiss anyone’s babies. And I don’t want to have my picture taken.” Just then, a camera flashed across the room. “The flashes hurt my eyes,” he grumbled.

Amy surveyed the room one more time. Sure, it was full of adults, but— “Is it so terrible?” she asked. “Parties like this can be a little boring, but—”

Ruslan huffed. “How would you like it if everyone stared at you wherever you went? People with cameras follow us just because strangers want to know everything we do. They even write articles about my footie practices. They put pictures of my mom in there. Or me. It’s horrible.”

“I...can’t argue with that.” Amy’s heart ached for him. “You know, if you wanted to grab a few more cookies and get out of here, I’d keep a lookout.” This seemed risky the moment she said it, but it didn’t matter. Ruslan stared straight ahead.

“It won’t work. Someone is always watching. They’ll follow me and take me back to my mom.” He looked longingly at the tablecloth, like he wished he could crawl under it.

Amy reached down and patted his shoulder. “Feel better, Ruslan,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Artur would know what to do, wouldn’t he? “Will you still be here?”

He just gave another shrug, dragging the toes of his shoes across the carpet.

He’d missed Tatyana.

It bothered him that it was true, but Artur had to admit it, if only to himself. He enjoyed her company. He’d thought of her as smart and beautiful in high school, but now he saw the truth: she was downright brilliant.

These thoughts went through his mind as he talked to one of the bigger donors. Amy had reminded him to pay special attention to a number of people at the gala, and he felt like he’d been talking nonstop for the better part of ninety minutes. Or, if not talking, listening as hard as he could among all the chatter.

Tatyana never seemed to struggle with it for a moment. She moved around the room like she owned it, never lacking something to say or a solution to a problem.