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

“You’ll need to come up with a new plan, and quickly,” he said, his tone as formal and stiff as if he was talking to one of his staff. Stiffer, even. He was always so charming with them. “We’ll need an official, distributable statement asking for privacy, and then you’ll need to choose a residence for the rest of your time here that’s not near the palace. You’ll never have your privacy if you stay here.”

“All right. I—”

“By the weekend, I’d think,” said Artur, and walked away from her, going into the palace alone.

15

It was a long walk back to her room.

A very long walk.

For the first time, Amy felt like people were staring. But in

a furtive kind of staring that was more obvious than if they’d just stood there with mouths hanging open. They moved aside to give her space as she walked through the halls, but she felt their eyes flicking down to her belly and then carefully away.

They hadn’t known. Well, obviously they’d known she was pregnant, but none of the people who kept the palace running had known that the baby was Artur’s.

Now, in one fell swoop, they all knew.

She had completely misjudged the gravity of the announcement.

It was a humming in the air, a kind of electricity, and though no one asked her directly, Amy was certain that Artur had gone immediately into some meeting or another to talk about the details. What details he could possibly provide, she had no idea.

It would change things. Of course it would change things. Amy hadn’t quite understood before the press conference that Artur wasn’t just a prince in name only. He was second in line to the throne. This baby girl of hers was now third in line. Artur had made it sound like she could choose a place to live and go there without much intervention, but now she knew that behind closed doors, contingency plans were being made. For her security. For the baby’s security. For any number of things that came along with being the mother to a royal baby, whether she wanted to be royalty herself or not.

She’d never been more relieved to get back to her own rooms.

Sasha stepped forward immediately from a tray with a tea service on it. “Come, sit down, sit down.”

“No, I’m all right.” Amy paced to the window and took in a deep breath. What was she going to do? Artur hadn’t asked her to attend any meetings, and half of her wanted to march through the castle until she found him. Or, if not him, the group of people who was undoubtedly planning how they’d keep her safe. Surely she should be part of that conversation.

“You should rest,” Sasha tutted behind her. “I’ve made tea, just the way you like it. It’s not good for the baby if you stand around all the time.”

“I think better on my feet,” she explained. Where could she go, honestly? Would it be best to stay in Stolvenia, perhaps in one of the towns they’d visited? Or would they both be safer in the United States? Or elsewhere in Europe, setting up the new office for Petra? Now that it would surely be over between her and Artur, there was no way he could make the argument that she had to stay.

Or maybe he could. He’d have a team of people who would probably insist that the next generation of the royal family should be close by. All of this took on a different tenor, a different urgency now that the truth was publicly known. She understood, in a way. It was the first royal baby to be born to any of the brothers, though Armin had officially adopted Seraphine and Lily after the deaths of their parents—his close friends. Where did the girls fit in with all this?

“Do you need something else? Something to eat? I brought some pastries with the tea, but—”

“No,” Amy said sharply. Too sharply, but she couldn’t seem to soften it. “No, Sasha.” She turned away from the window. “I’m not hungry. I just...I’m tired. I want to be alone.” Sasha’s face had fallen, and her eyes were glued to the floor.

“Of course.” She dipped her head and turned around, heading swiftly for the door.

“Sasha—”

A moment later, the door clicked shut.

Well, she’d gotten what she wanted.

The video call dialed in once, twice, three times, and Amy started to lose hope.

She’d been alone all afternoon. Sasha hadn’t come in again, though Amy knew she would return if she called for her. She didn’t want to call for her. A friend—that’s what she wanted. And Petra was the perfect person.

Finally, the call connected.

Petra’s face materialized on the screen, her eyebrows raised. “I’ve got big news about one of my employees.”

Amy rubbed a hand over her face. “What? Who?”