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

Her boss and best friend laughed. “You, silly. Your one-night stand had a press conference a little while ago, remember? Is the pregnancy brain getting bad? Because you were standing right there in the wide shots.”

Amy groaned.

“You weren’t going to tell me about this finally going public?”

“All my reporting is going through the Stolvenian royal family. I didn’t think I had to give you a rundown,” Amy snarked.

“No need. All the international stations carried the conference, too. The whole world is talking about the next royal baby. Your baby.”

Amy let her head fall back on the chair behind her. “I know.”

“How are you doing?”

She sighed. “Not well. Artur and I—” Amy buried her head in her hands, then lifted it back up so Petra could see her. “We have a fundamental disagreement about how things should proceed from here.”

“As in...”

“As in, he wants me to join the royal family, and I don’t want that kind of pressure. I don’t want cameras following us all the time. I don’t want—” Her throat tightened. I don’t want Artur to be upset with me for that. I don’t want to be apart from him. I want my daughter to know her father. I just don’t want to be a princess. “I don’t want everything that comes with it.”

Petra narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You don’t?” Amy blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. “It’s all true.”

“Amy, you work in PR. If you valued privacy that much, you’d never have entered a career where you have to deal with so many high-profile people as you work with them to build their brands. There is nothing private about that. You always say that you’re meant to stay in the background, but I’ve seen you go toe-to-toe with powerful people and talk them down. You can hold your own anytime and anywhere you choose.”

“Yes, but—” It was different, here. It was personal. This was personal. It wasn’t a matter of representing the royal family. It was her own body, her own child, her—

“That said.” Petra raised both hands in the air in front of her. “If you’re ready to bow out, I’ll book you the next flight. You don’t have to stay another instant. I can fly out and take your place and finish the job personally.”

Amy’s heart sank. Accepting would be an easy out. It would fix everything, at least temporarily. But the thought of leaving—why did it make her so sad? Why did it make her feel so defeated?

“I don’t think you need to do that,” she said. “I just wanted to talk. It’s...a lot.”

“I’m all yours,” Petra said, and for the next hour, she was.

16

“Excellent news,” Rafael said, sweat pouring down his face. They were sparring—fencing—and Artur’s brother, the king, was determined to make their time together to carry on a conversation. Artur knew from childhood that this was a tactic Rafael loved. It tended to distract his opponent enough to give him a bit more of an upper hand. Artur was no fool. He kept himself focused, even if all he wanted to do was shut himself in his rooms with a group of his friends and drink the night away.

“What’s that?” Artur parried, keeping an eye on Rafael’s foil.

“The press conference has put us back in the public’s good graces. Mostly you, but the rest of us, too.”

He should have been happy to hear that—it was what they’d been working on for months—but Artur frowned at his brother. “They’re fickle. They’ll forget that they have good reasons to like us, unless we keep shoving them in their faces.”

“Are you worried about that?” Their foils clashed, and both men took a step back. “You don’t have to use your child to gain good favor with the public.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Artur advanced on his brother, who defended himself neatly with an almost-bored expression on his face. “I was never planning on it, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“I was not—” Rafael advanced on Artur with three strong steps. “—insinuating anything of the sort.” Artur defended himself with a frantic

energy. No matter how hard he held the foil, he couldn’t clear the energy from his arms. Part of him didn’t want to. Rafael continued. “I was only pointing out that right now, the public is on our side. I think they’ll be surprised if you don’t share more of the pregnancy and your plans with them. It would be very unlike you.”

“Unlike me?” A droplet of sweat rolled down Artur’s back. His heart wasn’t beating hard only from the fencing.

“You’ve...invited them in.” It was amazing, how Rafael could sound so thoughtful while also attacking him in a clear attempt to provoke. Artur took the bait. It felt good to take the bait. “You’ve given them the idea that they have a right to your life. You’ve set yourself up as the entertainment. It’s become your role.”

“Well, who else was supposed to do it?” Artur had to concentrate with everything he had to keep his foil in bounds. “Armin never wanted the spotlight. You had to step up and take over the throne after we lost Eduard. Someone had to be the approachable one. I was never going to be the most brilliant or capable, but I could be entertaining.” Artur went in for another point, but his parry went wild and Rafael stepped easily out of the way.