The Billionaire King’s Heir (European Billionaire Beaus 3)

She looked back over at him, and Rafael shrugged. “That’s just the way it’s done with a royal wedding. It’s for the public more than anything else.”

Felicity ran a hand through her hair. “I think I hear Hope,” she said. “Oh—and there’s Sara, too. I should get in the shower.”

The moment was broken, but Rafael didn’t know how or why, and he still wanted to repair it. He stood up next to her and kissed her cheek, then pulled her into his arms. “It’s just a few more photo ops,” he said. “Then we can plan our vacation.”

“Sure,” Felicity said, and as she headed to the bathroom, he felt stuck in the feeling that she didn’t believe him at all.

* * *

The press conference was held in the Rose Room, which was one of the palace’s smaller ballrooms. Two winged armchairs were set close together, angled carefully next to a window to maximize the natural light. They were close enough to the wall that, on camera, it gave the illusion that Felicity was sitting with the King in an intimate sitting room. In reality, the two of them faced a bank of reporters with cameras and microphones, arranged in a semicircle so that each person could jockey for the shot they wanted. Felicity had been trying to smile at every camera in turn, giving everyone an equal opportunity.

One of the smiling reporters addressed a question to Felicity, but she was focused so much on seeming normal in front of the cameras that she only caught the end of it. “—dream come true?”

He could only be asking one thing.

“Of course!” A wave of heat came to her cheeks. There were so many things about her life here in Stolvenia that were a dream come true, and others that were…not. The real answer, however, was far too complicated for a press conference leading up to their wedding. “I’m so happy.”

“What about you, King Rafael?”

“I’ve never been happier,” he answered firmly.

“Do you look forward to exchanging views with your new wife?” called someone from the back.

Rafael didn’t let the smile fall from his face. “Exchanging views? We already do that on a daily basis.”

There was a brief chuckle from the assembled reporters, but the voice piped up a second time. “Her sister’s interview with the Capital Daily gave us quite the hint into the future queen’s liberal views. Will you be taking them into consideration as you begin your lives together? By that I mean, will you be taking steps to further women’s rights in Stolvenia after the wedding?”

Felicity forgot to look at the cameras. Her eyes were glued to Rafael’s face, and though he didn’t turn to look at her, she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. The silence went on a few heartbeats too long. “I’m not prepared to discuss that now.” His tone landed flatly, and there was a flurry of camera shutters and scribbling on notepads.

“King Rafael, if you don’t feel comfortable discussing it now—”

Rafael stood up so abruptly that the cord of his lapel microphone pulled taut. He slipped it off with a deft hand, motioning for Felicity to do the same. “That’s all the questions for today,” he said. “Thank you all for coming.”

Felicity’s heart was in her throat. That hadn’t been the plan. They were supposed to take questions for another fifteen minutes at least, and then sit for some staged photos. She hurried to keep up with Rafael on the way out of the Rose Room, then followed him all the way down the next hall to his office, where he shut the door behind them.

He went to the window, looking out, and said nothing.

“I’m not completely comfortable with how that went,” offered Felicity.

“And you think I am?” Rafael turned to face her. “If we can’t get through one interview without them hounding me about—”

“I’m not comfortable with the fact that you won’t take a position on something as cut and dried as women’s rights.” Felicity was finally feeling anger creep through the adrenaline of being in front of so many cameras. “Are you just faking interest in my opinions in the first place?”

Rafael’s eyes flew open wide and he scoffed, sticking his hands in his pockets, looking petulant. “In case you’ve forgotten, all of this was supposed to be fake. I don’t know that you even have a right to be making those kinds of comments or directing policy. You had your chance at last week’s events. That was enough, I’d say.”

Felicity drew herself up to her full height. “When we’re married, my right to comment on policy will be absolutely real. As real as anything I say to the press right now.” Her chin trembled, but she locked her teeth together to keep from letting her upset show. “You can’t possibly expect me to fake my entire life so you can keep looking good to the public.”

She couldn’t bear to stand there another moment, and she spun toward the door. Felicity wanted to be with Hope right now, and nobody else. Hope was all that mattered. None of Rafael’s stubbornness did. Not in this moment. Maybe not ever. And if he couldn’t see—

Felicity spun back. “I have half a mind not to go through with the wedding at all, just so you know.” She threw the words at him like barbs. Rafael opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could speak. “Don’t bother saying anything else. There’s no point, remember?” She gestured to the rest of the room. “No cameras. I’ll see you at the rehearsal.”

16

After the wedding rehearsal, Rafael was early for the dinner.

Felicity had been swept away for a last-minute fitting with Joy, and he found himself in a liminal space with nothing to do but wait. The banquet hall in the palace, thankfully, had a bar set up at one end, by the dais where he’d sit with his brothers and their wives.

“Great minds think alike,” said his middle brother, Artur, coming to get a drink himself.