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

She stopped, biting her lip, and faced him. “Am I being sent to the principal’s office?” The hesitancy disappeared from her face, replaced with a kind of quiet defiance.

“I wouldn’t know what that’s like,” he shot back. “No one ever sent me there.”

He expected her to snark back at him—to tell him of course not, you’ve always been royalty—but Felicity’s shoulders sagged. “I believe that. You’re good at this.” She sat, gathering the long train behind her and flipping it out of her way with one hand. It was the most elegant movement he’d seen from her all day. “I’m good at some things. I was good at my job. I was great at talking to people, helping them, finding them solutions…” Her voice trailed off. “I guess it doesn’t translate.”

His heart softened. “In a way, it does. But part of being in human resources is making sure others follow the rules, right?”

“True.” She shrugged. “But I didn’t have to memorize them. I could look them up.” Hope brightened her eyes. “Maybe we need a database of the royal rules.”

“Would that help?” Felicity seemed to struggle so much with following all of the protocol at the same time. “Because if it would help, I could have some people get together and work on it.”

“It might,” Felicity said, giving a little shrug. “There are so many things to remember at any given time. I know I haven’t taken to it easily, but it’s like learning to swim after never having been in the water. Plus…”

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Tell me.” He stood up straighter.

“You’re so perfect at all of it. And I know I’m playing catch-up, but…” She screwed up her lips. “It’s always going to be more obvious that I’m learning when I’m standing next to you. That’s…not always easy. I’m not sure if I’ll ever…” Her voice softened, and when she looked into his eyes, something shifted in Rafael’s chest. You’ll be fine, he said. Once we can be ourselves, you’ll be fine. But he couldn’t say that out loud. It might never be the case that they could let their guards down entirely.

“You’ll have to,” he said, knowing that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “It’s what everyone in the royal family needs to do.”

Felicity pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

“After the referendum passes, we’ll have the rest of our lives to figure out what’s next.” If anything, he thought, but didn’t say it.

There was a pause, and he could see in Felicity’s face that she was thinking of arguing. In the end, she stood up, surprisingly gracefully, and moved toward the privacy screen at the back of the room. “I’m going to get changed,” she said. “I’ll be on time for my next session.”

He watched her go, wanting to call her back but not ready to face the impending discussion at the same time. All the history had been too much. He found himself peering at his shoes.

“Rafael?” Felicity’s voice was soft, tentative. “Was there something else you needed?”

What he needed was for the referendum to go in his favor. What he needed was to somehow go back in time and make all of this go differently, so it wouldn’t be so painful. But he knew that digging in now would only exhaust them both.

“The gown looks beautiful on you,” he said, and then he went out, back to his work.

6

Hope lifted the silver tea set carefully in her chubby hands, and Felicity hesitated. She wanted to give her daughter a chance to master pouring tea, but this was a little more than she’d bargained for when she and Joy, along with the nanny, Sara, had planned this little tea party. After the lesson that Rafael had cut short, Felicity had been feeling more than a little defeated. Joy had noticed.

“Let’s do something fun,” she'd suggested. “Something with Hope. It’s hard to be so down around her. She’s staying in rooms fit for a princess—let’s have a princess tea party.”

Sara had jumped right into the idea with more enthusiasm than Felicity had expected. “We can hold it in the playroom,” said Sara. “I know where to get the sets from the kitchens.”

“The kitchens?” Felicity hadn’t known what to make of that. “I’m sure there are some dishes and things among Hope’s toys that we can use. There’s no need to—”

“Hush,” Sara said, with the easy authority of someone who was used to making plans and carrying them out. “The party will be set for tomorrow afternoon.”

The tea set that Sara had brought up from the kitchen was perfect—Felicity had to admit it. It was about half the size of a regular set, not quite miniature but small enough for Hope’s tiny hands to easily handle while still being large enough that they wouldn’t have to just mime drinking from them. Sara had even gone to the trouble of mixing lemonade for Hope to pour.

The girl was in her element. There was no shortage of fancy play dresses in the wardrobe that Rafael insisted on ordering, and she wore a pink frilly number with a matching headband. Sara had dressed her in it while Felicity got ready for the party, giving her a pang of guilt. It had been easy to step away for a moment. She hadn’t had that kind of leeway at home. But maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, to take advantage of it.

“All right,” she said, smoothly as she could. “Tip the spout toward the cup, and pour the tea…” Hope stuck out her tongue in concentration, holding her hands as steady as she could. Felicity wanted to cheer as Hope filled the first cup. Then she thrust the teapot toward Felicity.

“Mama’s turn.”

Her daughter beamed up at her, and Felicity tried to smile back. As the queen, she would someday be expected to host teas and receptions for the women of the court, and Lydia had tried to prepare her by having her practice over and over again. Rather than filling her with confidence and certainty, she now just felt a sinking dread whenever she saw a teapot. But she couldn’t let her anxieties spill over onto her precious child.