The Royal Treatment: A Billionaire Prince Romance Read online

  I twist around in my seat, concerned about James’s whereabouts, as the speeches start and everyone pays attention to the podium.

  Still no sign of my boyfriend.

  I signal for a waiter.

  “Can I help you, Miss Daae?” he asks helpfully.

  “James Blanchett,” I say. “The senator from Oregon. Do you know where he is?”

  The waiter pales but shakes his head. “Sorry, Miss Daae, I’m not sure.” He disappears before I can get a chance to ask him further questions.

  Frowning, I turn back to the podium, where the charity organizer is speaking about how great of a turnout there has been for this event, but by that time, I’m so concerned, I don’t hear any of it.

  It’s silly, really. It’s not like someone kidnapped James or anything. I’m sure he got caught up in a conversation with some sort of congressman, and they’ve lost track of time. It’s typical for politicians to do such things.

  “Miss Daae.” I blink up at the same waiter from before. “I’ve found Mr. Blanchett. He would like you to follow me, if you please.” He gestures for me to join him, and I give one last furtive glance around before getting up from my spot.

  He leads me through the empty hallways, and I’m a little nervous about what’s happening. Perhaps something really did happen to him and I’m just now hearing about it.

  I swallow self-consciously and clench my hands into fists. I shouldn’t worry until I know that there is an emergency, but I can’t stop my mind from wandering. I’ve had emergencies in the past, and they never turned out well, so it’s understandable that I’m concerned.

  The waiter takes me to double doors that are guarded by two ushers, who nod at seeing me. I give them a confused glance before they open the doors in unison, leading to a garden.

  And there is James looking dashing as always, surrounded by an obscene number of roses, with his hands clasped in front of him. He shifts back and forth on his feet, and at seeing me, gives me the biggest grin ever.

  I look around, feeling as if I’ve stepped into a dream. “What’s this?”

  “For once, I’ve been able to surprise you,” James says, drawing my attention back to him. “I’ve been thinking of the perfect way to do this, and I know that if I did some sort of elaborate vacation, you’d guess. Or a fancy dinner. Or a date to New York and we stop by the UN building, where we first met. You remember that?”

  I nod, still not following his train of thought. “I do.”

  His eyes twinkle in the candlelight. Because this small space is lit entirely by candles—creating both a fire hazard and a romantic bit of light. “And then I thought about doing this during a political function. Because I knew you’d be in fine form like you always are.”

  I peer at him, questioning him with my eyes. “For what?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head before…

  “Oh my god,” I gasp, stepping back in shock as he falls to one knee and produces a little velvet black box.

  “Alexandra Daae,” he says. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

  I’m crying and nodding before the word leaves my mouth. “Yes.”

  He sweeps me up in his arms, and I don’t care what happens for the rest of the night. My Prince Charming proposed to me.

  I couldn’t be happier.

  At least, that’s what I tell myself as we make our rounds, telling everyone the news.

  Even though there’s another Prince Charming that I can’t take my mind off of.

  4

  Alexandra

  “Won’t Eric be angry that you took his private jet?” I ask Ferdinand as he hails a taxi from Haneda to Tokyo City Center.

  “It’s the family’s private jet and he’s just learning on it,” Ferdie tells me with a sly grin. “Until he buys his own, I can use it when he’s not.”

  I laugh, because we both know he truly will buy his own jet when he turns eighteen. Prince Eric of Dubreva loves his jets and things that go fast, just like Prince Henry.

  And Prince Ferdinand, my sweet, handsome Ferdie, loves me as much as I love him. I’ve never known anything for certain as much as I know this.

  He’s holding me by the hand as a taxi pulls up to the curb. It’s pissing down rain, and I let out an excited shriek as I dash out into the rain to jump into the cab. Ferdie deposits our bags into the boot of the car and trades a few words with the driver in his broken Japanese before sliding into the back seat next to me.

  “It’s been forever since I’ve been in a taxi,” Ferdie mutters to me as he adjusts his trousers.

  I flick his nose. “Welcome to the life of a commoner.” I’ve grown up with a life of privilege as well, so this is my first time in a taxi in a long while.

  Ferdie pulls me across his lap, which earns an unimpressed glare from the driver in the front, but nothing more than that. I giggle as he plants a kiss on my lips. “I’d be a commoner to be with you.”

  I raise an eyebrow as I stroke the side of his face. “Who says I’m the common one?”

  He lets out a manly groan and kisses me more passionately than before. I giggle more and screech as the taxi turns down the narrow, tight lanes of Tokyo.

  We came here wanting to run away from everything. Ferdie is always in the spotlight in Dubreva—he can’t go two steps in public without cameras clicking and speculations arising as to what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with.

  Which is a problem when you’re Alexandra Daae, daughter of William Daae, the Swedish Ambassador to Dubreva and human rights activist. I have my own share of cameras on me, especially since I know that Queen Victoria wants me to be engaged to the Crown Prince, Phillip.

  But Phillip isn’t my Ferdie. He doesn’t look at me like I’m the most important person in the world like Ferdie does.

  Like Ferdie is doing right now.

  “Think the paparazzi will find us here?” I murmur to him as the taxi continues to speed through Tokyo.

  “Nah.” Ferdie runs a hand up my bare leg, which is exposed because my dress is riding up a little higher than appropriate. His fingers move to my inner thigh, and I shiver at the delicious touch. He looks at me with smoldering eyes, promising what he’s going to do to me later. He’d better stop that, unless he wants to pay the taxi driver to wait while he makes love to me in the back seat. “Dubreva isn’t that well-known in most of the world. I doubt anyone here will recognize us.”

  “And what about speculation back home about Eric’s private jet being gone?” Because nothing says extravagance like a missing private jet. And if anyone saw the jet here…

  But of course, Ferdie thought of that, too.

  “They don’t follow the jets that closely,” he says confidently. “Even then, we’re in a city of 28 million people. And we are both…” —he flicks my nose— “...here as commoners. No one will find us, I promise you.”

  I sigh and settle against him, watching the neon lights through the windows. It’s my first time in Japan, and Ferdie and I have both been fascinated by it since we were little. Blame the old Japanese anime shows that made their way to Dubreva in our childhood.

  “I can’t believe we’re here.” I nuzzle into his shoulder. “This is perfect, Ferdie.”

  His chest rumbles beneath my ear as he chuckles. “I love it when you call me Ferdie.”

  I smile. “I thought you hated it.” After all, he told everyone time and time again while we were growing up not to call him that.

  “I hate it when everyone else says it. But when you do, it makes me feel like I’m yours.”

  I look up at him, at his eighteen-year-old face, and trail my fingers down his jawline. His gaze darkens, and I seriously think that we won’t make it to the hotel. “You are mine. Ferdinand. Ferdie. Whatever you choose to call yourself.”

  “How about your husband?” he asks.

  I blink in confusion at him, wondering if he’s serious. “What?”

  He licks his lips, suddenly nervous. “I don’t have a r
ing or anything prepared, and I know we’re only eighteen, but...Lex...I don’t think I can wait. And I don’t know what will happen, whether or not my aunt will be all right with this arrangement because she wants you with Phillip, but…”

  I kiss his lips. “Yes.”

  He stops his babbling and stares at me in wonder. “Yes?”

  “Yes.” I kiss him harder again, and he lays me down on the seat as he explores my body.

  We don’t make it to the hotel room before he makes me cry out his name: “Ferdie!”

  The taxi swerves at that point.

  I wake up with a gasp.

  Early light filters in through the curtains, casting the room in a blue, hazy light. It takes me a few, panicked breaths to remember where I am. That I’m not fifteen years in the past and that I’m actually in the present. And I’m not in Tokyo.

  I’m in Washington, D.C, at my condo with James.

  My James.

  Not Ferdie. Never again Ferdie.

  “Just a dream,” I mutter. A dream, because I can never bring myself to call it a nightmare. Not with such happy times.

  I was so much more innocent back then.

  I sigh and comb my hands through my hair, which has gotten sweaty in my sleep. My legs are tangled up in the sheets, yet somehow, James has managed to sleep through all of my tossing and turning. He has always been a heavy sleeper, despite his time in the military. I glance over toward him, and I see the highlights on his skin even in the dimly lit morning.

  He’s oblivious about my past. Not because I’ve been purposely hiding it from him, but because when he and I first started dating, we promised to only move forward. There are pieces of both our pasts that we try not to bring into the present with us.

  I sigh and hold up my hand to examine the ring he gave me.

  Ferdie had given me a ring too. A very special one that commemorated our time together. I wonder whatever happened to it. I’m sure Ferdinand got rid of it. Hell, he probably forgot all about it. He’s some billionaire prince who is probably sleeping with a new woman every night.

  I try to ignore the twist of jealousy at the thought. I have no right to be jealous of him.

  The ring James gave me is beautiful and the diamonds sparkle hauntingly. I rub at it with my thumb, and the diamonds are still there. Last night, when James proposed to me—that wasn’t a dream. Coming home and celebrating our news over every inch of our condo—that hadn’t been a dream, either.

  So why am I dreaming about Ferdie during the happiest moments of my life?

  Because these aren’t truly the happiest times.

  I hate that voice in the back of my mind. The searing doubt that I’m making a mistake and will break both James’s and my hearts.

  I hug my knees to my chest and rock myself in an effort to comfort my doubts. Tears start to fall, and I silently sob to myself. James, bless him, sleeps through all of it, which I am forever thankful for, because I wouldn’t know how to start explaining any of this to him.

  I lay my head on my knees and take a long, deep breath to steady myself, when my eyes catch the glint of my phone on the side table. I pick it up and unlock it.

  I only need to see the date before I realize why I’m having such vivid dreams.

  In a week, it will have been fifteen years since my miscarriage.

  The day that I lost Ferdinand’s and my baby, and I broke off our secret engagement.

  “Fuck.”

  I freeze as I realize the date and its implications. I don’t think I’ve ever moved on from the pain and the hole in my heart from that moment.

  The doctor said it was unexplainable circumstances, that anything can happen during pregnancy. But I still wonder if it was a sign from higher powers telling us that we weren’t meant to be together. All of the sneaking around and the lies to our families. We should have known better. Ferdie would have lost his inheritance and his ties to his family for going against Victoria’s wishes. Meanwhile, I would have brought the wrath of Queen Victoria on my father and family if she knew what happened between Ferdie and me.

  It was my choice to break off our engagement. My choice, my life.

  My biggest regret.

  So why? Why, at this point when I’m happiest with James, am I having doubts like this?

  I think about my dreams. We’d been in Tokyo then, and it was the last time before this moment that I’d been truly happy.

  Maybe...maybe I need closure in my own way. Time hasn’t healed my heart. Maybe it’s time I try to find my own way.

  Maybe I need to go back to Tokyo to remind myself that those memories I have of Ferdie should remain in the past and not sneak into my dreams. They are just good memories, that’s it.

  The Alexandra Daae of the present is an entirely different person from the past. I’m fifteen years older, in my early thirties now, with fifteen years of hard work, choices, heartbreak, and laughter that molded me into the person I am today.

  One of my best friends is from Japan. Sachiko and I used to work together at the UN in New York, and we bonded as foreigners in a new country. Since she moved back to Tokyo about seven years ago, I’ve only seen her when she visited America for trips. I wonder if I could meet up with her in Tokyo and catch up. It would be a great excuse to see my friend.

  No, I tell myself. It is preposterous. Why would I need to go to Japan for closure?

  But I can’t shake the idea, and it keeps me up until James wakes up and we make breakfast.

  “Honey,” I say, the words leaving my mouth of their own accord. I move the scrambled eggs around my plate with my fork. “I just found out that I need to leave for Japan in a few days.”

  Not a lie, but I don’t tell him the full truth. I’ve told myself fervently that I shouldn’t need to lie to my fiancé, and as I watch the puzzled expression on his face and he stops chewing his eggs as he regards me, I mentally beg him to ask me.

  He only nods, trusting me to my core. “Okay.” He smiles. “That timing works out, because I have to go back to Salem for some work.”

  Beautiful, trusting James. I nod and spear some of my eggs. “Perfect timing, then.”

  Nothing in life is ever perfect, though. And no one knows this more than I do.

  5

  Ferdinand

  “What’s going on in that head of yours? Are you all right?”

  I blink at Phillip’s words and look back at my cousin, who is sitting in the chair across from me. We’re having another one of his therapy sessions, something he’s been having since he cheated on Cara and had a very public breakup. For a long time, he hated himself and exhibited signs of depression, however, he’s found a new sense of purpose and hope with his wife Jessica. Even though his own mother disowned him.

  He’s in a much better place than me.

  Hell, I’m not even sure why he still comes to sessions with me.

  And that’s what I tell him in answer to his question.

  “Yes, I’m just wondering why you’re still coming to therapy, Phillip.”

  “That’s what’s up?” My cousin gives me a wry look before sitting back with a chuckle. “Bullshit.”

  I shift my weight in my chair. “Bullshit?”

  He nods. “Yes.” He crosses his arms and looks me up and down. “In fact, I’d say that you haven’t been yourself since Henry had his baby.”

  Bingo, although I haven’t really been myself in fifteen years. “It’s been an interesting experience,” I tell him mildly. “Becoming an uncle. It’s been…”

  “Enlightening? Terrifying?” He sits forward and cradles his chin in his hands. “It’s gotten Jessica and me to talk about starting a royal family of our own. Or rather,” he adds under his breath with a snicker, “a royal family once-removed.”

  His voice is bitter, and I know it’s not from him losing the crown. It’s over his mother’s pettiness in disowning him. She doesn’t back down from a challenge, and I know that she views his choice in wife—a divorcée and the owner of the media outl
et that caused a huge scandal—as a challenge to her authority.

  Imagine what would have happened if I had ended up marrying Alexandra, her handpicked choice for Phillip.

  “Hey,” I tell him, “Your mother will come around. I promise you.”

  He chuckles mirthlessly. “Probably. More likely not. But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”

  “Actually,” I remind him, “we’re having your therapy session, so we’re technically supposed to talk about you the whole time.”

  Phillip shrugs. “Eh. I’ve been in a better headspace for a while now.”

  As I surmised. “I’ve told you that you are probably fine to spend this time doing something else, Phillip.”

  “And I’ve continued out of worry for you.”

  His words hit me like an eighty-ton weight. “What?”

  He gestures to me. “You’re so secretive, Ferdie.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Because it hurts to hear that nickname from anyone these days.

  “And before you were my therapist, you didn’t speak to any of us. Not really,” he adds, before I can correct him. “You were accessible, but you weren’t...there.”

  “I’ve had some stuff of my own.”

  He nods. “Look, I don’t know what happened to you. You went off to the military, didn’t come back for your mom’s cancer.” That cuts me to the bone, and I swallow self-consciously. “We all have our demons, Ferdinand. We all have our problems. And sometimes, we just need to talk about it.”

  I laugh despite myself. “So you’ve been coming to these therapy sessions—just to see me?”

  “Not just to see you. But because I worry about you. Eric and Henry and I all do.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I can tell you’re not—even beyond this past week. But this,” he gestures vaguely, “set off something in you. Something that you’ve buried and it’s occupying your mind.”

  He points, and I look down at my hands. I realize that I’ve been clicking my pen the entire time we’ve been speaking. How could I have been doing that and not realized it? How could he have been so calm with that noise? Because now that I notice myself doing it, I can’t stand it.