The Royal Treatment: A Billionaire Prince Romance Read online

I glance up at the subway maps on the train. It’s a little bit out of the way. But not a lot. And it’s nearly noon. It would be a shame not to go the whole way to Tokyo Tower. LIve that experience for myself.

  Something compels me to do this. To complete this part of my holiday from fifteen years ago.

  “Thanks,” I say, giving them an appreciative nod. “Enjoying your time in Tokyo?”

  “Yes,” the mother says. She studies me for a moment. “Hey, you look a little familiar. Are you an actor?”

  I turn away to hide my smile. When Phillip and Eric had their big, public fight over Cara a couple of years ago, the worldwide news media ate that up and shared it with the whole world. The good news is that it helped to put Dubreva on the map. The bad news? People recognize us princes no matter where we are. “No. You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

  “Oh,” the woman says. “Right.

  I turn back to the map, and I realize that the train is at my stop for the hotel. I let the doors close, and I’m on my way farther down the train line, en route to Tokyo Tower. It’s an attraction for tourists and locals alike.

  “When in Rome,” I mutter.

  Or, in this case, Tokyo.

  12

  Ferdinand

  One thing can be said about Tokyo—it has tall stunning buildings with even more stunning views. I stand on the top deck of Tokyo Tower, facing west to see the snow-capped peak of Mount Fuji. Here, I’m reminded of the sheer scale of the world and how little the things that bother me have mattered in the grand scheme of things. Mankind has made its mark on the world, but there’s still so much of the natural beauty of the world to admire.

  Fuji is impressive. Seeing it from this vantage point, I make a mental note to take a trip out there if I feel up to it. And I damn well better feel up to it.

  The Australian family from the train are here, too, and even the kids are awestruck by the views from up there. I don’t want to interrupt or impede on their holiday, so I’ve been trying to keep to myself the whole time. I think the mother has finally recognized me, because at one point, she looks at me with wide eyes and her cheeks are flushed.

  I certainly don’t look or feel like a billionaire prince, but it’s hard to escape that when your reputation precedes you. I’ve been in the news far less than my brother or my cousins by design, but we all have the same look that comes from my maternal side of the family, the aristocratic blood.

  I couldn’t pretend to be someone else, even if I tried. Being older now, I realize that, despite the fantasies that I shared with Alexandra back in the day.

  The Australian family is long gone by the time I turn away from the window and head down to the main observatory and get myself a bite to eat, since it’s past lunch. It’s as I’m walking out that I notice the little shrine on this floor.

  It’s the fifteenth anniversary of my daughter’s death. While I’m not a religious man, the thought gives me pause as I wonder what the afterlife does hold for us once we’re gone. Would I ever get the chance to meet her? Does she watch us from wherever she is?

  Too many heavy questions for me.

  I swallow thickly, feeling that familiar twist in my gut as I drag my shaking fingers through my hair.

  I stand out in front of the shrine, like I’m transfixed by it. I don’t go in. Why would I, I don’t practice Shinto?

  But it takes every ounce of myself to turn away, like I’m walking with heavy, leaden boots. I practically tremble as I continue all the way down Tokyo Tower and out of the place. I feel like I need air. Like I’m having an out-of-body experience where all the guilt and anguish is on my shoulders.

  We were going to name her Elizabeth. After my mother. Funny how Henry has used that name for my niece now.

  “Shit,” I mutter as I realize that I must have taken a wrong turn. Somehow, I’ve ended up in a forested area with more tourists. No, not just a forested area. I realize I’m in a shrine or a temple right by the Tokyo Tower. I know there is a difference between shrines and temples, but I don’t know which one I’m in, being a foreigner.

  Only in Tokyo would I find something so traditional as a place like this right next to the utilitarian, modern architecture of Tokyo Tower. Here, everything is blended together to create something entirely unique.

  I also think about the coincidence of seeing a shrine up on the tower and then walking into another holy place. Do I believe in fate? No. But I can take a hint.

  I find the willpower within me to walk through the various parts of the temple, seeing the temple-goers walking around here. I get a sense of the age of this place, although I have no idea what this place is.

  For all I know, I’ve stepped into another dimension.

  And, then I believe I am dreaming as I stop and stare open-mouthed across the grounds of the temple.

  There, kneeling in the garden, my heart shudders to a halt as I see her. The ghost from my past made flesh.

  The woman I’ve been dreaming about for the past fifteen years.

  “Alexandra,” I whisper, almost in shock. Her name rolls off my tongue and leaves my lips like a prayer. I swallow back the lump in my throat, because it’s the only thing I feel as the rest of my body has gone numb.

  At first, I think it’s entirely insane to think that I could recognize Lex from her profile. I haven’t seen her for so long, and I’m not standing that close to her. But there’s the proud set of her shoulders, the elegant extension and movement of her hands as she moves. Her blonde hair is pulled up into an elegant, messy bun, and she’s dressed in all-black.

  It is her, though. I can feel it in my bones.

  She’s here. Lex is here.

  But what is she doing here? Here, in Tokyo, of all the places in the world? And at the same time I am.

  And then it occurs to me that there wouldn’t be any other place that she could be. Not on this anniversary. Not after everything that we lost. We’re tied together with a tragedy that we may never be able to heal from.

  I wonder if I should go to her. Say something to her. What do you say when you haven’t seen the one you love in fifteen years? Back then I was eighteen years old, unable to handle the heartbreak that came from losing my first love. I’d been ill-prepared for it, joining the Air Force in order to escape my past. Neglecting to take the time off to say good-bye to my mother. Hurting Henry. Turning my back on my country.

  So many things I could have fixed. But now…

  But now I may have a chance to repair one of those things.

  So I walk up to her. I don’t exactly know why I’m doing this. Deep down, I know that it won’t be like it was when we were kids. I don’t expect to rekindle my relationship with her, even though I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples at the sight of her—because, fucking hell, it truly is her!—but I can’t not say something.

  Although what I will say, I have no idea. I’ve fantasized about this for years now, and yet nothing is coming to mind.

  As I get closer to her, I realize she’s not alone. She’s speaking with a Japanese woman, who appears to be someone who is supporting her today. I’m glad. She deserves to have a shoulder to lean on. They’re both talking to each other in whispered tones.

  And then I see Lex reach out and tie a knitted, red piece around the statue of a little child that’s sitting in a row of hundreds of the statues. There’s a significance to this that I’m not catching. And perhaps if I were in a better mental space, I would be able to understand.

  But I don’t.

  All I can really do is stop and stare at her, marveling at her. Not only does she hold herself in the same regal manner, but she’s grown from a lithe, lanky teenager into an elegant, confident woman.

  “Alexandra,” I say again.

  Even though I’m about thirty feet from her, and we’re in this crowded temple, she turns my way. Our eyes meet.

  And my whole world shifts.

  13

  Alexandra

  I already miss Stockholm.

&nb
sp; It’s where I’ve spent all of my eight years of life, aside from the trips I’ve gone on with Daddy. I was just learning how to read in school. And now I have to go to a whole new school, speak a language I’m uncomfortable with, leave my friends behind, and try to make a new life in a whole new country that I’ve never been to before.

  All because Daddy is something called an ambass-o-door. I don’t know what that means, only that Daddy told me it was a big honor, and I’ve been given something that a lot of kids don’t get in their lives.

  Daddy’s always been like that. Gone for long stretches of time. Taking me to parties. Talking to very important people. He was so determined about this job that he and Momma argued over it sometimes.

  And then Momma died from her cancer three years ago.

  So I’ve never had a chance to be a normal kid. And that’s all I want right now.

  To be back home in Stockholm. With my friends.

  I stare out the window of the airplane as we circle a little island down below. I don’t see much of it. We left Sweden where it was cold and snowing. And here, I can see greenery. Like it’s still warm.

  “That,” Daddy says proudly, “is Dubreva. That’s where we’re going to live, älskling.”

  I press my hands against the plastic window so I can see it better. “That’s a whole country?” It looks so small.

  “That it is.” Daddy seems so confident and happy about this move. I squirm in my seat. It doesn’t look like there’s a lot that happens there. And my promises of my friends visiting seems to slip away.

  This is too far from anything I’ve ever been a part of in my whole life.

  I gulp back the lump in my throat. “I don’t like it.”

  “Come now,” Daddy says. “You haven’t even been there yet.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t like it. It’s not home.” It could never be home. “I need to speak English there, and I don’t have any friends.” Definitely not home.

  “Well, the queen has two sons who are around your age.” Daddy smiles. “Maybe they could be your friends?”

  It takes me a moment to think about what he said. “Did you say princes?”

  Daddy nods.

  “Like in the movies?”

  He chuckles and taps my nose. “Similar, yes. They’re just boys, though, and I bet they could use a friend like you.”

  “They wouldn’t want to do anything with me.” I cross my arms and turn away, pouting. He has to know that I don’t want to do this. That I just want to go back home and pretend like life is completely normal.

  “Alexandra,” Daddy says, and I look up at him. His voice is quiet, stern, but not as though I’m in trouble. More that he’s going to tell me something important and he wants me to listen. “Give it a chance. You may find that you like it.” I shake my head fighting back tears, but he sighs and continues. “For me?”

  I mull that over in my mind as we land and go through all of the different checkpoints. A man stamps my passport, someone else helps us with our bags. There’s a group of people waiting for us as we exit the airport, and Daddy talks to them. I’m too busy moping around and kicking at rocks to really listen to what they’re saying until I hear Daddy say, “To the palace, now? But we just got off the plane.”

  I look over to see who Daddy’s talking to, and it’s a very stuffy-looking old man who is wearing a suit. Daddy seems surprised and looks over my way, as if to see if it’s okay from me. I roll my eyes to tell him exactly what I think of it.

  “Queen Victoria insists,” the other man says.

  We’ve only been in Dubreva for a short while and already, the queen is ordering Daddy around.

  So we get into a limousine, and I can’t help but stare out the window as we drive down the tight streets of Dubreva. I start to think how weird it is that there’s a whole country here, because it doesn’t seem that big. Not like London or New York City, which I’ve been to before.

  No, this place seems much...different. Like we’ve stepped back in time. Everything looks so fancy and glittering, that I don’t even notice that we’ve pulled up in front of a big building with a lot of people waiting out front. Like they’re waiting for us.

  Daddy’s nervous, I can tell, because he doesn’t even smile at me as he takes my hand and we leave the limousine. Cameras flash as we step out, and I’m momentarily blinded by them as Daddy helps lead me up the steps.

  There’s a serious-looking woman in a dress waiting for us with four boys with dark hair, two who look like they’re much younger than me, like four years old, and two who look like they’re eight years old like me. They all look so much alike, I bet they’re all brothers.

  The tallest boy on the end is scowling, like he doesn’t want to be here. And I wonder what his problem is as our eyes meet and he looks away.

  “Your Majesty,” Daddy says in English, bowing stiffly. He tugs at my hand, and I fall into a clumsy curtsy. “To what do I owe the honor of being called to the palace?”

  He called the woman her majesty. Meaning that she’s the queen. But I thought Daddy said she had two sons, not four. So I look at them again out of curiosity, and the two young boys are snickering to each other while the boy closest to her looks uncomfortable in his suit but doesn’t say anything.

  The boy on the end, however, still gives me a dirty look. And I wonder what I did to make him so angry. I just got here, after all. He has no right to be angry with me.

  “William Daae,” the woman says in an accent that I’ve never heard before. She smiles warmly at him, and I look at her more closely now. “I wanted to be the first to welcome you to Dubreva. Your presence here has made headlines around the world, and I wanted to share my gratitude.” Her gaze turns to me. “And you must be Alexandra. My, you’re such a pretty girl.”

  I bow my head again, using what my daddy told me to do in formal situations. He never said I would have to do it in front of queens, too. “Thank you.”

  “Well, Alexandra, I’m so glad you’re here.” She looks at me for a moment longer before gesturing to the boys at her side. “These are my sons. Prince Phillip, the crown prince of Dubreva.” The boy nearest her nods. He seems to be boring. “And,” I see a muscle twitch in her cheek as she looks down the line at the younger prince next to him, who is giggling with the boy next to him, “that is Prince Eric, third in line for the throne. He’s speaking with his cousin, Prince Henry, the son of my sister, Princess Elizabeth.” It is going to get a little confusing keeping these princes straight, I realized. “And at the far end,” Queen Victoria says, elegantly pointing to the boy who still hasn’t stopped frowning at me, “is Prince Ferdinand.”

  I almost laugh out loud at the name but catch myself at the last moment. Not only would the prince hate me more for that, I would have gotten in big trouble. Yet, still I want to know why he hates me. There’s some big part of me that wants him to like me. After all, he doesn’t know me at all, and I want to prove that I’m a nice person.

  So I nod my head at him. “Pleased to meet you, Prince Ferd...ie.”

  I’m so nervous, I stumbled over his name, and it came out like that. I cover up my mouth but it’s too late. Everyone’s heard me. Prince Henry and Prince Eric start snickering and calling him that, and I can see Prince Ferdinand’s face grow bright red as he glares down at me.

  “It’s Ferdinand,” he says shortly, crossing his arms. “And don’t you ever call me that again.”

  “Ferdie?”

  My nickname for him escapes my lips, a nickname I never thought I’d say out loud again. But I do, and this is really happening.

  This is impossible.

  I’m seeing a phantom in front of me, standing here, as if he’s stepped out from one of my dreams. Ferdinand still looks like that boy I remember falling in love with, the dark hair, his dark brown eyes. He’s still tall, and there’s a hint of his muscles underneath his shirt and jeans. But he’s older now, with a tiredness to him that he didn’t have before, as if the past fifteen years have
been rough on him.

  I wonder if he’s having a similar thought about me.

  He certainly seems as shocked as I am.

  I glance back at the Jizo statue that I’ve just set in line with the other statues. He’s found me in such a vulnerable state, I don’t know whether to be offended, angry, or share what I’m doing with him. No, I won’t do the latter.

  I cross my arms and look back to him as other thoughts start to fall into place in my mind. “What are you doing here?” I ask. I lick my lips, struggling for words, for the exact question I want to ask. “How are you here? What…?”

  “I came for…” He hesitates and steps forward. I recoil and stumble back before I can help it. A pained look crosses his face, and he drags a hand through his hair. “It’s been fifteen years since...that day…”

  I swallow thickly. “I’m well aware of that.” I hate how defensive I sound.

  He looks at me, his expression a mask of sadness. “Of course you are, I just…” He scoffs and shakes his head. “I just came here because…”

  “Did you know I was here?”

  He stares at me for a long moment. “No. I had no idea. In fact, I’m only here because I got lost.”

  I blink. “You’re in Japan because you got lost?”

  “No.” Finally, a self-deprecating smile emerges on his face, and he chuckles. I forgot how handsome he is when he smiles. Time hasn’t changed that one bit. “I’m in Japan because I wanted to spend that anniversary here. I got lost coming through this place.” He lowers his chin, as if to say something, but then I notice that he’s caught sight of my engagement ring from James. Shit. And then I feel bad that my first thought is shit. Hell, I should be happy that I’m an engaged woman. Not ashamed of it in front of my past lover.

  He swallows thickly before averting his eyes and then indicates the temple with a sweep of his hand. “What is this place, anyway?”

  “It’s a temple,” I tell him, unable to take my eyes off him. What are the odds that he would feel the same need to come to Japan at the same time I did? And that, in a city of thirty million people, we would bump into each other?