Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire Series Book 3)

  She’d called the day a success. Yesterday, his agreement would have hinged on whether it ended with him in her bed or not. There was still a very good chance that it would, but for now, having her by his side was enough. “Come, my father is waiting to meet us.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rachelle was all eyes as she and Magnus got out of a SUV in a large garage outside the walled area of a palace. The cars in it ranged from priceless to modest. “This is an odd entrance.”

  “Follow me,” Magnus said, guiding her to the back of the garage. He pressed in a code on a pad beside an elevator door.

  It was like something out of a spy movie. “It’s a secret passage, isn’t it? I knew this palace would be amazing.”

  Magnus smiled at her with indulgence. “Not everyone is excited by an elevator.”

  The doors of the elevator opened, but Rachelle paused before stepping inside. “My mother believed that money was what tore her marriage apart and was the root of all problems in our family.”

  “Do you?” He pushed a button to keep the door open.

  “I used to. I’ve decided wealth doesn’t change someone’s core, just like getting drunk doesn’t make a nice person into an asshole. But they both amplify certain characteristics.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Thank you for helping Eric. Some people would look at his life and think he has no right to be unhappy, but I sensed profound sadness when he came to Brett’s wedding. It scared me, because I didn’t know how to reach him.”

  Magnus placed his hand on her lower back and ushered her inside the elevator. “Well, he’s in the right place now to get help. I hope he chooses to.”

  “Me too.” The elevator opened to a long, well-lit hallway. “What is this place?”

  “You could call it a secret passage, but it’s not as secret as it is secure. Had we come through the front gate, we would have been met with photographers, and you would once again have been in the media.”

  “Linked to you.” Rachelle knew she wasn’t a trophy date, but it was a little insulting to be sneaked in a back door. “I understand.”

  Magnus swung her to face him, backed her against the wall, and leaned in. “This is my preferred way to enter the palace, because I don’t like every move I make to be on display, but if you wish, I will walk out the front door with you on my arm.”

  His breath warmed her cheek. The desire in his eyes made her wish they were alone. It might be easy for him to forget the guard who had walked ahead of them or the one who trailed behind, but they were not as invisible to Rachelle. Still, his mouth was painfully close to hers. The temptation to throw her arms around his neck and pull his mouth to hers was nearly irresistible. She croaked, “That won’t be necessary.”

  He leaned closer until his lips hovered just above hers. “If you’re having any doubt about how I feel about you, I’ll gladly spend the night showing you. And if you still aren’t sure, I’ll show you again in the morning.”

  Rachelle’s breath caught in her throat. A thousand witty responses would likely come to her later, but just then she couldn’t think of anything beyond how much she wanted to say yes to him—to every wicked fantasy being close to him fired in her. She bit her bottom lip, and her eyes began to close.

  He gave her a swift, deep kiss as if they were already lovers, then growled, “Why did I bring you here first?”

  “You said your father wanted to meet me.”

  “Oh yes. Originally I planned to introduce Eric to him.”

  “Is your father a fan?”

  Magnus kissed her forehead, then stepped back and took her hand in his. “My father is slowly withdrawing from everyone. I try to bring new people to meet him to force him to leave his bed.”

  “I’m so sorry. That can’t be easy. How old is he?”

  “Eighty. I came late to my parents. For a while the doctors believed my mother couldn’t conceive, but then I arrived.”

  “What would have happened had you not?”

  “My uncle, Davot, is next in line.”

  “Wow, so if you don’t have children, his family will rule Vandorra?”

  “Yes. Or if anything happens to me.”

  “Happens to you?”

  “History is full of ill-fated princes.”

  “Are you saying your own family would kill you for the crown?”

  He looked as if he might say more on the subject, but did not. “How did we get onto such a morbid topic?” They stepped into the second elevator. “When we enter the main hall, I will show you to a sitting room. My father said he is up to receiving guests, but I will confirm that before taking you in to meet him. I hope you understand.”

  “Of course.”

  As they rode upward, Magnus marveled at the calm of the woman by his side. She was neither preening herself nor fidgeting nervously, as many did. Not that he had brought a woman home in such a manner before, but he had certainly introduced women to his father in the past. Even though Rachelle had been raised modestly, it was obvious that she was accustomed to meeting people of influence, because she was more impressed by the idea of a secret passage than his title.

  When the doors of the elevator opened, Magnus nearly stumbled. The sight of his father, perfectly groomed and dressed in one of his finest suits, took him by surprise. “Father.”

  The king grinned. “Magnus, you’re late.” He gave Magnus a back-thumping hug completely out of character for his formal father.

  “My apologies, Father. The children’s hospital took longer than I anticipated.”

  His father looked Rachelle over. “You must be Rachelle Westerly.”

  Looking unsure of how to greet him, Rachelle stepped forward. “Yes, Your Highness, uh, Majes—”

  “You may call me Tadeas, at least while we’re not in public. Then Your Majesty will do.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” Rachelle held out her hand to shake his.

  Normally, the king held to the etiquette of not touching unless he initiated the contact, but he seemed to understand that Rachelle meant no offense. He clasped his hands around hers in a warm handshake. “An American rose, if ever I’ve met one. Just stunning. And a schoolteacher, too. I’ve always said intelligence is important in a woman.”

  Magnus knew before she opened her mouth that Rachelle could not let that comment slide. “One might argue that intelligence is as important as tact.”

  The king laughed heartily and released her hand. “A woman of spirit. I like her. As did everyone at the hospital.”

  Magnus was relieved to see his father up and showing interest in something. “The report traveled fast,” Magnus said lightly.

  “I’m still the king. I should know everything.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I’ve arranged for lunch to be served on the lawn overlooking the pond. The weather is perfect for enjoying the outdoors, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I suppose,” Magnus said slowly. He and his father normally dined in the smaller formal dining room when alone and the larger one when they entertained, although it had been a long time since his father had welcomed guests to the palace. Has he been double-dipping in his medication?

  As they made their way through the palace toward the door that would lead to the pond, Magnus watched his father closely, trying to determine the source of his unusually good mood. “Have you seen the doctor, Father? You seem different today.” Perhaps he’d been put on an antidepressant?

  “No. No doctor necessary. I feel too good to see one.”

  “I’m happy to hear that, Father.” Even though it was disconcerting to see a sudden, dramatic change in his father’s demeanor. Was this mania?

  Tadeas stopped and addressed Rachelle. “Your brother was unable to come today?”

  “He had an important meeting he couldn’t put off.”

  Tadeas arched an eyebrow at his son. “That’s disappointing.”

  They arrived at a table set for five. “Father, are you expecting someone else?”
Once his father sat, Magnus held out a chair for Rachelle, then took his own seat.

  “I am,” his father said, but didn’t elaborate. He turned his attention once more to Rachelle. “You have your grandmother’s eyes.”

  “You know my grandmother?” Rachelle asked.

  “We’ve met,” his father said. “Truly lovely woman.”

  Magnus was intrigued. He and his father spoke about nearly everything. “I don’t remember you ever mentioning her. How long ago was that, Father?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Rachelle gurgled, then choked on the water she was sipping. “Yesterday? You met my grandmother yesterday?”

  His father smiled. “She extended an invitation to join her for tea. Imagine, a woman bold enough to summon a king.”

  “That sounds like Delinda,” Rachelle said with a groan.

  “She has a passion for life that is invigorating, and a presence that makes a man sit up straighter. I did not think I could feel anything for a woman after your mother, Magnus. She took my heart with her when she died. But I feel twenty years younger today. The sun is shining brighter. Food tastes better. I have a lot to live for, Magnus, and it took meeting Delinda Westerly to remind me of that.”

  Magnus watched the blood drain from Rachelle’s face but felt no sympathy for her. Would her story be that she hadn’t known her grandmother was in Vandorra? He didn’t believe in coincidences. What did Delinda Westerly want with his father? Had she sent her granddaughter as a distraction? His temper rose, but he kept his expression carefully blank.

  Is my cousin coming for the crown again? If so, how would Rachelle and Delinda Westerly play into such a scheme?

  Oh, my little Rachelle, this changes everything.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rachelle tried to remain calm as she digested the news that her grandmother was in Vandorra. Delinda didn’t do anything without an agenda. She obviously knows I’m here. Why would she meet with King Tadeas? “Did she say why she’s in Vandorra?”

  When Magnus had described his father, Rachelle had imagined a frail, small man. The man seated at the head of the table might be thinner than Magnus, and his hair steel gray, but his shoulders were still square and his eyes as sharp as his son’s. He looked at his son while he answered Rachelle’s question. “She was concerned with a clip of video and a series of articles that followed it. After seeing the video myself, I completely understood. Of course, I promised our cooperation with repairing Rachelle’s reputation. I was disappointed, Magnus, to see how far you had allowed the story to go unchecked.”

  “It has only been two days, Father, and the video was obviously doctored. Nothing more than a splash in the media, quickly forgotten.”

  “Magnus, you know as well as I do that nothing is forgotten in this day and age. Mrs. Westerly is joining us for lunch so we may discuss how to best rectify the situation.”

  “Rectify?” Rachelle and Magnus asked in unison.

  “Ah, here she is now.” The king rose to his feet. Magnus did as well, and Rachelle followed suit.

  Magnus looked angry, but he kept silent.

  Delinda approached the table with her head held high. The king walked to meet her halfway and offered her his arm. Despite Rachelle’s irritation with her grandmother, she had to admit Delinda didn’t look at all out of place. Her pastel-blue dress and jacket were perfect for a formal garden lunch, as were her pearls. Rachelle felt distinctly underdressed in her slacks and blouse, but feeling inadequate around her grandmother was par for the course. Had Rachelle been offered a million dollars to cite a time when she’d done something her grandmother approved of, she doubted she could.

  According to Delinda, Rachelle had always been too thin, too sensitive, too concerned with the business of others. Although they had recently reconciled, for most of Rachelle’s life, Delinda had made no secret of her dislike of Rachelle’s mother. Rachelle thankfully had endured limited interactions with Delinda, but Eric had practically been raised by her. It was no wonder he had run half a world away as soon as he’d been able to.

  Magnus offered his hand in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Westerly.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Your Royal Highness,” Delinda answered smoothly, as if meeting royalty was part of her daily routine. Rachelle hadn’t doubted for a second that her grandmother would have impeccable etiquette.

  “Grandmother,” Rachelle said stiffly in greeting.

  “Rachelle,” Delinda said. No warmth rang in her tone, but Rachelle hadn’t expected any. Whatever Delinda said, she wasn’t there for Rachelle. The only reputation her grandmother worried about was her own.

  The king held out the chair beside him. “Please, sit beside me.”

  Even Rachelle knew that the king normally sat first, and the deference to her grandmother grated. The last thing Delinda needed was a larger ego. Once they were all seated, Magnus having held her chair for her, staff began to deliver bowls of chilled cucumber soup. Rachelle’s stomach churned from nerves, so although it looked delicious, she didn’t touch it.

  “Is Eric arriving late?” Delinda asked.

  The king answered, “Unfortunately, he had a meeting that could not be postponed.”

  Delinda pursed her lips, then turned her attention to Rachelle. “Your visit to the hospital went well this morning. Of course, I’d expect nothing less from Eric.”

  “He was amazing,” Rachelle agreed.

  “Public engagements can be difficult to navigate at first. I heard your son’s first visit at the children’s hospital was not as well received,” Delinda said to the king before taking a delicate sip of her soup.

  The king didn’t seem to take offense at the comment, but Magnus’s hand clenched beside his plate. “I heard the same,” the king answered.

  “Rachelle has a natural way with people, especially children.” Delinda looked across the table at Magnus in direct challenge, then back at his father.

  “I couldn’t agree more. My son’s public image would benefit from her softer touch,” the king said.

  “Father,” Magnus said between gritted teeth, “may I have a word with you alone?”

  His father frowned. “Magnus, we are in the middle of a conversation. Whatever you would like to discuss shall have to wait.”

  Magnus stood. “I disagree, Father.”

  “Sit down, Magnus.”

  Magnus remained standing. “Father—”

  The king rose to his feet and said, “Respect me, Magnus, or leave my table. You are not king yet.”

  Magnus and his father shared a long look that ended with Magnus returning to his seat. “Of course.”

  When the king was once again seated, he turned to Delinda. “My apologies. As my only child, my son has too often gotten his own way, and I have allowed it. It is time, however, for him to take on more responsibility.” He turned back toward his son. “We have spoken regarding you cultivating a humanitarian role. This is the perfect opportunity to do just that.”

  Wait, am I a humanitarian project? “I don’t understand,” Rachelle said aloud.

  Delinda remained surprisingly—or strategically—silent.

  The king said, “Rachelle, if it so suits you, do my son the honor of accompanying him on his next few public engagements . . . as a personal favor to me.”

  Rachelle’s eyes flew to Magnus’s. The same man who had talked about little else beyond wanting to get into her bed now looked put off by the idea of spending time in public with her. Part of her wanted to say yes, just to stick it to him, but she’d never been a spiteful person. It was, however, a wake-up call regarding how he actually felt about her. “Although I am flattered by the idea that I could help your son’s image, there are many better-suited escorts, I’m sure.” She hadn’t meant to stress that one word so bluntly, but she’d never been good at hiding how she felt.

  The king’s eyes narrowed with displeasure, all of which he directed toward his son. “Magnus, what have you done that a guest of ours would refuse
such an offer?”

  Delinda interjected, “Your Majesty, I’m sure the fault is not your son’s. My granddaughter has always been shy.”

  Shy? Really? I was doing fine before you arrived. I don’t need your help, and that’s what I’ll tell you the first chance I get.

  The king sent Magnus a pointed look.

  Magnus smiled, but it looked more like a baring of teeth. “Rachelle, it would be my pleasure.”

  No, it wouldn’t. You don’t like being forced. Neither do I.

  “It’s settled, then,” the king said. “I’ll have arrangements made. How long will you be in Vandorra, Rachelle?”

  Rachelle opened her mouth to say she wasn’t sure, but her grandmother answered for her. “She has taken a leave of absence from her job, so there’s no rush for her to return. I’ll remain as well. I do like to stay busy, though. Idle hands and all that.”

  “What sort of things do you like to do?” the king asked.

  “I would love an excuse to gather some of my dearest friends. I spent a great deal of time in Europe when my husband was alive. Do you know of anything coming up?”

  Slapping his hand down on the table, the king said, “It has been nearly twenty years since Vandorra has had a royal ball. Would you be interested in helping me plan one?”

  Delinda lowered her eyes as if she hadn’t essentially planted the idea, and Rachelle wished she could call bullshit right then and there. Delinda was neither meek nor unsure by nature, but she was playing so for the king, and it was working. “I haven’t planned a ball in years, and those were always charity events. Is there a local cause that could benefit from such a thing?”

  What the hell, if the crazy train was pulling out of the station, it might as well do some good. “The children’s hospital was looking for funding to build long-term housing for families.”

  “An excellent idea, Rachelle,” the king said. “Magnus, Mrs. Westerly and I will plan the ball. Why don’t you and Rachelle look into suitable housing locations near the hospital?”