Only Love With A Billionaire (Only Us Billionaire Romance Book 4) Read online

  Only Love with a Billionaire

  Only Us a sweet billionaire romance series

  Book 4

  by

  Ellie Hall

  Only Love with a Billionaire

  Copyright© 2019 Ellie Hall

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author/publisher except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Nova Bookish https://www.etsy.com/shop/Novabookish

  Website: http://www.elliehallauthor.com

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Let's Connect

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  Chapter 1

  Ava

  Princess Ava of Concordia had it all: a noble title, she co-owned a castle in Concordia, and took residence in Burklingham Palace in London. She had access to a life of prestige and adventure, delight and ease. Not to mention, her wardrobe was fabulous.

  However, there was one thing missing, or rather person, she never expected ever to see again. He’d disappeared, or rather deserted her, and she’d never forgiven him.

  Rarely did a day pass when some reminder of their childhood and teen years spent together didn’t bring up a mixed bag of emotions: nostalgia, loneliness, sadness, and worry on one end of the spectrum and frustration, disappointment, and anger—as red as Ava’s hair—on the other.

  She stuffed those feelings away, hid them deep down (or on the shelf behind her purses and handbags with labels like Louie Vuitton, Prada, and Gucci). Most days, and that one in particular, along with her Armani dress, she put on a smile and marched into the drawing room with her chin lifted and her shoulders squared.

  When she met her brother, Oliver, who was recently crowned the King of Concordia, and Beatriz the Queen of England, her expression shifted to something between wariness and interest—eyes narrowed and eyebrow arched.

  They spoke in hushed tones until Livingston, the butler, announced Ava’s arrival. She sensed they wanted her to do something—very rarely did they enjoy cups of tea with no strings attached.

  Would they want her to attend a charity event? Participate in a boring meeting with other nobles, or gently remind her that she wasn’t married? Not that she was above those duties; she valued her role as a princess and was grateful for her position and influence—at least, that’s what she told herself. Like the big thing—person—missing from her life, she stuffed her true feelings away. However, those she hid among her sizable shoe collection—instead of with the purses.

  Oliver and the queen straightened, exchanged a quick glance, and turned to Ava. Actually, her brother didn’t put the pressure on her in the marriage department. It was her guardian, the queen, who seemed to want to marry her off.

  By commoner standards, Ava was far too old to have a guardian, but when her parents had tragically died when she was too young to remember, she was put into Queen Beatriz’s care. For that reason, many people thought she was British Royalty. After all, she’d grown up in the London palace and for all intents and purposes appeared to be a member of the local gentry. However, her parents were the previous King and Queen of the small but extremely wealthy northern nation of Concordia, where her brother and Penny recently replaced her parents’ role after many years of mourning as per custom.

  Oliver had to marry to take the position and had endured a process of courtship with various royals-in-waiting. Although Ava was a princess in title only, she was relieved she wasn’t forced into any such union.

  Livingston, the long-standing—and at least when Ava was younger, long-suffering—head butler, poured her tea. When she adjusted her napkin, he nearly flinched as though preparing for a blow of some sort. Of course, Ava had never punched him, but he’d endured more than a few pranks at her hands. It wasn’t that she alone was naughty growing up. She and her best friend aka her accomplice were naughty together. On their own, they were perfectly well-behaved children. Put them in the same room and they were a pair of menaces. But it was all in good fun and rarely involved anything that could’ve been dangerous—except that one time with the olive oil and bag of marbles.

  The extent of the pranks aimed at poor Livingston must’ve resulted in a post-traumatic disorder. Ava made a mental note to do something kind to make it up to him. After all, it had been a decade since she and her partner in crime had taped a toilet seat shut, replaced his shaving cream with toothpaste, or swapped out his fiber pills.

  Ava hadn’t changed entirely. She still longed to travel the world (and had made a few solo trips, flying under the royal radar).

  She was well-known for laughter (though, those days it was rarely at anyone else’s expense).

  She was fiercely loyal (and was thankful for the people who’d become her family after her parents passed).

  She had a whip-smart tongue and didn’t take any nonsense (it was a second child thing).

  “Good morning, Oliver. Your Majesty.” Ava nodded and smiled. Also, being the second child, she refused to indulge her brother with any formal forms of address. Sure, he was her king, but he had also been afraid of monsters under the bed when they were growing up (she may have instigated that a bit), had caught him picking his nose more than once, and they were as close as siblings could be—best friends, in fact. Had she been queen, she wouldn’t have expected him to refer to her by anything other than her name or one of his numerous nicknames for her: Avie, Avey-wavey, Tater Tot, and the list went on.

  The queen sipped her tea.

  Ava’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. She’d spent much of her life in the queen’s company and had taken to reading her mood based off her greeting the way fortunetellers read tea leaves.

  A simple good morning meant the opposite.

  An inquiry into how Ava was doing indicated that it was indeed a good morning and the queen was burden free and could chat.

  Silence meant something was afoot.

  As for Oliver, he cleared his throat. Never a good thing.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Oliver repeated the throat clearing and then said, “I regret to inform you Uncle Garfield has passed away.”

/>   It took Ava a moment to place his name on the family tree, of which she had three. There was her actual biological family, consisting of Oliver and Uncle Garfield. There may have been a few other distant relations, but they’d never been accounted for.

  There was the British royal family tree, which she’d become unofficially part of when the queen took her into her care, and of course.

  There was also the tree including friends who’d become like family—though one of the branches had broken off a decade previous.

  Ava sighed. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

  “The authorities in Western Australia, where he’d made his home on the beach, have been in touch.”

  She’d never met Garfield but had heard stories about the old, sunbaked relation. “He was the beach bum, right?”

  Oliver tilted his head from side to side. “Unfortunately, a rogue wave took him out to sea. They recovered him, but per his wishes, his remains are to remain in his adopted country.” Once more Oliver cleared his throat as he explained the delicate situation.

  “At least, now you don’t have to worry about him trying to seize the throne.” Ava was never one to dance around difficult things. She just avoided them or plowed right into them—for her, there was no in between.

  “As if that had ever been a threat,” the queen said quietly.

  Ava tried not to smile. It was true. Their uncle, who could’ve become the leader of one of the wealthiest nations in the world, preferred beach life. She shrugged. Who was she to judge? Although she took her duties seriously, she’d rather explore the world than be stuck in the palace or in an office day after day.

  Oliver shifted uncomfortably. “This also means—” He paused to clear his throat.

  “Do you need some water or fresh air or something? Enough with the throat clearing.” Since becoming king, Oliver had become more careful around his sister.

  He pressed his hands against the table. “Ava, this also means you’d take the throne if anything happened to Penny and me.”

  Ava’s brow wrinkled. Her eyes narrowed further. She tilted toward him. “Pardon?” The words if anything happened to me blindsided her. Her mind fogged over with the memory of their parents’ passing. She’d never considered anything ever happening to Oliver. Although he’d been a little wild during his college years, he was her solid and reliable brother.

  If she was stuck in a Mongolian jail, he’d have come to her aid (it had almost happened once, during her college years).

  If she had bad dreams (like when she was little, he’d talk to her until she fell asleep).

  She could trust him with anything, including her life (he was trained in defense and survived after a train crashed into a ravine; she knew he’d come through).

  However, he’d changed since he took the throne. Lines appeared around his eyes that hadn’t been there before and a heaviness took place of his laughter and usually smiling face—a heaviness even though he was as fit as ever.

  It was impossible for Ava to think about tragedy befalling her brother and sister-in-law. They were her family.

  “This is part of my role as king that I do not like.” Oliver folded his hands.

  “I agree, it’s tragic to think about Uncle Garfield, never mind anything happening to you,” Ava managed to say at last.

  Oliver shook his head. “No, I mean this next part.”

  The queen set down her teacup, tapping in for Oliver when he hesitated. “According to Concordian law, within six months of crowning, the heir to the throne, if a direct relation to the current king or queen, must be married or else they forfeit their rights of succession should something tragic befell the current reigning monarchs rendering them unable to rule.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t follow.” Ava tried to back up a few words but couldn’t parse them out.

  “In plain English, you’ll lose your title unless you find a suitable match and marry by the end of the month,” Oliver clarified. Before Ava could protest, which she was about to do, Oliver said, “This is the part of my role as king that I do not like.”

  “I thought you said something about six months,” Ava said, turning to the queen as the meaning caught up to her.

  She shrugged like a month and six were roughly the same thing. “I’m still familiarizing myself with all the details of Concordian law and this little detail slipped through.”

  “Do you mean this little detail of me getting married or else I lose my title?”

  “Not just your title, you lose everything.” Beatriz’s lips dipped into a frown. “Including me as your guardian. That means you’d be on your own. A commoner. We’d only be able to see each other by appointment per the laws of my country.” Beatriz, a stolid woman who was practiced in masking emotion, blinked her eyes a few times as though the notion saddened her.

  Ava hadn’t realized she was holding her breath and let out a long exhale. Rarely, was she at a loss for words. She studied the eyelet table cloth. Actually, she wasn’t at a loss for words. She used the one her nannies said was her very first word. “No.”

  “No?” Oliver asked.

  “No, I won’t do it. Oliver, you’re king. Can’t you just change the rules? Strike it from the record. Surely, we can figure out a way for me not to get married, retain my title as a princess, and I can go on my merry way.”

  “I can’t just go changing things around for your benefit. This is in place to protect the throne. You know full well that in Concordia the king and queen come as a pair. That’s the way it’s always been. It’s a safety measure and a practical way to always have two leaders available to pick up slack for the other during difficult seasons. Two minds to meet and agree upon things. A team. It’s a great gift enacted by our ancestors.” Oliver’s words were as dense as the Concordian mountain range.

  “It feels more like a punishment,” Ava retorted. She was in a full-on pout, which everyone who knew her understood only led to one thing: debate. To Ava, debate was like a sport she prided herself on always winning.

  Oliver probably anticipated this. “Believe me, I've looked into changing the rules. If I did so, I'd also have to step down because it would be a grievous display of nepotism. I can’t favor you just because I feel like it. We, the former king and queen's children, come as a pair. Father didn't have siblings so he didn't have to deal with this. But if anything ever happened to me and Penny that would mean you'd step into the position as queen. You're like my Deputy Prime Minister, my Vice President. My VIP VP.”

  He was trying to make light of the situation, but she felt shocked, bowled over, confused. On the one hand, losing her title meant freedom. She could go and do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. She’d lose her title, which wasn’t of utmost importance. Rather, losing her relationship to Beatriz and Oliver, along with the rest of the cast of palace characters—as she’d come to think of them—was devastating. Not to mention she was loyal to Oliver, to her country and took pride in being of service, helping those in need, and contributing in a positive way.

  “Well, I’m not feeling very important,” she mumbled, struggling with what to do.

  “Just don't try to kill me off so you can take the throne.” Oliver barely smiled at his own joke.

  Ava quickly shifted from glum over the news to seeking a solution. “What would happen if I declined and something—?”

  “If you decline marriage and something happens to me the throne would sit empty again. I couldn’t stand doing that to the people.”

  “After the untimely death of your parents, the Concordian King and Queen, the custom was for the throne to remain empty and the country in mourning for the combined number of years the royals had served. It wasn’t until that time was up, could the heir, Oliver, be married and be crowned,” Beatriz explained though it was hardly necessary.

  Ava knew all of that and she’d done the math plenty of times. Oliver became king at age thirty. Then she calculated something else. “Wait, so if you produce an heir, I can get out o
f this?”

  “We only have a month, Ava,” Oliver said, wiping his brow. That heaviness seemed to settle over him again.

  “There is an alternative and it’s...” Beatriz trailed off. “I’ve had my best people on this. We found Emma and Penny so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that there are other potential successors. We haven’t confirmed it one-hundred percent, but there might be another relation...”

  Ava listened intently.

  “And she isn’t exactly friendly...” Leave it to the queen to throw a wrench into the works.

  “So you sought out an adversary?”

  “I couldn’t ignore the possibility when exploring the family tree, but she was keen on the possibility too and has since targeted us.” Beatriz slid a folder to Ava.

  She opened the flap and on top was a photo of Genevieve Dickerson of Flushington.

  “I suppose we shouldn’t have made an enemy out of her.” The queen clicked her tongue.

  Ava steamed with anger. “Why’d you have to go and make an enemy out of her?” she spat at Oliver.

  “I’m pretty sure you took part in that as well,” he countered.

  The siblings bickered over whose fault it was they’d gotten on Genevieve’s bad side.

  Beatriz smoothed the panels of her royal blue suit jacket. “I, for one, have no problem admitting that I dismissed her from the castle. Be that as it may, if she proves to be a direct relation, she’ll have the opportunity to rule Concordia. That is, if something happens to Oliver and Penny, heaven forbid.”

  “Knowing Genevieve, if she were queen she’d probably hire a mobster to kill you off,” Ava said, no longer upset with Oliver but wanting to protect him. “She’d probably redirect institutional spending to her jewelry collection.”

  “And educational allocations to her own personal vacation fund.”

  The siblings stifled laughter.

  “It would be a disaster, which is why we need to find you a suitable husband,” Beatriz said gravely.