Only Love With A Billionaire (Only Us Billionaire Romance Book 4) Page 2

  “So if I marry, I can keep my title but still have no power.” Because Oliver was the firstborn, Ava was essentially a princess in title only. However, because Beatriz became her guardian, she’d lived a royal life in London, complete with privileges and responsibilities.

  “But if I died...”

  “Stop talking about if you die,” Ava said.

  “It’s just a precaution, but we couldn’t have the people without their ruler again. I don’t want that for them. Nor do I want someone who doesn’t understand the requirements of the leadership role stepping in and bungling up what we’ve worked hard for in Concordia. Not just anyone is qualified to lead one of the wealthiest nations in the world, especially not Genevieve.”

  “If she proves to be a relation,” Beatriz added.

  “And I am qualified?” Ava asked.

  “You’d do a better job than me,” Oliver grumbled.

  Beatriz clicked her tongue again. “That’s debatable. Ava has a tendency to wander.”

  Ava’s eyebrows shot up, surprised by that turn in the conversation.

  “Of course, I know about your solo trips, including backpacking around southeast Asia and your forays without minders, security, or any of the precautions a princess is obligated to take.” Beatriz’s expression was pinched.

  Ava’s jaw had started to lower, but she pressed her lips into a thin line, hiding her shock. She should’ve known the queen would have been wise to her adventures.

  “Unless you have an eligible nobleman in mind, we will arrange courtship as we did for your brother.” Beatriz pushed her teacup away.

  Ten kinds of protests were on Ava’s tongue, but as if on cue, Penny walked into the room.

  The line around Oliver’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “It worked out for us.” He got to his feet and embraced his queen.

  Almost low enough for only Penny to hear, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

  Penny gave a small and private smile.

  “Yes, it worked out for you, but you fell in love,” Ava said.

  “Maybe you will too.”

  She had been in love once.

  Unable to bear the news and what it meant a moment longer, she rushed from the room. The scent of something baking drew her down the hall. As if she were twelve years old all over again, she ducked into a secret passage that led to the palace kitchen. It was then that things were easier, less complicated. However, that had all changed when she’d fallen in love and had her heart broken.

  There was only one solution when feeling troubled. Chocolate.

  As she emerged from the passage and into the corridor adjacent to the kitchens, the outline of a tall man with broad shoulders filled the doorway. Even with his back facing away from her direction, she’d have recognized anywhere the tilt of his head and that particular lean of his with crossed arms. But she certainly wasn’t expecting him, not then and not there.

  She blinked her eyes a few times to let them adjust from the dim light of the secret passage. It was like she was seeing a ghost. Or maybe a ghoul aware of her past haunted her. Perhaps someone privy to the news she’d received and what it meant for her future decided to prank her. Unlikely.

  But it couldn’t be him.

  She’d been in love.

  He was the one.

  She’d waited for him.

  He’d betrayed her.

  As he slowly turned in her direction, she froze. It wasn’t a ghost or a prankster.

  It was Henry Park.

  He was very much alive because only his handsome face could make her chest swell and her blood boil in equal measure.

  Chapter 2

  Henry

  Henry Park was trained to respond, to react, and to assess any situation no matter how dangerous or difficult and spring into action. But for the first time in his life, he was stuck, glued to the threshold of the palace kitchen doorway as Ava stood at the other end of the hallway.

  The light shining at her back cast her curves in a silhouette. But there was no mistaking it was her. When had Ava gone from being a girl to becoming a woman?

  First, there was eye contact. The golden flecks in her eyes sparkled. They always had, though usually with mischief and mirth. He bit the inside of his cheek because what he deserved and knowing her what was likely coming, was a spark of anger.

  Second, she ran her fingers through her flaming red hair. When they were younger, she’d twist the end when she was nervous or uncertain. But brushing her hair back and tossing it over her shoulder meant war. He probably deserved that too.

  Third, he’d recognize her pouty lips anywhere even though it had been a decade since he’d last laid eyes on them. He’d thought about them for years, dreamed about them, and fantasized too.

  She was his first kiss and if things had been different, his only kiss.

  Upon setting foot in the palace after a ten-year absence, memories that had been better left tucked away flooded back. Henry was a master of disguise, had the ability to remain cool, steely, and impassive, but his heart lurched in his chest and his insides twisted at the sight of the princess.

  They remained fixed in their positions on either end of the hall, unmoving, locked in place.

  It was like they were having a stand-off, preparing to duel. The air went still. The kitchen sounds seemed to fade.

  She took a step closer and he followed. Or perhaps it was like a dance, each of them recalling their moves, the rhythm of the other, the cadence of a private dance only known by people as close as they’d been.

  The space closed between them and soon they were toe to toe. If it had been ten years previous, they would’ve also been eye to eye, but Henry had a late growth spurt and grew over three inches before he left his teens. Perhaps it was the freedom beyond the confines of the castle that prompted him to outgrow the space he’d previously inhabited. Like a goldfish tossed from bowl to sea.

  “Hello, Henry.” Ava spoke first. Reliably, she was the brave one.

  Although he was no stranger to danger, she’d always intimidated him.

  “Hi, Ava.”

  Her eyebrow lifted and her chin tucked back slightly as though she was surprised and intrigued but couldn’t decide which. Perhaps she was daring him to explain himself. He couldn’t. He’d sworn an oath of secrecy.

  “I hear your brother officially became King of Concordia.”

  She snorted, almost imperceptibly, but he’d been trained in reading the slight shifts in a person’s demeanor, to capture their meaning, and to respond accordingly.

  “Congratulations to him,” he added.

  She leaned in, glaring. “You’ve been keeping up on royal news then?”

  He nodded. That was but part of his job, but of course, she didn’t know that.

  “Then you’d know—never mind.” She cut herself off.

  If there was news or gossip, it was likely to make the papers both physical and online before the day’s end. That was how it worked with the royal family. Their laundry was routinely washed in public, though it was rarely dirty.

  “My apologies, Princess Ava, how have you been?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that was the wrong thing to say. Then again, he never could resist seeing her riled up. However, usually, he wasn’t the one to cause it. More often than not, it had been Oliver. They got along as well as siblings could, but he’d foil their plans for one prank or another and get them in trouble with nannies, tutors, and Livingston.

  “Princess Ava?” She scoffed. “How have I been?” The way she punctuated the questions indicated he may as well have been speaking another language. In fact, when it came to their relationship princess was a foreign word. She’d forbidden him from using her title or other formal address. She’d always just wanted to be normal. Growing up and well into their teens, he’d never had to ask how she was. He knew day and night because they had been inseparable. In fact, if she were glum, he was too. If she were happy, ditto for him. They could read each other’s thoughts, emotio
ns, and had the kind of bond he’d never imagined could be severed.

  Until he’d broken it.

  “Well, Henry, let me see. I’m—” She searched the hallway at his back. “I’m hungry. I came down here to find something sweet.” But all she tasted was bitterness.

  She’d changed but not so much that he couldn’t tell that something was bothering her beyond his surprise reappearance. Memories flooded back of them pilfering more than their share of sweets from the palace kitchens over the years. No, Ava sought out chocolate when the palace bubble, as she’d called it, threatened to close in on her.

  “Oh, and I’m angry,” she ground out.

  There she was, the fiery, feisty, and always honest Ava.

  And he was sorry. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the simple words because she deserved more than a pithy apology in the hallway.

  He expected her to storm away, but she remained rooted there in front of him. Her chest heaved slightly as though she was out of breath. Perhaps she was fighting the war in her head, sparing him her full wrath, considering the circumstances that brought him back to the palace and to the kitchen specifically.

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot on the floor as though waiting. When he didn’t speak, she said, “Okay. Yeah. I get it, Henry. I’m not worth an explanation.” The words were clipped. “I’ll go see what your father has baked today.”

  That wasn’t likely. She must not have known what brought him back to the palace.

  At the same time as she moved to huff off, he started to shift aside, but she stepped in the same direction. He moved opposite to grant her passage, but she also slipped in that direction. It was like they were dancing then, except in an awkward, ungraceful way. They each moved again and he accidentally stepped on her foot.

  “I’m sorry,” Henry said.

  The words tripped her up. Again, she froze.

  Their eyes met. Hers flamed. His softened, surprising him.

  Apparently, she was the only person who had the ability to force him to let down his guard. He’d have to inform his training team in case he was ever taken into enemy custody and she was used as collateral.

  “You’re sorry?” Her voice was a whisper.

  He knew that’s what she’d wanted to hear. What she needed to hear and more. But it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t give her the full explanation so he reasoned she was better off without one. She was creative. She probably came up with numerous stories outlining his disappearance. All of them could be true. After all, ten years had passed.

  “I’m sorry I stepped on your foot,” he said.

  “Sir,” a palace aid called. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I urge you to hurry along. Your father may not be conscious for much longer.”

  Henry couldn’t bear to meet Ava’s eyes. Not because he hadn’t corrected her when she’d assumed that his father, David Park, the renowned and master baker at the palace, had not been in fine health and baking in the kitchen as he’d done for years. No, it was because Henry had finally returned to the castle, but it wasn’t for her. In his line of work, he couldn’t risk their involvement. A princess dating a spy? A princess dating a commoner? A princess dating the guy who’d broken her heart? There was too much at risk. But his father was dying. The old man had nothing left to lose. So Henry had returned.

  “Sir,” the palace aid repeated.

  Henry followed him down the hall and away from the kitchens to the staff quarters. Once more, he left Ava standing there, waiting. But at least that time her bags weren’t packed.

  There were numerous reasons Henry had avoided the palace. One was because he’d betrayed Ava. Another was his father. The two people he’d loved most in the world had received little more than his absence.

  Of course, David, his father, had tried to reach out, to mend things. In contrast, Ava had punished him with the silence he’d deserved.

  The familiar room he’d shared with his dad when he was growing up smelled the same: sugar, butter, and flour—his father’s signature scent. But it was cut with something else: sickness, hopelessness, and helplessness.

  Although Henry’s father’s chest still rose and fell with breath, Henry was too late. He’d slipped back into unconsciousness. Something the doctor had said was common at that stage.

  The mountain of a man who’d spent his life dedicated to all things confectionary and royal lay still, silent, and gaunt in the single bed he’d leaped out of every morning at three a.m. to get started in the kitchen.

  He’d return at six a.m., part the curtains, and leave his son a warm scone, muffin, bun, or another treat of the day. He’d listen intently to Henry’s adventures in the castle, his woes at school, and later, his confusing feelings about his best friend—Ava.

  They’d gone from pals to something more and Henry wasn’t sure how to navigate it. David assured him that love would always win. But that hadn’t been true for his parents. It wasn’t true for him.

  Henry fought between sitting down and leaving. He wanted to talk to his dad but at the same time didn’t want his father to open his eyes. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to see the man living and breathing, but because he didn’t want to face the disappointment that he was sure to have caused.

  David Park had given his all to the royal family and to his son: mostly so Henry could have the best life possible. He was such a masterful baker, the coordinator for employment, positions, and stations at the palace had offered David the esteemed role, including room, board, and a lifetime benefits package, including healthcare. David bargained to have his son included in the deal.

  From the age of four, so as far back as he could remember, Henry Park lived in the palace but wasn’t royal. He received haircuts from the royal stylist, the same meals as the noble residents, and access to all the palace privileges available. He soon became inseparable from the princess, a bit of a nuisance to the prince, and a terror to the staff—but that was mostly Ava’s influence. She liked to muck around. She loved to laugh. She was a spitfire. When it came time for them to go to school, he could’ve remained in the palace study with her and the tutors, but his father insisted he go to public school.

  That was when he’d learned that there was palace life and real life. He and Ava started to resent the bubble they lived in and dreamed of places farther afield.

  In that familiar room, Henry’s eyes landed on a framed image of his father’s native Scotland. Before that, his grandfather had moved from Korea and married a Scotswoman. He’d never known his own mother or many of his other relatives. Perhaps she was somewhere in that landscape. Part of him longed to know more about her, but likely it’d just cause more pain.

  The royals and staff were his family. By and large, they’d all accepted him even though he was just the baker’s son.

  “Just the baker’s son,” he muttered.

  His father was right to feel disgrace. David had given his son everything he could. Ava had done so too. In return, he’d given them worry, fear, and sadness, no doubt.

  Oh, and he gave Ava, anger. But that was to be expected. She was a fiery one.

  David, on the other hand, was a gentle giant. He had the patience of a man who’d wait an entire day for croissant dough to proof because that was the way it was done. He had the patience of a man who’d wait for his son to return before dying.

  Henry rarely got emotional, but he gripped his father’s frail fingers to hold himself to the moment or else he feared he might drift away.

  He’d assumed everything would be the way he’d left it. In many ways the palace was a time capsule: the paintings never changed, just dusted. The furniture never moved, just polished. But the people: they were older and his father especially so.

  Henry had traveled the world, doing meaningful work: protecting queen and crown, but he hadn’t been able to protect the people closest to him, who’d loved and trusted him the most. At least not from himself. He’d thought leaving and making a clean break would’ve been e
asier and safer for everyone involved. Never mind the fact that his grounds for leaving were less than honorable. But he’d never been able to explain, at least not to Ava. There hadn’t been time. It was too risky.

  David shifted lightly in his sleep. Henry squeezed his hand gently, but the man didn’t stir further. Likely, he’d take his son’s secret to the grave. But hopefully, before that, the two could reconcile.

  In the meantime, he’d find Ava.

  Chapter 3

  Ava

  Ava stood in the hallway by the kitchens for longer than she would’ve liked to admit. When she and Henry were going to run away together, she’d waited for longer than she’d ever tell anyone. In fact, part of her heart might still have been upstairs by the south wing door. But the rest of her was there, trying to make sense of Henry’s return.

  Why hadn’t she been alerted? Did the queen know? Oliver? Would she see him again? Did she want to? Anger fanned the flames but curiosity and compassion doused them. What had happened to Mr. Park, Henry’s father?

  She set foot in the kitchen, her original destination. She’d intended to pilfer Mr. Park’s pantry and the cooling racks to find something yummy and distracting while she figured out a plan of attack. She was not going to marry some arrogant, entitled, self-absorbed suitor.

  She almost laughed. The description sounded a lot like Henry though he was not a royal suitor.

  The kitchen staff greeted her as was custom for the princess. After giving them a nod, she stepped back toward the door, having lost her appetite. She realized that the cookies, tarts, and pastries had tasted different lately.

  When she was a little scamp, getting underfoot in the kitchen and infuriating the queen to no end, she’d asked Mr. Park what made his cookies so yummy. He told her he made them with love. It wasn’t the answer she’d expected from the large man with hands as big as his mixing bowls, with a voice as deep as the vat of flour, and a smile and frown that were equally robust.

  How long had he been ill? Was it bad enough that it summoned Henry back after so many years? She needed to figure out a solution to the thou-shalt-marry rule her brother and the queen sprung on her, but of more immediate importance was finding out what was wrong with her favorite baker and figure out a way to make him healthy again.