Only A Night With A Billionaire (Only Us Billionaire Romance Book 2) Read online

  Her nails weren’t manicured. Her fingers were rough like she wasn’t entirely accustomed to the pampered life of her contemporaries. He sighed, suddenly feeling irritable about the forced nature of the situation all over again.

  The next course passed in silence, mostly because there was hardly a moment when her mouth wasn’t full. Although he had other engagements that evening, they didn’t have to rush through it. In fact, of all the girls, he enjoyed her company the most, at least so far.

  When the footman cleared the table, she leaned back in her chair. “That was delicious.”

  “I take it you haven't eaten in a while, among company. I mean, in this way.”

  She straightened as though remembering her manners. “No, we had a, uh, dining hall at the boarding school and college and used trays. Food on trays. Nothing fancy.”

  “My friend Henry would always complain about the food at his boarding school.”

  “Cafeterias do have a bad reputation but didn’t you go to school?”

  “Tutors.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  “Where else have you been dining for the last decade, aside from cafeterias and your three favorite restaurants in New York?”

  “Those are for special occasions. Mostly, I cook for myself and bake. I love baking.”

  “I’ll have to introduce you to Henry’s father, he’s our head baker. I was always nipping buns from the kitchen when I was a lad.”

  Her cheeks flushed, nearly matching her pink dress. “Nipping buns?”

  “I mean biscuits, rolls, bread. I forget we have different names for things here.”

  “I’d love to meet him, uh, but I heard he’s been ill.” Penelope shifted uncomfortably, likely drawing up memories of her mother’s illness.

  “Yes, it’s terrible. I’m only hoping Henry will return soon.”

  “You were good friends?”

  “The best and not because his father was our master baker. We’d go exploring, riding, and have our own adventures. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, almost a decade.”

  “I win.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been away longer.” She cleared her throat.

  “What have you been doing while you’ve been away besides adventures, school, getting lost in dodgy parts of London, and sharing cookies with those less fortunate?” He found himself genuinely interested in her life beyond the palace walls—she’d somehow gotten past the figurative ones that hemmed him in with customs, formality, and expectations.

  She glanced around the room as though she’d find an answer there. “Reading.”

  He asked about her favorites: they were not the classics his tutors insisted he be well versed in. She preferred sweet romances with happily ever afters.

  “Well, we seem to have a bit in common. Baked goods, books, and we’re both orphans.”

  She nearly choked on a sip of water and when she set it down her expression was unreadable. Maybe she was trying to fight off emotion.

  “I miss my mother and father every day. But I have a lot to be thankful for, mostly your aunt.”

  “My aunt?” Her brow creased.

  “The Queen.”

  “Wait. Don’t tell me you don’t know the story. Golly, this is embarrassing.”

  She softened and leaned in. “No, Oliver, it’s not. Well, the only embarrassing thing is your use of the word golly.”

  She was flirting. He raised an eyebrow and a smile bloomed on his face despite the subject that still pained him. “They didn’t teach you about the family histories in the American school? No tutoring?”

  “Oh, um, well, I skipped that mostly.” Her lips quirked.

  Golly, she was adorable. He wasn’t expecting that.

  “You know, I had American movies to watch and American sports to play. I can take a header with a soccer ball, bounce it on my knee, and have a killer kick. But I mostly tried to forget about, you know, my other life.” She wrung her napkin between her hands. “I confess, I thought the queen was your mother.”

  “That would make us related since she’s your aunt so this—” He gestured between them.

  She broke into laughter. “Right. Of course. Silly me. I have terrible jet lag.”

  He found himself not wanting to talk about the past either or think about the future because it was unlikely the queen would allow their union. On paper, she met the qualifications with her royal blood, but in practice, she wasn’t quite as refined as would be required.

  Nonetheless, he found himself wanting to remain in the present, with her, for as long as possible.

  Chapter 5

  Penny

  Penny tried not to think about how she’d made a fool of herself during dinner and needed to brush up on proper dining etiquette. She added it to her list of research as well as the royal family tree. She’d always thought the prince was the queen’s son. Apparently, not? She still didn’t have a clear answer but as difficult as she found it to keep up the charade that she was Princess Penelope, she sensed he didn’t want to talk about the past.

  As the two settled in front of a crackling fire, her cheeks remained rosy as she shifted several times, trying to sit comfortably on the stiff, leather chair.

  “So, a lot has changed,” Oliver said, breaking the silence. “We’ve grown up. When exactly was the last time you were here?”

  “Yeah, a lot has changed,” she repeated. In Oliver’s presence her sixteen-year-old self took over and she was just as smitten with him as ever and couldn’t outright tell him a lie, never mind that she didn’t know the truth.

  She’d gathered from Aunt Beatriz that Penelope went away to boarding school in sixth grade all the way in the US.

  Penny tried to remember the exact moment she’d developed a crush on the prince. She’d seen a news report about him landing a plane in America. He was in his mid-teens and looked so handsome in his jumpsuit and aviator glasses. He waved to the gathered crowd, but then looked up to the sky as though marveling at what he’d just experienced. “I remember you got to help pilot a plane. You were so proud afterward.”

  “Proud and in shock, to be honest. I’d felt so free. The pilot, a member of the Royal Airforce, entrusted me with the controls. Yes, I’d taken lessons, hours and hours, but it was the first time someone treated me like I was actually a competent human being and not just the spoiled prince. It was also my first time in the States.”

  “From then on, half the girls there had crushes on you.”

  His chin lifted in her direction and he smirked with disbelief. “What only half?” He smirked.

  He was so charming and she felt drawn into the fantasy, drawn to him. “Three-quarters at least. You had, still have, major celebrity status.”

  He laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m amused, I guess. I didn’t know that.”

  She squawked a laugh. “Wait? You didn’t know you’re one of the hottest men alive.” It was true. Penny had the magazine declaring as much in her carry-on. She’d long since given up the crush but had needed reading material for the flight.

  “My roommate had a photo from a magazine of you on her wall. She’d kiss it every night before she went to bed.” That lie she didn’t mind telling. It wasn’t her roommate or even her sister, but her and something she hadn’t thought about in a long time.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “True story.” Mostly. “Oliver, when you announce who you’re marrying, you’re going to hear millions of women wailing. There will be a shortage of tissues and cardiologists around the world will be swamped with new patients.”

  His eyebrows bunched together in an innocently endearing way. He really had no clue. “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re going to break a lot of hearts.”

  “Not yours, I hope.”

  Penny leaned back in her chair and didn’t answer. The sticky situation she’d gotten herself in was sure to break something.

 
A bell chimed from the doorway.

  Oliver sighed. “I guess that signals the end of our date.”

  “Very prompt around here.”

  “I’m pretty sure the entire nation sets itself against the punctuality of the palace. The changing of the guards, the departure of the queen for her daily carriage ride.”

  “She still does that?” Penny recalled always watching when it would be televised in case she caught a glimpse of the prince.

  “Monday through Friday, fifty-two weeks a year.”

  “I admire that kind of dedication.”

  “I couldn’t imagine you wanting to stick to drudgery like that. You seem like the spontaneous type.”

  “I get up at the same time every morning, water my plants, go to work, floss every night…” Rather, she did.

  “Work?”

  The bell rang again.

  “I guess I can’t keep my other dates waiting.”

  “It’ll be a late night for you.”

  “At least it's only one dinner. I'll have dessert, tea, and then probably fall asleep for the last one. Hopefully, she'll forgive me.”

  “Dessert?” Penny asked. “I left that part off. Before I brush my teeth and floss every night, I always have dessert.”

  Oliver smiled. “Ring for a footman and he’ll bring you anything you’d like. Or you could—” Oliver leaned in and gave her super-secret directions for how to sneak into the kitchens. But she knew she was likely to get lost as she did earlier, which was what landed her in that wonderful predicament to begin with.

  But she couldn’t keep the left, right combinations straight anyway because with him so close, she was intoxicated by his scent: woodsy like cedarwood, fresh like bergamot, and minty too. She closed her eyes and inhaled.

  When she opened them, he reached for her hand. Like before, he kissed it. She lingered there, feeling warm all over and like she might swoon.

  But the bell rang a third time, the door opened, and she was ushered from the room. She practically floated down the hallway on the heels of a footman, guiding her back to her suite. But the farther she got from the intimate dining room, she deflated, feeling crestfallen.

  She was supposed to be a baking apprentice and not impersonating a royal. She scolded herself and promised she’d spend all night, if she had to, finding a place to stay and figuring out how to come clean to the queen…or just try to recall the directions out of the palace and disappear, much like the real Penelope.

  After Addie helped her out of her dress and prepare for bed, she collapsed onto the downy mattress. Recalling Oliver’s voice, replaying everything he said was like listening to someone really smart and witty reading a bedtime story. His British accent was like a lullaby, sending her promptly to sleep.

  Penny woke up to sunshine streaming through the windows. She blinked a few times, thankful she wasn’t in the scratchy chair she’d slept in the night before but it took her a moment to remember where she was.

  Palace.

  Prince.

  Royals-in-waiting.

  Panic gripped her. She was supposed to have ghosted into London or at least be in the kitchens baking.

  Addie rested a tea tray on her bedside. “Good morning, Miss.”

  She sat bolt upright and started gathering up her things.

  “Can I help you, Miss?”

  Penny shook her head. “No, I have to—”

  “You have breakfast with the queen in an hour.”

  No, no, no. What was she going to do? She needed help. Options: sister, Addie…the other potential queens-to-be would be glad to humiliate her, at least Genevieve. Colette seemed nice enough.

  She sighed, slouched back onto the bed, and sent her sister a text. It was the middle of the night in the Caribbean. It was unlikely she’d hear back anytime soon if she was getting cellphone service.

  Penny sat back up and took a deep breath. The teacup shook in her hand so she set it down.

  Addie straightened the pillows at her back.

  “If I confess something to you would you be able to keep it between us?”

  The lady’s maid clasped her hands in front of her waist. “If it endangers your life or anyone else’s I’m obligated to report what you say. Otherwise, confiding in me is part of my role.” She smiled. “Although I’m a commoner, I know well enough that life in your position, as glamorous as it seems, can be lonely and difficult. It’s hard to know who to trust so if you feel comfortable telling me, your confession as you said, I’ll try to be a good listener.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m really not up to date on all of the customs here. Like, who’s who and what fork do I use and—” She hardly knew where to begin.

  “That’s understandable.”

  Penny nodded. “To be honest, I didn’t realize Oliver isn’t the Prince of England.”

  “It’s very sad about his parents.”

  He’d said he and Penelope were both orphans. Penny wasn’t and she felt guilty impersonating someone who was. Though, to her credit, she didn’t remember her father. He left after she was born but before Emma was. Her mother never said much about him other than he was flighty—they’d had a few encounters and somehow, she got pregnant both times. Now, her mother was somewhere in the Caribbean with her latest suitor. Probably spending his money and trying to convince him to marry her.

  Since it was unlikely she’d get out of meeting with the queen, she came up with a plan b. She could make Oliver reject her and then slip back to the kitchen and out the way she came.

  But she liked Oliver. In fact, the real one was better than the one she’d imagined in all of her fantasies and not snooty like she’d thought.

  “Miss,” Addie said, pulling her from her thoughts. “You should get dressed.” She opened a pair of doors to a room that was larger than the one in her house growing up. One wall was lined with shelves and filled with shoes. Another had racks and racks of clothes. There were purses and accessories.

  Penny leaped to her feet and spun in a circle.

  “Gifts from Oliver and the queen.”

  “I mustn’t keep her waiting.” Penny ran her hand along soft sweaters, glittery gowns, and high heels that would make her legs look miles long. “Wait, how did they know my size?”

  “I have a confession too, Miss. I helped after you told me your luggage was lost.”

  Penny pulled Addie into a hug. “It’s perfect and wonderful.”

  “Now, while you get dressed, I’ll review proper table etiquette,” Addie said with a wink.

  Chapter 6

  Oliver

  The sky was clear and the day dry, unusual that time of year in London. The air was a moderate temperature if not a little brisk, but that would likely keep crowds from gathering if the prince was spotted.

  Oliver got special permission to take the royals-in-waiting off grounds. Ordinarily, the day's activities were conducted onsite for that portion of the courting process, but Oliver insisted on the importance of seeing how the girls operated outside the palace walls, particularly since they’d be returning to Concordia where it was more common for royals to spend time among the people.

  An SUV with dark windows waited for the group. Oliver imagined Penelope on a road trip across America—one of the stories she’d told about her and her best friend, Clara. There, she was anonymous. Although she claimed he was a celebrity overseas, he imagined he could get lost in the plains and mountains between the Atlantic and Pacific. He could also probably get away with a disguise and tour much of Europe and beyond but his duties as a prince, and soon a king, occupied his every minute. The queen insisted he learn the ropes, as it were, by her side and he seldom had time off.

  Penelope came out of the palace first, wearing a warm jacket, pants, and boots that nearly reached her knees. Her hair was smoothed into an elegant ponytail. She looked prepared for a day out and like she could handle any amount of walking—though they still had to decide on activities. To the queen’s credit, this was a sneaky but intentional way to
see if and how well the women could collaborate and compromise, a very important skill for nobles.

  Aside from despising the royals-in-waiting arrangement from start to finish, he didn’t want to end up with a diva, a woman who lacked initiative, or someone who went along with the group with no opinion of her own.

  “Good morning,” Oliver called as Penelope neared. She awoke something up in him even though he’d risen at dawn for his workout, review of the news, and already took a conference call with a farmer’s cooperative in Concordia. In her presence, he felt like he stood in sunshine even though it was a cloudy day.

  As she approached, her smile radiated warmth. He grinned back and then her lips dipped into a frown.

  Genevieve and Odelia came out next—both wearing dresses and heels.

  When Penelope reached him, she did her ridiculously adorable bow courtesy but still didn’t smile. The other two giggled over her shoulder. He was too polite to cast them a dirty look so instead, he focused on Penelope.

  “It’s a lovely day for London,” he said.

  She scowled and asked, “What’s on the agenda?”

  “Hopefully, nothing too adventurous. No road trips, I cannot stand to be cooped up for long,” Genevieve said.

  He recalled the discussion between himself and Penelope the previous day and suddenly felt guilty for talking about Penelope during his date with Genevieve. He almost couldn’t help himself—she occupied his thoughts after their dinner together. He tried to think of how to explain. “We were discussing our travels last night and I mentioned a bit about your time in America.”

  “When was the last time you were home, Penelope?” Genevieve asked in a condescending tone.

  “Just y—years. Years and years.” She rocked back on her heels. “It’s like being here for the first time all over again.”

  While they were talking, Colette came out along with Winston.

  Oliver clapped his hands together. “Now that we’re all here, and bearing in mind Penelope hasn’t been here in ages, we’re going to be tourists in our own town today. Each of you will select a destination in two-hour increments.”