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

  “This is cookie central. We do chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, and peanut butter every day. The dogs get carob chip, oatmeal carrot, and peanut butter. Plus we have a flavor of the week on top of all the other baked items. Originally, I was going to stick with cookies, but as you saw, business is booming and we get quite a few bulk orders for offices, schools, and events, and of course fundraisers.”

  Ava was impressed by how in a year’s time, Emma had grown what had been an idea into a mini-empire. She was active on social media about her cause and did appearances to promote her company. It probably didn’t hurt that she was a princess.

  Standing in the center of all the activity, she realized she was a princess too. What did she have to show for it? Sure, she’d impacted many lives with the work she’d done, but her role had been as a helper, not as a leader. But Ava wasn’t sure what she could do. Had she become nothing more than a pampered noblewoman?

  She couldn’t think of something she felt passionately about, other than travel, but that had more to do with freedom than anything else. She loved the feeling of being somewhere new, out from the palace bubble and blending in among the people. That was when she felt like she most fit in.

  Emma led them to a room with shelves piled with boxes, bags, and other packing materials. “We had a rush order of twenty-dozen cookies for a children’s charity event that needs to be packaged, boxed, and prepared for pick up in,” she looked at her watch, “four hours. Can you hustle?”

  Emerging from her intense thoughts, Ava nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “You’re a lifesaver. I’m glad you’re able to help today of all days,” Emma said.

  She didn’t want to elaborate on the truth: that the queen made her because that would confirm her fear that she’d become little more than the spoiled princess Henry had challenged her not to become. If she were bitter, vindictive, or less self-aware, she’d have blamed him. After all, he’d left her stranded. Their escape was what was going to prevent the inevitable ending to her story: the princess becomes snobby, self-absorbed, and useless. Thanks, Henry.

  “Actually, Ava wanted to show me the work you do here. As she said, I’m a numbers nerd and I was curious about the viability of the work you do.” Henry’s words were smooth, convincing.

  “As long as you’re not a spy, I’d be happy to show you the books.”

  Emma and Henry laughed.

  He certainly wasn’t a spy, but he’d become a skilled liar. When they were younger and would stand accused of their various pranks and crimes, the sweat on his brow was what always gave them away. Livingston was particularly adept at sniffing them out. She’d bring the butler some cookies to make up for all her misdeeds. No, that wouldn’t work. Emma brought the kitchen staff cookies each time she visited the palace. Ava needed to think of something better to repay Livingston. She also needed to think of something to give her life purpose.

  From her fog, Emma’s voice floated back to her.

  “I’m very transparent about the numbers. Will, less so in his business as you can imagine, but you probably know that since you’re friends. Anyway, given the privilege I have, I feel like it would be irresponsible of me not to contribute in some small way to helping others.”

  “It seems to me that you contribute in a big way,” Ava said.

  Emma smiled. “Well, I’d better head back up front. Oh, and if any of the cookies are broken, feel free to eat ‘em.” She left Ava and Henry alone in the packing room.

  Silence threaded between them like the baker’s twine they were supposed to wrap the boxes with.

  “You don’t have to help,” Ava said.

  “I want to, Princess.”

  “Princess?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. He hadn’t called her that since she’d warned him not to.

  “I like what they do here. It’s meaningful.”

  Was he rubbing in her sudden insecurity? If so, why had he covered for her, helped her save face in front of her friends by not revealing she was only there because the queen had ordered her to do something meaningful to get over her fear.

  “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Don’t I?” he asked as he set cookies in the boxes from the cooling racks.

  Ava had perfected the slant of her brow to use when she wanted to be intimidating or demonstrate that she was unconvinced. She was tempted to blast him with it, full force but stopped herself.

  Perhaps the sweet dogs and the meaning behind the Bark and Fetch Bakery was enough for them to call a truce on the parrying they’d done earlier. Perhaps it was Birdie. That girl could win over even the coldest heart.

  As Ava and Henry worked on opposite ends of the counter, she felt his gaze drift up to her when she walked by to add another box to the stack. Even though it wasn’t a particularly warm day, the heat from the ovens in the adjacent bakery kitchen reached the back room. Ava set her sweater on a chair by the door. The pink undershirt that she wore was the same one she’d donned when she’d backpacked around southeast Asia.

  Henry cast her a sidelong glance and must’ve been hot in his suit because he took off the jacket, setting it beside Ava’s sweater. He rolled up the sleeves, revealing the cut muscles of his forearms. Her dorky best friend had gotten buff. She worried her mouth might start watering and not because she was surrounded by delicious cookies.

  Despite the comfort of her undershirt, she suddenly felt hotter. She wiped her brow and returned to her station with another tray of cookies. “Oh no. A bunch of these are broken.” Ava counted the boxes and the remaining trays, checking the numbers against the order slip Emma had left on the table. “It looks like they made extra in case this happened. I guess as Emma said, I’ll have to eat them.” Ava took a nibble. “It really is delicious. Don’t want the other half?” she asked Henry.

  He shook his head.

  “So you’re not a mogul, cowboy, a prince, or a spy. I noticed you didn’t eat any of the tasty treats when Emma offered. Who knew investment bankers needed to be so careful about watching their diets?” She crossed the room to his end of the table, holding out the other half of the cookie. They were so fresh the chocolate had barely hardened from baking.

  All the while, Henry watched Ava carefully, as though memorizing her every move, the sway of her hips, the swish of her hair, and the question in her eyes.

  “I guess I want to stay sharp. No distractions. No temptations.” He tore his eyes from Ava, gazed hungrily the cookie, then Ava, then the cookie again.

  “All the same, it’s yours if you want it.”

  He shook his head.

  “Not even a little bite?”

  “Not even a little bite, Princess.” But his voice was practically a low growl, suggesting he felt otherwise.

  Chapter 8

  Henry

  Henry had been trained to evade questions about and claims regarding his line of work, but he’d never been interrogated by a seven-year-old. He’d also learned how to resist the wiles of enemy agents who happened to be beautiful and alluring. But in all those years he hadn’t prepared himself to resist someone like Ava. Probably because there was no one like her.

  No one that could get under his skin the way she did.

  No one that could make him feel like he was burning from the inside out.

  No one who could make a cookie of all things so alluring.

  He dug deep into his skillset.

  Henry Park could resist a cookie. He could resist Ava.

  He moved methodically, stacking the cookies in the box, closing the lid and wrapping it with twine. Repeat. He wouldn’t let his thoughts or his eyes wander. He was focused. He was there to help. Because it was meaningful work. Why had he covered for her when he knew the queen had given her the directive to do something worthwhile to get over her fear as well as a possible punishment for dodging her protection and gallivanting around a distant land?

  Was it because he cared?

  Because he wanted her to save face?

  He hated the idea of her becoming the posh princess with no purpose that they’d sworn her against.

  “Why didn’t you tell Emma the truth about why I’m here?” she asked, safely back at the other end of the table. Maybe she could read his thoughts, though he hoped not all of them.

  “I did tell her the truth.” He regretted the lie as soon as he said it. Growing up, they knew each other’s secrets—all of them. Eventually, even the one that they’d tried to hide from the other—that they wanted to be more than friends. But how had that turned out? In heartbreak.

  In Henry’s profession, the line between the truth, omission, and an outright lie was an extremely blurry thing. Though, he’d vowed not to bring it into the palace. Then again, technically, he wasn’t breaking his own rule because they weren’t at the palace.

  The lie hung in the room between them, cooling things off. Or perhaps that was the setting sun as the day faded away.

  Emma popped in shortly after and had a few other workers, including Sophie, helped them finish the order before loading it into a delivery van.

  Ava slipped back into her sweater and freshened up in the bathroom. Henry waited for her outside and the other guards gathered.

  “Long day, guys?” he asked casually. He could never be security detail. It would’ve been too boring. Ava wasn’t joking when she’d described them as babysitters. Henry preferred action and had spent the last years in the middle of it.

  The guard, not knowing Henry’s identity, remained in character and simply grunted in response. If only they knew he was essentially their boss. He’d risen in the ranks but mostly worked in the field with the occasional desk job because of his proficiency with numbers and code—the skills that had gotten him involved in the business in the first place.

  They
loaded into the sleek car to return to the palace. Ava was quiet, perhaps tired since she was unaccustomed to labor. Then again, she had never been a shrinking violet. She was the girl who’d run into the rain, the mud, and adventure without a second thought.

  She didn’t wade in; she leaped. She didn’t hesitate; she went for it.

  “Can you stop here, please?” She gestured to a café.

  The driver apologized because he overshot the coffee shop that Ava had pointed out.

  “Do you mind looping around the block and dropping me off?” she asked.

  “We were just at a café. Couldn’t you have gotten something there?” Henry asked.

  “I’m thirsty. It was hard work, packing up all those cookies.”

  He could almost imagine the driver and guard rolling their eyes.

  Nonetheless, the driver made the turn to get back on the main street so he could stop in front of the coffee shop.

  “Do you even drink coffee?” Henry asked.

  “No, but can't a girl get a pumpkin spice drink without getting the third degree?”

  “Can't they bring you one at the palace, Princess?” He was eager to return and check on his father. He’d contacted the doctor and had been assured there was no change, but it had been a long day and being with Ava was getting more difficult as the minutes passed.

  “Yeah, but I want to wait in line.”

  “Said the only person ever,” he retorted. Then he realized she just wanted to prove to him that she could be normal. That she wasn’t the spoiled rich girl she assumed that he made her out to be.

  She’d never be normal. She’d always be Ava.

  The car pulled up to a no parking space. She quickly got out and then ducked her head back in. “What’s your order?” she asked the driver and the guard, but the guard got out too.

  He started to follow, but that would be conspicuous.

  “I’ll go with her.” Henry flashed his badge so only the guard saw it.

  The guard quickly masked his surprise. Since Henry was his superior, he stepped down and returned to the car.

  Henry quickly caught up to Ava as she entered the coffee shop. She pressed past the line.

  “Ava, you can’t skip ahead,” he said. So much for normal.

  But she passed the counter and continued on.

  “If you had to use the ladies room, you could’ve just said so,” he whispered-shouted after her.

  But she bypassed the facilities in the back of the building and stalked toward the service entrance door.

  Henry reached out for her and spun her around, gripping her arm. “What are you doing?” His tone was all business.

  She opened her mouth to answer at the same time someone called, “I think that was Princess Ava.”

  An uproar and what may as well have been a stampede approached from the front of the café.

  “Is this what you wanted? Attention?” He was irritated to be in that situation because he knew he’d have some explaining to do.

  The gaggle of people continued to squawk about her identity, firing questions in their direction.

  Ava put her hand on the doorknob to the exit, but it was locked. She jiggled it frantically. “This was not what I had in mind.”

  As part of his job, Henry kept up on the news and current events. It was likely word had been leaked about Ava’s pending courtship and people were curious. There was probably a line forming at the palace gates of people claiming to hold a noble title and worthy of the princess’s hand. He knew, all too well, that commoners need not apply.

  Sure enough, as the customers neared, they barked questions about Ava getting married, who the lucky guy was, and if they could snap a selfie. Thankfully, they hadn’t confirmed her identity.

  Henry had two options. Break the door down—he’d done it numerous times before. Or he could provide a distraction. Both were dangerous, but option one would require a lengthy report and payment for destruction of property. He chose option two.

  The first customer rounded the corner.

  Ava’s eyes widened as Henry leaned in, gripped the back of her head, and pressed his mouth to hers. She must’ve quickly understood what was going on because her hands gripped his back to indicate she was enjoying the exchange in the privacy of the back of the coffee shop.

  The cacophony turned into murmurs and someone said, “I think you were mistaken. No way Ava, the perpetually single princess, would be making out with some random guy in the back of a coffee shop.”

  “Who’d she even want to kiss?”

  Someone laughed. “Who’d want to kiss her?”

  The others seemed to agree because they backed off. Soon the sounds of the coffee shop returned to normal, indicating the threat had passed.

  Henry hoped Ava didn’t hear the comments because he had wanted to kiss her long ago. Because he did kiss her just then. It wasn’t like their first kiss; it was hardly like a real kiss. It was a decoy, but even so, there were hints of what was, what could’ve been. If he’d kissed her like he’d meant it, she’d have been smiling, punch drunk.

  Instead, she looked confused, stunned. Her cheeks were red and her eyes glossy. She studied the door as though hoping it would somehow magically open if only so she could run from embarrassment, confusion, or whatever it was that fogged over her mind.

  Henry straightened and adjusted his suit jacket. Making quick work of it, he picked the lock on the service door. They stepped onto the damp sidewalk and into freedom. A light drizzle had started. Her eyes were shadowed and she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  “Ready to go back to the palace?” he asked as he reached for her hand.

  Henry told himself her hand was warm in his from being in the coffee shop and that his pulse tripped because of the danger she may have faced from the crowd.

  He’d make up a silly excuse about the milk frothing machine being broken, a flood in the bathroom, and them having to make a quick exit so as to not cause a scene and explain it to the guards.

  He was a liar.

  The rain fell between them and there was no mention of the kiss. No questions about what she was doing.

  He pulled her closer.

  Her eyes widened as though they were going to have a repeat of the incident in the back of the café.

  No way. Never.

  Too risky. Absurd.

  “What were you doing back there, Princess?”

  “Better question, what were you doing?” She crossed her arms over her chest, apparently, well free of the fog that had clouded her eyes after he’d kissed her.

  “I had to think fast. Didn’t want you getting trampled by rabid fans of Princess Ava.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “Then why were you running?”

  She threw her hands in the air. “Since you turned up, everything has gotten mixed up. I feel hemmed in. I just want to live my life. I don’t want to be here. I really do not want anything to do with the suitor situation—” Her shoulders dropped as though the entire thing had worn her out.

  Henry was oddly, surprisingly pleased to hear the part about the courtship. “No, you definitely don’t want to marry any of them. They’re all a bunch of—” He stopped himself from saying something rude—not that he even knew who they were.

  “I’m surprised to hear that you’re so opinionated.” Her arms folded across her chest.

  “I’m also not a fan of your sneaking off instead of returning to the palace, but I went along with it because I see the difficulty of your situation.” With open palms, he weighed his hands. “You could follow the rules and marry someone the queen selects, retain your title, and remain loyal to Concordia. Or you could leave it all behind and be free.”

  Her features softened as relief washed over her. She eyed him curiously. It was as though the gentle, warm rain had started to thaw the ice between them. Likely, she still held onto to some resentment over his unannounced departure without her, but surely, Ava saw that Henry was on her side. He always had been. Every decision he’d made had been with her in mind, even if it didn’t seem like that on the surface.

  The corners of her lips lifted slightly into the hint of a smile.

  Some unnamable thing inside him melted a little.

  For a moment, it was like they were teenagers all over again, best friends, always joking. Then there grew to be something more between them. That had changed everything.