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

  As always, Ava was on the same wavelength and was braver than he, able to say the things he wouldn’t. “Thanks for helping me out back there. Does this mean we can be friends?”

  Chapter 9

  Ava

  Ava hadn’t actually wanted a pumpkin spice drink when she’d asked the driver to stop at the coffee shop. She didn’t know exactly what she’d intended when she strode to the back of the establishment. What she did know was that a shocking realization had hit her when she sat down in the sleek black car to return to the palace.

  Marrying a suitor and pledging her life to someone else meant giving up the hope that she’d quietly kept for ten years. She’d dreamed that Henry would return and a miracle would occur, allowing them to be together.

  The reality was that ten years had passed. They were different people. There was no way for her to know if they were even compatible, but the hope she had for them was the thing that had carried her through the long days without her best friend, the fear of what had happened to him, the idea that he was with someone else, and the harsh conclusion that he hadn’t actually felt the way she’d thought he did.

  So maybe they could start over as friends. In the very least, she wanted that.

  The question can we be friends dangled between them as they rounded to the front of the building and toward the awaiting car. Ava was surprised that her security detail hadn’t barged in or surrounded the building to check on what was taking so long.

  A few steps away from the car, Henry paused under a street light. A light fog coming off the River Thames captured the droplets of rain and the air seemed to glow.

  At last, Henry nodded in response to her question. Although he didn’t smile, she saw it in his eyes. She’d felt it when his lips had pressed against hers to her utter and complete shock after she’d discovered the door was locked.

  It had been a practical way to get the crowd off her back, but he could’ve summoned the guards; he could’ve said something about her not feeling well. She could’ve simply taken photos with them. Instead, he’d kissed her and it was just as she’d remembered it. Well, almost.

  After that first kiss in the throne room when they were young, after the floodgates had been opened, Henry and Ava had kissed. A lot.

  The types of kisses Henry Park gave were many and varied. Ava had certainly analyzed them aplenty when she was still a teenager (and maybe a little bit since).

  There were the stolen kisses (usually sneaked in when Livingston or another member of the palace staff had turned their back).

  The kisses just because (when they were taking a walk and he’d peck her on the cheek).

  The I’m a teenage boy and I have hormones kisses (pretty much all the time).

  The I’m bored kisses because he’d wanted a distraction (when they were doing homework).

  But the one he’d planted on her lips in the back of the café was different. She sensed something beyond the fact that it was a matter of convenience. Was there a hunger there? Desperation? Desire?

  She’d experienced his passion and that wasn’t it. However, there was something in his kiss that extended beyond the moment when his mouth pressed against hers.

  Her hands had traveled up the strong muscles of his shoulders. In fact, she’d kissed him back. Perhaps it was her that had wanted more. It could have been that she wanted that kiss to take her back to when she still could’ve made her escape with him.

  She looked up at Henry, trying to puzzle it out.

  Henry, the gawky, awkward boy. Henry the man with rough stubble and eyes that held secrets and revealed others. That made her swoon and made her wonder. Eyes that caused her skin to blaze and her ego to dip.

  She wasn’t sure what to make of the new Henry Park, but the fuzzy sensation inside of her suggested that he still made her feel the way he did all those years ago.

  Dressed in his suit, she imagined him as her suitor, as a prince so they could be together without running away as they’d planned when they were young. She knew all too well that he didn’t want anything to do with the royal life. It wasn’t that he looked down on the noble class, but over the years it was as though he’d resented her lifestyle—not that it was her choice. She couldn’t help that she was born into the Concordian monarchy or that her parents had died and she was sent to live with the queen. She’d always been torn between her honor and duty as a princess and wanting to be with Henry—even though it wasn’t a long term option.

  It was then she fully felt the blow of how limited her choices were. By all appearances, she was privileged and could have anything she wanted except the person she’d once loved.

  A street or two over, a car honked, snapping her from the preposterous thoughts.

  It seemed Henry had been someplace else too. He shook his head as if returning to the moment on the sidewalk.

  “Since we’re friends again, I want to know something. Back there, you picked that lock. You’re an investment banker by day and a common criminal by night?”

  Henry nearly laughed. “No, Princess. Nothing of the sort.” His phone beeped and after he read the message he stiffened. “It’s the doctor. I have to get back.” Henry’s gaze snapped to the car and then at his surroundings. He grunted and ducked his head into the driver’s side door. “How quickly can you get me to the palace?” he asked.

  “It’s across town and—” Before the man finished, Henry had pulled him out of the vehicle and got behind the wheel.

  Without thinking, Ava jumped in the back. The driver clambered in and before the rear door had closed, Henry was whizzing through traffic. The headlights beamed on the glassy pavement, slick with rain. He weaved in and out of traffic, sped through yellow lights, and zipped around slow-moving cars.

  Ava didn’t dare say a word because had she been old enough, she would’ve done anything to be by her parents’ sides. She didn’t want anything to prevent Henry from getting there in time. But he’d have some explaining to do later—the most he’d driven when they were younger was a golf cart and that he’d gotten stuck in the sand on more than one occasion.

  The primary palace gates opened. Henry flashed something at the guard. He nodded and let them through the second gate. Henry sped directly to the rear entrance, left the keys in the car, and raced inside.

  Ava apologized to the driver and made her way inside. She didn’t return to her room to freshen up. Instead, she went to the south wing where David Park and his son were sure to be. As she neared, she slowed her steps, assuring herself now that she and Henry had established that they were friends again, it would be okay for her to be by his side. If not, he’d tell her as much. Clearly, he had full command over his life—unlike her. A person who could drive the way he did and arrive at the destination safely, wasn’t following archaic rules about whom to marry.

  She slipped quietly into the room where David lie in bed and Henry sat in a chair by his side. Ava rested her hand lightly on her oldest and dearest friend’s shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. She was there. She’d always been there, waiting for him and David Park too. They’d both hoped for his return.

  Henry craned his head and gave her a small nod of acknowledgment and thanks. “The doctor said he was awake, but I guess he’s been coming in and out. I’m worried I missed him.”

  She rounded to the other side of the bed and took a vacant chair. “He sure has missed you.” Ava didn’t mean for it to be cruel but wanted him to know that whatever wrong had transpired between father and son, whatever feud they had that kept Henry away was forgiven. Mr. Park longed for his son’s return. Ava knew that because in the days that led to weeks then months after his departure, she spent as much time as she could with the baker. Partly to keep him company and also in case Henry returned or sent word, she wouldn’t miss it.

  After she settled into the chair, Mr. Park’s eyelids fluttered. He tried to lift a shaky hand. Henry stared as if unsure of what to do. Ava took Mr. Park’s left hand in hers. It was no longer the meaty hand of a giant man who’d kneaded and punched and rolled dough day in and day out.

  Henry followed her lead and took his father’s other hand in his, but he remained silent.

  The old man’s breath was thin, barely there as though he merely held onto the threads of it.

  “Mr. Park. We’re here. Henry and me, Ava—” Her voice was muted when David opened his mouth.

  “You’re here,” he wheezed. His eyes were barely open, but they locked on Henry’s. “Son, I want you to marry. I want you to marry your true love.”

  Henry’s response was almost inaudible. “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  Henry shook his head.

  “Lucinda Mayweather,” he whispered.

  Henry’s forehead furrowed and his gaze shot to Ava. She kept hers on the old man as he took his last breath.

  Without thinking, she started singing softly, reverently in the old Concordian language. With her free hand, she reached for Henry’s and together, they prayed over him.

  After a time, Ava’s voice went quiet. The room was still. So still.

  Henry let out a faltering breath. His eyes were glazed as though in shock and sadness. “I should’ve been here with him.”

  She squeezed his hand as they continued to grip the old man’s. “You were.” Her attention turned to the wall near his bed. Seven postcards were tacked to it.

  “I sent those to you,” Henry said.

  “I shared them with your father. He knew you first so I thought he should keep them. He missed you terribly. You were all he had.”

  Henry hung his head.

  “I stopped coming down here when I didn’t get any more postcards.” Ava lamented that fact because as full as the castle was with people, as busy as it was with events and wor
k to be done, it could also be a lonely place. Wealth and gold and riches didn’t make good company.

  Henry got up and tore the postcards from the wall. The tacks tinged as they landed on the floor. “I have to go,” he said.

  The doctor came in then.

  Henry stepped toward the door. His gaze fell on his father then drifted to Ava who remained by the old man’s side.

  “Henry,” she said. “You have a choice. You could stay.” There were numerous instances in her life when she didn’t have a choice: knowing her parents and leaving the palace on her own, for instance. She couldn’t even marry the man she loved even though it was no longer the eighteen hundreds. She couldn’t live the life she wanted because of a title attached to her name. But Henry was free. He could do what he wanted where she couldn’t without dire consequences. She wanted him to honor his freedom and choose wisely.

  The doctor nodded as though letting them know it was fine to remain a bit longer.

  Henry returned to his seat and the two continued to pray.

  “He said something about Lucinda Mayweather,” Ava said after a while.

  Henry shrugged. “It’s like I knew everything about him and yet I knew nothing. He never talked about the past, only the present. There’s a gap before I was born and because I stayed away there’s another gap from the last ten years.”

  “What happened between those two time periods?” The two had a falling out and she assumed that was why Henry left, but she never knew what it was over.

  He didn’t answer.

  Ava couldn’t help but wonder if Lucinda Mayweather was a key to that mystery, and she was determined to figure out who the woman was.

  Chapter 10

  Henry

  Sorrow didn’t begin to describe the ache Henry felt in his chest over his father’s death. It was sudden and yet slow. Their relationship had dissolved during Henry’s decade-long absence. The source of Henry’s pain wasn’t only sadness, but shame too. He’d been a bad son, but at the time he’d thought he was protecting the people he loved.

  The postcards on the floor mocked him. Ava said he had a choice and he’d chosen wrong, repeatedly. He should’ve reached out to them at least, but thought he’d be putting them in harm’s way by doing so. Rule number one in his line of work was not to get attached to anything or anyone. It could explode, literally.

  Henry slowly got to his feet. He pressed his hand against his father’s one more time, not wanting to let go, but then he did. He’d always been the one to let go.

  The bells tolling midnight interrupted the quiet of the hallway. Henry wasn’t sure where he was going, but he wanted to get away, to escape. Before he could summon a car and drive until he ran out of road or gas, Ava’s hand took his, leading him to the second then the third floor of the palace. They continued to a door that led them still higher.

  In all his years at the palace and the many occasions of mischief he’d caused, he was met with mild surprise that it had never occurred to him to go to the roof. Always the cleverer of the pair and with more courage, Ava led the way.

  She pulled a key from under a brick in the dim hallway and opened the door.

  Outside, the rain had stopped but the air still smelled liquid, like tears he knew he’d never shed. In the years of Henry’s absence, he’d grown up and hardened parts of himself that would’ve otherwise meant vulnerability, which was a liability in his line of work. However, it was as though the tough and courageous parts of Ava beckoned his hidden and raw parts forward.

  She still held his hand and they settled in a little rooftop garden with trellises and climbing vines, potted flowers and topiary.

  “What is this place?” he asked as they sat down in a pair of chairs.

  “Livingston’s hideaway.”

  “The Butler?”

  She nodded. “He likes to garden and stargaze.”

  “It’s hardly dark enough.”

  The lights surrounding the palace, along with all of London, blazed in the darkness.

  “I think he imagines them up there, winking down.”

  “How do you know?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not the only one with secrets, Henry.” She tossed him a shrewd look that rivaled the queen’s.

  “The postcards were fake,” he blurted. He had to start somewhere and that seemed decent enough.

  “What?” she asked, turning to him.

  “I had someone get them for me. I signed my name and then had someone else mail them from all those places.”

  “Aside from that being incredibly time consuming and elaborate, why?” Her voice was ragged as though torn by yet another betrayal.

  Henry didn’t answer.

  “I guess I’m not surprised. Maybe, like Livingston, your dad and I wanted to imagine you out there, exploring the world, and thinking of us.”

  A plane passed overhead, speeding past the stars. The reminder of the fast-paced, adrenaline-fueled life Henry ordinarily led, made him wonder what he was missing in the field. What were the other agents doing? His pulse raced, then as soon as the plane was out of sight, he settled, suddenly physically tired as though the years all caught up with him.

  Ava said, “I guess since you told me a secret. I owe you one.” She took a long breath. “After you left, I’d cry myself to sleep.”

  That made him feel downright awful.

  But she wasn’t done. “Then, when the tears finally dried up, I’d pick apart conversations and moments we’d shared, trying to find a thread that would lead to an explanation. I wanted to make sense of what had happened, why you left so suddenly.” She straightened in the chair and looked at him full on. “Why didn’t you meet me, Henry? We were going to run away together. Why’d you go without me?”

  He couldn’t tell her that secret. Not entirely. “I made a mistake, Ava. A big one. The consequences meant I had to leave without you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He gazed at the stars as though wishing the answer would appear. He let out his breath. “Remember how we’d always wish we could be part of what was beyond the walls of the palace? When I did experience that, what I missed most was right here.” He only realized it just then, but it was the best he could do without exposing the truth.

  Like the stars, the words seemed to carry some kind of magic because she went on to talk about her travels and how she’d managed to get loose from the security detail that followed her every move. She’d gone on just a few trips similar to those that they’d planned. She’d seen real life both glorious and difficult. The romance, the danger, and the adventures were as wonderful as she’d imagined, except for one thing. “In every city, I’d see a guy with short, straight, dark hair and for a second I’d think it was you. I’d hope we’d somehow find each other. Like fate would lead us back together.”

  All along, he was a lot closer than she’d realized. The relative darkness of the night gave him courage. “Most often I was right here in London.”

  In the low light, a tear trickled down her cheek. She was so bold and yet she held a softness that broke him down. She had a good heart. The kind of heart belonging to a girl who might’ve run away with him. Originally, she refused to do it because it meant losing her title and giving up being a princess. She couldn’t turn her back on her family. Admittedly, he was upset that she wasn’t choosing him. But as time had passed, he thought she’d change her mind. He asked her to meet him ten years ago on his birthday by the south wing exit.

  Half an hour before they were to depart, something happened that changed his life—their lives. Later, he’d watched the surveillance tapes. Sure enough, she was there waiting for him. She’d chosen him. She was ready to give up everything for him.

  Henry wiped the tears from beneath her eyes then from her cheeks. He wanted to kiss them and her eyelids, taking away the sadness. He wanted his lips on hers again and not only because he wanted to provide cover from the throng of people at the coffee shop.

  He had many secrets, most of them not his own. They were stowed in a vault, a top-secret part of his mind. But there was one on his lips and it was about her lips—their kiss in fact. In the café, when his mouth crashed into hers, suddenly remembering the familiar contours, an old desire, refreshed and renewed, lit inside of him. But she was to be married soon. He didn’t want to make it more difficult for her.