Only Love With A Billionaire (Only Us Billionaire Romance Book 4) Page 9

  However, he seemed to have lost those skills after returning to the palace, seeing Ava for the first time in years, learning of her impending courtship and marriage, and being by his father’s side as he died.

  Moreover, the many hours spent with Ava made him restless in a way he hadn’t ever been. She was the girl who had been his true love, the girl his father wanted him to marry, to spend the rest of his life with, to love well.

  His father knew of their affection for each other. He’d also warned his son to be careful. To avoid trouble. David and Henry had discussed the impossibility of their union. If only he’d warned him not to get curious about computers, to learn code and how to hack into databases and penetrate security firewalls.

  Henry told himself it had just been for fun. Because he was curious. To test his knowledge.

  He didn’t expect to get caught.

  And he certainly didn’t expect to learn that his father had been the one to turn him in.

  As he laid in bed in a guest bedroom in the palace, finally, after over ten years, he opened the files in his mind and turned his many thoughts about the past over. He examined them. He picked them apart and tried to understand their meaning.

  The minute Henry was presented with the option to go to jail or to accept a generous offer to play for the “good guys,” the course of his life changed forever. It was at that precise moment that he put the past, including the conversation with his father along with most of his memories, in the file labeled top secret. He symbolically stashed it in a safe. Over the years, he’d place many other files with the same title inside.

  As his mind continued to spin, he paused on one specific memory.

  David Park had warned his son to be careful. Henry interpreted it to mean with Ava because the outcome of their relationship was certain. She was royal. He was a commoner. There was no future there. But what if David actually knew what his son had been doing on the computer late into the night. Was it possible David meant for him to be cautious, knowing he was young and careless, that he might get into trouble?

  Then why would he turn Henry into the palace authorities? Did he want Henry to leave and never look back? Despite his insistence otherwise, did he actually want his son to leave the palace and live a life of danger? That didn’t seem likely.

  Sure, it was for a noble cause, but he’d have known Henry wouldn’t be able to return, at least not without risking the safety of the ones he loved.

  Henry’s heart skipped a beat.

  But what if David turned his son in to protect him from the inevitable heartbreak when he and Ava were no longer teens, when their affections for each other would no longer be indulged no matter how hard they tried to keep it a secret? What if David was trying to keep them from running away and all the trouble that it would cause? Perhaps his father exposed him for hacking into the palace’s security because he knew it would take something extreme to keep the two young love birds apart?

  Henry supposed he’d never know, but it provided him with possibilities and maybe an explanation.

  Further, who was Lucinda? Why did David utter her name in his final moments? Was she his mother as Ava suggested? It was doubtful. His father was loyal to the monarchy and wouldn’t have let a member of the nobility fall in love with him because he was a commoner.

  Henry wasn’t sure he wanted to know all of the details of the past. He’d organized everything in his tidy mental files and hid them away. Opening them all up seemed like more trouble than it was worth and might lead to more pain and difficulty because there was only one outcome he’d ever wanted. It was the one he could never have.

  Ava had said he had a choice. She was mistaken because he couldn’t marry her or spend the rest of his life with her—the woman he loved.

  Maybe his father knew that too.

  Sleep continued to evade Henry well after dawn so he did what any practical British man would do. He went to have tea with the queen.

  Seated at the breakfast table, he’d finally coaxed the monarch into telling him a bit more about Genevieve, the woman who’d claimed she was related to the Concordian nobility, when Ava sauntered in wearing her riding clothes. They hugged her curves in all the right places and highlighted her strength and beauty. He hadn’t forgotten how she could draw all the eyes in a room to her, stop pulses or send them racing. Nor did it escape his memory that she was poised yet striking. Bold yet graceful. She was a woman of pride and grace.

  The tidy files in his mind seemed to spill everywhere and a light sweat pricked along his neck.

  Then he remembered who he was, what he’d been trained to do: resist any interruption in his demeanor, keep his mask in place, and not reveal his emotions. He took a sip of tea and composed himself.

  Ava’s red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and loose pieces fluttered around her face as she sat down to join them. Henry inhaled, getting a breath of fresh morning, earth, and horses.

  “Dear, you should go tidy up,” the queen said.

  “Good morning to you too,” Ava said as though taken aback.

  The queen sipped her tea in response. Ava may have been the only human being on earth equipped and permitted to parry with the monarch.

  Ava studied Beatriz as though calculating something. “You’ve never before minded when I come to breakfast after riding. Are we expecting someone?”

  The queen’s gaze floated over to Henry.

  Hers followed. “Hi,” she said simply.

  He was unsure if she was suddenly shy, she’d already adjusted to his return and his presence was like any other morning, or if she was as tired as he was and had forgotten to greet him. Maybe she’d gotten prickly and was mad at him all over again. He thought they’d moved past that, not that he could blame her if she was still mad.

  Henry had penetrated foreign fortresses, seized stolen assets, and stopped wars. How could he not figure out women? Or, more specifically, Ava.

  They ate their breakfasts and read their morning papers in relatively companionable silence for the next few moments.

  Were it not for the brisk air that Ava had carried in with her, he’d have fallen asleep in his place setting. Then again, during missions, he’d endured many hours of sleeplessness so it shouldn’t have been that difficult. Although, he’d never had a mission like Ava.

  “I was just telling Henry about Genevieve. He was rather curious about her,” the queen said, breaking the silence.

  “Is she expected at the palace?” Ava asked, aghast.

  “Oh my no. Last I heard she was in Corsica, trying to convince some wealthy man to buy her a title from Sealand.” The queen chuckled and went on to explain the self-proclaimed country in the North Sea, commonly called Roughs Tower.

  Henry was familiar with it as it sat in international waters and many foolish criminals thought they could find amnesty there.

  “Do you think she’s going to be a problem?” Ava asked.

  “Well, of course. When is she not? If you’re going to ask me if I’m going to do anything about it, I’m working on it. I assure you that if there is any relation, it’s distant.” She folded her paper. “Ava, as soon as you’re married, we should be free of any real or false claim she has.” Beatriz paused then turned to face their guest. “More importantly, Henry, you rushed in asking about Genevieve and I neglected to offer you my condolences. I’m terribly sorry to hear your father passed, but it was lucky you were able to be with him. Both of you,” the queen added.

  Henry nodded. “He will be missed.”

  The queen patted his hand. “You can be sure he’ll receive a proper service. Livingston will inform you of the details. No need to concern yourself.”

  A few polite moments of silence passed to honor the master baker, Henry’s father.

  It had all happened so quickly. He had a mixture of regret at not having been there sooner—as in the last ten years. He also felt relief that his father was no longer agonizing with an illness.

  A footman cleared their plates.

  “Ava, I’m glad you’re here this morning. The suitors have been scheduled to meet with you later today as we’ll be moving forward with the selection process.” The queen was no nonsense and got right down to business. It seemed the tea had kicked in. Clearly, she was eager to marry Ava off, if to prevent Genevieve from vying for the throne should something happen to Oliver and Penny or for her own purposes, he wasn’t entirely sure. Beatriz wasn’t the longest reigning, and by many estimates most successful, monarch in history because she sat back and enjoyed a pampered life. She was careful, calculating, and knew how to conduct her affairs.

  A woman who hadn’t been raised by the queen may have shrunk at the notion of courtship. Anyone else may have jumped with excitement. However, with a subtle lift of the chin and mischief in her eyes, Ava simply nodded.

  The queen produced a folder with several sheets worth of information on each of the eligible bachelors.

  Ava took a bite of eggs. She buttered her toast. Sipped her tea.

  “Aren’t you going to look?” the queen asked.

  “There’s no need.”

  “Don’t you want to know who your potential new husband will be?”

  Ava tilted her head. “Tell me about your youth. Did you go through a courtship?”

  For the first time, possibly ever, the queen’s cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink. “Perhaps that conversation will be for another time.”

  “I was merely looking for tips, suggestions, or advice should I have to deal with a tricky situation.”

  “You’ve been properly trained in all forms of etiquette. That should serve you well and suffice,” the queen answered measuredly.

  Henry had also been trained in reading people’s body language. Ava was planning something.
He lifted a finger, but then lowered it, withholding the question he wanted to ask.

  Shortly after and without a word or acknowledgment of their late night, Ava excused herself.

  The queen set down her newspaper and looked up at Henry over her reading glasses. “Make sure she’s on her best behavior.”

  He smoothed his brow, but whether the queen knew his question or not, he took her directive as permission to figure out what Ava was up to.

  Chapter 13

  Ava

  Ava was a lady. As the queen had said, she’d been trained in etiquette, had gone to finishing school, had been properly educated, could entertain at state banquets, and knew how to conduct herself at the many engagements a princess was expected to attend.

  But she was also a bit of a rebel, and she did not want to get married to one of the suitors even though it was inevitable. If she had to go through with the process, she reasoned that she’d make it as entertaining as possible for herself. She’d only deem worthy the gentleman who could endure her tests and laugh about it. Not that the selection was ultimately up to her.

  Instead of primping and donning a dress befitting a princess, she simply returned to the barn to be with the horses until the appointed time to meet the suitors in the throne room where they were to be announced and introduced.

  While she combed Topsy’s mane, a low chuckle came from the shadowy entrance to the stable. Without turning around, she said, “What’s so funny?”

  “Hopefully those poor fellows don’t mind the smell of manure or a bit of straw in a princess’s hair,” Henry said. He leaned against a wooden beam with his arms folded in front of his chest.

  Ava had tried to ignore him at breakfast. She’d tried to pretend he’d never reappeared at the palace, hadn’t kissed her—even if it wasn’t particularly romantic—, and that they hadn’t spent the full moon hours together.

  She’d told herself that it made no difference that he’d returned; she’d still have to go through with the dreaded marriage to fulfill her duties as a princess. By that line of reasoning, she may as well suck it up and forge ahead—her way.

  The queen wouldn’t be pleased. Nor would the suitors, but they’d just have to deal with it because she wasn’t all that happy about her situation to begin with.

  However, ignoring Henry, at breakfast or in the stable, was impossible.

  First, he smelled amazing. It was a mixture of cologne, which was probably called Musky Brute (or something equally manly), and soap, which reminded her of when they were younger (he must’ve still used the same kind), and minty freshness. It was familiar yet enticing and she couldn’t get enough of it. Seated with the queen and sipping tea, she’d stopped herself just short of turning to Henry and inhaling deeply. Too bad he thought she smelled like horses, as he’d pointed out.

  Second, sixteen and eighteen-year-old Ava adored everything about young, cute, slightly awkward Henry, but this upgrade was absolutely irresistible.

  Where had the muscles come from that filled out his suit so perfectly? He’d been rather gangly when he was a teen.

  Where had the suit come from? When they were younger, he’d refused to wear anything but trousers and T’s. Then there was his face: those dark and inquisitive eyes, his perfectly sculpted nose, full lips, razor-sharp jaw.

  Who was Henry Park?

  Well, he was a guy she could only admire from afar if even that. There was no telling when he’d disappear again. In fact, she was surprised he’d stuck around. She couldn’t think of anything stopping him from leaving and then attending his father’s funeral.

  Third, despite the changes, he was still Henry. He knew her. Even after all their time apart, she still felt the powerful connection they’d always shared. She needed to know if he felt it too.

  The way his eyes roved over her, tracking her every move as she groomed Topsy, suggested that she wasn’t invisible. However, maybe it was just old routine. When Henry still lived at the palace, they were always together with the exception of time spent sleeping or at school. They were companions and did everything together.

  In the very least, he hadn’t left the palace so perhaps the magnetism was still there, drawing them together. But was it strong enough to keep them together? No, the edicts of her country were ironclad, meaning they could never be together. Unless he was of noble birth.

  There were countless possibilities of what David Park could’ve meant when he uttered the name, Lucinda Mayweather. They could’ve been lovers. Maybe she knew his secret recipes. It was possible he was delirious and simply said whatever came to mind as Henry had suggested.

  The stubborn hope inside Ava clung to the possibility that Mr. Park referred to Henry’s mother. There was a slight likeness, but it was a long shot. Probably just a silly hope of a girl who hadn’t gotten over her teenage sweetheart.

  She sighed.

  “Tell me, Princess, what do you have up your sleeve?” Henry’s voice was deep and corded with knowing.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, feigning innocence. She didn’t simply have something up her sleeve, she had a whole bag of tricks.

  “I mean why aren’t you getting all dolled up and ready for your suitors?”

  “Because I am not a doll.” The comment was snappier than she’d intended. But if they’d run away all those years ago, she wouldn’t be in her current situation.

  “No, you’re not,” he said, stepping closer.

  “For the record, this isn’t fair,” she said because she had to, because the truth of that needed to be spoken and heard by someone. Henry was the only one who could possibly understand.

  “You know that I’ve always resented the royal rules because it meant we couldn’t be together.” His words softened something inside her and drew her closer to him.

  “But we could’ve. We were going to run away,” she whispered.

  His lips twisted slightly. “They would’ve dragged you back. I would’ve gotten in a lot of hot water. Chances are they’d have forbidden us to ever see each other again.”

  “So instead, you stood me up.” She’d expected the words to explode between them. Instead, Henry stepped closer.

  He brushed a loose piece of hair from her face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It wasn’t what I wanted but—”

  “But you made a choice.”

  Their foreheads were nearly touching. Warmth radiated off him. His scent was intoxicating.

  “Ava, you know if that were true, I’d choose you.” With a crooked finger, he lifted her chin so she’d meet his eyes.

  Those were the words that exploded inside of her. They ignited her internal fireworks. It was like the hope that she’d clung to so stubbornly erupted with joy, in celebration. Her lips lifted in a smile, tugging her heart with it.

  Their eyes met. His flaring. Her flickering.

  His lips parted. Her chest swelled.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” came a familiar voice in the spot by the post that Henry had recently vacated.

  The two stepped apart.

  “What are you doing here, Genevieve?” Ava asked.

  “If you’re going to order me to get off palace property, don’t bother. I checked and technically the stables belong to a private owner who happens to be a good friend of my father.”

  “Your father burned all his bridges when he borrowed money and didn’t repay his debt.”

  “With no thanks to you.” Genevieve’s lips twisted.

  “What he was doing was wrong. He’d spent money that wasn’t his, evaded officials, and was hiding out,” Ava said.

  Genevieve cocked a hip and tilted her head. “He got lucky and made things right.”

  “I don’t imagine you’re here to do the same,” Ava muttered.

  She flipped her long, styled hair over her shoulder. “Not a chance.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” Ava asked.

  “I’m watching you,” she said.

  “And so am I,” Henry directed at Genevieve in a low voice.

  “And who are you?” Genevieve asked with an odd combination of flirtation and disdain as she turned to him. Her gaze roamed up and down his body.

  “Henry Park.”