by Amy DeLuca
His eyes raced over the caption beneath the photo, seeking confirmation.
There it was in black and white. “Maid of honor, Cinda Brown.”
Cinda. I knew it.
Of course he’d known it—the second he’d laid eyes on her image. You didn’t forget a face like that one.
And the caption said maid of honor, not matron. Alex was finding it hard to breathe, and the lack of oxygen made him a bit light-headed.
Did she still live in Newport then, or had she just been visiting for the wedding?
Alex considered picking up his phone then and there and dialing this tech billionaire to ask. But no, tech billionaires probably had people screening their calls, just as Alex did.
If someone called up claiming to be the prince of a small European principality… the screener would hang up on him without a second thought.
He set the paper down and looked at his parents across the room. “Maybe I will go—it has been a long time. When are you leaving?”
“Three weeks from Tuesday,” his mother answered. “Oh darling, I’m so happy you’ve changed your mind. This will be splendid. I’ll contact the party planner in America right away, and I’ll ask my secretary to book your ticket.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll just fly myself,” Alex said. “It’s been a while since I made a trans-Atlantic flight. And that way I can arrive and depart whenever I need to.”
Such as right away if I find out she’s married after all.
“Just as long as you stay over Saturday night for the ball,” his father said. “I’m not keen to spend a fortune to host a formal ball that never happens.”
Reading his father’s warning tone, Alex stood and crossed the morning room again, returning his paper.
“Don’t worry, Father. I made a commitment, and I’ll honor it. That’s what we Wessex’s do, right?”
“Exactly.” His father’s thick gray mustache twitched with approval. “Duty first.”
“Duty first,” Alex repeated the family motto in a far less zealous manner. “After all… what else is there?”
Thank you for reading The Billionaire’s White Lie. I hope you loved it!
Next up it’s The Billionaire’s Blue Blood. It’s another fun fairytale retelling and features Alexander Wessex and Kristal’s best friend Cinda, in a secret baby/second chance/stranded together/royal hero romance with no cheating or cliffhangers but plenty of humor and hurricane force winds.
Turn the page to keep reading and continue your journey in the world of the Newport Billionaires!
Copyright © 2019 by Amy DeLuca
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For Chelle, my best friend and a real life Cinderella
About
She’s risen from the ashes of heartbreak…
No-nonsense single mom Cinda Brown is not looking for Prince Charming. The last time she fell for a handsome, sophisticated, wealthy guy, he left her at the worst possible time without a look backward or even a word of explanation. He did leave her with a lovely parting gift, though… which arrived nine months later.
Now in charge of her own business—the Fairy Godmother Cleaning Agency—Cinda has her hands full managing her employees, including her two hapless step-sisters, and keeping her four-year-old son AJ happy, healthy, fed, and clothed. It’s not easy doing it all on her own, but she has zero interest in a new relationship. And who has the time? Her high society clients expect their Newport, Rhode Island mansions to be sparkling—on schedule—come hell, high water, or hurricane.
So when a flu epidemic sweeps through her agency the day before the royal family of Aubernesse is to arrive in Newport, Cinda puts on a uniform and picks up the slack, working furiously to make sure their gorgeous vacation home is immaculate and ready for the elaborate ball they’re planning to throw.
He’s looking for the perfect fit…
European prince Alexander Wessex isn’t happy to be back in Newport for the first time in five years. He’s stayed away so long for a reason. While the rest of his family continues to vacation in the beautiful seaside American town every year, the place lost its magic for him long ago—the night the only girl he’s ever loved proved beyond a shadow of a doubt she didn’t feel the same.
But this trip is non-negotiable, a matter of duty. He’s planning to fly in, attend the ridiculous ball his mother is so insistent upon, then get back to his life in Europe as quickly as possible. That is until he arrives at the family estate early and catches the cleaning crew still at work.
And gets a look at the woman beneath that coating of dust, ash, and spiderwebs…
The Billionaire's Blue Blood is a full-length clean billionaire romance fairytale retelling of Cinderella. It’s a standalone secret baby/stranded together/royal hero wholesome romance with no cheating or cliffhangers but plenty of humor and hurricane force winds.
Enjoy the read…
One
Overtime
You can’t really grasp the full essence of the word “mortified” until you’ve stood face to face with the former love of your life—covered head to toe in soot and cobwebs. – Cinda Brown
Cinda could hardly believe what she’d heard coming out of her stepsister’s mouth.
“Both of them?” she gasped.
Trudy nodded at her from the receptionist’s desk. “I guess the flu’s going around.”
The head of the cleaning crew Cinda had sent over to 600 Bellevue Avenue this morning had just called and said two of her staff, Janice and Zoe, had started vomiting and were running high fevers.
She’d sent them home. It had been the right thing to do. The idea was to sanitize the clients’ homes, not fill them with germs and viruses.
But with two fewer workers, there was no way the enormous mansion would be finished on time, and that wouldn’t do. The royal family of Aubernesse would be arriving in Newport tomorrow for the America’s Cup finals and expecting their stateside “summer cottage,” as they called the twenty-four-thousand square foot home, to be sparkling and ready for the ball they were hosting next weekend.
Fantastic.
Flu season had the worst timing. Three other employees had already fallen ill this week, including Cinda’s other stepsister, Traci, who’d called in this morning.
She rarely made an appearance at work anyway, so Cinda suspected her Friday “illness” was more along the lines of Netflix-itis than influenza, but still the business was critically short staffed.
That made it a challenge to get the regular homes on their list cleaned, not to mention the mega-mansions. This one, though, was non-negotiable.
The Wessex family was an excellent client. She couldn’t afford to let them down.
She sighed. “I’ll have to go over and help them finish up. Looks like it’s going to be a late night.”
She studied Trudy in her designer clothes and shoes. She hadn’t actually done any cleaning herself since they were teenagers and Cinda’s father had made them all work—his daughter and his stepdaughters alike—in an effort to teach them the value of good, honest work.
But hey, some help was better than none. Trudy would no doubt gripe about putting on the serviceable company uniform, but she could at least do some dusting.
“Actually, an extra hand would be amazing if you don’t have plans this evening,” Cinda said.
Trudy scratched her arm with one perfectly manicured hand. “You know, I’m not feeling so good myself. I think I’m developing a rash. Maybe I should go home before I infect anyone.” She stood and picked up her Chanel handbag.
“Skin rash is not a flu symptom.”
“Oh.” Trudy blinked. “Well, it must be something else then.”
Cinda bit the inside of her cheek and drew a long breath. “Fine. If you�
��re not feeling up to it, of course I won’t make you go. But if you can manage it, could you at least stay here till closing and lock up? We’re so short-staffed.”
Trudy’s eyes widened in horror. “What about AJ? You’re not planning to leave him here with me, are you? I’m terrible with kids.”
Cinda shuddered at the thought of leaving her helpless four-year-old alone with Trudy. “No, of course not. I’ll call Kristal. I’m sure she’ll come and pick him up.”
Trudy visibly relaxed and sat back down. The phone rang, and she turned to answer it. “Fairy Godmother Home Cleaning Service. How may we help you today?”
Back in the manager’s office, AJ lifted his head and looked up as Cinda entered.
“Hi Mommy! Look what I made.”
He pushed a sheet of copier paper toward her so she could admire the drawing he’d created with the set of crayons she kept in her desk for him. She walked over and stood beside him, resting one hand atop his blond curls.
“Wow. That’s a very exciting scene. Is it a knight fighting a dragon?”
“He’s not a knight. He’s a prince. But he’s also a fighter. What’s that called?”
He turned his little face up and stared at Cinda with trusting brown eyes, certain she had the answer. Warmth saturated her heart, and she gave his button nose a light tap with one fingertip.
“I’m not sure. I think you’d still call him a prince. But a valiant one.”
“What’s valley-unt?”
“Valiant. It means brave, courageous, heroic.”
“Oh. I like that. Yes. That’s what he is. And he’s protecting his family.”
“Oh my—he is brave, then. And does he have a big family?”
Cinda was endlessly fascinated by her son’s intelligence and imagination. He was always begging her to tell him stories, but honestly, the ones he came up with were usually far better than anything she could imagine.
“No,” AJ said. “A little one. He has a princess wife and a four-year-old boy. What’s that called, Mommy? When a prince has a little boy?”
“The son of a prince is also a prince. I think. I’ll have to check on that.” Cinda wasn’t a royal-watcher. Hopefully she didn’t have her facts wrong.
“The big prince protects the little prince and the princess. He takes care of them. They do everything together,” AJ informed her matter-of-factly.
A wistful twinge twisted through Cinda’s belly. It wasn’t the first time AJ had drawn a family of three or concocted fantasies about a heroic father figure. She knew he longed for a daddy to do things with him, but she was doing her best to fill both parental roles.
“It’s a wonderful picture,” she said. “You’ll have to show it to Kristal when she gets here.”
“She’s coming here?” Excitement lit his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by suspicion. “You said we were going to go home and make pizza for supper.”
“I know I did, buddy, but I have to stay and work some more. You remember Janice and Zoe?”
He nodded.
“Both of them are sick and had to go home early. Maria and Anna are sick, too. So I have to go do the cleaning instead.”
He pouted, resting one plump cheek on his hand. “Why can’t the people clean their own houses?”
“Many of them work hard at their own jobs all day long and don’t have time. And some of them have houses that are too big for them to clean all alone. It’s a good thing for us that they do need some help because that’s how we get money to pay for our house and food, right?”
He nodded reluctantly.
Cinda brushed her fingers through his soft curls. “I’m sorry, buddy. I know you’re disappointed, but I don’t have any choice. I’m sure Kristal would love to make pizza with you. And then you and I can make waffles tomorrow morning.”
That seemed to cheer him a bit. He looked up. “Yoda waffles?”
“Yep. And Darth Vader too.”
“Okay.” He gave her the sweet smile that always turned her heart into goo.
“Good. Now you get your backpack all packed up and ready while I go change into a uniform, okay?”
“Will you be home in time to tuck me in?”
“I should be,” Cinda said. “Unless something very unexpected happens.”
Two
Memory Lane
Thanks to the fair conditions, Alexander Wessex touched down at Newport State Airport a few minutes earlier than expected.
Still, the family’s Rolls Royce Phantom sedan was there waiting for him. Patton, who was always on time, popped out of the front driver’s side door when he spotted the young prince.
“Your royal highness.” Patton strode toward Alex, wearing a broad smile. “I hardly recognized you. You’ve gotten even taller. I think. If I hadn’t spotted your Gulfstream landing, I might not have recognized you.”
Alex clapped the old driver on the shoulder. “It has been a while, hasn’t it? Good to see you, Patton. How’s Iris? The kids?”
“Oh, all very good. They were excited to hear about your engagement. Congratulations.”
Alex’s good mood at seeing Patton for the first time in five years dimmed. “Thank you. It’s a good match, I think.” Well, actually, his parents were the ones who thought so, and in his life, that was all that seemed to matter.
Patton took his bags and loaded them into the trunk. “I saw pictures on the internet.”
He waggled his thick gray eyebrows, and his strong Rhode Island accent made the word sound like pitch-urs. “She’s a pretty girl, Audrey deRamel. How’d you meet her?”
“We met once when we were kids, around eleven or twelve. I actually haven’t seen her since then, but you’re right, she has grown up to be a beautiful woman. And I hear she’s nice.”
The driver nodded, unsurprised, as he opened the car door for Alex. “You always were the good son. From what I see of your brother’s behavior when he’s in town, there won’t be any arranged marriages in his future anytime soon.”
Alex laughed. “I wouldn’t be so sure. My parents are pretty keen to marry us all off sooner rather than later.”
Patton climbed behind the wheel and started driving toward the Wessex family’s Newport home. “Are they still planning to arrive this weekend?”
“They are,” Alex said. “My father had an event to attend today, so they’ll all be flying in together. I wanted to get here a bit early and… settle in.”
In all honesty, he’d wanted to come alone so he’d have a chance to make peace with the place he hadn’t seen in so many years. That, and he enjoyed flying himself when he got the chance.
“Well, they should easily make it before the storm then,” Patton said. “Don’t know if you’ve looked at the forecast, but it’s moving up the East Coast and should make landfall around Thursday night or Friday morning. Hopefully you won’t have to cancel that big party.”
Yeah, that would be a real shame.
Out loud, Alex said, “These things usually peter out by the time they reach Rhode Island, don’t they?”
“Usually,” Patton agreed. “Of course, I remember Hurricane Bob in ninety-one. It was intense. Did some real damage to Block Island. Messed up the beaches here, too. You’re right, though, usually these things downgrade to tropical storms before they get this far.”
“Speaking of beaches… I’d like to take the long way home if you don’t mind, along Ocean Avenue. I haven’t seen it in so long.”
“Sure thing. No better scenery in the country.”
Ocean Avenue was part of Newport’s famous Ten Mile Drive. Featuring views of Newport Harbor and the yacht club, Pell bridge, and historic Fort Adams, the drive also passed by Hammersmith Farm, the childhood home of Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy and the site of her wedding reception with President John F. Kennedy.
A little farther and the ocean came into full, glorious view. With its impressive seaside mansions, sandy coves, and rocky outcroppings, Ocean Drive drew tourists to Newport year- round.
For Alex, it might as well have been named Memory Lane.
As the car meandered along the avenue’s twists and turns, he rolled down his window to let in the cool onshore breeze and stared out at the gray-blue water, watching it crash repeatedly against the black shale, sandstone, and slate that made up the shoreline.
Just as he remembered, the steady wind had drawn kite enthusiasts to Brenton Point State Park. The colorful beacons bobbed and weaved in the clear fall skies like dancing fairies.
Alex had always looked forward to his family’s annual stay in Newport. The place had held almost a magical allure for him when he was younger. But in the past five years he’d excused himself from the Wessex family’s yearly New England pilgrimage, making alternate summer plans as far away from this place as possible.
When the car rounded a bend, the reason for his avoidance came into view. A crescent of coarse gray sand called Bailey’s Beach. Well, it wasn’t the fault of the place itself, but of what had transpired there.
The exclusive private beach club wasn’t much to look at—a gray brick central pavilion flanked by two bathhouses and eighty or so cabanas where members could change and store their belongings for a day on the shore.
What Alex hadn’t known as a child was that each of these simple cabanas cost more than fifty thousand dollars, provided one could even buy one.
They generally only became available when the last member of a family died, as they were passed down from generation to generation of Newport families bearing names like Drexel, Auchincloss, Slocum, Vanderbilt, and Astor.
Club members prided themselves on the old Yankee simplicity of the surroundings, enjoyed membership not because it was worth the money, but because it wasn’t, and they could afford to have it anyway.
