Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire Series Book 3)

by Ruth Cardello

  He headed toward the palace and made his way to the elevator exit. He chose to drive himself, although the royal guard followed, as they always did. They were a presence he was accustomed to. Ever since there had been an attempt on his father’s life and the threat had been traced to his cousin, Magnus had been vigilantly guarded. There wasn’t a single part of being forced to choose a wife that Magnus was happy with, but he understood his father’s motivation. Single Magnus meant his line of descent was vulnerable.

  Back at the office in his own palace, he called the clinic to check if Eric had actually admitted himself. He had.

  He asked Phillip to dig deeper for any and all information about the Westerly family. If Delinda did start trouble, he wanted to know exactly how to shut her down.

  Finally, he called the Royal Hotel to confirm that Rachelle had checked in. She had not. It made sense that she would have gone to stay with her grandmother, but on impulse Magnus asked Phillip to confirm that as well.

  “Your Royal Highness, I have located Miss Westerly. She is not with her grandmother.”

  “Then where is she?”

  “It appears she has checked in to a hotel, but not the Royal.”

  “I don’t understand her.”

  “It is directly across the street from the hospital. Proximity to her brother, perhaps?”

  “Thank you, Phillip.”

  Was her concern for her brother real, or was this move as strategic as each of her grandmother’s had been?

  He tried to put her out of his head, but she crept repeatedly back into his thoughts, making work impossible. Eventually he walked out of his office and slammed the door behind him. “I’m going out,” he growled.

  “Out?” Phillip asked, trotting beside him. “Should I have a car brought around?”

  “No, I’ll drive myself.”

  “Of course, Your Royal Highness. May I ask where you’re headed?”

  Although Magnus did not like having to answer to anyone, especially when he couldn’t justify where he was going to himself, he understood the reason for Phillip’s question. His was not to judge, but to protect. It was a role to be honored rather than resented. “To see Miss Westerly.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  After a short visit with Eric, Rachelle wandered down the street in search of a pastry shop. Her brother had looked uncomfortable, but he said he was staying. She assured him she was right across the street if he needed her. She didn’t mention that their grandmother was in Vandorra, but she was conflicted about whether not preparing him had been for the best.

  Lately, no choice felt like the right one.

  She stopped in front of a café and stared at a piece of chocolate cake on display, losing herself temporarily in the promise of it. She didn’t want to think about whether she should or shouldn’t tell her family about Eric. She didn’t want to remember any part of seeing Delinda that day. She definitely didn’t want to wonder what Magnus had thought of that lunch. Had it left him as confused?

  Rachelle placed her hand on the glass and sighed. Maybe it was for the best. Where could time with Magnus have led except disappointment? Even if he had been good in bed—an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime, orgasm-until-I-couldn’t-move kind of good—what would they have done next? A date?

  Sure. Why not?

  Movies.

  Maybe minigolf.

  I’m sure he enjoys all the same things I do. Yeah, not likely.

  What had he said? “We could not be less alike.” That about summed them up.

  So, thanks, Delinda. I suppose you did me a favor.

  “One would think you’ve never seen cake before,” Magnus said from behind her.

  Rachelle spun around. She almost asked him what he was doing there, but instead said, “Go away,” and turned back toward the glass display.

  Magnus leaned close to her ear and said, “Is it difficult to pretend not to be interested in me after you and your grandmother essentially trapped me into spending time with you?”

  She glared at him over her shoulder. “Oh my God. Poor you. I would ask how you’re holding up, but I’m a little preoccupied right now with worrying about my brother. And just so you know, regardless of my grandmother’s performance, I have no intention of going anywhere with you. So you’re not trapped at all. Go away. You’re free.”

  “I wish it were that easy,” he growled. “I can’t get a damn thing done. All I can think about is you and tasting you again.” He pushed her hair aside and kissed the curve of her neck.

  Lust punched through her, and she placed a second hand against the glass to steady herself. Yes, her body screamed.

  No, her mind argued.

  Meanwhile, she stood frozen, neither pulling away nor responding to his kiss. His lips trailed up to just behind her ear. “Come with me. No one needs to know. It’ll just be you and me and this . . .” His breath caressed her cheek. He hovered close enough behind her to warm her. “Say yes, Rachelle.”

  The temptation to give in was nearly overwhelming. Her body hummed for him, but her need was deeper than purely sexual. It had been a long week, and she was in a foreign country, alone and worried. How can I want to be with anyone right now?

  She turned in front of him, leaning back against the glass while looking up at him. His lips were mere inches above hers. The same desire that raged within her was reflected in his eyes. It would be good with him. So good.

  But then?

  I can’t believe I’m going to say this—but my grandmother is right. I don’t want to be the one he uses and throws away. “No,” she said, nearly choking on the word.

  He blinked several times, as if her refusal was difficult for him to process. “I don’t chase women.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” She slipped out from beneath his arm. Women. Not even specifically me. After their intimate romp in the garden, it would have been tough to sell that she wasn’t interested in him at all, so she didn’t try. Physical distance from him allowed her to think clearer. “I appreciate what you’ve done for Eric. Today was amazing and something I’ll never forget.”

  “And last night?” he asked, holding her captive with the intensity of his gaze.

  She took another step back. “Also amazing, but not something we should repeat. I’ll be in Vandorra as long as Eric is here. That could be one week or several. If he checks himself out tomorrow, I’m going back with him.”

  Magnus pocketed his hands and frowned. “Your grandmother—”

  “Is not here because I asked her to be. I had no idea she was even coming. The video of you and me embarrassed her, and that is something my grandmother will not tolerate.”

  “So she’s here to repair your reputation.”

  Rachelle shook her head and laughed without humor. “You don’t get it yet. This is about her pride.”

  “And getting you a title?” he asked with enough arrogant smugness that Rachelle’s temper began to flare.

  “She doesn’t care about the title. She’s trying to use me to knock you down a notch.” As soon as Rachelle said it, she knew it was true. “How I feel is irrelevant. No different than how you used me to manipulate Eric.”

  “A moment ago you thanked me for what I did for Eric.” Magnus was offended, but that only reinforced Rachelle’s resolve.

  “I did, but that doesn’t mean I’m foolish enough to think you care about me. You and my grandmother are both used to getting what you want, and you don’t care who you have to hurt to get it. Well, I’m not playing her game or yours.”

  She turned to walk away, but Magnus grabbed her arm. “My intention has never been to hurt you.”

  She pulled her arm free. “Then respect what I’m saying. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be what my grandmother uses to humble you. And I don’t care if you find it inconvenient to want someone you can’t have. I’m not an appliance. I’m not here to make your life easier. You want to prove you care about me at all? Stay away from me.”

  The woman Magnus had
thought would spend the night with him walked away without hesitation or a single glance back. Only after he saw her enter her hotel lobby did he check to see where his men were. When he located Phillip, he nodded for him to approach. “She claims she had no idea her grandmother was even coming.” Magnus’s attention was drawn back to the entrance of her hotel even though there was no reason to believe she would reappear through it. He sighed. “I believe her.”

  Phillip’s expression remained respectfully blank.

  Magnus continued, “She said if I care about her at all, I should stay away from her. How does that make any sense?” Normally, Magnus would not put as much thought into what a woman said, but Rachelle’s feelings mattered to him, and her request had put him in a no-win situation. To get what he wanted, he needed to disregard her wishes. To respect her wishes, he needed to deny what he knew they both wanted.

  Phillip was quiet for a moment, then said, “My wife once told me she did not want to celebrate her birthday, so we didn’t. I didn’t buy her a card. I didn’t take her to dinner. I pretended as if that day were any other day. I regretted that decision for the entire twelve months that led up to her next birthday. Women are complicated creatures.”

  “Why not just say what they want?”

  “They do, but they say it as only another woman can understand it.”

  “Absurd.”

  “Would you like it translated?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Phillip took out his phone. “You could ask my wife.”

  Magnus shook his head. “I will do no such thing.” In the brief time it took Phillip to repocket his phone, Magnus gave in to his curiosity. “You will ask her, but do not tell her it is for me.”

  “I can’t tell her it’s for me,” Phillip joked, but he sobered when he realized Magnus was serious. “I’ll be vague.” A moment later Phillip greeted his wife, then asked if he could have her opinion on something. She agreed.

  Phillip said, “One of my friends is interested in a woman who told him to stay away from her, and he’s looking for advice.” Phillip shook his head. “No, this is not like that. She was interested in him yesterday. She said—” Phillip turned to Magnus. “How exactly did she say it?”

  “She said, ‘You want to prove you care about me at all? Stay away from me.’”

  Phillip repeated it to his wife. “How certain are you?” Then he nodded. “That’s pretty certain. Thanks, my love. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Well?” Magnus demanded after Phillip hung up.

  “I’d rather not share what she said. She didn’t know we were referring to you.”

  “Phillip, your honesty is as valuable to me as your loyalty. Say it. I will not be offended.”

  “You know my wife is blunt.”

  Magnus folded his arms across his chest and waited.

  As expected, Phillip caved. “She said you screwed up big-time. Translated to womenspeak, it means: I’ve decided you’re a jerk, but I’ll give you one last chance to prove you’re not.”

  “That makes no sense. How could I prove what I am or am not by staying away from her?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask that part. Should I call her back?”

  “No.” It already felt ridiculous to have entertained her opinion at all. Magnus not only didn’t chase women, he also didn’t sit around and try to decipher what they wanted from him. There had always been too many women in the world to waste that much time on one.

  He told himself Rachelle was no different. Instead of spending another moment on her, Magnus decided to contact a couple of the women who were already considered a good marriage match for him.

  I don’t have to prove myself to anyone.

  He’d known from the first time he’d met Rachelle that indulging in her would be messy and complicated. He hadn’t predicted it would be this complicated, but hers was a gift that just kept giving. First a needy brother, now a manipulative grandmother. The path to sex with Rachelle was a minefield of drama.

  As he drove himself back to his palace, he couldn’t stop thinking about how dejected Rachelle had looked as she’d spoken of her grandmother. It reminded him of how she’d been hurt by her brother’s rejection. Part of him wanted to protect her even while another part was pulling away.

  What is my fascination with her?

  Is it because she doesn’t want to see me?

  A royal prince—a powerful one at that. Yet she would rather spend the night alone in a cheap hotel than with him.

  Similar thoughts plagued him even after he’d arrived back at his palace. He told himself her opinion of him didn’t matter, but that didn’t stop him from rehashing their conversations in his head.

  Rachelle was a proud woman who spoke her mind—he liked that.

  Wealth and power were not her goal, or she would have followed her grandmother’s plan, perhaps even to the point of attempting to trap him into marriage. Instead, she’d turned her back on her grandmother and him.

  Memories of her in the garden were impossible to keep at bay. They circled and nipped at him until he could no longer ignore them. There was no other woman, suitable or not, who held his interest the way she did. It would be a waste of time to contact other women before he resolved this issue.

  Why would a woman be so open one day and then want nothing to do with a man the next? He dismissed Phillip’s wife’s theory. Which part did I screw up? When I helped her brother? When I honored her by taking her to see my father? I’ve been honest with her about what I want. I would think that would be applauded.

  He remembered how she’d looked on the way into his father’s palace. She wasn’t turning me away before her grandmother arrived.

  A thought came to him that put a smile on his face. She’s embarrassed by how eagerly she would have come to me.

  I can work with that.

  Perhaps I should be giving advice to Phillip.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning, shortly after Rachelle had finished getting dressed, even though she had nowhere to go, a letter was delivered to her hotel room. She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the formal envelope by peeling off the royal seal. It was an invitation written in calligraphy on thick cream-colored stock paper. “The Master of the House has been commanded by His Majesty to invite Rachelle Westerly to a reception by the King for the Orphanage Development Committee at Pavailler Palace on Tuesday.” Rachelle skimmed the rest for the date and time. “Dress: Lounge suit/day dress. Guests are asked to arrive between six p.m. and six twenty p.m. A reply is requested . . .”

  She threw the envelope onto the bed beside her.

  Fuming, she called her grandmother. “I’m not going, but I can’t believe you would sink that low. Orphans? Really?”

  “Well, hello, Rachelle. Good morning to you as well.”

  “There is no good morning that starts with being blackmailed into doing something.”

  “I agree. Now why don’t you tell me what has you in a tizzy?”

  “As if you don’t already know.”

  Delinda sighed. “Must we go round and round? I don’t know what you’re upset about this time. Either explain it to me, or call me later when you’ve calmed down. I have neither the time nor the patience for guessing games.”

  Rachelle read the invitation aloud. “Are you saying you didn’t orchestrate this?”

  “It’s genius, but I can’t claim it as mine.”

  While talking to her grandmother, Rachelle searched the Internet for how to politely decline going but found nothing. “Are you kidding me?” she muttered. “Doesn’t anyone decline a royal invitation?”

  “I don’t believe they do, dear. Especially not to receptions regarding orphans.” Rachelle could hear the smile in Delinda’s voice.

  “I’m glad you think this is amusing, Delinda. I don’t. And I refuse to be manipulated. I told Magnus yesterday that I didn’t want to see him again, and I meant it.”

  “You did? Well played, Rachelle.”

 
Breathe. Count to ten. Think of all the reasons why swearing doesn’t help a situation. “I’m not playing. Maybe that’s what you don’t understand. I don’t care what’s all over social media. I don’t care that your pride was dented and that you think sticking it to the prince will make you feel better. Do you care at all about how I feel? Let me tell you why you can’t answer yes. You don’t know me well enough to know what I care about. That’s the tragedy here. Not my reputation. The real tragedy is that you don’t see how much you hurt the people you claim to love.” Rachelle hung up the phone and fell backward onto her bed. Well, that went well.

  Was it past time for me to say that?

  Or should I have kept it to myself?

  I don’t know why I think I can help Eric or anyone else when I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing most of the time.

  A knock on her door jolted her out of bed. She shook her head in resignation when she opened the door and saw a member of the hotel staff holding a bouquet so large only the person’s legs were visible beneath it. She directed the young man to put it on the floor and tipped him before hunting through the bright, exotic flowers for a card.

  I tried. I can’t stay away. Magnus.

  In a few minutes, Rachelle would remind herself why it was wrong for Magnus not to have respected her request. She’d muster up some indignation. However, she let herself bask for a moment in how good it felt to see that he hadn’t immediately moved on to another woman.

  Pathetically, wonderfully good.

  Her phone rang. She scrambled to retrieve it from beside the bed. Magnus.

  Do I answer it? I told my grandmother I didn’t want to play games. “Hello,” she said in a husky voice.

  “How are you today?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

  She considered telling him not to call her again, then decided to be honest with him instead. Hell, that might be an even better deterrent. “I’m a mess. A wreck. I’m angry. Scared. Confused. Tired. Have you ever been in a situation where you feel like there’s no right choice?”