Best Friends with a Royal Billionaire

by Sophia Summers

  Best Friends With a Royal Billionaire

  A Royal Prince Society Romance

  Sophia Summers

  Contents

  Read all books by Sophia Summers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter ONE Hiding out with a Royal Billionaire

  Read all books by Sophia Summers

  Read all books by Sophia Summers

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  Other books in the Vacation Billionaires Series

  Her Billionaire Lifeguard

  Her Billionaire Professor

  Her Billionaire Bellboy

  Her Love and Marriage Brides Series

  The Bride’s Secret

  The Bride’s Cowboy

  The Bride’s Billionaire

  Read all the books in The Swoony Sports Romances

  Hitching the Pitcher

  Falling for Centerfield

  Charming the Shortstop

  Snatching the Catcher

  Flirting with First

  Kissing on Third

  Her Billionaire Royals Series:

  The Heir

  The Crown

  The Duke

  The Duke’s Brother

  The Prince

  The American

  The Spy

  The Princess

  Her Billionaire Cowboys Series:

  Her Billionaire Cowboy

  Her Billionaire Protector

  Her Billionaire in Hiding

  Her Billionaire Christmas Secret

  Her Billionaire to Remember

  Her Single Holiday Romances

  Taming Scrooge

  1

  “We have to go to the yacht party this year!” Amara’s sister, Clara, held up her phone with pictures of last year’s Prince Society yacht party.

  “We aren’t invited.” The last thing Amara wanted to do was chase after Arlo and his princely friends. “And besides, you sure you want to jump up and down waiting for some attention when you know all the royals will be there?”

  “Uh yeah…”

  “The royal women.”

  “Oh.” Clara shrugged in her confident way. “They don’t have anything we don’t. Besides, no one is as close to Arlo as we are.”

  We were. Amara wanted to say. And there was a difference between being close as his gardener and being close as his date. The first she had done all growing up, the other would never happen. They were best friends; they had done everything together as children and even into their teens—dancing lessons, tutors, climbing trees, and surfing—and then something had happened.

  “I’m sure Arlo doesn’t want the gardener’s daughters trailing after him at his Prince Society events.”

  Clara rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t even look at us like that. We’re always invited. Besides, Arlo isn’t the only prince we know.”

  Amara didn’t want to admit the truth of Clara’s words. A part of her wanted to go just as bad as her sister. The guys all brought yachts and anchored down near a string of islands off Greece, not far from home, and did nothing but relax and have fun. After the semester she just had, she knew she needed a break.

  “I’ll bring my camera.” Clara smiled as largely as Amara had ever seen her smile.

  “Like they’re going to want their own paparazzi at the yacht party.”

  “Oh, right.” Clara put her toes up on the glass edge of the coffee table. “We have to get an invite. It’s the party of the summer. And besides, if we don’t, you know we’re going to be in charge of the east greenhouses.”

  Amara wouldn’t mind so much the work in the greenhouse, but for once she agreed with her carefree and fun-loving sister—she could use a break. “Okay, but we’re not asking Arlo.” Something about showing up there on her own accord seemed much more preferable than hanging onto his coattails.

  “Fine, but he’s the easiest way in.” Her pout could be seen across a room when she wanted to be especially dramatic.

  “I need the break, but I don’t want to trail after the guys. Maybe we can just go ourselves.”

  “Well, sure, but you know they’re gonna have the party of the year. The yachts. The people. Everyone beautiful will be there, and it won’t cost us anything.” Her widened eyes made Amara laugh.

  “I know. I know. I want to go just as much as you do.”

  “You do?” She linked her arm with Amara’s. “Then what is stopping us?”

  They walked to Amara’s makeshift office, where Clara air-kissed her goodbye and then skipped off. That woman acted like a crazed teenager half the time. Amara couldn’t blame her. She hadn’t yet been hurt by the royals and their stubborn insistence on class and social standing. Clara might be fun for a fling, but she wasn’t what any of the princes were looking for long term.

  And since Amara wasn’t all that interested in quick flings, she knew it was best to avoid that crowd altogether. A small smile tugged at her lips. But even she couldn’t resist the party of the year. Who wouldn’t want to laze about on boats in the beautiful Mediterranean? She cringed, squinting her eyes tight, and then texted Emily, the new wife of one of the members of the Prince Society. She had connections. Her brothers were making huge strides with a new business venture in America, and if Amara had to guess, they would all be there with their mammoth yacht. Surely they had room for two more?

  Hey, Emily! How are things?

  Amara put her phone aside. There. She’d done her part. What she really needed to do was open her laptop. She had just a few last assignments to complete before the end of the semester. She’d left a week early from her university in Prague. Most of her classes were remote anyway. Once she completed her last two papers, she was done until fall. She loved Prague and her studies. But the semesters were long, and she worked hard. It was always nice to come home to the beautiful gardens of the palace on Karpathos. Her parents and their parents before had been head gardeners for the Karpathos royal palace. She took great pride in the beauty her family had been able to create for generations.

  She picked up her laptop. Time to go sit on the back verandah. Their cottage was really a mini-mansion, hardly a cottage by anyone’s standards. It was built to match the palace in design and materials. So everywhere she looked were white marble columns, marble floors, exquisite spaces, and airy rooms. After growing up here, the cold weather and tiny apartment in Prague had been quite a shock.

  The breeze was a perfect temperature as always. The orange groves sent delicious smells her way. And the flowers all along their veranda were in bloom. Amara drank it in. Until she left, she hadn’t known that everyone wasn’t always surrounded by such beauty. She’d gone to help the people on her island in their poverty, worked every weekend when big storms hit, but even they were surrounded by the same gorgeous settings. The island was stunning no matter where people lived.

  No one would argue that Prague wasn’t pleasing to look at. But the beauty beyond the architecture was nothing like what she was used to, and the sad situations of much of the poor broke her heart. After seeing that not all of the world was like her stunning home country, she’d adjusted all her plans and started a new emphasis on non-profits, specifically disaster relief. She would do something to help.

  Her eyes glazed and her mind turned to
her latest paper. Soon her fingers were flying across the keyboard and her imagination had travelled to a small village in Cambodia. She and Arlo had gone together once as part of a palace team with a group of medical professionals to offer care for the children in that village.

  “Amaaara.” A voice sounded far away.

  Her mind was so distracted, she didn’t pay attention.

  “Amara!”

  She lifted her gaze, her heart pounding in happiness. He was home!

  “Arlo!” She stood, watching him run across the lawn like he used to when they were children. Before she could stop herself, she took off running toward him. Old habits die hard. She guessed the cliché was true. And she really couldn’t stop herself. It had been months since she’d seen him. And even though she knew they couldn’t be together, she ached for him.

  When they met, he swung her in a circle and pulled her close. “Amara, it’s good to see you.”

  Her body awoke in a flash of awareness as she hugged him back. And, for a moment, his hands curled in a softer, more intimate embrace at her waist, but the moment passed before she could define it and he reached for her hands. “How long have you been back?”

  “Just today. Classes let us out early as long as we complete our assignments.”

  “So is that what you’re doing?”

  “I was. Finishing up a paper. But what about you?”

  He let go of one hand but kept the other, and they started walking toward the oranges. This was the path they took to discuss life and all their problems. So she wondered what he had on his mind.

  But he seemed perfectly content. “I’m home. Done for the semester, too, and I’m so ready to get out on the sea. You coming?”

  “Coming?”

  “To the party! You are, aren’t you?”

  “I hope so. We hadn’t heard, so I didn’t know if…” She shrugged. And all the old friendly camaraderie left.

  “If what? If you wanted to?” His expression became a little guarded, and their normal awkwardness settled.

  “No, never mind. We are totally coming.”

  “Great, ’cause I have a large yacht. Father doesn’t need it anywhere and there’s plenty of room.”

  “Wait, we’re staying with you?”

  He tipped his head. “Unless you had plans with someone else.” The blank face he used for foreign negotiations masked his emotions, and Amara cursed his training. She had no idea what he was thinking.

  “Not at all. We hadn’t been invited, so I wasn’t sure if we could go. We would love to stay with you.”

  His smile returned. “That’s what I like to hear. I’m staying the full month this time. Stay as long as you like. We leave Friday.”

  Her grin grew. “I can’t wait. I need this so bad.”

  He swung their hands. “Are classes that bad?” The concern on his face made her heart ping and quiver with an expectation she tried to tamp down.

  “No, they’re amazing. I’m learning so much about protocol and organization. I was just now thinking about our trip to Cambodia.”

  “That was some trip. Life-changing for me.”

  She considered him. “It really was. That’s when you started to implement the ‘no hunger here’ campaign.” She’d never been prouder of a royal.

  “I’m so pleased about that.”

  “Me too. And it’s working.”

  “I know.” He squeezed her hand. “I think we’ve done it. I think for the first time in Karpathos’ history we have tamped out hunger.”

  She was astounded. After all the stats she’d hammered away at about world hunger, world need, and diseased and unhappy children, Arlo had done what everyone always said to do. Start at home and work one family at a time. Her eyes welled with tears, and she tried to look away to hide them, but he stopped. “Hey, what’s this?”

  She laughed and turned to face him. “It’s nothing. I mean. It’s not nothing. It’s everything. That’s just the most amazing thing I’ve heard. Do you have any idea how incredible that is? No hunger? I’m—I’m happy, I guess. Who else in the world has made something so important a priority and actually carried it through?”

  He shrugged. “Well, it helps that Karpathos isn’t that large, and we have generous donors.”

  “And strong encouragement and example from the crown.”

  He nodded. “And a hefty donation.”

  “It’s incredible. Everyone should have food.”

  “I agree.” He stepped closer to her, staring into her eyes with an intensity she hadn’t noticed before. “I love that about you.”

  “What?”

  “That you care so much.” His lifted a finger and wiped at the tears waiting on her jawline. He shook his head. “And now we are getting a huge influx of requests for refugees.”

  She nodded. “I can see why. How many can you take?”

  “We can up our percentage by a half percent. I wish we could do more, but I can’t turn Karpathos into a tent city. As much as I would like to sometimes, Father wouldn’t allow it. The people would be at risk, and hunger would be a problem again.”

  “I’m not sure of the solution, honestly. But I know you’ll figure it out.”

  “Probably better if you were a part of the conversation.” His expression seemed earnest. What was he asking?

  She looked away, not sure what to say. “I don’t know how much help I’d be, but you can always call…”

  “You can always pick up…”

  “Oh fine. You’re right. You have to admit the time difference does make it problematic.”

  He didn’t answer, so she turned to him. The questions on his face were not ones she wanted to address right now. She just couldn’t go there. “Hey, race you to the tree!”

  She took off running as fast as she could across the rest of the lawn and toward the orange grove.

  He laughed and soon caught up and overtook her, but she didn’t care. They raced down a row, with orange trees on both sides, until they reached the very back of the orchard. There grew the largest, most untamed and untrimmed orange tree. It was old. And, in a sense, the mother of all the others, grafted carefully and cared for. When Amara’s father had learned that the tree was a favorite of Arlo’s and hers to climb, he’d agreed to let it grow big and strong, with branches that could support them.

  As Amara grabbed the lowest limb and swung up after Arlo, she laughed. “Does it ever concern you that most everyone else we know has grown out of this?”

  She pulled herself up to sit beside him in the crook of a branch, worn smooth by their years of spending time there.

  “Not a bit. I never want to grow out of us.”

  She noticed the shift in his answer. Amara hadn’t been talking about their friendship, but Arlo wanted to make it personal.

  And personal was painful.

  2

  Arlo stood on the front deck of his yacht, Sun Angel, waiting for the Cohen girls. They weren’t exactly late—he hadn’t given them a time—but Arlo was certain Clara was the hold up. Amara would have wanted to leave at daybreak. This was the best time of their summer. When the Prince Society was first created, Arlo was certain he’d never participate. They were a bunch of playboys, looking for attention and an excuse to skip out on their duties. And, for the most part, Arlo never took part. He did plan to see about their waterskiing competition team. The yacht races also seemed fun.

  But the fun was the problem. They needed more productive uses of their time. If they socialized, they should be inviting countries’ leaders who were, as yet, unfriendly. They could hold summits and discuss again the pollution in the Mediterranean. They could talk about hunger on a broader scale. They could discuss an alliance of some sort. Universities, trade. So many things could be accomplished with an organization of princes. But the guys who made most of the decisions just wanted to party.

  And this summer, a party was perfect. Amara said she needed this. Arlo needed this, too. Though what Arlo really needed was Amara. Plain and simple.<
br />
  But she’d pushed him away. Any time the conversation veered closer to relationship instead of friendship, she steered it carefully away.

  Maybe she was right. They’d got on well all these years on friendship alone. She could always be his friend. And who knew what might happen this summer, all those lovely nights on the yacht. His heart picked up just thinking about it, and he moved his feet along the deck, though he’d checked and double-checked everything for departure.

  He could have had Jorge come and be the captain, but with Amara on board, he knew they could handle the duties themselves. They didn’t have far to go. The only other person on board was Marguerite, a chef from the palace who’d known them all since they were infants. She had agreed to come and “keep things on the up and up,” as Amara’s mother had said. Arlo smiled again thinking of the deep blush on Amara’s cheeks as they listened to her mother lay down the law like they were still teens.

  Arlo was happy to have Marguerite as she was one of the best chefs on the Mediterranean. When the others learned he had her on board, they might never eat alone.

  Loud chatter met his ears, and sure enough, Clara and Amara turned a corner, pulling luggage behind them. Clara’s bag looked like she would be travelling across Europe for six months. Amara had one small carry-on. What a woman. He jogged toward them. “You’re here! Awesome, let’s get this going!”

  Clara raised both hands in the air. “Summer party 2020, here we come!” She ran to him and got up on tiptoes, kissing his cheek. “Thanks for the invite. Amara wouldn’t ask, so you saved us.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Interesting information. Amara wouldn’t ask? He’d analyze that later.