Best Friends with a Royal Billionaire

by Sophia Summers

  His phone was set at full volume. Still no response from Amara. That girl could be stubborn. But she would be fine. That much he knew. She could take care of herself.

  When she didn’t show up at the airport, he knew he’d just have to leave the ball in her court. What more could he do? She’d show back up sometime to visit her parents. Hopefully, whatever she did, wherever she went, she’d steer clear of the storm.

  10

  Amara got on the last flight to Karpathos. Everything else was cancelled for the rest of the night. The whole airport was on high alert. But they had just enough time before any real storm hit to travel home.

  After reading Arlo’s text, she’d looked up all news of the coming storm and learned with growing dread that a huge hurricane was heading straight for Karpathos. And that they expected severe damage. The royal family had already advised the citizens to get to safety. All palaces and churches were open for public use.

  But Amara knew most citizens wouldn’t take the warnings seriously. They would hunker down in their own homes. But there were some who just weren’t safe in their homes. One area on the island was full of huts: bamboo structures that never withstood any high winds or strong rain. Amara couldn’t bear to think what would happen to them.

  The last time she’d visited them, Arlo had been with her. The palace often sent aid to those particular villagers. And, as a part of the stamping out hunger initiatives, sending in sustenance was a priority for Arlo. Amara had been thrilled to be a part. When they had landed in the helicopter, and the people of the village had come running, she had been immediately charmed. Their smiles, their open arms, the hugs from their children all enveloped her in a love she’d never felt for complete strangers.

  The children had pulled her along to their play area and their fire pits, where the men and women were beginning what looked like preparations for dinner.

  The men from the palace unloaded box after box of food and supplies and were told to place them in an oversized pavilion-looking area. The thatched roofs and the open-air walls all seemed very exposed to Amara, but the people seemed to think everything would be fine. She remembered their flight home. Amara wanted to do more. “But why can’t we just build them houses?”

  “They like what they have. It has been their way for decades and they don’t want us to interfere.”

  “But they would be so much safer.”

  “I don’t know if they would. They have their methods. They watch the weather. They see the signs, probably better than we do with all our apps and weather communications. If things get too bad, they all move together deeper into the forests.”

  Amara had not been convinced and now as she read of the impending storm, her thoughts had immediately turned to them.

  They called her flight for boarding at last. As she sat in her seat, Arlo’s texts begging her to fly home with her sister burned a hole in her consciousness. She clicked her seatbelt, locking her in place. She would make her own way. She texted her parents, letting them know her plans and then turned her phone off. At least she knew they would be safe at the palace.

  As she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, she tried to block out Arlo. But he was everywhere in her thoughts. No matter what direction her mind turned, he would hijack her consciousness. Why had he kissed her? She’d been perfectly able to keep her hopes under control. She’d been able to remember that they were not meant to be together.

  Even though she hated Therese, she couldn’t fault her words. She merely stated what everyone else who really understood the situation would say—what his parents would try to explain to them and what her parents probably already grasped. It was better to see the truth point-blank among friends than at some big event where the media would then jump on board and attack them.

  But now. She squeezed her eyes tighter against the tear that wanted to fall, but it escaped. Now that she’d kissed him. The lump in her throat grew. She must not think about him right now. She was hopelessly in love with a man she could never have.

  Her reflection in the mirror was bleak. She closed her eyes again, not caring what tears fell, and tried to block out all thought.

  Arlo landed on Karpathos. Amara was ignoring him. But he had no more time to deal with that worry. He hugged Clara and then hurried to his parents’ rooms.

  They had set up an emergency team on phones and with monitors up and ready. Arlo jumped in, going over data and double-checking the readiness of certain parts of the island.

  “And what do we know of our villagers?”

  His father pressed his lips together. “They would not leave. Earlier, when a team went in, the people were evacuating to the trees, to wherever they go during storms.” He shook his head. “And now we must go in after them once the storm is over and do damage control.”

  “You sound so heartless, dear.” Arlo’s mother came to stand beside her husband and slipped her hand on his arm

  “It’s because I have a heart that I am so frustrated with these people.”

  “Perhaps they will be safe. They have customs in place for these kinds of storms.”

  The king gestured to the wall that had a live feed of the satellite image of the storm. “Look at that thing. They’re calling this the storm of the century.”

  His wife looked away and Arlo felt more worried. Again his thoughts turned to Amara. He hoped she was being smart and safe.

  His phone dinged.

  Clara texted, “Amara texted the parents while she was taking off. She’s on her way.”

  His relief washed through him in waves. She was coming. Even though she would now be on the island in the midst of such a huge storm, she would be safe at the palace. He planned to see her as soon as possible.

  “Thank you,” he texted back. “Please send a palace car to get her at the airport, and let me know of her safe arrival.”

  Her thumbs-up emoji calmed him and satisfied a good portion of his worry. He pocketed the phone.

  At last he could fully immerse himself in the emergency response efforts.

  Many hours later, the storm officially hit. The palace lights actually flickered for a moment and then turned back on. He texted Amara, “Safe and sound?”

  But she didn’t answer. “Is the Cohen family here in the palace?” he asked his parents.

  “Yes, we have all the staff here.” His mother’s emphasis on the word staff didn’t sit well with Arlo.

  “They’re hardly staff. The Cohens are like family.”

  She lifted her chin but didn’t respond.

  “I’m not sure I like the way you view them, the way you talk about Amara. I’d like to talk about that sometime.”

  “Time for those kinds of talks will come. Let’s see about mobilizing our teams as soon as the storm passes through an area.” His father seemed reluctant to talk about Amara. Perhaps he really was focused on the storm, but Arlo couldn’t tell if he was on his mother’s side and shared her way of thinking, or his own.

  The screens started to show live updates of the coastline. The wind was strong enough to uproot trees. Arlo was astounded. “Have we ever seen winds this strong?”

  “I remember once as a young boy we had a similar storm, but even that one was not as strong as this is supposed to be.”

  Arlo winced as the roof of a house flew by on the screen. “I hope our people are safe.”

  “As do I.” His mother’s cold fingers on his arm, her worried expression, reminded him of how much she loved their country, their people. He knew her manner of categorizing people was meant as a protection for him.

  But Arlo felt stifled and hurt on Amara’s behalf. Was there any law preventing him from marrying whoever he wanted? Absolutely not. This wasn’t some show like The Princess Diaries. He was perfectly free to manage the affairs of his heart in whatever manner he saw fit.

  Of course he knew that his choice of a wife would greatly affect the whole nation. She would be a figurehead, an example, run programs, have royal duties, but he couldn’t
think of a better queen than Amara.

  If she’d have him. Things weren’t looking too promising on that front at the moment.

  But he did hope for his parents’ blessing on his choice, and for a nation and Mediterranean community that would be kind to his wife. They would be miserable if the press turned against them and insulted and tried to bash them and their children.

  His mind could not be deterred from thinking of Amara. He excused himself from the main control room and went in search of the Cohens.

  The first servant he saw directed him to their rooms. At least they’d been given preferential treatment. They were staying in guest rooms, not the servants’ quarters. Their rooms were in the east wing, which had the best views of the park. He picked up his feet, wanting to hurry and see that they were well, and mostly just wanting to look into Amara’s face.

  A servant behind him approached. “Your Highness, forgive me. The king would like to see you immediately. There have been developments.”

  Arlo stopped, on the verge of putting off even his father, but then he nodded and turned back. He would have to wait until he had a free moment to go see Amara.

  When he arrived back in the control room, the place was in a frenzy.

  “The storm has hit. Our north border.” The king led him to the main monitors where an advisor was giving updates.

  Arlo looked out the windows. The trees were bent nearly to the ground.

  “They’re expecting a surge of water, like a tsunami.” The king pointed to another screen detailing the possible effects and size of such a large wall of water.

  “How are our people?”

  “They are well-warned and hopefully heeding our cautions, but see the trajectory.” The king pointed along the shoreline. “The storm will hit the village by nightfall.”

  Arlo tensed. “Someone must go to them. A team.”

  “We cannot put ourselves at risk because they would not evacuate.”

  “But we can still help. And we will not be overly at risk. We can do more on the ground than here in this office.” Arlo looked around the room. “I’ll go crazy if I have to just sit here and listen to emergencies and not do something. We have plenty of people doing that. You and mother are making the decisions. Allow me to go.”

  The queen stepped forward with great concern on her face, a ready no at her lips. But the king nodded. “You may go. Gather what you need and reach them before nightfall. Then bunker down yourself. You might have to prepare yourself to be there more to help with damage control after the storm than to prevent it, but do what you can.” He gripped Arlo’s shoulder. “And thank you.”

  Arlo nodded. He remembered the children of that village, their green eyes, their lovely olive skin. He could see Amara with a young girl in her arms. And his heart ached. He picked up his phone and started making the calls to get a team together.

  In a couple hours, he was on his way. A ground crew headed along the forest roads in covered jeeps and trucks. Arlo made his way in the helicopter. There was a hangar made of steel in the area, the place the king had hoped the villagers would evacuate to. Arlo would do his best to get them there.

  He checked his phone again. No response from Amara. He wanted to chuck it out the window he was so frustrated. They were in the middle of a hurricane and she couldn’t respond? The helicopter swayed in the high winds. They were flying in from a quieter angle and also, still ahead of the storm, but the edges were enough to ground them. Their pilot was an expert, and Arlo saw the sweat on his face.

  He hoped the ground crew would make it without problems. Their vehicles were military grade. And their supplies would be vital.

  At last they landed and moved the bird into the hangar. Arlo got the group organized and started setting up a medical facility, a food distribution location, and places for people to sleep. And he and a smaller group donned backpacks and made their way through the forest toward where he thought the villagers would be trying to wait out the storm.

  When he and Amara had visited, the children had shown them their favorite spots. And while they were back in the woods, the leader of their village had approached. “I wish to show you something.” He’d led them further into the trees to a part of the forest Arlo had never been and pointed up to a cliff face. “See. Caves. That’s where we go in trouble. You remember that in case you ever need to know.”

  Arlo and Amara had immediately made plans to go visit, but they never had. Arlo knew the people would be there. He suspected they would be safe, but their village and all their supplies and belongings would be swept away. And he couldn’t sit. He couldn’t rest. He didn’t know for sure that the swell from the ocean would be lower than those caves. Just the thought of water filling the entrance and drowning the people inside made him hurry his feet. “I know where they are. Hurry.”

  His team didn’t question him. They wore military uniforms as they pushed closer to the ocean, where the wind kept getting stronger and the rain began to fall in sheets.

  11

  Amara tried to outrun the storm. She’d borrowed a palace Jeep and drove it as far as it would go. The road was narrow, and the vegetation hanging over the edges of the path was all but taking over the small road. She went up over a huge bump in the road and then back down in a ditch. The trail deteriorating; it was worse the further in she went.

  She gritted her teeth, her hands slippery on the wheel. Even with the roof on, she was drenched. Then she was forced to stop. A huge tree trunk rested across her way, and the nearby trees had taken over the area in a jungle-like infestation, which might normally be beautiful, but now that it blocked her path, she could only grumble in frustration. She slipped on her pack, adjusted her hat, and pushed her way through the trees.

  Would their caves keep the villagers safe? She didn’t know, but she knew they would be there. And she could contact the palace for help if it looked like they weren’t going to make it. She just had to see for herself. Dang, why couldn’t they just have a two-way radio or something? They refused all contact with the outside world; they’d refused a radio, electricity, and most of the palace’s help. But they had accepted food when their food supply had suffered from drought, and another time when their land had flooded. This time, their entire village would be washed away if the storm predictions were anything to go by.

  She swung her machete through the vegetation, trying to follow what used to be the jeep trail. Water dripped down her back off the brim of her hat. She adjusted her collar and kept moving. But she was so dang slow. The frustration of not being able to just run through the woods nagged at her. With her next sweep, she called out, “Aarh.”

  She checked her compass. At this point, none of the landmarks were familiar. She just had to keep moving in the right direction and hope she stumbled upon something she knew.

  She lost track of time, not daring to bring out her phone in this weather. But after what felt like hours, she pushed her way out into a clearing. And there she recognized a place on the outskirts of the village. “Whoop!” she cheered and jumped in the air. Then she took off running, but a voice called out over the wind—a small, young voice—and Amara skidded to a stop. “Hello!”

  “Help!”

  She ran toward it, pushing through the debris. The wind was picking up. “Where are you?”

  “Here!” A small hand waved from inside some bamboo walls on a platform.

  Amara raced to the bamboo ladder that led up and into a house. Peering into the dark interior, she sucked in her breath at three sets of wide eyes staring back. Two children and their mother, who was wrapping her ankle, with a tear-stained face. “I tripped. I’ve been ripping clothing to tie this enough so that I can walk. But it hurts. How bad is it? Are we too late?”

  “Not at all. I’ll help you. But it’s pretty bad. We have to go now.”

  She nodded.

  Amara dug in her pack and found an ankle brace. The woman’s ankle was swollen, but Amara looked her in the eye. “This will hurt, and then it w
ill help. Can you be brave?”

  “Yes.” She pulled her children close, and Amara undid the woman’s attempts at wrapping her ankle. She eyed the swelling, purple marks already forming, and gritted her teeth. “Here goes.”

  She pulled the brace up over the woman’s foot and around her ankle. She cried out but then wiped her eyes. “Let’s go.” She stood, a bit wobbly, but her eyes were determined.

  “I’ll help you. Let’s get down that ladder.” She knelt in front of the children. “I was here before, visiting with the prince. Do you remember?”

  The younger one shook her head, but the older nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  “Your leader showed us the caves when we were here. That’s where we’re going now. Tell me your names.”

  “Tahki. And this is Sam.” The older one stood taller. “We can make it and help Mama.”

  “Excellent. I’m Amara. Do you remember how to get there?”

  Their mother gripped the wall as she moved toward the ladder. “We all know. The village school takes the children there twice a year to help them remember. Down you two.” As soon as they scrambled down the ladder, she turned to Amara with a pained expression. “I don’t know where their father is. He left, saying he would be back, and has not returned.”

  “What was he going to do?”

  “Check on our fishing supplies out by the water. We just finished building a boat to fish in. And he was worried.”

  Amara nodded. “I will send someone back to look for him.”

  Her worried eyes grew wider, but she said only, “Thank you. I’m Sheira.”

  “Nice to meet you. Let’s get your family to safety.”

  The threat of a swell, of flooding, of winds and rain, and of falling trees all weighed on Amara as she helped Sheira painstakingly make her way down the ladder. As soon as they stood on solid ground, she wrapped an arm around Sheira’s waist and walked at her side, bearing some of the weight. “We need to move as quickly as you can.”