The Royal Treatment: A Billionaire Prince Romance

by Erin Hayes

  I do believe that he’s telling the truth about not knowing I was here. In fact, the only two people who knew I was coming to Tokyo were James and Sachiko.

  Shit, Sachiko. I nearly forgot the fact that she’s here. Some friend I am.

  I turn to her, noticing she has been keenly watching our exchange. “Sachiko,” I say, only barely able to keep my composure, “this is Prince Ferdinand of Dubreva.” I realize how awkward this is now and glance back at him. “He’s…well…”

  Ferdinand extends his hand. “I’m an old friend of Alexandra’s,” he says. Damn, his voice is just as sexy as I remember it, too, especially when he turns on the charming prince demeanor. Introductions are a thing that he’s used to and relies on habit to take him through it. I watch in a little bit of awe as he presses Sachiko’s hand to his lips in greeting.

  Awe and jealousy that he’s kissing another woman’s hand and calling me an old friend. I was so much more than that.

  Then I stop myself.

  Shit. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Hello,” Sachiko says, amusement playing about her lips. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  His eyebrows go up, and his eyes slide over to me in surprise. “Really?”

  I clear my throat uncomfortably. “I’m here because of that anniversary as well.” I hate referring to it as an anniversary. It was the day our daughter died. Nothing to celebrate. Just mourn. Anniversaries are meant to be celebrations. This is something else entirely. “For closure.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Closure. Me too.” Then, it’s as though he remembers we’re standing in a temple in the middle of Tokyo. “So what were you doing over here?”

  “I was placing a statue here for...her…” It physically hurts to say that out loud to him, but I manage to keep my tears at bay. “It’s a tradition in Japan to help grieving parents after a miscarriage.”

  He follows my gaze and looks at the rows of Jizo statues and pales as the sheer number of them hit him. I know, because the same occurred to me when I first saw them. “There are so many,” he murmurs, as if to himself.

  I feel awkward standing next to him. There’s not a whole lot that I can do or say right now. Only watch this phantom from my past. It’s like my mind cannot catch up with what’s happened in the past five minutes. I never thought I’d see Ferdinand again, yet he’s standing here in front of me. He starts to slowly walk down the row, examining the statues. There’s something mesmerizing about them, as if you feel a sense of peace and loss at the same time.

  Beside me, Sachiko grabs my hand, and her eyebrows raise in question. “Do you want me here?” she whispers.

  I worry my bottom lip. What does one do in a situation like this? It would be rude to tell her to go, after all that she’s done for me, but I didn’t think that Ferdie would be here. Beyond that, would I even want to spend more time with him, alone? The last time we were together, my heart had been shattered for years. I’ve only just recovered from it, after spending so much of my life in a haze.

  Can I really risk it with him?

  “I don’t know,” I admit to her truthfully. “It’s…”

  “Strange, yes.” She nods her head. “The world works in very strange ways. This may be a chance for you to reconnect with him.”

  “Or for my heart to get broken again,” I say. I sigh and cross my arms across my breasts, which is more of a hug than anything for me.

  “Let me say it this way, then. There’s a reason why you’re here.” I glance back at Sachiko. “You put up your own statue today. And he’s here. Fate is bringing you together for a reason.”

  “What if I don’t like that reason?”

  She shrugs. “You just have to try your best. Find your own reason.”

  I scoff and shake my head. My best has never been that good. It’s only made things more complicated in my life.

  Ferdinand comes back to us. “And you did this for…” he glances at Sachiko as if to determine if she knows about our tragedy, “our daughter?” His eyes, those dark brown eyes that I loved, are sad. I wonder if they’ve always been sad.

  I swallow thickly and nod. “Yes.”

  He closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “Thank you for remembering her,” he says quietly.

  I wring my hands. “How could I forget? I never forgot about her.”

  “Neither did I.”

  We stare at each other for a long moment that gets uncomfortable. All I can think about is that dilemma. Do I want to see more of him? How should I take this? Fate being cruel to us?

  Finally, he drops his chin and steps back as he puts his hands in his pockets. “I guess I should be going back to the hotel.”

  “What else are you going to do in Tokyo?” I find myself asking him. Shit.

  He stops, as if he’s considering my question. “I don’t know. I haven’t really gotten that far ahead.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m just figuring it out as I go along.”

  Sachiko nudges my arm. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Do you want to go out for a drink tonight, then?” I can’t believe that those words are coming out of my mouth. That I’m the one initiating this. Still, I can’t help the flutter of my heart as I wait for his answer.

  He regards me for a long moment before giving me a grim smile. “I’d like that.”

  “We can just do it at one of the bars at our hotels,” I say. It feels like neutral ground, like it’s not a date or anything, if we put minimal effort into this talk.

  “Which hotel are you staying at?” he asks.

  “The Shangri-La.”

  A smile touches his lips. “I’ll see you there at eight, then?”

  “Sounds good.”

  We both stare at each other for another uncomfortable second before he gives a small wave. “Nice to meet you, Sachiko,” he says. His gaze turns to me, and I feel my insides heat up. “Eight o’clock.”

  And then he leaves. I let out a breath and stagger backward, clutching at my hands. Out of every possibility I could have thought of for my trip to Tokyo, I never thought I’d see Ferdie here.

  I jump at the feathery light touch on my arm. Sachiko leans into me. “Good. This is good!”

  Yet I can’t help the pit that’s there in my stomach.

  14

  Ferdinand

  I stand in front of the mirror, rooted to my spot in self-doubt. I’ve been back at the Ritz Carlton for several hours now, and while I had been tired earlier, it feels as though the jet lag has completely left me, and I’ve just been left breathless this whole time.

  Then again, I had no idea that Lex would be here in Tokyo. And that I’d be getting ready to have a drink with her.

  The man who looks back at me in the mirror looks scared shitless. Completely unlike the confident prince I should be.

  What does one do when he’s about to meet the woman he’s been fantasizing about his whole life? This isn’t necessarily a date, but I feel like this may be somewhat of a last chance.

  And if it’s not that last chance, then I don’t want her thinking of me as some sort of arse by assuming there could possibly be anything between us. No matter how hard I want that to be true.

  I’ve made a point not to change clothes. I’m still in my shirt and jeans. I’ve smoothed out my hair. Washed my face to make sure that it’s not a dream. I don’t want to look like I’m trying any funny business or trying to seduce her—even though my whole body is humming with excitement. Fuck, even just thinking of her now, I can feel my cock stiffen. She still has an effect on me after all these years. But I saw the ring on her finger, and I know that she’s not available.

  “You’re a fucking mess,” I mutter to my reflection as I turn away and towel off my face and leave the bathroom. I pass by my phone and see that there are three text messages waiting for me.

  I open the first one.

  Mrs. Armen: Someone has to watch out for you.

  Despite everything, I smile. She received my text I sent
her earlier today, and I have to chuckle, because I did use the floss she sent with me to make sure that my teeth were as clean as possible before facing Lex again.

  I type in a quick reply to her: That’s why I have you. Mrs. Armen may not know all that’s been going on in my life, but I don’t think I could have made it to this point without her. She’s been the one voice of sanity this whole time as my world has crashed around me.

  I pause and swallow nervously as I see the next text is from Henry. I let out a steadying breath before opening it.

  Rather than there being any message from my brother, it’s a picture of Elizabeth on the steps of his residence, like it’s a shot from a newspaper. He must have zoomed in on her, as someone who is cropped out of the photo is holding her—Catherine, I imagine. Of course he’d send me a picture of his daughter. She’s been the biggest source of light and happiness in his whole life, and I don’t begrudge him that fact.

  But I do look at my niece closely now. She has his shock of dark hair—the same hair that runs in our family—and her eyes bright blue as she gives the camera an unhappy expression. I didn’t get to even hold my daughter back then, but I do wonder if she had lived if she would have looked anything like her cousin. Maybe Alexandra’s genes would have shown a different side of my family.

  Regardless, I know that she would have been perfect.

  Just like Elizabeth is.

  I hesitate before sending a reply back. I’m sure Henry is still salty from my leaving just before her first public appearance, but maybe this is some sort of peace offering. Or maybe he’s simply showing me what I missed.

  Either way, the end result is the same. I feel like shit for letting down my brand-new niece.

  You’re a lucky guy, I reply to him truthfully. And then I send it without anything further.

  The last text is from Eric. Did you scratch my jet? Typical Eric.

  I roll my eyes and turn off the screen before pocketing it and picking up my sports coat. I put it on, double-check that I have my card key to the room, and then leave. I slip by the concierge desk, not wanting to turn down the clerk for another limo ride.

  The subway ride seems to take forever as I head to the Marunouchi district. It’s less crowded at night, so I get to have a seat the whole way. Good thing, too, because my knees may have buckled underneath me if I had to stand the whole way.

  I can’t stop thinking about how this should go with Lex. And how I should act. Do I act as if the past fifteen years haven’t impacted me like they have? Stick to superficial topics like the weather and movies? Or do I ask her if she’s been having as many dreams as me? If she wishes things had turned out differently?

  If there’s a hope of a possibility for anything in our future?

  My mind brings up the one thought that I keep trying to push away from my mind. She has a ring on her finger. A big diamond, probably from some really rich, nice guy who treats her like a queen. And I can’t bring myself to even dislike the guy—I know Lex, and I know that she wouldn’t date any assholes, and she definitely wouldn’t agree to marry one.

  No, the only asshole she ever dated was me, and she learned her lesson from that.

  Whoever she’s marrying, though, I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy for him. How lucky he is to have found her. How I hope she has found solace and happiness with him.

  Which settles my decision on how I should treat this meeting.

  “We’re just friends,” I mutter to myself. I have to stick to that. That’s the easiest way.

  So I get off at the station and make my way to the Shangri-La and ride the elevator up to the bar. Just before I exit, I run my hands through my hair to muss it up a little bit—to look like I’m not trying that hard.

  But fuck if I am.

  I head out, and for a moment, it’s so busy that I don’t know where she is.

  And then everything shudders to a halt as I catch sight of her on one of the plush sofas by the window. She’s changed into a sleeveless turquoise dress with a plunging neckline and a flowy tulle skirt. Her legs are crossed, showing off the kilometers of milky white skin that I remember from so long ago. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a French twist, exposing her neck and her collarbone. An arm is draped over the back of the sofa, and she takes a dainty sip from a glass of wine.

  She looks like a goddess among mere mortals.

  I swallow thickly, unable to move. Because whether or not it’s because she’s not thinking about us or our tragedy, it’s the first time I’ve seen her without her pain in her eyes. She’s lost in thought, yes. But she looks at ease.

  And I don’t want to ruin that.

  She turns her head toward me, and our eyes meet. Her lips press into a line and the tension’s back in her gaze, like pain and regret swirling into its own blend of sadness. I don’t even think she’s doing it on purpose. It’s just the reaction she has around me now.

  I’ve ruined her peace of mind.

  Then her lips quirk up into a half-smile. This gives me the courage to walk over to her. She uncrosses those long legs and rises to her feet as she appraises me.

  “You made it,” she says softly.

  “I did.”

  We stand about a meter apart. Ordinarily, I would have kissed her hand for a meeting like this, even if we weren’t lovers years ago. But that seems inappropriate for this moment. But what is appropriate then?

  There’s a question in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask it, and the moment becomes awkward. I step back and put my hands in my pockets. “I’m going to get a drink; would you like another one?”

  She glances at the nearly empty glass in her hand. “Yes, please. I got here early to have a drink and…”

  I hope she didn’t come here early to have some alcohol to ease our meeting. I offer her a grin. “What would you like? Another of the same?”

  “The rosé, please.”

  I go to the bar and order two of the rosés. I rap my knuckles on the marble bar, trying to get my nerves out of the way. Damn, talking to her used to be the easiest thing in the world. Now I can’t keep my thoughts in line or in check. All I can think about is how beautiful she looks tonight.

  And how she’s no longer mine.

  The bartender sets the glasses in front of me. “Do you want to start a tab?” he asks in perfect English.

  That is a good question. How long is she expecting to stay? Would a tab be too presumptuous?

  I pull out my wallet and set my black credit card beside the glasses. “Tab, please.”

  I head back to the sofa where Alexandra has been watching me with a curious expression on her face the whole time.

  “I don’t remember seeing you a whole lot in jeans,” she says. “Usually it was some sort of trousers and button-down shirts.”

  I let out a stiff chuckle. “My mother always wanted us to dress like princes.”

  She meets my eyes. “And now?”

  “I’m trying to dress like a normal man.”

  Her eyes tighten. “You could never be a normal man, Ferdinand.”

  She used my full name. Not her nickname for me, and I decide that when she called me that earlier at the temple that it must have slipped out. She’s trying to keep her distance.

  I hand her the glass, and for a brief moment, our fingertips touch in the passoff. It’s the first time I’ve touched her since the last time I saw her in the hospital, and even though it’s brief and not intimate at all, I can feel the shiver go down my spine.

  She still has power over me.

  I put that hand in my pocket as I drink some of my wine. “I think I misjudged the dress code here.” I glance around, and it’s true. I’m the only person here who has dressed casually. Everyone looks like they’re in a business meeting or on a date.

  Then again, I suppose that makes our meeting unlike the others, too.

  “Nah,” Alexandra says. She scoots over and indicates the cushion next to her. “Come sit down, it feels awkward talking up to you like this. The tabl
es were all taken, so this is the best I could do. Unless you want to stand all night.”

  So I sit next to her.

  “You look beautiful, by the way,” I tell her.

  She beams at me, and then it’s as though she remembers that we’re supposed to have this distance between us, because she looks down at her hands. “Thank you.” A beat passes. “How are your brother and cousins?”

  I smirk. “I’m guessing you don’t read the tabloids, then?”

  She shrugs. “I read something a couple of years ago about Phillip cheating on his fiancée, but I don’t know more than that.”

  “I thought you were a diplomat now?”

  She looks at me. “And how do you know that I’m a diplomat?”

  “Because it’s what you always wanted to be.” Even before she and I ever kissed, she wanted to follow in the footsteps of her father. If we had worked out, she would have been involved in politics in a whole different way. But I never doubted that she would reach her goals.

  “I guess that dream did come true.” She sighs. “A far as Dubrevian politics, I really only ever get to speak to Parliament members. Queen Victoria doesn’t ever engage in international politics at my level. The daughter of the great William Daae didn’t go as far as she would have liked.”

  “There’s still plenty of time for that.”

  She looks down at her glass. “I suppose you’re right.”

  I don’t know if she’s just thinking about her career right now or something else, but I need to steer this conversation back on track. “Queen Victoria doesn’t do much these days anyway,” I tell her. I lean forward and put my elbows on my knees and look over at her. “There was that scandal with Phillip and his fiancée. And his ex ended up marrying Eric.”

  There’s a beat as she processes this. “She ended up with Eric?”

  I snicker. “Apparently Eric always had a thing for her. One thing led to another and…”

  She sits back in shock. “Wow. And what happened to Phillip?”