Prince: Royal Romantic Suspense (Billionaires in Disguise: Maxence Book 5) by Blair Babylon (best ereader for comics .TXT) 📗

Maxence trailed his fingertips across the wooden desk.

The crystal-clear varnish on the centuries-old dark wood was glassy and perfect. Max’s uncle had it restored a year or so before he’d died.

The desk was a beautiful piece of furniture, as were the sumptuous bookshelves that lined the walls, neatly stacked with leather-bound volumes. Some of the books were treasures, first editions worth thousands, and others were ledgers containing decades of notes on the business of the Principality of Monaco.

Maxence had sat in the chairs before the desk a thousand times, talking to his uncle. Sometimes, they discussed the fortunes of Monaco’s national soccer team. On other occasions, they’d quarreled about Max’s priestly vocation.

The last time he’d sat in here with his uncle, Prince Rainier IV, was right after they’d returned from Pierre and Flicka’s wedding in Paris, the morning after their elaborate ceremony and three wedding receptions. They’d already been a little buzzed from cocktails with breakfast on the early-morning flight, and then they’d broken into the brandy hidden in the small secretary desk beneath the windows.

Maxence pressed the hidden button that released the rolltop cover on the small desk.

Inside, the glasses were clean, and the brandy appeared to be about the same level in the cut-crystal decanter as that last time he’d been drinking with his uncle. Pierre never drank while he was working, though their uncle certainly had.

Even though it was just before eight o’clock in the morning, Maxence lifted the stopper out of the decanter and tipped just one swallow of the brandy into one of the glasses. He raised the amber liquid to the sun outside the window that shone down on the paved courtyard below where the tourists milled, wishing his uncle Godspeed to his reward. Prince Rainier IV had put his country and his people ahead of his personal happiness for decades, and surely the good that he had strived to accomplish in his life demonstrated the state of his soul.

The brandy on Max’s tongue was just slightly more oxidized than the last time he’d had it, but he drank the liquor in memory of his uncle. He wished he hadn’t missed his Uncle Rainier’s funeral. Max had sat at his uncle’s bedside for a month, until conditions had changed such that he dared not stay in Monaco even a few hours longer.

The problem had been that the very last time Maxence had been in this office, he’d punched his older brother, Pierre, who’d richly deserved it. Maxence would’ve beat him to death if Pierre’s bodyguards hadn’t intervened.

Perhaps a solid beat-down would have changed what had happened, and Pierre would still be alive now.

Regret suffused Maxence’s mind.

He wished he would’ve arrived in time for Pierre’s funeral. Pierre had been a sociopath and narcisstically selfish in ways that had shocked Max anew at regular intervals, but he wished he’d been able to assist at his funeral Mass as one last moment with his only brother. He could never forgive Pierre for a dozen crimes, maybe more than that, but he wished Pierre’d had a chance to change.

The door rattled as someone knocked lightly.

Maxence shook off the reminiscing. He didn’t have the time nor the energy to engage in such maudlin thoughts. “Enter.”

An absolutely beautiful blonde stepped through the doorway into his office.

She wore a slim-cut black dress that skimmed her voluptuous curves and left her pale, silky arms bare. Her sunny hair was cut to chin-length, and voluptuous curls bounced around her ears and face.

The red lipstick and fingernail polish she wore were fantastic.

A slim, platinum cross on a chain that was a little too sturdy for her delicate skin rested just above her cleavage, and the necklace looked just like a cross that he used to own.

Wait.

It took Maxence far too long to recognize Dree Clark. “What happened to you?”

Dree blinked, shuttering her china-blue eyes. “You said to dress professionally. I did my best. One of the other staff, Chiara, helped me. I’m sorry if it isn’t appropriate?”

The buzz of shock cleared from his head. “Yes, this is appropriate.”

“I don’t have anything else. All the clothes that you bought me in Paris are back in the church with Father Moses. Those cocktail dresses and evening gowns wouldn’t be the right thing for an admin to wear, anyway.”

“No, this is perfectly adequate. I’m used to seeing you in a ski suit with helmet hair.”

She chuckled and looked up for a second, almost an eye roll. “Yeah, I guess this looks better than jeans that hadn’t been washed for three days and those stained sweatshirts.”

“I liked both.”

“I was such a hot mess that whole time. Showering in cold water does not get the oil and sweat off of you like a hot shower does, and we went for days between even cold showers with nothing but sponge baths. I didn’t try even to put mascara on the whole time.”

“You were amazing on that trip.”

Dree looked down at the black pumps she wore.

Max looked, too. The high heels made her ankles and calves even more shapely below the hemline of her dress that fell just above her knees.

She said, “Um, thanks.”

He hadn’t meant to do that. They needed to keep this relationship professional, completely formal, and not look like they were sleeping with each other. “Ms. Clark, we need to discuss your role in this organization and whether you should be here in Monaco at all. Please sit?”

Dree strolled through the long office, and he watched her high-heeled shoes stepping sexily on the red and white Oriental carpet.

She said, “I made the bargain to come with you to Monaco. I don’t welch on deals.”

“It’s not reneging on a promise if we both agree you would be safer someplace else.” His voice was unexpectedly gravelly. Maybe he needed more brandy to clear his throat.

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t be safer in Phoenix. Those drug dealers Francis ripped off aren’t going to forget about