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

“But she must. Since Alexandre is back, we must have a Council meeting. Surely, now that you have returned, Alexandre will desist with his incorrigible plan to tie up the Council with his voting bloc of young people.”

“I’m not sure what Alexandre’s plan is.”

“But surely he’s discussed it with you. You met with him and his American wife this morning. All you young people who went to Le Rosey have your own little cabal.”

Like many of his generation, Jules had been educated at home, though several of his siblings had attended day school. “And yet, I don’t know what Alex’s plan is. At the next meeting of the Council of Nobles, I will abdicate, and then it’s up to Alexandre as to what he will do. At least, that’s the way it’s always happened in the past.”

Jules had been brushing invisible crumbs off his garish vest, but his glance up at Maxence was like he’d flicked electricity across the desk and popped a spark in the air between them. “Do you have any reason to think the succession will not be as it has been done in the past?”

“Of course not. Monaco is a deeply conservative country,” Maxence said. “That’s how we’ve gotten away with an absolute monarchy in the modern world for so long.”

Jules seemed to ponder that, nodding. “But Alexandre is next in line. I don’t see how he is going to get out of this conundrum.”

“It is quite a conundrum, as you said.”

“The court will never elect him. That leaves Christine as next after him, and you’re saying that she will refuse to return.”

Maxence could see where this was heading. “She has so far. I think she may be staying away to increase the chance that her brother will be pressured into accepting the throne. Nobody wants multiple rounds of voting and negotiations.”

Jules settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers on his round little belly. “The mature generation will not vote for him. And if she refuses to come back, the votes will fall to me.”

Maxence nodded, keeping his eyes steadily on Jules and refusing to give away even a flicker of emotion. “That is the traditional line of succession.”

“And then I’ll be sitting behind that desk, Prince Maxence.”

Max nodded. “At that time, you would be sitting behind this desk.”

Jules giggled, either at the thought of being the sovereign prince or sheer glee at the idea he would be. “And yet we are not scheduling a Council meeting.”

“As I am the next in the line of succession and I am now back in Monaco, the Council meeting is at my discretion. Pierre delayed it for a month. I will wait to discuss the line of succession with Duke Alexandre and Lady Christine.”

“I see, stalling. That’s an excellent tactic. I’ve used it often myself.”

Maxence allowed one shoulder to flinch in a shrug and one side of his mouth to lift, acknowledging it without admitting it.

“Are you going to take months to do this?”

“As long as it takes to come to a satisfactory resolution.”

“The Sea Change Gala is coming up soon.”

Maxence brushed the air. “It’s weeks away.”

“Who will be the host, Prince Maxence?”

“I thought we were doing away with the formality, Prince Jules.”

“Hosting the Sea Change Gala will signal to the rest of the world who we believe will be the next sovereign, if someone hasn’t been elected by then. Do you plan to host?”

“I hope to be on my way back to Kinshasa by then.”

Jules nodded, seeming to ruminate on this information. “If there is no election and coronation by then, I would be pleased to host with my daughter, Marie-Therese.”

And thus, he would place his finger on the scales of public and private perception. “Does Marie-Therese know you’ve made this offer on her behalf?”

He scrunched up his knobby little nose. “She believes herself to be an ‘influencer’ on whatever social media platform is currently en vogue. She would surely be pleased to publicly host the Sea Change Gala or any formal event that requires an official royal patron.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know you volunteered her services.”

Jules laughed uproariously, slapping his knees with mirth. “I would hope so, because I’m not sure she’s speaking to me these days.”

Interesting.

After further verbal dueling, Maxence was able to get his uncle Jules out of his office and carry on with his day.

Later that afternoon, Maxence sent Dree Clark on her way, watching her hourglass figure sway as she walked down the hallway. Her black high heels teetered on the carpet, making her hips swing.

Oh, the things he was going to do to that woman.

Some of them might end their relationship.

He turned back to his office.

Several of the other nobles had requested meetings that afternoon, all of whom were wheedling for positions and contracts. Max needed to state, firmly and repeatedly, that he had no interest in the crown and would take Holy Orders as soon as possible.

The sooner that was widely accepted, the better.

As Maxence turned on his heel, he caught sight of a man walking down the corridor.

The guy turned as he marched, giving Max a view of his pug nose and overhanging brow. His white bulldog silhouette was familiar, but he’d shaved the sides of his head and left only a scruff of brown hair on the top since the last time Maxence had seen him near the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

Quentin Sault was reading on a tablet in Max’s ante-office, sitting in a chair against the wall.

“With me,” Maxence snapped as he walked by.

Sault followed him.

Max slammed the door. “Why is Michael Rossi in the palace?”

Sault clasped his hands behind his back and stood at attention, his pale eyes fixed on the bookcase but unfocused. “He is assigned to palace security.”

“He was following me in Paris.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You said he wasn’t one of yours.”

“He is now.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t one of yours then, doing my brother’s dirty work?”

“I did not mention Prince Pierre, sir.”

Interesting. “Did he have orders to eliminate