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

Dree nodded and started writing baloney about grapes and wine barrels. She hoped she didn’t get stuff wrong.

Christine held up one finger and waved it at Maxence and Alexandre. “I cannot believe that I let you guys talk me into coming back here.

Georgie, who had sat right next to Dree again, leaned over and said to her, “I can’t believe she came back, either.”

Dree snickered in appreciation as she wrote fake notes about the amount of sunlight that grapes needed.

Christine continued, “And Marie-Therese was the worst. She’s been badgering me to come back ever since I took off. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was trying to lure me back here so her father could kill me and be one step closer to the throne.”

Maxence raised an eyebrow at Christine.

She brushed at the air with blunt fingers. Her fingernails were trimmed back tightly to her nail beds on her left hand and barely longer on her right. “She knows what he is. I can guarantee that Marie-Therese isn’t on his side for anything.”

“If you hadn’t come back,” Alexandre said, “the Council might’ve elected you in absentia. You wouldn’t have even had a chance to renounce before they crowned a mannequin in a brown wig.”

Christine shook her head. “You guys did not see the weird stuff that happened while I was in America.”

Maxence said, “I can have Sault look into it.”

Dree glanced toward the back of the room. Quentin Sault was standing by the door, his hands clasped in front of him. He rocked on his toes just a bit.

Christine said, “He won’t find anything. Jules has decided that he’s going to lie, cheat, or steal his way to the throne.”

Dree went back to making up stuff about wine.

Maxence asked Christine, “What happened that was suspicious?”

She said, “One day, my car wouldn’t start.”

Alexandre laughed at her. “Are you still driving that Jaguar? You should know you need two of those, so you have something to drive when one is in the shop.”

“I don’t think my Jaguar is going to be getting out of the shop very soon because after I walked inside to call a cab, it exploded.”

Dree wrote hurriedly about wine and tried not to look completely aghast.

Maxence’s face lost all emotion and hardened. “You didn’t tell us this.”

“I didn’t tell anybody anything. Flicka’s husband set me up in a little house in the suburbs with a detail of four security guys. I had to leave the door open when I went to the bathroom, because evidently, they were worried ninjas would sneak in through the exhaust fan and kidnap me.” Christine elbowed Georgie. “Those mercenaries were cute, though. I kept leaving my bedroom door open, but it didn’t seem to work.”

This time, Alexandre’s face went rigid.

Georgie cracked up.

Christine was cool and collected in the face of danger, even cracking jokes. That was very country of her. Dree approved.

Maxence leaned on his elbows and clasped his hands on the desktop. “Let’s get right to business. Christine, would you like to be the Sovereign Princess of Monaco?”

Christine threw her head back and laughed hard, her shoulders up around her ears. “Oh, hell, no. What have I ever said that made you think I would accept that?”

Georgie said, “I don’t think she can. The treaties with France might not allow a female to inherit.”

“What?” Dree demanded and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Georgie shrugged and said to her, “The Monegasque throne is male-preferred primogeniture succession with an election by restricted noble electors, but there may be problems with agnatic inheritance and Salic law. No one likes it. Creates problems, like, the whole plot of Shakespeare’s Henry V.”

Oh, that totally cleared everything up.

Dree wrote, Grapes make wine. Smashed ones.

“But the line went through Princess Charlotte,” Maxence said. “She was the heir apparent, and her son Rainier III inherited the title.”

Yeah, of course, Max knew the piddly details of whatever they were talking about. Princess Charlotte was probably his great grandmother or something.

Georgie nodded. “But Princess Charlotte abdicated in favor of her son as soon as she legally could when he was eighteen, and it was before her father died. She was never actually crowned. The monarchy skipped a generation when the Council confirmed him.”

“That sucks,” Dree said.

“Yeah,” Georgie said to her and nodded, wrinkling her nose.

Maxence said, “But times have changed.”

“But the Council of Nobles has only confirmed the guy who was first in line for the throne, anyway,” Alexandre said. “They’re just a rubber stamp. What makes you think they will elect someone who isn’t the heir apparent?”

“Because I believe the Council will ultimately make the good and moral choice,” Maxence said.

Alexandre snorted. “Okay.”

Max said, “Just because inheritance is passed preferentially through the male line doesn’t mean that we couldn’t have a sovereign princess. Christine, wouldn’t you like to be the first to challenge the gender barrier?”

Christine shook her head. “Nope.”

“But surely you must—”

“Nope. Never.”

Alexandre talked to Christine. “Look, Maxence already took Holy Orders because he assumed Pierre was going to inherit, so he’s out. I have that little problem from when I was a teenager that people will take offense to. You are the last person standing between Uncle Jules and the throne.”

Christine shook her head. “I’m not doing it. I like breathing. And if you coerce enough votes to elect me, my second official act will be to abdicate. My first will be to send ninja assassins after you both.”

Maxence sighed. “Is there anything I can do, anything at all, to change your mind? We can keep you safe.”

Christine shook her head again. “I don’t think you can protect me. Jules is going to do whatever it takes to be crowned. He’s going to turn this country into a dictatorship. After that, we’ll have to play by Orwell’s rules. The only way to fight him is to look like we’re not.”

Alexandre cocked his head to the side. “So, you would leave our fellow Monegasques to