The Billionaire Prince’s Fake Girlfriend by Leslie North

13

Because they hadn’t thought ahead when they’d decided to stay at the hotel, Ben called the palace and had them bring over a change of clothes so they didn’t have to walk back in last night’s finery, especially since eagle-eyed observers might put the pieces together. She knew they ought to hurry. His father was still resting, and his mother was in some sort of charity meeting for most of the day. It was the perfect time to do some digging.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Ben said, winking at her, enough heat in his gaze to make her cheeks flush. “You’re welcome to join me.”

She was sinfully tempted for a moment, then shook her head. “If I get in there with you, we’re never going to get back to the palace,” she said.

He grinned. “Suit yourself.”

She heard the water running and let out a deep breath. She thought about how they’d spent the morning talking as they ate breakfast. It was luxurious, utterly indulgent, and possibly the most intimate she’d ever been with anyone. She’d had boyfriends, certainly, but she realized now—after talking with Ben about the genetic test—that she’d never allowed herself to get close to someone before. On some level, she felt like she was a time bomb... one that could slip into dementia without warning at any time. One that could pass the damaging, heartbreaking gene on to her own children. Rather than dealing with it head-on, her subconscious had convinced her to bury herself in her work, pursuing her dream of being an investigative journalist, a dream that didn’t leave much time for love or relationships. And she’d genuinely believed that.

She still wanted to be an investigative journalist—that hadn’t changed. But she knew that things had shifted since she started this adventure with Ben. She knew how much this meant to him, to find his half-sister. She knew better than anyone what it meant to have the whole world upended by the sudden revelation of a lie, and her heart was bruised with commiseration at his pain. As much as she wanted her career to accelerate, she realized that somewhere along the way, helping him feel better, mending his fractured past, and soothing him meant more to her than any promotion.

She cared about him. More than she’d realized, and more quickly than she would’ve expected.

He stepped out, wearing only a towel and some droplets of water, and she found herself staring.

“Your turn,” he said, his eyes twinkling wickedly. “Offer for company still stands, though.” He started to drop his towel, and she fled into the bathroom, diving under the comforting spray of the shower.

The problem was, it was all too soon, she thought as she lathered her hair. They’d barely been together, not as a couple but simply working together, for over a month. In that time, they’d gotten close. He knew things about her that she never shared with anyone, and he’d opened himself up to her. But did that mean they were ready for more? Was that worth throwing away her future as an investigative reporter?

That hadn’t been the deal, and she had no sense that he wanted to pursue a relationship with her, even if they could somehow take the curse off of her being romantically involved with him even as he provided her with a career-making story. Ethically, her superiors would lose their minds, and that sort of thing would have a long memory... she’d be lucky if she could get a job at a coupon circular or the lowest of tabloids after that was revealed.

They got dressed and headed downstairs, getting into the royal car and heading back to the palace.

She wanted Ben so badly it made her head spin. But she also knew that, realistically, there was no way that they could work together, as much as that hurt.

“All right,” Ben said, oblivious to her gloomy ruminations. “We’ll head for my father’s office. His assistant isn’t in, and my father should be resting. I’ll watch the door, make sure nobody comes in or gets suspicious. You look for a password or see if his computer has anything on the alumni network... he probably has his password saved, I’d think.”

She nodded, resolute. They were here with a clear mission in mind. No matter how this turned out, she’d promised to help him, and by God, she would.

Her heart pounded quickly in her chest as they walked down a huge hallway with vaulted ceilings until they reached a set of massive doors. He opened it, looking around, then quickly shut it behind them. The room itself wasn’t too officious, thankfully. It was more like a sitting room, with an ornate antique sofa, some large chairs. There was a small conference table, suggesting he held informal meetings there. And there was a large, heavy wood desk. The computer sat on the surface, which was littered with correspondence and paperwork. The king was apparently a fan of clutter.

She nudged the mouse, and the screen leaped to life. Thankfully, it didn’t require a password... something he really should know better than to leave open, she thought. But then, what was the likelihood that someone nefarious would break into the palace, and the king’s private office? She knew too many overconfident people who had been taken down by the irritation and impatience of putting in a strong password. Now, she just had to hope that he had the alumni network.

She was in luck. He was a member, although he was using his “civilian” name, no doubt what he’d used in university. She did a quick search for Katherine Barr, seeing if they were friends. Unfortunately, they weren’t, and Kate’s settings were all private—no one could look at what she shared unless she allowed it.

Of course she was the one who was good with security, Jane thought, disgruntled. This would make things harder.

“Any luck?” Ben whispered, standing by the door and peering out in the hallway.

“Not yet.” Well, if the network didn’t come up with anything, she needed to think of something else. She riffled through the papers on the desk, hoping like hell that the royal guards didn’t bust in and somehow arrest her for espionage. Still, if she was going to do this, she was going to do it right.

What would Granddad do? She bit her lip, thinking rapidly.

Follow the money.

A few quick swipes of the mouse showed a complex spreadsheet detailing the kingdom’s finances in an overwhelming amount of detail. He could be hiding something there, but this would be accessed by budget ministers and financial officers and other government officials. She doubted that he’d try hiding a scandal in plain sight. That meant he’d have a record somewhere else, somewhere private.

She quickly turned to his file cabinets. She finger-trailed through the folders, until she found a set of actual physical checkbooks and old registers. Her journalistic instincts started to hum. Who still had checks? Especially when most bills were paid online, or with credit... and especially when you were royalty?

She opened up the registers. She noticed the checks were in the married names of the king and queen. She flipped through it. There were random charges—some private charities, where they probably wanted anonymity. But she noticed that every month, there was a check sent to London years ago, now Manchester, but all to a Jess Hope.

She tracked back, excitement growing. The checks weren’t a huge amount, but they were as regular as a Swiss watch, and they weren’t automated. Someone was hand-writing checks to this woman... and had been for years.

It was her, she realized. Jess was the name of Kate’s daughter on the birth certificate they’d found. This had to be her, and now they had proof.

She looked at the most recent checks, and suddenly, something struck her.

“When did your father have his stroke?” she whispered.

“Hmm?” Ben was still vigilantly keeping watch. “Few months ago. Why?”

“Just trying to puzzle something out,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual, even as her mind whirled. It sounded like his father hadn’t even been allowed in the office for some time, relegated to his bed. But the checks had still gone out like clockwork. As she looked at the duplicates of the checks—carbon copies of the originals—she noticed something else. The handwriting on the checks had changed.

So someone else knew about the payments. Someone else knew about Jess.

It could be his assistant, she thought. But if he trusted his assistant with this, the assistant probably would’ve been sending the payments the whole time.

Then she looked closer.

The checks, she realized, were signed by the other account holder.

The queen.

She suppressed a gasp and quickly shut the checkbook and closed the drawer.

If the queen was aware of this, that meant she’d been lying all this time, too. She knew about the affair, and the child. She was covering it up.

Ben was going through this whole rigamarole of their “fake relationship” specifically to find this information—so he could protect his mother. He hadn’t wanted to let her know until he had all the facts. This proof that she’d essentially betrayed him would be difficult to swallow.

Maybe she was wrong, Jane thought nervously. Maybe she was misinterpreting this. All she knew was, she did not want to hurt Ben more than he’d already been hurt.

There was no help for it. She had to get the queen alone, confront her with what she’d seen... ask her what she knew. Then she could talk to Ben, and they’d figure out the next steps.

“I think someone’s coming,” Ben said.

She set the computer back to sleep, then hurried over to Ben’s side. They shut the door behind them, heading back down the hallway.

“So? What’d you find?”

“Kate Barr was definitely at university with him,” she said. “But she’s set her details to private. I do think she’s in London, though.”

He nodded. “We’ll go back soon,” he said. “Then we’ll get the truth.”

“We’re going to be here for another day or two, though, right?” She wasn’t sure when she’d get another chance at talking to the queen.

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Certainly.” He paused, then studied her. “Are you all right?

She swallowed. This was difficult, but if she ever needed a poker face, it was now. “I’m fine,” she said. “I just... I don’t want this to be over,” she admitted, in a low voice. That, at least, was the truth.

His dark eyes were heated, but his gaze was tinged with regret. “Maybe we can figure out something,” he said. “After, I mean.”

She sighed. She doubted it, but the tiny glimmer of hope made her chest warm. She wanted a relationship with Ben, not because he was a prince, but because he was a wonderful man. “A girl’s got to dream,” she said, her grin wobbly.

He looked up and down the hallway, then leaned down and kissed her. “I’m dreaming, too,” he whispered, and it hit her right in the chest.

Damn it, why are you so perfect?

She had to get to the bottom of this—for him.