The Billionaire Prince’s Fake Girlfriend by Leslie North

4

They’d fallen into a kind of routine, Jane noted a few nights later as they headed for her flat. They were closing in on three weeks working together, and they’d made some progress, albeit at a snail’s pace. They spent the day together at work, occasionally sneaking down to the records room together and following up on their possible leads. So far, they had narrowed the list down to about ten.

They hadn’t kissed again either, which she supposed was a good thing, even though she couldn’t help remembering it every time they went down the stairs to the dusty old storage room.

She sighed. Despite the names, the research wasn’t really going anywhere. All the women were possible: they were the right age, they all knew Ben’s father, they ran in the same social circles. They all had girls in around the right time frame. It could have been any of them. Without knowing any more details, or having a full name, they were largely casting around in the dark.

Still, despite Ben’s impatience, they strangely seemed to be having a good time. They worked well together. They spent the evenings having some kind of takeaway, then doing internet research on their prospective leads. There was really nothing she liked better than getting her teeth into a meaty, twisting puzzle, and this was the perfect challenge, especially after the relative boredom of the lifestyle column.

Ben’s phone rang, and he looked at the display, sighing. “It’s my mother,” he said. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

“Of course,” she reassured him, curious at his reaction. He’d said that he was closer to his mother than his father; she supposed she would see it in action.

The street was quiet, so she could hear his mother’s greeting. “Ben, darling! How is the trip going? You said that you were looking into potential trade opportunities in London. Any news?”

Ben cleared his throat. “Oh, you know. These things take time.”

Jane looked over to catch Ben’s miserable expression. Lying like this, especially to his mother, must have been killing him. “Are you doing all right?” Ben asked. “I’ve been reading the daily reports the ministers have been sending me, and I know you could rule the kingdom with a hand tied behind your back, but I’ll come home immediately if you need help.”

“That’s my good son.” Jane could hear the rich warmth and approval in his mother’s voice. “But no, the kingdom is running along like clockwork. The parliament does most of the heavy lifting, from a governing standpoint. Besides, I have enough support from the ministers that there really isn’t anything that requires urgent or complicated attention. We’re in good shape. You take your time. In fact, maybe take another day or two, and enjoy London.”

“What, like catch a play? Maybe see the Tower or something?” he teased.

She laughed with him. “I was thinking get out a bit more,” his mother replied. “I know it’s been difficult, watching your best friends get married and settle down. It wouldn’t kill you to think of marriage yourself, you know.”

Jane saw the moment that Ben tightened up like a coiled spring. “I don’t have time for that sort of thing,” he said gruffly. “I have too many important things to do.”

“Whatever you say,” his mother replied, indulgence clear in her voice. “You know, I know of several daughters from ladies of the court who would…”

“I actually have to go, Mother,” he said quickly, as Jane covered her mouth to keep her snickering silent. “I will call you again soon, though.”

“Again, take your time. Just make sure you’re back for the gala,” his mother interjected. “You know it’s our biggest yearly tradition. Everyone will be there—all the Reinian nobility, obviously, but socialites and celebrities and diplomats from many neighboring kingdoms. You know, if you’re looking to find someone to settle down with, it might be just the trick.”

“I really have to go,” he repeated.

“And with your father still recovering,” she said, more somberly, “it’ll be even more important for you to be there.”

Jane saw the distress and conflicted emotion spread across his face. “I’ll be back for the gala, of course. Don’t worry.”

“Love you.” His mother’s voice was filled with fondness.

“Love you too, Mother.” He rang off, then tucked his mobile back in his pocket. “All right. Bit of an obstacle there. I’m going to need to go back to Reinia soon, probably for a few weeks. I suppose we can continue our research separately...”

Jane blinked. “Wait a second. Your mother said that everyone who’s anyone is going to be at this... this gala-thing, correct?”

He smirked. “Like listening to other people’s conversations, do you?”

“If you want a private conversation, you need to turn down your phone,” she shot back, “and besides, I’m a reporter. Nosy by nature. But that’s not the point. The point is, this gala is the perfect place to do more research!”

“Wait, what?”

“Think about it,” she said, unlocking her door and opening it. He followed her in, carrying the fish and chips and putting them on the bed. “People who know your father better than anyone will be there. People who have been involved in all sorts of gossip and scandals. And I imagine there will be free flowing booze, which facilitates people talking about things they normally wouldn’t.”

He stroked that square-cut jaw of his. “That... is true, actually.”

“If we ask the right people, we might be able to find out who your father knew or was involved with. If there was any breath of the baby, or even an affair, we could dig it out!” She felt like crowing.

“But how likely is it that they’re going to tell me?” he protested. “I’m the prince. They’re not going to want to insult me.”

“First, you’d be surprised at how rude and/or stupid people are,” Jane said, rolling her eyes. “I have seen it. But second... that’s why I’ll be there.”

His eyes widened. “Both of us. Together. In Reinia?”

He sounded amused, which made her defensive. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

As if to calm her, he reached out and rubbed her shoulder. She felt a little zing of awareness, and just as quickly shrugged it off. No zings!

“They’re probably not going to talk to a reporter, either,” he pointed out.

“We won’t tell them I’m a reporter,” she said, feeling excitement building. This could work, she could feel it. “We’ll say that I’m... an aspiring writer, or a ghostwriter, or something. A writer of true crime stories and, I don’t know, murder mystery novels.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “I don’t want you to have to lie, but I can see that working, actually.”

“People love talking to writers,” she added. “I interviewed a bestseller, and she said that it always amazed her how much people blabbed these intimate details about their pasts, insistent that their lives were novel-worthy. This could work like a charm!”

“One last little detail,” he said wryly. “Why, exactly, would you be there with me?”

Hmph. He might have her there. She frowned. She’d want access to him, but nothing that would cause suspicion. And he’d be able to get her into the most prestigious circles, the ones where the possible targets or leads were... but they needed a good reason.

Unbidden, the thought of their kiss in the records room—one she’d tried not to dwell on, but that kept haunting her, more often than she wanted to admit—smacked into her. And her mouth rounded. “I got it,” she breathed. “We can say we’re dating!”

His eyes went round as saucers. “Dating?”

“Yes, dating!” She did a little dance, patting her hands together. “It’s perfect. Don’t you see? It’ll give us a reason to be together, and a reason for you to introduce me to people. It’ll give me access, and it’ll keep people from being too suspicious.”

“So I’m suddenly dating a London crime novelist,” he said, sounding amused again. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, know each other?”

“What do you mean?” The idea was perfect, damn it. She crossed her arms.

“If I’m bringing you back to Reinia and taking you to the gala,” he said, “then it can’t be that I just met you. We’ve probably been seeing each other for a while. Long enough that it’s not just a fling. We would actually need to have knowledge of intimate details of our lives.”

She swallowed hard. “You know, I’ve told you details of my life that I rarely tell anyone,” she said, thinking of her mother’s story.

He stepped closer, looking like he wanted to hug her. His eyes were sympathetic. “Obviously, you know something about me no one else knows,” he said. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m saying... intimate, but mundane. Things that only lovers or people who were dating would know.”

“Pish.” She waved her hand, unsure how the conversation had taken a turn for the serious. Time to steer it back to more solid ground. “I can do that.”

“Oh, can you?” He smiled, and warmth seeped through her, right down to her toes. When the man smiled, it was truly something. She wished he’d smile more. “Hit me, then. What do you know about me?”

“I know that you take your tea strong enough to strip varnish, and God help anyone who talks to you before your second cuppa in the morning,” she said with a wink, as he burst into a laugh. “I know that you think pizza without meat is unnatural. You have very oddly specific playlists for any occasion, from EDM when you’re working out, to classic rock when you’ve got what you call ‘paperwork rage,’ to the most surprising of all, K-pop on your ‘waiting for the tube’ list.”

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he grumbled.

“And, of course, I know you’re allergic to chrysanthemums,” she finished with a smug smile. “I know all about you, buster.”

“Yes, well, two can play at that game,” he said. “I know that you drink what you call ‘coffee,’ but it has essentially enough cream and sugar to qualify as melted coffee ice cream. You have an obsession with paranormal romance—and I didn’t even know that you could have were-otters and were-hedgehogs...”

“Don’t judge my romances,” she warned, and he grinned broadly.

“And you can solve any TV program’s crime within the first ten minutes. Which is incredibly annoying, by the way.” They’d tried watching some telly during dinner breaks the past few nights, and she’d told him she couldn’t watch police procedurals... then proceeded to show him why. He was both impressed and irritated, but they’d both laughed.

“See?” She smirked. “We can totally do this. Hell, we practically sound married!”

He tilted his head, studying her. “We could do this,” he said softly.

“Perfect.” She didn’t know why she was so nervous about it. Instead, she held her hand out. “So. We’re on.”

He shook it. His palm was so warm, amazingly so, and his grip was strong... not painful. Just reassuring, almost like a caress...

She shivered.

Forcing herself to release his hand, she scurried over to her laptop, ignoring the fact that her cheeks were flushed yet again. What was with this guy? For that matter, what was with her, and her response to him? “We... ah, ought to look at flights,” she said quickly. “I’m sure they book up. And we’ll want to get there and prep for this gala thing. Get our ducks in a row.”

He grinned, nudging her to put down her laptop. “First lesson of being a royal,” he intoned, even though his eyes twinkled. “We don’t book flights. We book pilots.”

She looked at him, surprised.

“When can you get off work?”

She bit her lip. “I have some vacation stored up,” she said. “It’s been a slow month, and my editor will probably cut me some slack. I’ve got a folder full of evergreen articles that I can probably use, and then she can spread any topical assignments through the bullpen. They’ll probably just think I want to spend time with my ‘new boyfriend’ or something, especially if we both leave at the same time.”

“Will they find out who I really am?” he pressed. “Or dig deeper into why a reporter might be involved with me?”

She shook her head. “They didn’t put together who you are, and frankly, they don’t find me that interesting. As long as we keep the trip low key, we’ll be fine.”

He frowned, obviously thinking it over, then nodded slowly. “All right. You put in the request.”

As she typed out the email, she heard him on his mobile again. “Gerald? I’ll be needing the jet fueled and flight plans ready for tomorrow. I’ll be returning to Reinia.” He paused. “Oh, and if you could make sure everything’s stocked? I’m bringing home a guest.”

She swallowed. Suddenly, this seemed very serious.

“We’ll take off tomorrow afternoon,” Ben said. “Which reminds me. The gala’s a formal event, and if my mother knows that I’m bringing home someone I’ve been dating, I’m sure she’s going to want us to go even more places. Do you have a formal dress? Ball gown might be a bit clunky, but at the very least a cocktail dress or two?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Because I go to galas all the time, obviously.”

“We’ll make sure you’re kitted out, then.” He surprised her by stroking her cheek. “You know, I think this just might work.”

She stood stock still for a minute, as Ben moved on, seemingly oblivious, and began to pull dinner out of paper bags.

She was glad that one of them was confident. Because right now, she was suddenly very, very cognizant that she might be in over her head.