The Billionaire Prince’s Fake Girlfriend by Leslie North

6

“Whose brilliant idea was it to combine a formal event with a street fair?” Ben muttered, dabbing at the sweat that beaded his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief.

“Don’t ask me,” Jane said, smirking. She grabbed two crystal flutes of champagne from a wandering waiter, then handed one to him. “It’s your country. Why do you have an outdoor formal event?”

“I have no idea.” He drank the champagne a little more quickly than he normally would have, the chilled liquid a delicious relief in the heat. “I just know that we’ve been doing this for decades, and every year, I keep remembering just how uncomfortable the summer can get, especially if you’re in a tux.”

“Well, I will say that it’s not really heel-friendly,” she commented, tilting her foot to show off her shoes. “Which is a pity, because these shoes are gorgeous. My whole dress is gorgeous, actually. I can’t thank you enough for it.”

He studied her more closely. She was wearing a short gown with a diaphanous skirt, small straps, a low draped neckline, all in a cream color brightened with the slightest hint of gold, too regal to be anything so dull as beige. Her wavy hair bounced about her shoulders, and her pouting lips were a deep, rose red. The kind of full lips that made you want to just lean in and devour them.

He blinked at the turn his thoughts had taken. Then he took another drink, or tried to, only to discover his glass was empty. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d meant it to be.

“It’s all thanks to your mother’s social secretary,” Jane said, but her pale cheeks still pinkened. “I think this is Atelier Versace, can you believe it? And she got it, and a whole selection of dresses, in two hours. She’s a miracle worker!”

He shrugged. “My mother hires the best, and she has a proclivity for competence and problem solving,” he said with a grin. “Maybe I should bring up the fact that I’m broiling in a tux to her, actually. If anyone could make changes, it’d be her.”

Jane let out a tinkling laugh, sipping her own champagne. “Like you’d be any different,” she joked, nudging him companionably.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re one of the most formal men I’ve ever met,” she noted, her head tilting as she examined him like a bird, her eyes bright. “Even if I hadn’t worked the royal beat in the lifestyle section, I probably would’ve figured out you’re a prince.”

“Oh?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “What do you mean?”

“You know, you’re...” She gestured to all of him. “Very... precise.”

“You mean I’m stiff, don’t you?” He grimaced.

“No,” she quickly protested. “After all our pizza conversations? You’re definitely capable of loosening up. Actually, you’re funny.”

As compliments went, it was offhand, but he couldn’t help but feel his chest puff up. He hadn’t heard a compliment that sounded more honest, and one that had made him happier in longer than he could remember.

“You just seem like the type who would observe the niceties, you know?” She handed their empty glasses to another roaming waiter, then grinned at him. “You’ve probably forgotten more about etiquette than I’ve ever learned, and you seem like you obey the rules.”

“Well, if I ran the Cobblestone Gala—which is what they call this, by the way,” he added, smiling as she giggled at him, “then I would make the dress code aggressively nonformal. You’d need to wear T-shirts and shorts. Possibly even sandals.”

She let out a peal of laughter, and he chuckled with her. He loved hearing her laugh. It made his chest warm, and he smiled back at her.

“You would not,” she teased back, rolling her eyes and nudging him with her shoulder. “You’re broiling now, and you haven’t even loosened your tie. There is no way you’d be wearing shorts at a gala. You probably wouldn’t even expose your arms.”

Honestly, she was right: he was a bit of a stickler for formality. But her words were thrown down like a gauntlet, and damn if the woman didn’t challenge him, intentionally or not.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, but he was determined not to be the fuddy-duddy formal prince she seemed to see him as. With that, he loosened his tie, then took a deep breath and removed it completely, loosening his top two buttons.

The relief was immense. He’d forgotten just how constricting ties could be, especially in hot weather. He tucked the scrap of material in his coat pocket, still feeling hot.

In for a penny, in for a pound, he told himself, then removed his jacket. As long as he’d come this far, he’d be comfortable. He even went so far as to remove his cuff links, stuffing them into the pocket with his bow tie and then rolling up his sleeves to the elbow.

His mother would probably be surprised, and his father—who had not attended due to his poor health—probably would’ve been scandalized. But Ben didn’t care. It was downright freeing, and he really was amazingly more comfortable.

He turned to thank Jane, maybe challenge her and see how she reacted. He was expecting her to be amused, maybe even impressed. Judging by the expression on her face, she was impressed—just not the way he was expecting.

She was staring at his forearms with her full lower lip dropped open slightly, her eyes widened, her pupils blown wide. Her gaze moved slowly up his arms, across his chest, lingering at the open collar of his shirt and his throat. Her own throat worked convulsively as she swallowed.

His body tightened at her obvious interest. He could see her pulse pounding just below her jawline. He found himself wondering what that delicate bit of skin would smell like. What it might taste like.

He cleared his throat against his wayward thoughts.

“I stand corrected,” she said, her voice a little raspy. “You are a wild man. So, where should we start?” she said, scanning the crowd.

Her attempt at a professional tone made his lips twitch with a smile, but she was right. They were here for a mission—not for anything else. He had a very good reason for what they were doing... and they were not, in any way, shape, or form, a real couple.

He took her arm, nodding at a cluster of people in the shade of a large tree. “Over there,” he said. “That’s our most likely target.”

* * *

All right, Jane. Get your head in the game!

Jane was surprised at how much Ben’s surprise show of skin—even if it was just his forearms and a bit of his collarbone—made her own temperature rise. Admittedly, she’d always had a thing for forearms, and his were surprisingly muscular. The man obviously worked out when he wasn’t doing whatever it is that princes were supposed to do. And there was the fact that they were pretending to be a couple.

But they were keeping up the pretense so she could do what she did best: ferret out the truth. And she wasn’t going to do that if she kept getting distracted by the handsome man at her side, the one who was currently guiding her with a broad hand against the small of her back. She walked carefully in her Swarovski-crystal bedecked heels, making sure she wasn’t going to twist her ankle. They then walked across a flatter walkway to a crowd of people who were talking, laughing, and socializing.

Ben led her to an older man, dressed in an obviously expensive tux. He had to be in his sixties, probably contemporary to Ben’s parents. She put on her game face as they walked up to him.

“Ben? Is that you?” the older man said, a trifle loudly, gesturing with a squat, heavy glass of a dark liquid. She suppressed a smile. He’d obviously hit the bar already, which would probably lower his inhibitions, and he struck her as a talker. That would make this a lot easier.

“Yes, sir, it’s me,” Ben said, also hiding a smirk. “You look well.”

“How’s your father? On the mend, I hope.”

“He’s recovering.” Ben’s voice was tight.

“I’m sure he’ll be back on his feet in no time,” the man said, his tone solicitous. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Probably not since the last one of these things, anyway. I’ve been stationed over in Aldland, if you can believe. Their parties are so boring!”

Ben grinned. “You are incorrigible,” he said, pulling Jane closer to him and tucking her against his side. She tried to ignore the thrill that shot up her spine, and focused instead on the older man, who looked at the two of them curiously. “Jane, this is an old family friend, Patrick Bernard. He’s been a diplomat for Reinia for ages.”

“Come now, I’m not that old,” Patrick complained, his eyes twinkling. “Jane, you said her name was?”

“Yes,” Ben said, stroking her bare shoulder absently with his thumb. She held out a hand, shaking Patrick’s. “I wanted to show off Reinia. She’s from London.”

“Oh?” Patrick looked shrewd. “And what do you do in London, my dear?”

Showtime.

She shot him a megawatt smile. “I’m an aspiring crime novelist,” she said, as she and Ben had agreed. “Murder mysteries.”

“Ooh! Exciting!” Patrick’s smile burst out like the sun. “You know, in my years as a diplomat, I have seen more scandalous, lurid things than you could even imagine! I’ll bet lots of them would be fascinating for your books!”

She squeezed Ben’s waist, trying to silently communicate I told you so! She had known the novelist ploy would work. “I’ll bet you do. Your drink’s almost empty,” she noted, then gestured to a waiter, pointing to the glass. The waiter quickly and quietly took the empty and replaced it with another whisky sour.

“All sorts of scandals,” Patrick enthused. “There was that one time, when the Duke of... damn, I forget, but there was a minor noble from Luxembourg who was a twin. He planned to kill his brother and take over his title because his brother was technically older and he’d gotten the title and fortune and the younger had been cut out. He almost got away with it, too. It was like something out of the movies!”

“Really?” Jane was momentarily distracted. “I had no idea!”

“No one did,” he said. “It was hushed up, and the family covered it.”

She wanted to ask what happened to the brothers, but sensed more than saw Ben’s impatience. It would be easy enough to figure out who he was talking about, anyway. There could only be so many Duke-level twins out there. “You must know lots about Reinia, too,” she said.

“Yes, but there is hardly as much scandalous stuff here,” he said with a shrug, as he started guzzling his second glass. “That’s why I liked being a diplomat for your father, Ben. Always in the thick of it, always where things were happening! Like one time...”

He launched into another story, this time about a swingers’ party in another kingdom. It was an eye-opening story, too, and even though he didn’t say names, she could piece together some of the major players. The guy really did know dirt on everybody. If he’d been friends with Ben’s father for years, then he probably would know the woman in question—the one the king had slept with, the one who had Ben’s half-sister.

After another drink, Patrick was slurring slightly. She didn’t want to ask him point blank, both because she didn’t want anyone else to pick up on their conversation, and because if Patrick didn’t know, she didn’t want his gossiping ways to stir up suspicion in anyone else. So she very carefully set up her trap.

“And you’ve known the family all this time? Since, what, childhood?” she asked Patrick, forcing her voice to sound only casually curious.

“We were in school together,” Patrick said proudly. “We go way back.”

She turned to Ben who was looking at her with an impatient expression. Just go along with it, she prayed. “Is Patrick the one in that photo we saw?” she said, sounding puzzled. “I think I see the resemblance. You know, that picture with a man, your father, and that woman... oh, what was her name? Something with a K.”

She felt Ben tense against her as she turned back to Patrick and held her breath.

Patrick blinked, and for a horrible second, she wondered if he was too drunk. Then he snapped his fingers—or almost did. “I’ll bet that was Kate,” he said. “Yes, yes, our Kate, from university. I haven’t thought of her in years.”

“Kate?” Ben repeated, his voice strained.

“Yes, Kate,” Jane jumped in. “That was her name, I think.”

“Lovely girl,” Patrick continued, shaking his head. “Was rather close to your father during college, but of course that came to nothing. Your father and mother were arranged and engaged forever; there was no way that was going to happen. She loved Reinia, though. Always joked about moving there. Who wouldn’t?”

Ben had gone pale, his brow furrowed. She shook her head the tiniest bit. Keep it together, Ben. This was the information they were looking for.

“She wound up staying in London and marrying... hmmm. Can’t recall his name, but he was also from London and had a dreadful accent. Only met him once. Never understood the appeal, myself, but then, I’ve been married three times. Love is the damnedest thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Jane said.

“Uncle Patrick!” A younger man came up, looking harried. “Come on, Uncle Patrick. Time to go.”

“What? No!” Patrick protested. “The party’s in full swing.”

“Yes, and I want you to get back and hydrate before you do anything ill-advised... like trying to dance on a table. Again.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Lovely to meet you, Jane. And Ben? We will have to catch up soon!” he said, before his nephew ushered him away.

Jane sighed, then turned to Ben, as if she were hugging him slightly before going up on tiptoe. “At least we got what we needed,” she said, surreptitiously pulling her mobile phone out of the bosom of her dress.

He blinked. “How the hell did you hide that?”

“I didn’t think it’d record if I kept it in my purse,” she explained, tucking her phone back in her bag, “and Atelier Versace doesn’t believe in pockets, more’s the pity. That was a solid lead, though.”

He nodded, and for the slightest second, his gaze seemed to dip to her neckline before he quickly forced it away. “Do you want to hang out here for a bit longer, enjoy the gala?” he asked, his voice tight. “Or do you want to go back and work? After hearing all that, I have to say, I wouldn’t say no to another drink.”

She knew that working was the smarter choice, but she was enjoying the music, the little street fair styled booths, and non-stop entertainment. “I wouldn’t mind staying a little longer,” she admitted.

He smiled, relaxing a little, then to her surprise, he hugged her. “Just a bit,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if he was convincing her or himself. “Then we’ll get back to it.”

“Right.” And with that, she linked her arm with his and they strolled back into the party.