Prince: Royal Romantic Suspense (Billionaires in Disguise: Maxence Book 5) Blair Babylon (ebook reader screen txt) 📖

Stripping people of their citizenship, humiliating them, even allowing his own people to become sick and die would excite him. He literally gets high from it. It proves to him that he has the power of life and death over those people, that he can crush them, and no one can stop him. He would enjoy destroying Monaco just because he could do it. Yes, he’s evil. He’s evil to his very core.”

When he’d finished ranting, Dree was still watching him. “And that’s why you came back.”

He nodded. “I can’t leave the citizens of my country to that.”

Dree’s head tilted, and she crossed her arms. “Your country?”

“I’m a citizen of Monaco. This is my country, not in the sense of ownership but as a stakeholder.”

Dree nodded. “I see.”

“I’m asking you to leave Monaco. I want you to go anyplace else.”

Her blue-eyed gaze didn’t waver. “No.”

“I could have you thrown out of the country. Quentin Sault will put you on a helicopter to Nice, and from there, on a plane for Paris.” He flicked one finger back to where Sault stood at parade rest at the rear of his office, his customary position. “I’ll dump money into your bank accounts to make sure that you can get somewhere else.” He smiled. “I still have your routing and account numbers.”

“Don’t. I want to stay here with you. You’ve convinced me this is important.”

Maxence let himself roll his eyes. “There are plenty of important things to do in the world. I can call Father Moses and have you assigned to another charitable tour, a less hectic one this time, at a Catholic hospital anywhere in the world. You’ll be safe from those drug dealers. You can live out your life doing good in the world.”

“And yet I could never go home.”

“Staying in Monaco won’t change that.”

“I’m not sure how to deal with the pickle my ex-boyfriend has gotten me into. At some point, I’ll figure it out. Maybe I should go to the FBI. Maybe I should call the New York Times. But I need time and space to figure it out.”

Maxence could see where she was headed and knew he should stop her.

Yet, he didn’t.

She continued, “You need somebody here on your side. I want to stay here as your admin. Who knows? I might even be able to help you.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you can.”

“See? I told you.”

“I need an admin I can trust because I can’t ask anyone else employed by the palace to do this. I need you to take notes on our meetings, as is customary. Anything I do as the interim sovereign of Monaco must be documented. As such, I need you to write down anything except what I actually talk about with these people.”

“You want me to lie?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Oh, no. I was just making sure that I knew what we were talking about.”

“I want you to fabricate entirely false discussions and take notes on them. I need to discuss the succession to the throne with a few of my cousins. I don’t want anyone else to know what we’re doing. Unfortunately, these archives are public record, which means anybody, including Uncle Jules’s minions, could ask for and view the notes of any of these minutes.”

“Why don’t you just invite them over for dinner instead of talking to them officially in the office? That would be a lot less suspicious.”

Max shook his head. “Meeting with my cousins, some of whom have already been blocking the effort to elect a new sovereign, at a time when notes would not be deposited in the archive, would be seen as suspicious. If we meet in here and notes are deposited, then they will assume there is nothing to be suspicious about.”

“I see. So, what should I write down?”

“Boring things. As far as your notes are concerned, we will discuss the number of tourists in Monaco, the number of mugs and tee shirts sold at the palace gift shop on their way out, the price of cement for our land reclamation projects, and other such topics. At no time, however, will we discuss circumventing the traditional line of succession because we don’t want Jules Grimaldi to be the Prince of Monaco.”

A knock sounded at the door, and they both startled.

Maxence drew a breath and said, “That will be my first appointment of the morning, my cousin Nico. Where is my receptionist?”

Dree cocked her head to the side, one blond curl lying on the fresh skin of her cheek. “Is he an evil psychopath who’s gonna try to kill you?”

He had a chuckle about that one. “No, Nico’s been a friend for years. He’s too far removed down the family tree to be considered any kind of a threat. Write down who attends the meeting, and your topic for this morning will be the current harvest of sea scallops.”

Dree leaned forward. “What is a sea scallop?”

He chuckled. “It’s a delicious little sea creature. I ate a plate of them at the Four Seasons George V Hotel, and you had a bite of one.”

“Oh, the little things.”

“Yes.”

More knocking.

He looked at the far end of the office and called, “Enter.”

Max’s second cousin Nicostrato Grimaldi stepped sideways through the door, closing it behind him, before he strode through the office toward them. His brown hair was perfectly combed, unlike Maxence, who still needed a haircut.

As he approached, Nico said, “Hey, you’re still alive this morning. I’ve lost fifty euros.”

Max smiled tightly. “Good to see you too, Nico.”

As always, when Maxence began a meeting like this, he tamped himself down. Tension flowed out of his body. He should not be too insistent, should not allow his voice and his soul to become too vibrant with an idea or his passion, and remain essentially still, almost meditative.

Nico took a seat and smiled at Dree, which made Maxence want to slap that smile right off of his face. But he figured he couldn’t do that right now, not when he needed