Prince: Royal Romantic Suspense (Billionaires in Disguise: Maxence Book 5) by Blair Babylon (best books to read fiction txt) 📕

He was probably flaunting his blue eyes at her, too.

Dree smiled back at Nico.

Maxence cleared his throat and shoved a tablet computer across the desk to her. “Take notes.”

She sat up very straight in her chair and slipped the stylus out of the side slot.

Maxence turned back to his cousin. “I would like your assessment of the likely outcome of the Crown Council.”

Nico laughed a loud, rolling laugh, leaning back in the chair as he did. “Why don’t I throw in what the stock market is going to do next month? Maybe the weather forecast for London?”

“Fine. Give me the prevailing sentiment.”

“You. You’re the prevailing sentiment.”

“Let’s take me out of the equation,” Maxence said.

Dree bowed her head over the tablet. Her curls parted, displaying the balletic curve of her neck that Max wanted to rake his teeth across.

Nico flipped his hand in the air, dismissing the idea. “No one is taking you out of the equation. Everyone is counting on you to ride in like the cavalry and prevent a real fight for the crown.”

Maxence was surprised anyone thought that. Evidently, he hadn’t been clear enough. “Nico, I can’t stand for election. I’ve taken Holy Orders as a deacon and will take the next level to be a priest as soon as I’m allowed. I can’t marry. I can’t have legitimate children. I cannot be the sovereign prince.”

He was going to need to chant that at every member of the Crown Council he met.

If he wanted to stay alive.

Max continued, “Now, who will the frontrunners be?”

Nico leaned back in his chair and frowned. “In theory, it’s supposed to go down the line of succession. Next in line is Alexandre.”

“Yes.”

Dree crossed her legs, her thighs brushing together. Her hemline rode up, exposing more of her creamy thigh that his tongue had licked only the night before last.

Nico said, “But Alex won’t run, and he wouldn’t win.”

“Agreed,” Maxence said and cleared his throat. “But let’s leave the theoretical line of succession because it’s an anachronism. Who wants it?”

Nico smirked at him. “You’re asking me to rank our relatives in order of ambition and ruthlessness.”

Maxence nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

Nico blew his breath out and tilted his head back to observe the ceiling. “There’s Prince Jules, of course. He said to my dad once that he was sorry he was too young when Rainier IV was elected, and so he’d missed his chance to ‘try something drastic.’”

That didn’t surprise Max. “Who else?”

“Are we including women?”

“It’s probably time we did.”

Dree made a snort in her throat and scratched something on her tablet. She was holding the tablet propped on her knee, clutching the side with those sexy fingernails. After only a few hours out of the wilderness, she was right back to looking like the femme fatale he’d met in Paris. The bodice of her black dress accented her narrow, bendy waist and hourglass figure.

“Valentina Martini might think she’s a contender,” Nico said, still musing at the ceiling.

Maxence reared back in his seat as he considered the possibility of Valentina Martini making a play for the throne. She was descended from Prince Rainier III’s oldest daughter, forming a straight matrilineal line back to Maxence’s grandfather. “That’s interesting.”

“If the line of succession had been based on absolute primogeniture instead of male-preferred primogeniture, she would be the heir apparent right now,” Nico said. “I can see her successfully politicking our relatives and ruling with an iron fist if she did win.”

Maxence nodded. “A direct line of succession would have been more elegant than this electoral system with such a small electorate, just the thirty nobles on the Crown Council. Elections expose Monaco to corruption.”

Nico lifted his head and grinned at Maxence. “In which case, you would be the undisputed next sovereign. And if you tried to abdicate, it would be Jules.”

Maxence leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his flat stomach. “There are drawbacks to every system. Or we could open the election to all the citizens. If we’re going to have a dictator for life, they might as well be an elected dictator for life.”

Dree’s black shoe had slipped off her heel and dangled on her toes, exposing yet more inches of skin that Maxence wanted to caress.

Sitting like that, with her legs carelessly crossed at her knees and her shoe about to drop off her foot, was wanton. The other palace admins would have sat on the edge of the chair, their knees and ankles pressed tightly together and so unobtrusive that they faded into the beige paint on the walls.

Dree’s leg twitched, and that shoe swung seductively on her toes, an office striptease he couldn’t look away from.

Nico went on, “Valentina turned fifty just a few years ago. She’s in the prime of her life for attaining such a position. I can’t imagine an opportunity like this would come around again for her. She’s also well-liked and quite feared among the other nobles.”

Maxence pointed at Dree. “You have Valentina Martini on your list?”

She looked up and nodded, her blue eyes bright, and held the stylus at attention on the tablet, diligently taking notes.

He bet she wouldn’t look so perky if his thumb was on her clit. She’d melt in the chair, gasping and begging him to take her.

Maxence asked Nico, “Who else do you think? Would you consider stepping forward?”

Nico went back to resting his head on the back of the chair and staring at the ceiling. “I’m too far down the line of succession for anyone to consider seriously.”

“Why is that a concern?” Maxence mused.

“Tradition.”

“But should it be? Why shouldn’t we elect the best candidate instead of the most genetically similar one?”

Nico wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life paraded around like a prize-winning goose, and I don’t think I am the best candidate.”

“You’re not a bad candidate.”

“We should pick somebody with a law degree or an MBA.”

Maxence scoffed, “Corporate drones are inherently sociopathic and destroy anything they get their hands on. They