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

like a jackrabbit scenting a fox, which was a pretty good analogy except that she was actually a peasant scenting nobles who, a few centuries before, would have literally held the power of life or death over her.

One of them, a model-skinny, fabulously beautiful woman with dark eyes and creamy skin like Snow White, glanced over at Dree standing like a scared sheep. Her hair was a mass of ebony curls piled on top of her head like a Greek goddess, and the peacock-colored beads on her long evening gown shimmered in the dim lamplight. Chiara’s hairdresser had given Dree a crash course in cosmetics a few nights before, and even Dree could tell that this woman’s smoky eyes and Instagram contouring had been applied by a professional.

But Dree recognized her.

Dree shouldered her way through the high-society crowd to the woman who was sitting on a low footstool and holding a short highball glass in her hand. She bent over. “Um, excuse me?”

The man that the woman had been talking to raised one bushy eyebrow, but he swirled his drink with his age-gnarled hand, clinking the ice cubes together, and didn’t say anything to Dree.

Dree’s eyes felt like they were darting everywhere because the dresses everyone wore at the party flashed in the dim light. “Um, Marie-Therese? You’re Maxence’s cousin Marie-Therese, aren’t you?”

At first, the woman’s smooth face bore no expression, but her manicured eyebrows rose, and she excused herself from the group she was talking to. Marie-Therese drew Dree over to the side of the room. “Aren’t you Maxence’s little admin?”

Dree was not little. “Um, yeah,” she said.

“Of course, of course. What on earth are you doing at our reception?”

Dree pressed her blank notebook against her chest. “His Highness Prince Maxence asked me to bring some notes to his apartment, and I got lost.”

The woman laughed. “I know where his apartment is. I can take you there.”

“I just need directions.”

Marie-Therese turned with a fluid motion that sent the iridescent beads on her dress swaying like the northern lights Dree had seen in Nepal. “I can at least take you partway and point you in the right direction. Come along. You really shouldn’t be caught at this reception. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”

“Oh, I don’t want to put you out any, Miss Marie-Therese, ma’am.”

Marie-Therese touched Dree’s elbow and ducked her head to whisper because she was at least four inches taller than Dree. “It’s Lady Grimaldi. Among this crowd, some would take offense if you called me ‘miss.’”

Jeez. Touchy, much? “Oops. Sorry.”

“Maxence’s apartment isn’t far, but the palace architect must have designed the layout to confuse an invading army while the royal family escaped through hidden passages.” She angled back to the white-haired guy. “I’ll be right back, Lord Pastor.”

The man harrumphed and scowled as he took a swig from his glass.

Dree said, “I—I’m sorry, Lady Grimaldi. I didn’t mean to—”

Marie-Therese swept through the crowd.

Dree trotted to keep up with her. Marie-Therese must be all legs under that dress to be able to move that fast so gracefully. Dree was not all-legs and bobbled along like four beads bouncing on a string.

Once they’d gone through several rooms and then into a smaller hallway, Marie-Therese paused for Dree to catch up. “Sorry to be so high-handed, but one never knows who’s listening.”

“Oh. Certainly. I’m sorry I called you the wrong thing.”

Marie-Therese glanced out a dark window at the floodlit courtyard below. “I can’t believe Maxence is working so late. When we were growing up, he was never the type.”

Dree nodded, hoping she looked helpful. “He works hard at everything. When we were up in Nepal, he worked all day, taking care of everything and managing everybody.”

Marie-Therese’s faultless dark red lipstick pressed as she smiled. “Being in charge sounds more like my Maxence. But he’s far more at home in a casino than on a charity mission. Is that where he picked you up? Was ‘Nepal’ another one of his missions?”

Maxence’s lies came easily to Dree’s tongue. “Yeah, that’s where we met. I’m a nurse practitioner.”

Marie-Therese began walking again, this time more slowly, and Dree sauntered along with her. The one syllable Marie-Therese uttered, “Oh?” was full of innuendo.

Dree laughed. “It wasn’t anything like that. Evidently, I’m efficient, and he needed somebody who was efficient to be his admin for a month or two until he goes back to his charity work.”

“Right.” Marie-Therese nodded. “But what would a nurse practitioner be doing in Nepal?”

Dree was beginning to feel like she was getting the third degree, and it was easier to keep track of the truth than lies. “I was doing a mission with Catholic Charities. They needed professional medical personnel.”

“That’s very noble of you.”

Dree shrugged. “Not really. I needed to get out of Phoenix.”

“Did you get someone pregnant or gamble your way into debt? That’s why my relatives usually have to leave town.”

Dree laughed. “My ex-boyfriend got in some trouble with drug dealers, and then he lied to them that he gave me a bunch of their money he’d stolen. They wanted me to give it to them. I didn’t have any money, certainly not drug dealer-type of money. But there was some weird stuff going on, and they were threatening me. So, even though I was never involved in anything, I had to leave. My old high school principal was a nun and involved in some missions, so she got me on a plane.”

Marie-Therese giggled as they walked. “Oh, how terribly sordid. You’re surely the most frightening criminal I’ve ever met.”

Dree laughed. “Yep, that’s me.”

“Do you have a criminal nickname? Like Al ‘Scarface’ Capone? Or John ‘Dapper Don’ Gotti?”

Marie-Therese was funny. Dree liked her more and more. “Nope. I can’t be a criminal mastermind because I don’t have a cool criminal nickname. I don’t think it would work out for me, though. I’m not scary enough. Instead of ‘The Iceman,’ I’d be ‘The Ditsy Blonde.’ Or instead of being Sammy ‘The Bull’ Gravano, I’d be Andrea ‘The Fluffy