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

Nico nodded. “She would do that.”

Maxence chopped the slabs of steak on his salad into smaller pieces. “She specified that they would be ninja assassins, and she would abdicate immediately afterward.”

Nico laughed. “Jesus, my name didn’t come up, did it?”

“No.”

“Thank God. The serene and esteemed Lady Christine would probably send those ninja assassins after everyone who had ever uttered her name in connection with the throne, just to send a message.”

Maxence nodded. “She would be malicious.”

Nico chuckled. “Like however-many-greats Uncle François the Malicious.”

“Exactly. Christine would be so malicious, we would have to erect statues to her maliciousness.”

“Do you think she would disguise herself as a nun to escape Monaco, instead of as a monk to slip inside and take the castle and the throne?”

“And thus, we return to the matter at hand, which is who would be a good and just ruler for Monaco and won’t run screaming in the other direction when we attempt to install them.”

Nico twitched his head to the side. “The Venn diagram of those two populations do not intersect.”

“That is the value of a hereditary monarch. The power falls to someone who has been groomed for the position but has not sought it.”

“If only it were possible to make sure that the person it fell to would accept it.”

Maxence nodded and forked another bite of salad into his mouth.

“I’m talking about you, Max.”

“As you said, if only it were possible to ascertain that in advance because in this case I absolutely won’t.”

“Fine.” Nico named a few more of their relatives, each one becoming more distant than the last.

Finally, Maxence said, “I don’t think Margaux Taylor’s line is even a member of the Council of Nobles. Isn’t she your third cousin on your mother’s side?”

Nico nodded. “It was just a thought. Margaux is too young, too.”

Maxence flipped over his phone again and played a quick succession of taps between the two red dots glowing on the screen, ending with a long press to the lower one.

Nico frowned at the phone. “Is there something you need to look at?”

He set the phone face down on the table again. “Not at all.”

Beyond Nico’s shoulder, Dree was blinking and biting her lower lip, an exquisite display that made him want to bite it, too.

Maxence said to Nico, “You are one of the few people here I would trust to take on the job.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve already said I don’t want it.”

Maxence was careful to keep his eyes on his plate and his voice flat. Putting persuasion in his voice would be highly unethical. He was meticulous about that. “Our discussion was several weeks ago. I was wondering if you had considered it more in the meantime.”

Nico stirred his salad with his fork. “The job does come with a pretty nice office.”

Maxence gestured with his fork to the mahogany bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes and the beautifully made desk sitting underneath the window in the Mediterranean sunlight. “All this could be yours.”

Nico shook his head. “How would an art history major manage to run a country?”

“Prince William of the UK is an art history major.”

“Yeah, but he’s always known he was going to be the king someday. They’ve been teaching him how to do it his whole life. Being a medevac helicopter pilot was just a few years of normalcy before he got down to seriously taking on his duties and breeding heirs.”

Maxence told him, “The formal duties are pretty easy. You have a valet to dress you, and they know the protocol minutiae. I don’t know which ribbons and sashes and honors to wear to which occasion, and evidently, there are rules about that,” Maxence admitted.

Nico shook his head. “I would not know the first thing about ribbons and sashes and stuff. I have one honor right now, and it’s an Order of the Somebody-Something, Fifth Degree. I just know that whenever I’ve got to wear a morning suit or white tie, I put that one on because it’s the only one I have.”

Max said, “The business end is mostly common sense. Grandfather and Uncle Rainier taught me enough so that I could muddle through if anything happened to Pierre, though nobody expected anything to ever happen to him.”

Creases gathered around Nico’s eyes as he winced. “I’m sorry about Pierre, Max. I can’t imagine losing my brother.”

Maxence shrugged. Pierre’s quick, quiet funeral Mass and burial in the royal Catholic cemetery had been offered before Max had returned from Nepal. Pierre had been allowed that because the Church’s current opinion was that mental illness and depression resulting in suicide did not allow the person “full freedom” not to commit the sin, and they may have repented the instant before their death. Max doubted both for Pierre, but he couldn’t contradict Pope Vincent de Paul when he’d allowed the Mass and burial in the royal Catholic graveyard.

Instead, he said, “It was a shock. But anyway, they taught me the rudiments of it. The business end of this is not difficult. The main job is to make sure that the ministers in charge of the ministries are doing their jobs and aren’t corrupt. Beyond that, it’s all details that you can leave to them. Indeed, I think it’s better that other people are responsible for specific aspects of Monaco’s economy and culture, and you should leave those subject matter experts alone to do their job.”

“So, there’s the formal events and fundraisers, where you have to stand there and look regal, and then there’s the business of maintaining the country.”

“Correct, and then you’ll need to beget some royal offspring.”

Nico rolled his eyes and blinked. “I’m not even dating anyone, but I’d always had a stupid plan to run off to Las Vegas and get married.”

“You’ve got years.” Maxence shook his head. “But the citizens of Monaco will not be denied another royal wedding. Flicka and Pierre were married in Paris because she insisted on having three receptions for charity