His Royal Princess Read online

  His Royal Princess

  Jessica Clare

  Copyright © 2016 Jessica Clare

  Cover photograph ©

  The right of Jessica Clare to be identified as the Author of the Work has been assertted by her in accorddance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Published by arrangement with InternetMix,

  A member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

  A Penguin Random House Company

  First published in this Ebook edition in 2015

  by HEADLINE ETERNAL

  An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN 978 1 4722 4120 7

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  Anne Hachette UK Company

  Carmellite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headlineeternal.com

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Praise for Jessica Clare

  By Jessica Clare

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Welcome to the Billionaire Boys Club

  Meet the Billionaires and the Bridesmaids

  Find out more about Headline Eternal

  About the Author

  Jessica Clare is the New York Times bestselling author of the Bluebonnet series, as well as the Billionaire Boys Club novels. She also writes under the names Jill Myles and Jessica Sims, and has a day job in finance. Jessica lives in Texas with her husband and cats, spending her time writing, reading, writing, playing video games, and doing even more writing.

  Follow her on Twitter @_JessicaClare or join her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaClare.

  Be dazzled by Jessica Clare’s passionate love stories . . .

  ‘Just thinking about it puts a smile on my face . . . In short, this is a really fun, entertaining, engaging book, and I can’t wait to read (and reread) the other billionaires’ stories’ Heroes and Heartbreakers

  ‘Saucy, blistering and emotionally endearing . . . sizzling good fun. With broad strokes and wry detail, Clare creates characters who are unapologetically individual and wonderfully unpredictable’ Romantic Times

  ‘An awesome quick read that touched my heart and stirred my spirit. Buckle up and take a ride – you’ll enjoy every peak, valley, twist, and turn’ Cocktails and Books

  ‘Fun and sexy and flirty . . . Stranded With A Billionaire has reignited my love of the billionaire hero’ The Book Pushers

  ‘Sizzling! Jessica Clare gets everything right in this erotic and sexy romance . . . You need to read this book!’ Romance Junkies

  ‘A cute, sweet romance . . . A fast, sexy read that transports you to the land of the rich and famous’ Fiction Vixen

  ‘Fast-paced, passionate, very sexy . . . A unique, modern-day fairy-tale that’s as steamy as it is entertaining’ Harlequin Junkie

  ‘A fun, flirty, and sexy read . . . an emotionally rich love story’ Fresh Fiction

  By Jessica Clare

  Billionaire Boys Club Series

  Stranded With A Billionaire

  Beauty And The Billionaire

  The Wrong Billionaire’s Bed

  Once Upon A Billionaire

  Romancing The Billionaire

  One Night With A Billionaire

  His Royal Princess

  Billionaires And Bridesmaids Series

  The Billionaire And The Virgin

  The Taming Of The Billionaire

  The Billionaire Takes A Bride

  About the Book

  HIS ROYAL PRINCESS

  Their romance led to a royal wedding in Once Upon a Billionaire.

  Now see how it all began for Princess Alexandra of Bellissime and American actor Luke Houston.

  As heir to the throne of Bellissime, Princess Alexandra is supposed to be cool and calm . . . not crushing on a movie star. When she hears that Luke Houston is filming a scene for his next movie in her tiny country, however, she can’t resist sneaking onto set to get a glimpse of the Hollywood hunk.

  When Alex is almost caught on set by the press, she ducks into the first available hiding place – only to find herself in Luke’s private trailer, and getting much more than just a glimpse of him. It’s an up close and personal encounter that sets her heart aflutter, and sets her mind on some very unladylike plans to get to know him better . . .

  Want more irresistible romance? Look for the rest of Billionaire Boys Club titles, starting with Stranded With A Billionaire, as well as the sizzling spinoff series, Billionaires and Bridesmaids, starting with The Billionaire And The Virgin.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Summer 2013

  “Royal princesses really should not have crushes on Hollywood actors,” Lady Margaret Von Strauss told Alex for what felt like the seventh time that day. “It’s improper and unseemly.”

  “It’s not a crush,” Alex protested again, even as she straightened her dark-haired wig in the mirror. She found a pale scarf and tucked it around her hair, then put on a big pair of rounded glasses that dwarfed her face. “I just want to see what he looks like in person.”

  Okay, so it was a crush, but Alex would be damned if she’d admit it to stuffy Margaret. Margaret was supposed to be her companion-slash-assistant but with their age difference, Margaret felt a lot more like a mother or a babysitter. For goodness’ sake, it wasn’t as if Alex was going to hunt Luke Houston down on the set of the movie and proposition the man. She just wanted a peek at him.

  And really, what was the harm in that? She’d never get the chance again. Movies didn’t often choose to shoot on location in tiny Bellissime. Their country was tucked into the mountains between France, Switzerland, and Italy, and while they were world famous for truffles and chocolate? They were not famous for tourism. The fact that a car-chase action movie was being shot mere kilometers from the royal palace?

  Of course Alex had to get out and see that.

  Dreamily, she stepped out of the back of the sedan and pictured Luke Houston. He was utterly handsome and charming, even if his movies were a little on the questionable side. She’d seen Mars Troopers seven times, fascinated with his character, and Alien Overlord only three times because his role had been a small one. She’d seen all of the Pirates! Ahoy! movies more times than she could count, because he’d been a scruffy sailor who stole the heart of the heroine. And while Alex wasn’t much of an escapist, she had to admit that she’d wished to be that damsel in distress more than once.

  Most of the time, she just wished she was the actress, so she could spend time around Luke himself.

  “Wait here,” Margaret said to Alex, and put a hand on her arm. “I’ll look for photographers.”

  Alex nodded and waited patiently by the ivy-covered wall of an old building. It was an old chocolate ware
house for a business that had gone belly-up last year. According to her “sources,” the movie was shooting a series of gambling scenes in this warehouse. Judging by the fleet of trucks and cars parked along the cobblestone road, her source had been correct. Alex felt a breathless twist of excitement in her stomach.

  She was going to see Luke Houston, the hottest, sexiest man in Hollywood.

  It was risky, of course. So incredibly risky that her body clenched rigid with fear when a car drove down the street. If Grandmother found out, she’d be upset. She’d heard it so many times in the last year. With your mother’s actions, things are unsteady. Now, more than ever, we need to present a serene, unified front to the people.

  And she would . . . right after she met Luke.

  Margaret returned after circling the building. “I don’t see any paparazzi,” she said, a bit winded. “Are you still sure you want to do this, Your Grace?”

  Alex nodded. She wasn’t turning back now.

  Margaret gave her a long-suffering sigh, then smoothed her hair. “Very well. Let us enter, then.” She opened the door to the warehouse and the two women went inside. They didn’t knock, of course. Alex never knocked, and knocking implied that you weren’t supposed to be there and were asking for permission. Alex never asked for permission, either.

  The interior of the warehouse was echoing. It looked like a small building, given that most of Bellissime’s buildings were older. The interior seemed empty, though. The ceiling was shadowy, and in the distance, she could see a lit area and several people crowded around it, microphones hovering. Others raced around, and there seemed to be power cords everywhere. At the far end of the warehouse, two trailers were parked neatly next to each other. Off to one side there was a table laden with sandwiches and fruit trays and drinks, and a few employees hovered near it.

  Alex clasped her clutch purse tightly, gazing around with excitement. So this was his newest movie. What would he be playing this time? A gambler? An ex-con with a heart of gold? A billionaire with a vendetta?

  One employee broke off from the group near the table and approached them, frowning. “Can I help you ladies with something?” He had a thick American accent, and he sounded disgruntled to see them.

  Margaret stepped forward, a haughty expression on her face. “I need to speak to the person in charge here.”

  The man crossed his arms. “You ladies need to leave. This shoot is off limits.”

  Shoot! So they were shooting! Her expression serene, Alex picked at invisible lint on her navy wool jacket and then smoothed a hand over the matching skirt.

  “Who is your superior?” Margaret’s voice was icy.

  “I’m in charge of set security, so unless you want to be tossed out on your ass—”

  Alex cleared her throat. They weren’t here to make a fuss, just to snoop around.

  Margaret glanced back at Alex, and then nodded. She leaned in toward the man. “My name is Lady Margaret Von Strauss, and I am the personal companion of Her Royal Highness, Princess Alexandra Olivia III of Belissime.” At the man’s blank expression, she continued. “You do know this country is a monarchy, yes? Her Grace wishes to take a look at the set.”

  The man’s jaw dropped, ever so slightly. He looked over at Alex.

  She tilted her head in acknowledgement.

  “I . . . need to talk to the director. You two wait here.” He gestured at the women, then pulled a walkie-talkie to his mouth and began to murmur into it as he stepped away.

  Margaret returned to Alex’s side with a sniff. “Rude Americans.”

  “Now, now,” Alex said, voice placating. That was her job. She was always the faultless, kind one. It was Margaret’s job to be the bad guy. “I’m sure we’re intruding. If the director asks us to leave, we will.”

  “He won’t if they tell him who you are,” Margaret said with another haughty sniff. She was very old-fashioned and didn’t grasp that society was changing, and that royalty weren’t quite . . . revered in modern times.

  A tall, thin man with wild gray hair came trotting forward a few minutes later, the frowning guard at his heels. He had wire-framed glasses that didn’t seem to sit quite straight on his nose, and his clothing was rumpled. “Princess!” He extended his hands out to Alex. “It is a pleasure to have you on set.”

  Alex extended a hand to him and gave him a polite smile, ignoring the breach of protocol. People normally bowed when they met her, but again, Americans didn’t have the same rules that a lot of Europeans did, and she didn’t mind. Margaret’s stiff posture spoke of insult, so Alex made sure to make her voice warm with greeting. “I do hope we are not intruding, Mr. . . .”

  “Stanton. Nick Stanton.” He pumped her hand vigorously.

  “Ah. You directed Pirates! Ahoy!, yes?”

  The man practically quivered with pleasure. “I did! Are you a fan?”

  “Very much so.” Alex glanced about the set and tried not to be too obvious that she was looking for someone in particular. “Is this a similar film?”

  “Oh, no, no. This is very much a car-chase sort of movie.” He laughed and then tucked her hand in his arm before she could pull back. “I’m so honored that you’re here! Let me give you a tour of the set.”

  “Why, that would be absolutely lovely.” Alex smiled. She hoped the tour would include a nice meet and greet with the principal actors, as well.

  ***

  An hour later, Alex had been treated to a very brief tour of the set (which mostly consisted of being paraded around to the staff) and then ushered into Mr. Stanton’s crowded, paper-strewn office, where he proceeded to regale her with tales of Hollywood and how much cheaper it was to film in Bellissime than in Prague, where he’d been on location last. Alex kept up her polite smile, but inwardly she was despairing that she’d ever get to meet Luke Houston. Goodness, at this point she’d settle for a brief glimpse of the man. But the director didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. In fact, he was shoving a script in her direction and offering her a walk-on part since she was such a fan.

  Alex, of course, demurred. It would be unseemly for a royal personage to show up in a pop culture film, especially one that might have sex, nudity, violence, or foul language. That was a public relations nightmare in the making.

  “Look,” the director said, pushing a much-thumbed script in her direction. “You can read for this part right now. I’ll tell you if you need work.”

  “I really must decline,” Alex said gently. “But—”

  There was a quick knock at the door. “Mr. Stanton?”

  Irritation flashed across the wiry man’s face. “What?” His voice bit out the word sharper than Alex expected, and at her side, Margaret jumped.

  “The photographers are here.”

  Photographers? Alex’s stomach gave an unpleasant twist, and she gave Margaret a mild look of distress. Always mild. Never show how worried she truly was. A royal princess was always unruffled and calm.

  Margaret, of course, freaked out. “Photographers?”

  The director’s gray, bushy brows drew together. “Why, yes. We’re doing a piece for the local news. I don’t see—”

  Alex’s hands tightened on her tiny purse. Oh, no. She couldn’t be on the news, snooping around an American movie set. They would wonder what she was up to, and people would speculate on her character, her motives, and goodness knew what else. This was bad. This was very bad. And her in a wig! They’d think she was meeting someone for a clandestine affair!

  The papers would have a field day with it. Worse than that, her grandmother would be so very disappointed in her.

  “The princess cannot be seen here.” Margaret hissed the words between her teeth. “It will cause a scandal and your movie will be shut down if the palace hears of this.”

  “Are you threatening me?” The director blustered.

  “I’m sure there’s a
perfect solution for this,” Alex chimed in smoothly. “Perhaps I could exit out the back of the building while you invite the photographers in?” She’d just have to give up on seeing Luke Houston in person and be content to see him on screen. She fought hard to quell her disappointment. Margaret had been right. This was a mistake.

  “Providing that there is no one waiting at the back of the building to photograph you,” Margaret said acidly.

  Alex turned a supplicating look on the director.

  He snapped his fingers. “We can put you in one of the private trailers until the coast is clear,” the director said, jumping to his feet. “We’ll make sure no one sees you and then get you out the back, Princess.”

  “Address her as Your Grace,” Margaret corrected.

  Alex’s heart fluttered madly in her chest, but she gave Mr. Stanton a sweet, unhurried smile. “That would be lovely of you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Luke scrubbed his face in the shower of his trailer, as if he could somehow wash away his irritation with this project. One week into shooting, and he was already sick of everything.

  He needed a vacation, he really did. The trouble with acting was that the moment your career took off, that was when all the projects started heading your way. And in his case, his career had taken off after several years of hard work and small roles in endless low-budget films.

  Ironic that now that he was getting somewhere, all he could think about was getting away. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly terrible about this movie. The script was asinine, but reshoots would probably fix the worst of it. His co-star was a ditz and into nose-candy, but at least she showed up on time every day and knew her lines. The director was stressing him out, though. He’d worked with Nick on the pirate movies, but Nick had been married then. Now Nick was in the middle of a messy divorce, and he was nitpicking the fuck out of Luke’s performances. The muscles in the back of his neck tensed, and he rubbed them under the spray. He knew he wasn’t the best actor in Hollywood, but fuck, he wasn’t a moron. And for this film? It seemed like Nick wanted a moron. Every time Luke made a suggestion or tweaked his lines a bit, Nick had a fit.