Uncover My Secrets: A Billionaire Royalty Love Story (Regal Rights #1) Read online

  “You aren’t leaving?” Mr. Walters asked.

  I handed the coat back to the boy. “Not anymore. It’s nice of you to show up.”

  He crossed the room, unwrapped his scarf from around his neck, and took off his jacket, handing it over. “My apologies. I didn’t have your number to call you. But when I make an appointment, I stick to it.”

  “I think our table is still available,” I said.

  “It better be,” he said. “I have a standing reservation here for clients.”

  I chewed on my lip. That was why this was so easy for him to set up. I tried not to feel let down a bit by that revelation. This meeting wasn’t about me. It was about business to him, and I needed to get into that mindset as well.

  Sitting down at the table, Mr. Walters was a complete gentleman, pushing my chair in and all.

  The same waitress returned, and she was much happier, mirroring my internal emotions. I knew she had felt terrible for me, but I didn’t need her pity anymore.

  After he ordered a bottle of wine, he clasped his hands in front of him, dropping them onto his lap. “This is how it’s going to go. You can ask me a question, but I get two questions for every one you ask me.”

  “I feel like that should be the opposite.”

  “Take it or leave it, Ms. Holmes. You’ve invaded my privacy all week. The least I deserve is some information on you.”

  Thinking back to my pretense about writing a story about the company, I decided to start off easy. Even though I was dying to jump right in with my questioning, once he had some wine, he’d probably relax more, and I’d be able to turn it into a conversation more than an interview.

  I just had to bide my time. Besides, I didn’t need to hide anything about myself. My life was pretty boring in general, so there wasn’t much I wasn’t willing to share with him.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll play by your rules. But I’d like to have the first question.”

  He nodded.

  I turned on my recorder app on my phone and placed the phone down between us. I had a pretty good memory, but I hoped the restaurant wasn’t too loud to record.

  “How long have you lived in the UK?” I asked, checking the wave bar on the screen of my phone. It picked up my voice perfectly.

  He sighed and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

  I bit down a smile. As long as I kept him comfortable and relaxed, I’d get my story.

  “About five years now,” he said. “Before that, I traveled a lot for work. Learning the business.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but he held a finger up. “It’s my turn.”

  I clamped my mouth shut and allowed him to question me.

  “Where are you from?” he asked.

  “Texas.” If he wanted the nitty-gritty, he’d have to ask another question. Inwardly, I smiled, feeling as if I still had some control.

  “All your life?” he asked.

  “Yes.” That was question two. My turn now.

  We went back and forth for a while. Apparently, he had no experience with being an interviewer. If he was trying to get something on me, it wasn’t going to work, especially not with the questions he was asking.

  It seemed as if he hadn’t spoken to an American in a while, or ever. He was interested in the types of places I’d been around the country, which was good since I’d never been anywhere else.

  Until the main course arrived, I kept my questions on the easy side, while sneaking in a few about his travels as well. He gave me the perfect “in” to ask, and he didn’t seem bothered to answer.

  I was halfway through my meal before I went for an easy, yet prying question. “So, how did your father become king?”

  The friendly crinkle at the corner of his eyes smoothed out. “This dinner is over.” He placed his napkin on top of his half-finished meal and waved his hand at the waitress, pinching his fingers together for the universal sign for, “Check, please.”

  “Wait,” I said. “You said I could ask—”

  “Goodnight, Ms. Holmes. I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. I hope my questions will help you write your story about our company.”

  He was out of the chair before I could utter another word.

  The waitress came over to the table and started to clear his plate. “The meal is covered by Mr. Walters’s account. Would you like anything else?”

  The fish in my stomach solidified and hardened as I watched Luke Walters disappear from the restaurant. The fact that he left meant I was on to something.

  I couldn’t let him go that easily, but what else could I do? I knew that I needed more time with him to get the story that Mr. Fraser wanted, but other than stalking Mr. Walters to his business again—which I said I wouldn’t do if he took me out—I had to think of another way to get my questions answered, or else what was the point in coming to England at all?

  The promotion was so close that I could see it within my grasp. It was in the shape of a tall, dark man who was walking out of the building.

  I placed my napkin on the table and told the waitress that I was finished. Standing up, I wobbled a little on my heels, feeling the aftereffects of getting to know Luke in a way that I hadn’t before. Along with needing the information for the story, I wanted to see him again. And when I wanted something, I worked my butt off to get it.

  9

  Luke

  I worked most Sundays, but after traveling home and dealing with the sexy yet pesky reporter all week, I slept in for a change. Well, my sleeping in was until seven, but I lounged around in bed for another hour, answering work emails and texts from Maddox on my phone.

  The comfort of my soft duvet was enough to make me dread getting out of bed. Having a four-thousand square foot flat for just me had never seemed so lonely. I wasn’t about to fill my bed with strange women, but it would have been nice to wake up next to someone every once in a while.

  I thought of Sophia Holmes. I imagined her slinky red dress from the night before crumpled on the floor at the base of my bed. Her heels tipped over next to them and whatever undergarments she wore tangled up in the bedpost. The Dallas Post had done their job well sending her, but still, her motives were unclear.

  I had a feeling she wanted to cover me rising to the throne, but she seemed entirely comfortable to talk about the company. Maybe I’d been too hasty to end our dinner. It was no secret that I was a prince. Maybe she did just want to know a few things.

  Guarding my family against the press had always been my number one priority, and I couldn’t trust anyone with the information. Reporters in general always stuck their noses where they didn’t belong. And coupling that with the high and mighty American attitude, I didn’t know if I could trust her with any information.

  The look on her face had haunted my dreams. I was aware of how women looked at me. I wasn’t ugly, but I’d never attracted an American before. We both had enjoyed our time together. I only wished that she didn’t ruin it by playing her hand. At least, that was what I thought she did.

  Tossing my phone to the other side of the bed, I rolled over and tucked the covers around myself. The black-out curtains were closed, so the sunlight from the day still hadn’t touched me. I groaned into my pillow. I hadn’t felt this way about a woman in some time. It was probably why I had been single for so long. As with work, I tended to get obsessed with the things in my life. Worrying about how a date went—even though last night was not a date at all—would only interfere with my work.

  As my eyes drifted closed, a shrill sound from the other room made them spring open.

  It was my landline. Only one person had that number, and she’d be upset if I didn’t pick up on the first call.

  Hopping out of bed, I crossed the room and grabbed my robe from its place near the door. The bright light from outside, streaming in through my floor-to-ceiling windows, temporarily blinded me as I headed for the living room to pick up the phone.

  “Hello?” I said, grabbing it.

  “Luke?” M
other asked from the other side. “Why did you take so long to pick up?”

  I ground my teeth together. “Good morning to you too, Mother.”

  “How are you, my son?” She flipped on her sweet tone after having a little poke at me.

  “I’m fine,” I said, stifling a yawn.

  “Don’t tell me you stayed out all night. That is not conducive to a healthy life.”

  I held back a groan. “Mother, do I ever stay out all night?”

  “I don’t know what you do in that country. I only know what I see on the television.”

  I couldn’t imagine what she thought I did then. “No, I wasn’t out all night. Just dealing with some jet lag.”

  “Mm hmm,” she said. It was a disapproving sound. She knew I was lying.

  At the moment, I wasn’t going to argue about what I did in my own time with my mother.

  “How’s Abir?” I crossed the room, heading for the kitchen. If I was going to have the conversation I knew I was about to, coffee was in order.

  “He’s lovely as always,” Mother said. “Speaking of family and their duties…”

  I rolled my eyes as I poured coffee grounds into the machine. Mother was terrible at segues.

  “I was wondering if you’ve decided on becoming our next king,” she said.

  She was also terrible at being subtle.

  I shoved the little door on the coffee machine closed harder than I’d meant to, rattling the carafe. “Father said I had a month to decide.” I had the urge to record myself saying that and playing it every time she asked. It wasn’t worth my breath anymore. Why bother with a deadline if they were going to hound me every few days? They couldn’t beat a decision out of me, so why did he even give me a deadline at all?

  Their controlling nature was one reason I wanted to leave the palace. Did they honestly think I wanted to go back there and live out the legacy that they chose for themselves?

  “Yes, he did,” Mother said. “If you want to talk about it—”

  “I don’t,” I said.

  “No need to be rude,” she said after a pause. She had a hell of a temper behind the scenes, and even from hundreds of miles away, I felt her silent fury.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t intend to be rude. I only wish to be given the time that Father allowed. It was a surprise to have him show up. I need the time to think about it if I’m going to leave the life I’ve known for a while.”

  “I see,” she said, although I knew she didn’t. Neither of them did.

  “You will be the first to know when I make my decision, either way.”

  She made a small disapproving sound.

  I could almost see her face, her lips pursed and her eyes accusing. Neither of them saw our family’s place in the kingdom as optional, but I did. Being king was sort of my birthright, but I wanted to think through all possible scenarios. I would be tied to the palace for the rest of my life. I’d have to marry someone I barely knew, and then, along with the kingdom pressuring me to make decisions all the time, I’d have my wife to pressure me into siring an heir. I wasn’t sure if my parents were ever like that, since they were so good at hiding their emotions from me, but even as a kid, I never envisioned that life for myself.

  There were a lot of “what ifs” I had to mull through, and today wasn’t that day.

  It was too much. I was an adult, but I wasn’t ready to be a king. I didn’t think I ever would be.

  Would there ever be a scenario where they understood that? Or was I doomed to be king against my will?

  I changed the subject and asked about what she’d been up to over the past week. She loved to talk about the things she did around the palace, feeling as if she had any part in the critical decisions.

  “I’ve planned a banquet for next week,” she said. “I’ve found a woman that I know you will approve of.”

  I gulped down a few sips of the searing hot coffee in my cup before I said, “Mother, I don’t want to be set up.”

  “You can’t stay single forever,” she said. “You need someone to make you happy.”

  She was half right. I didn’t need anyone to make me feel a certain way, but I didn’t want to be single forever. I just wanted it all on my terms. If I gave my parents an inch, they’d take a mile. If I admitted that I wanted a girlfriend, they would have droves of women bothering me at my office as Sophia did.

  Sophia.

  An idea formed around the reporter’s presence in my life which might get Mother off my back.

  “I’ve already met a woman,” I said. “We were out last night together in fact.”

  “You did?” Mother hadn’t sounded this surprised since I told her I was leaving for the UK.

  “I didn’t want to say anything since it’s so early in our relationship, but I have a girlfriend now. So, there’s no need for any more setups.”

  “How happy I am to hear this news,” Mother said. “You must bring her to the banquet next week.”

  I froze in my spot as if Mother had appeared in the room and caught me out in my lie. “I don’t think so. It’s too early for that. I don’t think she’s ready to meet the family.”

  “We want to meet her,” Mother said. “To see if she will fit in with our family. There’s no use in you dating anyone if she doesn’t.”

  “Can’t I enjoy being with someone I want to be with?” I asked.

  “You’re nearing mid-thirties, Luke. There’s not much time left for you to remain single. You need to settle down, and your Father and I will determine who that is to be with.”

  My chest rose with heavy breathing. “What if I said I wasn’t coming?”

  “Then I will send your Father to pick you up again,” Mother warned. “You and your girlfriend will arrive Friday. The banquet will last all weekend. That is plenty of time for you to make arrangements.”

  I completely shut down at that point. “Is that all, Mother?”

  “Yes—”

  I hung up the phone on her. I knew I’d pay for that when I got to the palace, but at that moment, I didn’t care.

  I’d created a lie to appease her. Now, I had to put some proof into that lie. There was no woman that I could take home with me. Was Mother trying to prove that? Did she somehow know that I was lying? She wanted me to show up to the banquet without someone to prove that I needed her to pick someone suitable for me.

  I definitely stuck my foot in my mouth, and it was lodged so far in there, I’d need a crowbar to get it out.

  I had a week to find someone, or prove to Mother that I’d lied. She would make sure I had more than one option available next weekend, and I doubted she would allow me to leave until I chose one. My visits were few and far between, and my age was a ticking clock for her. I imagined her arranging marriages left and right with other prestigious families, waiting for me to pick one from the lot.

  The only way that I could prevent that from happening was to find someone who was on my side. Someone who could pretend to be my girlfriend to get Mother off my back for a little while.

  Only one person came to mind. It was the one woman that would prove to my parents that I wasn’t ready or willing to assimilate into the kingdom. And both of us wanted something from each other. My business side kicked into play, and I mentally drew up a negotiation that neither of us could refuse.

  10

  Sophia

  I dreaded the “check-in” phone call that Mr. Fraser scheduled on Monday afternoon. I had nothing to give him, but I couldn’t lie. If I told him I had the story, he’d want to see at least a rough draft before sending me home right away. I bet the hotel wasn’t cheap and keeping me here when I was “finished” wouldn’t help the company’s bottom line.

  I had to tell him the truth, no matter how hard it would be.

  My eyes darted between the phone and the small digital clock on the side of the bed. I wished it would just ring. I didn’t think I had enough fingernails to last me the next few minutes. I placed my hands on my lap, pressing them again
st my thighs. Bleeding from the fingers wasn’t going to help me write a story.

  I had spent the majority of the day on Sunday, and earlier that day, researching more about Luke Walters. If he wasn’t going to allow me to interview him, the least I could do was start my article with some background. I hated using other sources when the center of my piece was less than a half hour away, but my future seemed bleak.

  I doubted Mr. Fraser would allow me another chance with an easier target for an article. I’d be stuck in the same rut for who knew how long.

  The clock on the side table turned to four on the dot when my cell rang.

  I jumped out of my chair and picked it up. “Mr. Fraser.” I paced around the room. It wasn’t that large, and with the furniture in the way, I had a short distance to go before turning on my heel and heading in the other direction.

  “Hello, Sophia,” he said. He sounded chipper, and I supposed his coffee was still coursing through his veins. My caffeine level had plummeted, though no one would have guessed it since I hopped around the space as if I were five cups in. “How is the story going?”

  Well, he got right down to business. I didn’t expect any different, but a girl could hope.

  “Mr. Walters is quite a difficult subject,” I said.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Which is why I sent you. We haven’t had any luck in the past.”

  My jaw dropped. I wasn’t the first on his list? So, this wasn’t my promotional piece? He only sent me because no one else could do it?

  “I went to his office numerous times, but he won’t budge on the interview,” I explained. If I had the same luck as the others, would he send me home and try again with someone else? At the very least, I could try again for the promotion another time.

  “That’s disappointing.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed and pressed my fingers to my temple. Why did his disapproving tone make me feel like a kid again? “I tried, Mr. Fraser. I waited for hours on two separate days to see him. I can’t force him to talk to me. I managed to speak with his partner—”