The Billionaire Prince’s Stubborn Assistant by Leslie North Page 0,4

bedroom, the one where he used to stay during summer visits to Aunt Ellie, Edward noticed a water spot on the ceiling.

“Jenna,” he called to one of the contractors. “Can you take a look at this?”

A heavyset woman with thick glasses appeared at his side. “Yes, sir?”

“I hope that isn’t a leak.” He pointed to the ceiling, and Jenna nodded.

“I’ll get it checked out right away,” she promised and hurried from the room.

Once he was alone, Edward let his eyes roam around the space. As a young child, he used to play toy soldiers on this floor. Anytime he engaged in hide and seek with his aunt, he never failed to hide in the wall closet in this room. He went to the wall closet, opened it and grinned.

It still smelled like mothballs.

These boyhood memories softened him, nostalgia making him glad, if only for a moment, that he was tasked to rehabilitate the castle rather than demolish it, even though it was taking up far too much of his time. He gazed at the pale blue walls—the ones he used to stare at until they blurred and he fell asleep. Beside his old bed was a window that offered a view of the forest beyond. He remembered when he and his childhood friend, Bo, would climb out this very window and race into the forest to have adventures.

Bo had been a bit of a troublemaker, a friend his parents didn’t quite approve of. Given that they were only eight years old at the time, his mother had been willing to give Bo a chance, to let the boys be boys, as she had said back then, but not his father. After Edward and Bo were caught stealing chickens from a neighboring farm, King Hansen had forbidden his son to play with Bo.

“You must be mindful of your actions and guard yourself, son,” his father had told him. “You have a reputation to uphold as future king of Sovalon, and the friends you keep will affect your family name.”

“But Father.” He’d cried and begged his father to reconsider, not wanting to end his friendship with Bo. They were like Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer—pals. At eight years old, this was important.

“No more words, Edward. Stop crying and put on a brave face,” he said. “Along with the crown comes the responsibility of pushing away your personal feelings for the good of the kingdom.”

Once Edward had wiped his eyes and stopped crying, his father patted his head.

“Now, let’s leave the past in the past and look ahead.”

His father’s words had stayed with him from that time on. He’d struggled with letting go of Bo, but he knew it was for the greater good. In the same sense, demolishing the schoolhouse and other decrepit sites was for the future of the kingdom.

Leave the past in the past.

Forge into the future.

This was what he was trying to do, but he continued to be railroaded into projects like restoring this old castle. As the chanting from the mosh pit outside grew louder yet, Edward felt like he was about to implode. What reason did they have to protest his work here? This was seemingly what they wanted—for him to protect and rejuvenate the relics of old. But of course, they had to find some reason to complain. In this case, it was because they thought he was dragging his feet, not making this a priority.

Okay, maybe they were right—but that was hardly the point. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have better things to do.

In haste, he marched out of the blue bedroom and down the corridor into the foyer. He threw open the front doors and squelched his fear of public speaking. He absolutely had to address this heckling pack of troublemakers, and as the bright sun forced his eyes into a squint, he opened his mouth to give them all a piece of his mind.

And said nothing.

Because at the very second his eyes adjusted to the light, they fell onto a face he’d had a hard time getting out of his head for the past two days. Standing in the crowd of protestors, with her hair piled in a messy bun atop her head and her wide blue eyes throwing glints of surprise his way, was the woman from the old schoolhouse. Her presence seemed to distort reality for a beat. Edward shook his head, unsure if she was real or just a mirage of his desire. The memory of their passionate kiss