Page 2 of The Prince's Green Card Scheme

My face falls in confusion and my father continues. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Paolo. We’ve made arrangements for you to be deported.”

“Wait — deported?” I gasp. “You’reexilingme?”

“That’s an old-fashioned word,” says my mother. “We prefer to call it expulsion.”

“Or banishment,” adds my father.

“How is that better?!” I swallow thickly, my eyes pricking with tears. “Will I ever be allowed to come home?”

My father looks at me gravely, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of all this is sinking him. “We are willing to review your citizenship after five years if you are able to prove to us that you’ve changed.”

“I’m being banished,” I whisper.

“You’re being given a chance to start over,” says my mother. “It is for your own good.”

I don’t know what else to say to that, so I say nothing. There are no hugs, no goodbyes. Just my parents staring at me with more disappointment than I’ve ever seen.

Then I get into the car, and the driver starts the engine, and as I’m being escorted to the airport, I stare out the window, watching as my country goes past, thinking about how I’m never going to set eyes on it again.

CHAPTER 1

PAOLO

ONE YEAR LATER

“Can I get you ladies another drink?” I flash them both one of my most charming smiles.

The girls giggle, and one of them covers her mouth with her hand shyly. I’m sure they told me their names, but that was three or four drinks ago now, so I’ve privately nicknamed them Blondie and Sparkles due to their respective hair color and style of dress.

Blondie says something in German that I don’t quite catch, and Sparkles says, “Would you, Paolo? That would be wonderful.”

I grin at them both again. “Your wish is my command.”

The best bit about the year I’ve spent in exile is the way I’ve used it to tour basically all of Europe. Right now, I’m enjoying the wonderful scenery of Bavaria, as well as enjoying the wonderful company of German girls. Not that I’ve ever found it that hard to pick up girls.

After all, Iama prince. That does tend to be a draw.

The worst thing about this first year of exile, though, is that it’s finally forced me to actually think about stuff like my bank account and my living arrangements and what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.

I suppose you could call me immature. I know many newspapers have. But I like to see myself as a free spirit; the kind of guy who rides life’s waves as they come.

Or at least I did — when I had all the money of royalty and the kind of family name that gets you anything you could possibly desire. The disgrace of exile has hit me like a tsunami. And much as I like to pretend that I’m still surfing, there are days when I feel like I’m drowning.

Today is not one of them, though. Today I’m in a lovely Bavarian bar with two beautiful German girls. And I haven’t hit my credit limit yet.

I wave to the bartender and gesture for more drinks. She smiles in acknowledgement, and I throw her a wink. She doesn’t react, which is pretty much what I’m expecting, but it also has the desired effect of making Blondie and Sparkles prickle with jealousy.

I haven’t got intentions towards anyone else tonight, but it’s good to keep people on their toes. After all, I am a prince and I do still have a reputation. Well, kind of, anyway. It’s in tatters back in Bellamare, and I’m sure everyone is cursing my name to heaven.

The news has spread abroad but I’m far less known out here than I am at home. People mostly only care about Miguel and Luca. The third in line is way less interesting than the other two.

The bartender slides three more cocktails over to us, and I grin at her again.

“So, Paolo,” says Blondie, brushing her golden hair behind her ear. “What are your plans tonight?”

“Easy now,” I say, my eyes darting down to her lips. “Thisis my plan for the night. I’ve got two gorgeous women in this bar, where the drinks and music are good. I wasn’t planning on doing anything else.”

“Not…anything?” she says, leaning into me, biting her lower lip just a little.

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