Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
The days were what they were, but the nights have gone by way too fast. Just this morning, sensing our impending farewells, I grabbed her just as she was ready to reach for the door that would lead us out into the hallway.
I jerked her back, slammed my mouth on hers for a bruising kiss before turning her to face the wall. I hiked up her skirt, got her wet with my fingers, and then fucked her from behind slowly. I had to keep my hand over her mouth the entire time, except for when she came. I twisted her head so she was facing me and I kissed her deeply, sucking her moans into me.
Rather than satisfying me for the day, those glorious moments of getting lost in each other have only highlighted that we’ve pretty much run out of time.
“You have it bad, mon frère.”
My head whips right, but I don’t need to see to know those words came from Paul. He moves in beside me, back to the wall, hands clasped before him. He stares at Camille, a knowing look on his face.
Not concerned.
Not angry.
Not amused, though, either.
No clue what he’s thinking.
Most men would deny it, but I’m not about to insult his keen intelligence and powers of observation. I thought we’d been careful, but somehow we haven’t been.
So I merely say, “Fuck off. It’s none of your business.”
Paul chuckles and inclines his head my way, eyes still on Camille. “I don’t judge you, friend. I’d tap that if she were interested in me.”
His words are meant to provoke, but they push me past what a normal response should be. I turn to him, lean in close, and murmur low, “If you ever talk like that about her again, I will slit your throat.”
The man doesn’t even have the sense to be offended or afraid. He snorts and shakes his head, turning back to look at Camille. Reluctantly, I do the same because that is our job.
“I would never disrespect the princess like that,” Paul finally admits after a drawn out, tense silence. “I merely wanted to see how deep you’re in.”
Fucking deep, Paul. Way fucking deep.
“Doesn’t matter,” I reply coolly, my eyes pinned on Camille as she silently weeps over the video. Can’t stand what that’s doing to my heart, but I can’t help her the way I would if we were alone. It goes against my job duties and would give our secret away to the other agents watching. “This was never more than a temporary thing. It ends when I drop her off in Bretaria.”
“And she’s cool with that?” he asks, and this time I detect actual concern.
My tone is curt, hoping it doesn’t invite further conversation. “We both agreed.”
“Well, your secret is safe with me,” he says nonchalantly. “I mean, I have no scruples outside of taking my job seriously. You’ve done excellent work heading up this security detail, and as long as you and the princess are on the same page, no harm, no foul.”
I don’t give a fuck what he thinks, and I’m definitely ready to change the subject. “Have you heard from Dmitri lately?”
Paul nods. “About fifteen minutes ago. He said there’s no chatter at all.”
Once again, my head whips his way. “None?”
“None for the last thirty-six hours,” he replies, his tone grave. “Not since the last bit they picked up indicating Camille was now a target too.”
This is not good. The chatter about the potential assassination has been frequent since it started, and the last week, it has been daily, several times a day. And now for thirty-six hours, not a peep?
“They’re either on to us, or the plan is set and is going to be put into action,” I mutter pensively.
“Yup,” Paul agrees. “Dmitri is going to have an additional contingent of security and police in both San Francisco and Sydney. It’s doubtful the tarmac can be breached and the air space is protected, but it’s smart to take extra measures.”
“Agreed.” My gaze cuts back to Camille, but I’m not finished talking to Paul. “And when we arrive in Bretaria?”
“Double the regular detail to escort her back to the palace.”
This is good. Once she’s inside the palace walls, the risk to her will decrease significantly, although Paul is positive Dmitri is putting additional measures in place. I’m betting there are now metal detectors at all entrances, a hiring freeze, and a recheck of all palace insiders including what will be an insidiously illegal look into every person using any means necessary.
“What do you think the chances are that a move will be made on her?” Paul asks.
I shrug. “She’ll never be fully safe, but if this intelligence is actionable, it’ll be before her twenty-fifth birthday. Once she turns twenty-five, has legal claim to the throne, and can name a secret heir to ensure her security, everyone can breathe a bit easier.”