Page 35 of Last Minute

I brush a hand over Erik’s cheek and cup his jaw. In the few seconds I have left, I try to memorize everything about him—his dreamy eyes and perfect hair and uniquely Erik smell. But it’s not enough.

With a sad smile, I pull away, letting his arms fall away from around me, and I take one last look at the tattoos on his forearms that hold so much meaning. Meeting his eyes again, there’s only one thing left to say.

“Goodbye, Erik.”

I take hold of my suitcase handle and step back. Once. Twice. And then I turn, briskly walking back to the waiting jet, avoiding Beckett’s knowing gaze.

And I don’t look back.

CHAPTER 24

Erik

I’ve written this report three times, which is two times too many. I’ve missed something new on each iteration—wrong dates, misspelled names, whole paragraphs left out of the briefing. My attention to detail was always something I prided myself on, but lately—over the last week—it’s been slipping.

Another notification pings on my email, but I ignore it after reading the subject line. So many news outlets have emailed to request interviews about my week with Ellie after someone leaked my name to the media—most likely someone who recognized me at Mom’s wedding. In between the incessant emails, I’ve also been dodging Mom’s calls and ignoring all of her voicemails, chewing me out for letting her believe I brought a common civilian to her wedding. But they’re not the only reason why I haven’t been able to get Ellie out of my head and why I haven’t been able to focus on work since I got back to Arlington.

“Donovan.”

The loud voice to my right taps into years of habit, and I jump to my feet, spinning to face Gideon Taylor.

“Yes, sir?”

Boss raises one eyebrow at my reaction. Now that the panic is gone from my system, I take in my surroundings and deduce the most likely series of events. I left my office door open because I’ve been out of sorts, Boss walked in here without fanfare because said door was open, and I’ve been so out of it that I didn’t see or hear him enter.

“Do you have that report done yet?” His face falls back into its usual stoic expression, looking almost bored as I fumble around like a baby giraffe under his scrutiny.

“I was just fixing a few things that I missed the first time around.” I push back my chair and lean over my keyboard, using a few keystrokes to save the file, and navigating to upload it to Black Swan’s secure server.

“The first and second time is more like it.” The disapproval in Boss’s voice cuts my pride like a knife. “What’s going on, Donovan? You’ve never had to redo a report in all the time I’ve known you.”

I fall back into my chair and look up at Gideon, who is decidedly more intimidating from this angle, and I immediately wish I had stayed standing. His gaze is unflinching, and I know that he will see any attempt to shrug off my recent screw ups as the lies they are.

I blow out a breath and scrub a hand over my face. “I messed up, Boss.”

Gideon’s expression remains the same, but the focused look he’s still giving me means I’m not done talking.

“I let myself get distracted, and got myself into a royal mess. I failed—”

I didn’t mean the pun, but Boss snorts, cutting off my thoughts.

“Of course you didn’t.” His rebuttal surprises me, so I close my mouth and wait for whatever else he has to say. “Nobody got shot, maimed, or killed. Princess Eloise is safely back in her country. I’d call that a success. Take the W, as the kids say.”

“Have you seen the tabloids?”

Gideon gives me a look I know well. Do I look stupid? But he doesn’t say he hasn’t. But the next words out of his mouth still surprise me. “That whole mess will blow over in a few weeks. Before you know it, some other high profile hot shot will be the center of a new scandal and the world will forget about you and Her Highness. You’ll go on your next assignment, and this whole thing will be a distant memory.”

The thought of Ellie becoming no more than a memory to me still makes my chest ache, and Gideon must read that on my face because his face softens more than I’ve ever seen it before.

“What are you still doing here, Donovan?”

I’m confused by the sudden change of topic. “Um, my job?” I mentally kick myself for sounding so unsure. Gideon raises an eyebrow, his face easing back into its usual hard-ass expression. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and it’s a struggle not to shrink under that almost-glare.

“Suzie and I have been married for over thirty years. And that didn’t happen because I was a chicken.”

Gideon turns and leaves my office without another word.

I don’t move for nearly five minutes as I replay that strange interaction with Boss in my head, going over every word he said, every twitch of a facial muscle, and everything he didn’t say.

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