Page 65 of Regally Binding

“For fucks sake, Liss. You spoke to the Prime Minister’s director of operations. He’s a client we’ve tried to land for years. He expects people to lick his boots.”

“Well, I didn’t do that. I may have suggested we didn’t need Brian’s attitude or business.” Bear’s mouth dropped open, so she promptly added, “But I told him you’d call back when you were out of your meeting. And I’m quoting him word for word. He said, ‘I want him and Strike in two weeks.’ I guess I got you a job. I accept thanks in money or chocolate.”

She squeezed a glob of cream directly from the can into her mouth as she grinned at Bear. Sugar coated her tongue.

“We can’t do then,” he replied in a high-pitched voice. A panicked Bear was a surprise. “Once you’re done with us, we’ve got invoices and reports to complete for previous clients, and Luke is too busy with IT, not that he can type reports, but then neither can we and—”

Liss sprayed a glob of cream onto his nose to quieten him. He rolled his eyes but calmed slightly, especially when she wiped off a blob with her finger and pressed it between her lips. She sucked hard as he raised his eyebrow and shook his head.

As the cream languished on her tongue, she said, “I’ll deal with that. I’ve done things like it for the pub, and I can touch type. It’s the distraction I need.” Bear’s eyes were wide as she managed his concerns. “But you’ve only got me for a week because…we won’t discuss what’s happening then. In the meantime, start thinking about getting an office manager, because you need to sort out your admin, bookings, and everything else.”

Strike arrived within the hour with a bag of clothes for Liss. As soon as she was make-up–free and in her joggers and strappy top, she relocated to the living room, where she spread notes scribbled on serviettes and every other scrap of paper across chairs and the surrounding floor. It was another photo-filled room. She placed the information in piles and developed a system as the smiling couple from their wedding photo gazed back at her.

Strike and Bear mumbled outside the room, but she demanded the speaker play Taylor Swift as she immersed herself in the mess. It looked like no one had touched their paperwork in ages. It was a surprise they’d survived this long with their inability to match invoices to half-written reports.

Liss sang along with Taylor until she became aware of the two bodyguards staring at her from the doorway. Strike worried his lip while Bear’s brows knotted together.

“My singing isn’t that bad,” she joked before demanding Alexa pause.

“We need to talk to you about something,” Bear mumbled, striding into the room.

“Don’t mess up my piles,” she shouted, forcing Bear into the nearest rosy pink sofa chair and Strike to perch on its arm. Their massive bodies looked hilarious in the furniture made for smaller people, but at their pensive faces, her smile froze. “What now?”

“We need to tell you about the bomb threats,” Strike said slowly.

Bear rubbed his stubbly chin absentmindedly. He filled the chair to the point that it could burst. All it would take was one of his stretches.

“Stop pussy footing around me. Tell me so I can get back to the tunes,” she snapped.

Bear raised his eyebrow, but the rest of his face didn’t change.

“There were no bombs. We checked everywhere, so you don’t need to worry about that.” Liss made a wind-up finger movement as he spoke. Strike usually faced everything head-on like a bull. “But it came with a threat.”

“And?” she replied, drawing out the word and getting a wide-eyed stare from Strike. “There’s no point sugar-coating it anymore. I’m getting used to being at risk.”

“Yeah, sure,” Strike replied edgily as he wrung his hands together. “So the threat came in.”

“Spit it out.”

Bear’s eye twitched as he spoke. “They said they’ll kill you if you don’t renounce the throne.”

Liss sat back on her feet and lowered her head. The fear was there, but there was something about this house, being overseen by Strike’s family photos, that made that fear manageable. Maybe she was numb, or the last days had taken their toll.

“Liss?” And there was something about Bear and Strike too. They made her feel safe. She’d spent her adult life searching for something and now she might have found it in her bodyguards. She sighed loudly. Maybe she was training herself to become used to the drama because she would take the throne. She didn’t know anymore.

From the corner of her eye, Strike shrugged helplessly at Bear, who mouthed, “Is she okay?”

“Guys, chill the fuck out. I’m fine, but I dunno. I thought it would be bigger.” They stared at her like she’d grown a spare head from her shoulder. “Will you continue to keep me safe?”

“Of course.” Bear nodded like a dog desperate for a treat.

“But aren’t you scared?” Strike asked. “Especially as you want to be a princess.”

“Yes, but I’m managing it.” Liss watched the men, who looked more like little boys asking the grumpy neighbour for their ball back than bad ass bodyguards. “I’m not sure what I want—”

“But you said an hour ago that I—I mean, we—only had you for a week,” Bear cut in before clearing his throat.

“Yes, because I might take up the throne, but either way, things are changing.” Bear opened his mouth, but she set her jaw and continued. “Whatever this bomb threat is about, it’s out of my control, and my decision about taking the throne is the thing I can control. As long as my friends are safe and I have you two, then I’ll make my decision with consideration. Being a princess makes sense because maybe it’s my calling. I’ve never been good at anything else, but for now, I’ll stay here and do your filing, type up your reports, and enjoy my last days of trapped freedom. Is that okay?”

---