Page 9 of Keep Her from Them

“Hit me.”

How did I start? I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. “I talked to Alex today.”

“Ye mean Her Royal Highness Princess Alexandra?” He put on a posh voice. “Was she snarky with ye?”

“Aye, a little. I didn’t expect it.” Or maybe I had and I wasn’t being honest with myself.

“I never got the full story of what happened. Tell me and I might be able to suggest a way to fix it.”

In a rush of time, I was eighteen and reliving the scene. “It was a comedy of errors. I was studying when my phone started blowing up with messages from other aviation students who were at a house party. They go hard and were trashed. I gave up my books to join them. In the party, I spotted Alex.”

She’d been dancing in the sweltering, sweaty living room in just a cropped top and booty shorts. I’d gotten a shot of lust so damning I was stunned. Then I took in the bigger picture and clocked the way some of the other men were looking at her. One in particular was trying to get close enough to rub up against her. I’d had a bad feeling about him.

“She was with another lass who I knew, and I took her friend aside and said I was worried about Alex getting felt up by this guy who was watching her. The friend listened and pulled Alex out, bringing her to me to explain. She was annoyed. Not at me, but at the fact she couldn’t go anywhere without trouble. There was always someone wanting a piece of her. I told her she could dance closer to me and I’d make sure no one touched her.”

Jackson made a funny sound. “No wonder ye ended up a bodyguard.”

“Shame I didn’t have the skill back then. She danced with me and her friend. When the other lass went to get a drink, Alex looped her hands around my neck and got right up close.”

“Wait. I can’t believe it’s taken ye five years to tell me the story. Ye dirty danced with a princess?”

I swallowed, because what came next destroyed any of the good feeling from our minutes alone where I’d kept my touch on the curve of her waist but she’d grazed hers under my t-shirt. “Someone took a picture, not of us, but the flash brought me to my senses. I spun around to shield her from it. Alex’s friend returned in that same second, and we jogged her arm so she spilled her revoltingly sweet cocktail over Alex. She was a sticky mess. Alex slipped into the bathroom to clean up, and I waited outside with no clue what to do. Then I had the bright idea to knock on the door and offer my shirt.”

“Which she accepted?”

“She did.” I’d never forgotten how hot she looked in my clothes when she emerged from the bathroom. “I still felt that overprotective vibe, so escorted her out.”

She’d kissed me on the cheek, the heat and scent of her driving me wild again.

“I opened the door for her, and she nudged against me as she passed. It was the exact second a waiting paparazzo took a picture. It was all over the news the next day. My face was in shadow so couldn’t be made out, but I was bare-chested, and the princess was in an oversized man’s t-shirt in the doorway of a house, as if leaving a hookup. The gossip rags had a field day. They never identified me, but it was humiliating for Alex who had to endure asinine commentary on her letting loose in her student years and implying she was sleeping around.”

Jackson swore low. “That’s hardly your fault.”

“I flew at the guy and threatened to break his camera. He took off running, and when I turned around, Alex had gone.”

“Ah, with the assumption that you’d made it worse. She hasn’t spoken to you since?”

“She was only in Edinburgh for a short time. She moved on without me ever getting a chance to clear my name.”

“Why would ye need to?”

“I think she thought it was an act because I’d set her up.”

There was a pause. “Like you were the one who called in the photographer? Why would she think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’d sidelined her at the start? Her friend never spoke to me again, though, so it’s just my assumption.” Plus her attitude tonight doubled down on my hunch.

He made a sound of derision. “Ye were in hiding. Ye had even less reason than her to be splattered all over the tabloids.”

“She didn’t know that.”

It was true. At age fifteen, I’d fled my Mafia-wannabe father with my younger sister in tow. Ariel was now dating Jackson, and the older brother we moved to live with, Gabe, was due a baby any day with his wife, Effie. Things had turned out good for us. Princess Alexandra’s existence appeared not to have changed at all.

Jackson gave up words of comfort. “I know ye. Injustice bothers the fuck out of ye. Clear the air with her. Fix it and regain your peace of mind.”

He was right. I’d find a way.

We said our goodbyes, and I breathed a little easier, the conversation having brought peace to my frazzled soul. That fell away when my gaze touched on a scene across the street.

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