Page 10 of It Takes a Thief
“I know,” I relent. Because I truly do understand my parents love me and want the best for me. But it’s so incredibly hard when we want two completely different things.
“If you’re set on returning, I want Mr. Decker by your side at all times,” my dad says, and his tone is final.
“Dad—”
“No. I want to know you’re being protected, Peach.” The silly nickname from Mario Brothers’ Princess Peach always makes me smile. Even now. “Then when you return, his job will be done, and you’ll be under permanent royal guard.”
Like a prisoner, I think. My smile fades and I hug my parents before walking back to the foyer where Linc stands with his duffel bag, ready to go. I’ll hardly be free with him trailing my every move, but at least I have one last shot at finding freedom.
Leo, my family’s driver, helps Linc load the bags into the back of the car and then we set off for the small, private airport on the other side of the island. Most people have to travel to and depart from Nice Côte d’Azur Airport which is about thirty minutes away. But not the royal family.
I stifle a sigh, watching the picture-perfect scenery pass by the window. With its majestic cliffs covered in jasmine, its luscious vines dripping with grapes, and the salty tang of the Mediterranean Sea, Arcadia truly is stunning. I wish I didn’t have such a love/hate relationship with everything the island represents.
Basically, me being trapped.
An uncomfortable silence hangs between Linc and me. I should probably apologize for playing the princess card and ordering him around like a spoiled brat. But the words staylodged in the back of my throat, refusing to come out. His rejection is still a little too fresh.
I don’t have a lot of experience with men, relationships or dating. It’s embarrassing to think I’m an almost twenty-five-year-old virgin. My rebellious side wants to hit the town and find someone to unload it on the second I get back to the city. But my romantic side knows I’d never actually go through with it.
From the corner of my eye, I study Linc’s very large hand resting on his thick thigh. The knuckles on his long fingers have a few scars, but the short, neatly trimmed nails give a sense of elegance I wasn’t expecting. A shiver runs through me as I imagine what those big, powerful hands would feel like caressing my body.
You’ll never know, I remind myself.He has zero interest. Turned you down flat. You’re just a job to him.
I know he owes me nothing, but his snub still stings. A lot.
Probably because he’s the kind of man I would choose. One who is big and strong. Completely fearless. I spent the past year on a dating app, searching for someone special, and even meeting a few men, but nothing worked out. Either we didn’t connect, or they just wanted a one-night stand.
I’ve tried to take control of my future, but it’s been nothing but one failed date after another. Maybe my parents are right and my destiny is to permanently return home. But then why does the very thought leave me restless and unhappy? Why do I feel like there’s something else in store for me?
I’m so caught up in my thoughts, I don’t say a word until we reach the small airport. Of course, once we get there, Leo gets a big hug because he’s been with my family so long, he’s practically a Fontaine. I adore him and consider him my grandpa. But Ionly have a mumbled “thank you” to offer Linc when he takes my three suitcases.
I know I owe him an apology, so the moment we’re boarded and buckled up in the jet, I turn in my seat, suck it up and be the bigger person.
“I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position earlier. I crossed a line. It’s just…I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
I know that’s no excuse, it sounds trite to my ears the minute I say it, but I hate being thought of as spoiled or petulant. Maybe I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but who am I kidding? I care what everyone thinks. The job of a princess is to care for others, most importantly, for her people. And a big part of that is figuring out how best to provide for them.
“You’re forgiven.”
I nod and clasp my hands together, studying his rugged face. My heart gives a little kick against my ribs and I press my lips together. He’s ridiculously attractive. Stoic and in control. The kind of man who would be dominant and very knowledgeable in the bedroom. Right now, though, he looks a little uneasy. Kind of pale, too.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as the plane picks up speed, roaring down the runway.
“Flying isn’t my favorite thing to do,” he admits, big hands gripping onto the armrests so hard his knuckles are white.
“You’re scared to fly?” Disbelief laces my voice. I can’t imagine this rough and tough-looking man being afraid of anything.
“I’m not scared of flying. I’m scared of crashing,” he clarifies.
“I think we’re all scared of that. But Jacques is an excellent pilot. He’ll get us safely to New York.”
He doesn’t look convinced, and I hear his breathing speed up the moment the jet lifts off the ground, leaving the runway and the island far below as we rocket out over the black sea.
“Deep breaths and happy thoughts,” I murmur, trying to distract him.
He locks his gaze on me, those dark, fathomless eyes reminding me of the most delicious Italian espresso.
“What makes you happy?” I ask.
