Page 15 of Guarding the Princess
“Looks like I better call Mother sooner rather than later.” She finally looks back at me and straightens her spine, hooking her arm through mine and pulling me along the sidewalk.
I’m torn, feeling protective of her because that’s literally my job, but also because I want to protect her feelings, which is so far outside my job description I don’t know what’s happened to me. Maybe I can convince her over dinner to tell Rhys the truth and then get on that plane. Her life won’t be over as a queen and neither will her decision-making powers. If she wants Casual Fridays then all she has to do is declare it and it would be a national holiday. Doesn’t seem so bad to me.
* * *
There’s a real-life flickering candle on the table between us, making me rethink this whole dinner-date thing. I mean, it’s not a date, but between the soft music, the white tablecloth, and the candle making Charlotte look more like an angel than a princess, I’m starting to wonder if this was a horrifically bad idea after all.
Number one rule in bodyguarding: never fall for the client.
Not that I’m falling for Charlotte, but it does seem like I’m getting more involved than what the job description calls for. Why should I care if she tells Rhys the truth? And why do I care how she feels about returning to Regora? Only one answer: I care about Charlotte.
“We don’t have a lot of international cuisine in Regora. One of the things I love most about LA is the diversity of food.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkle as she scans the menu. “Have you ever had tabouli? It’s so good!”
“You know, as Queen you could encourage ethnic restaurants to open in your country.”
Immediate regret washes over me when she loses the sparkle, her face tightening into an ice sculpture that looks like Charlotte, but isn’t really her.
“There’s lots of good to be done no matter who’s Queen.” She lifts her nose in the air and she’s never looked more queenly than she does right now. Oh, the irony.
“Charlotte.” Here I go, concerned about her feelings when it’s none of my business. I can’t seem to stuff the words back inside where they belong. “You seem like a woman who wants to do the right thing. Why don’t you start with telling Rhys, your best friend, the truth about who you are?”
Her gaze locks on mine, her mouth set in a thin line. “You don’t even have friends, so how dare you tell me what to do with mine.”
Her words hit a nerve, or maybe it’s a bruise, buried deep inside where I didn’t even notice it before.
I nod. “You have a valid point. So don’t be like me and wall yourself off to everyone. Anyone can see how much Rhys loves you. Be honest with her and give her a chance to support you. The real you.”
I expect her to argue. Maybe even to insult me further. What I don’t expect is for her blue eyes to fill with tears. She always seems so tough but I guess everyone has their breaking point. I slouch back in my chair across the table, feeling like a jerk for making her cry. Again, it’s not my place, so why do I keep sticking my foot in my mouth?
“Look. I’m sorry, Charlotte. It’s none—”
“No. You’re right. I’m just scared,” Charlotte answers, a distinct wobble in her normally confident tone.
“Scared of what?” I lean my elbows on the table and silently will her to confide in me.
“Scared she’ll look at me differently once she knows.” She blinks rapidly to keep the tears from falling. “I had a friend when I was about ten years old. She played with me every night when we were both done with our studies. There were lot of kids around the palace due to their parents being on staff, but most of them were older than me. I was homeschooled by the best tutors money could buy, so having a friend my age was something precious. One day, she confronted me and said she found out I was the princess. If I wanted to keep playing with her I had to give her a gold coin every day. I felt ashamed of who I was, but figured that this was how normal friendships went. I had no other friends by with to judge. My nanny found me scrambling to find gold coins, and when I told her why, she told my mother. And I never saw that girl again.”
Charlotte picks up her menu, shielding her face from me. “Money and status changes people, Ryker. Rhys loves me for the real me and I’m going to keep it that way.”
My heart squeezes for the little girl Charlotte used to be. I have no idea what it’s like to grow up with wealth or a palace to live in or staff running my household. Before meeting Charlotte, I’d have guessed it’d be pretty grand. My perception has shifted a bit, that’s for sure.
I lay my hand on hers on top of the table, ignoring how soft she feels. “Rhys isn’t ten, Charlotte.”
Her menu slaps down on the table and she has the most adorable line between her eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I squeeze her hand tighter. “It means I’m sorry for how that girl treated you. No one deserves that. But give Rhys some credit. She’s not some ten-year-old girl without a clue as to how to treat a true friend. And how can she love the real you when you haven’t even told her about your family?”
Charlotte’s round eyes blink at me and I can’t look away. I’m definitely in too deep with this client, yet there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s pulled me in and now that I’m here I don’t want to leave. She doesn’t pull her hand away and I consider it a win.
“You make a valid point. I’ll take it into consideration.”
I bite back a smile. Charlotte speaks like a queen and she doesn’t even know it.
“Since we’re working on our social skills here, why don’t you tell me why you have no friends.”
“Ah, so that’s how it is? You’re going to turn it on me and give me friend advice?”
She shrugs, an impish smile clearing the last of the tears. “Seems fair to me, no?”
