Page 9 of Guarding the Princess
And she is. I’d much rather be in her apartment than on the street eyeing everyone entering the building and wondering what’s going on.
“How many people are we talking about?” My mind starts whirling thinking of all the safety issues with a mass of strangers in her apartment.
She looks back at me, those blue eyes almost steely with defiance. “I don’t know. I invited twenty or so and told them to bring friends.”
That doesn’t seem like Charlotte at all. “Why are you having a party all of a sudden?”
She shrugs and opens the door. “Kind of a going-away party. Though none of them know I’m leaving and I’d appreciate you keeping that quiet.”
Her answer makes sense, but as the silence grows, I wonder if she means a going-away party because she’s going back to Regora or because she’s running away. I let it go for now, following her up the stairs to her apartment, ignoring the way her skirt swishes side to side with each step, like her body is rhythm in motion. If she’s planning on running, I will catch her. Of that I have no doubt.
She unlocks her door and steps back to let me enter. I sweep my gaze across the small space, looking for movement, shadowy corners, and then allow myself to take in her decor. Her place is surprisingly simple. Tasteful, for sure, but not lavish like you’d expect from a princess. She flicks on the lights and I wait for her to take the lead, which she does by gesturing to the couch in the living room.
“So we’ve decided to play nice?” I sit down and watch her face carefully, trying to decipher what she’s thinking. As I’ve recently come to expect, her eyes light up at the verbal sparring. Aha! I’m right. She’s not a doormat or a pushover. I respect her all the more for it.
“The way I figure it, I’m stuck with you. So we might as well help each other out.” She spins away and walks through the doorway to the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking large plastic platters of food out.
I frown. “Is that food for the party?”
She nods.
“When did you pick it up?” I never saw her leave her apartment the last two days except to go to work. John assured me she hadn’t left during his shift either. I walk over to the fridge and eye the platters as she places them on the counter.
She raises her voice to be heard over the plastic popping as she takes the lids off. “I asked the catering company to drop it off while I was at work this morning.”
I freeze. “How’d they get in your apartment?” I was with her all morning. She never left that coffee shop to accept a delivery at her apartment.
Her head pops up from behind the refrigerator door. “I left a key for them under the mat.”
I grind my teeth, reminding myself not to yell. “That is extremely unsafe, Charlotte.” I spin away, unholster my gun from behind my back and clear the two bedrooms and bathroom, before stalking back to the kitchen to let her have it, princess or not. “No intruders. Surprisingly.”
Charlotte’s face has gone pale, but she’s crossed her arms over her chest again, ever the defiant one. “I’ve used this company before. They’re perfectly trustworthy.”
“Oh really? So who delivered the food? Give me a name.”
She lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “I don’t know. But I ordered through Cathy. So there.”
I roll my lips inward and take a huge breath before speaking. “So you let someone you don’t know, not even their first name, enter the place where you live while you weren’t here and they could have stolen anything. Or mounted secret cameras anywhere. Sounds perfectly safe, Princess, don’t you think?”
She lifts that nose again and goes back to unpacking the boxes of food, spreading the dishes out on the kitchen table, walking around me like I’m the jerk here.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. This assignment sounded so easy when Nora described it to me. Even rockstars with their questionable drug addictions are more cautious than this twenty-year-old royal from another country. “I’m going to go around and check for cameras or wiretaps while you finish setting up.”
She waves me off with her hand, no longer meeting my gaze. Which is fine by me. We don’t need to be friends. I just need her to remain alive long enough for me to get her on that plane to Regora.
The doorbell rings while I’m still searching every nook and cranny of her bedroom. I hear people enter and Charlotte squealing with delight. I’m assuming from the hugging and rapid-fire questions, they’re people Charlotte knows. And honestly, checking her apartment seems more important than interrogating her first guests, so I get back to work, only emerging when I’m sure she’s safe from some psycho watching while she sleeps.
Charlotte’s sitting on the couch next to another woman with dark blonde hair who’s holding hands with a muscular man to her left. As I enter the room, they all lift their heads and look my direction. Charlotte hops up and plasters on a smile I know to be fake because she’s never that happy to see me.
“Rhys, Jake, this is my friend Ryker.” She tugs my arm forward and I follow, a little unclear what role I’m supposed to be playing. I’m conscious, however, that this is the first time she’s touched me.
“Hello.” Reaching out, I shake their hands, pausing when I realize who Jake is. “Hey, you’re Jake Kersh.”
He nods, a practiced smile taking shape. “Yes, sir, last I checked.”
I nod too, a little starstruck, if I’m honest. He was a legend when he played for the Los Angeles Rangers, and he’s now hitting homers almost every game for the Sliders in Texas.
“My brother said you’re a good guy,” I mutter absentmindedly, sizing him up.
