Page 38 of Some Like It Scandalous
Not turning around, Armand closed his eyes. “Yes?”
“Miss Novak is secure in the penthouse.”
“Thank you.”
“Agent Fielding called, they wanted to clarify that they have officially identified another player in the latest threats againstMiss Novak.” Latest threats—four more had arrived over the course of the week. Each promised an escalation in violence.
“More than the magazine reporter?” A disgruntled magazine reporter working for a local periodical had attempted to trade on a professional relationship with Anna and she’d snubbed him by failing to respond. According to the agents, when questioned, the man pled guilty to felony threat and third-degree stalking. He’d also lost his job. Two others had been discredited as copycats. The fourth, however, had been as credible as the first. And far more violent—including three photographs of Anna taken at different points during the week as she visited potential scholarship recipients. Each one had featured her security.
They’d included crosshairs, distance references and a one-word note:anytime.
“Yes, in addition to adding Yuri Markov—the businessman Prince George took the loan from—they have information from a credible source citing political unrest in Belaria.”
Turning around, Armand stared at Peterson. Belaria, a tiny footnote of a country straddling a landmass between Russia, Hungary and the former Czechoslovakian Republic. The independent Slavic nation established a formal government after the collapse of the U.S.S.R., but prior to the revolution it had been an ancestral home to Russian Czars, filled with noble estates and huge tracts of hunting land for young princes to cut their teeth safely.
“Good God, why there?” The family maintained few interests in the region due to the unrest. Even his cousin Francesca, with her peculiar habits for visiting hot spots, avoided the region.
“It seems they’ve developed a multiparty system over the last five years. In the last several months, one has truly begun to gain a foothold over the others.” Peterson’s implacable expression kept his emotions in check, but Armand dreaded what he wasabout to say. “A royalist party that has named you their titular figurehead.”
The headache behind his right eye became a red-hot poker of pain digging into his brain. “Find out what you can. Keep Sebastian and George on lockdown—and reach out to my mother’s security forces, as well as the Graces.” His aunt—his father’s sister—and her husband were likely in the United States, but their three daughters were more likely in Europe.
Peterson walked him to the elevator, they rode up to the security level where Peterson exited and if not for the camera, Armand would have leaned against the wall.
Sebastiancalled the press. Of all the brash, impulsive, foolhardy things to do…
On the penthouse floor, Johnson waited outside the door, an unusual deviation from protocol. He lifted a brow at the man and the bodyguard straightened. “Your Highness.”
“Is Miss Novak secure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then why are you still here?” He didn’t bother to disguise his annoyance. To access the penthouse required the security station to allow the elevator to travel to the floor in the first place. Security did not remain on this floor unless expressly invited—not with Anna in residence. He valued his privacy—what little he could manage—especially with her.
“Miss Novak was not in the best frame of mind, sir. I thought it prudent to be available.” If Armand wasn’t mistaken, Johnson’s attitude held a firm note of disapproval and verged on insubordinate.
“I will take care of Miss Novak. Good night, Johnson.”
The man bowed slightly, and Armand waited until the elevator doors closed and he descended before opening the door to his apartment. Anna stood in the middle of the living room, arms folded with cool hostility in her gaze. He’d had a wholespeech prepared on the drive over, and he’d wanted to soothe any feathers ruffled by Nikole’s ridiculous actions. But the incident with Sebastian had pushed it out of his head.
“Before you say anything…” He needed to explain. “I have no idea what Nikole was thinking when she made that statement. But it is categorically not true.” He could only hope she believed him.
“You’re not engaged?”
“Of course not.” He frowned. “I understand it was difficult to hear.”
“Not really.” Anna shook her head. “Not even a little. If you’ll excuse me, Your Highness, I’m sure you have other royal business you need to attend to.”
“Anna—” He caught her arm, and she glared at him. “I’mnotengaged.”
“Maybe you should be—maybe she wouldn’t care if you ordered her around like a dog. I, however, do.” Jerking her arm free, she made it three steps before spinning around. “But you know what’s the worst part?”
Impassive, he stared at her. “I am certain you will tell me.”
“You don’t know, do you?” Shock replaced the upset in her expression.
“Anna, I’m tired and I have a headache. It has been an incredibly challenging day. On any other occasion, I would revel in letting you sharpen your tongue against me, but if you could simply tell me what it is that has upset you in a rational manner, we can deal with it and move on.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes hardened and heat seemed to shimmer in her gaze. With a small scream of frustration, she whirled and stalked down the hall. The door to her bedroom slammed shut a moment later. Rubbing a hand against his forehead, he decided against following her. Letting her cool off seemed the prudent choice.
