Page 5 of Trained Royal
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Anything I need to know before our meeting tomorrow morning?” Brett asked, slipping into work mode.
Kieren stood upright, flicking through his mental diary and notebook. “Not that I’m aware of. Patrick has work shortly, and I’m on standby tonight.”
“Good. Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
He ended the call and dropped his hands to his sides. A fucking party. What the hell was he supposed to do at one of those? The last “party” he remembered attending was his family’s wake, if he could call it a party. Before that, it would’ve been something he’d attended with Norton, his ex, while they’d been attending university years ago.
Pushing aside the uncomfortable thoughts, he pulled a T-shirt on and headed for the room the household staff had allocated him. He hadn’t needed to be a live-in guard, but when they’d asked him if he wanted to, to put them at ease, he’d agreed. It made no difference to him where he slept. He didn’t own any properties, except for one house in the Lake District that had belonged to his parents, and he didn’t have the heart to sell. It was a place they’d spent many of their childhood holidays and held many memories.
He rubbed a hand over his face and wandered through the hallways, a haunting melody reaching his ears. He knew where it came from, and he couldn’t stop his feet from taking him in that direction. Stopping outside Patrick’s music room, Kieren closed his eyes, resting a hand on the door as the pain vibrated through the air, sinking into his chest. He wanted nothing more than to go in there and wrap his arms around Patrick, shielding him from whatever ailed him, but it wasn’t his place. He was a bodyguard, and the only thing he should shield him from were bullets and security concerns. Emotional pain was out of his jurisdiction.
When silence descended, Kieren pulled free of the hold it had on him, inhaled and continued the journey to his room. Patrick’s musical ability was breathtaking, and Kieren had received many opportunities to see and listen to him perform. But his favourite performances were the ones from behind closed doors when Patrick let his emotions free—like he had done then—and played from his heart rather than sheet music. Music was an art form, just like drawing was, but Kieren didn’t have an ounce of the talent Patrick did. It always surprised him Patrick didn’t follow that career path instead of following in his father’s financial footsteps.
He shook his head as he let himself into his room. Dropping his bag on the floor, he strode to the wardrobe and pulled a suit from it. A black jacket, white shirt, black tie, black trousers and steel-toe capped boots completed his working outfit.
Ever since the fire took out Floresco, the flower shop Prince Henry’s boyfriend—no, fiance—owned, the royal family had increased their security. But when the bomb took the life of the queen, security had increased tenfold. Initially, they’d brought him on to guard Patrick only at the events he attended, but since the bomb, he’d been on full-time day duty with a standby duty overnight because he lived in their home. The weekends were his to do with as he pleased.
Kieren was lucky because Patrick was easygoing, and they got along well. He spent his days following Patrick around the office, attending meetings, and doing anything else Patrick had to do. Apart from filling out the paperwork, Kieren could’ve probably done Patrick’s job from how much he heard and saw. Not that he’d want to.
He smoothed down his jacket and headed back out into the main house, aiming for the front door. He stepped outside, as always, waiting by the car and scanning the property for anything that might look out of place. The property was well secured, but he couldn’t help his training.
The door behind him opened, and Patrick exited, wearing a sleek, dark grey suit with a black shirt.
“Ready?” Kieren asked.
“I’m good.” Patrick nodded, and Kieren opened the passenger door of the car, letting Patrick climb in. Kieren shut the door, rounded the car and took a seat beside the driver, Kevin.
The journey into London took over an hour, and Patrick used the time to make phone calls and do paperwork—Kieren could see it through the soundproof glass. The entire journey, every day, Patrick did the same thing, rarely taking any time to just relax or watch out the window. Even when he was on a call, he’d be staring at the paper or writing something.
By the time they got to the high-rise building Patrick worked in, Kieren was antsy for no other reason than being locked in a car for any length of time. Fresh air while walking was better than any other mode of transport, as far as he was concerned. Being trapped within moving transport was at the very bottom of his list of favourite things to do, not that anyone knew that.
The day went as slowly as it usually did, but Kieren remained alert. When they had first requested that he stay by Patrick’s side for the entire day, he hadn’t realised it meantevery minute. But on the first day he’d accompanied Patrick to work, he’d asked where he should wait, and Patrick Senior had given him a confused look and pointed at a chair near the window of Patrick Junior’s office. From that moment forth, he and Patrick spent eight to ten hours a day with each other. It was tough to keep things from getting personal, but he did his best.
A similar routine happened on the car journey home, and Kieren found himself wishing for something to shake it up, then cursing himself for thinking such a thing.
After delivering Patrick safely home, Kieren headed for his room, changed into his workout clothes and strode for the gym. He rolled out a mat and sat cross-legged in the centre. His twice-daily yoga practice always helped get rid of the tension in his body. Working through his years-old routine, he ended on his back, in savasana pose, eyes closed, legs and arms spread.
He jerked to his feet, crouching with his arms in a fighting pose when the door slammed open.
“Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t think anyone was here,” Patrick said, freezing several steps into the room.
Kieren exhaled, dropping to his knees and lowering his head. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.”
“I’ll just go.” Patrick stepped back towards the door.
Kieren held out his hand. “No, it’s okay. I was done.” He rolled his mat and tucked it under his arms, heading towards the door.
As he passed Patrick, the man said, “Are you joining us at the barbecue this weekend?”
Kieren glanced to the side, freezing at the look in Patrick’s eyes. He was caught in those ocean blue orbs, the pupils dilating above flushed cheeks and a heaving chest. Licking his lips, he focused on Patrick’s mouth as his tongue copied the motion. He leant to the side, wanting to taste them, to see if they were as soft as they looked.
Jerking himself out of the dream, he stepped back and cleared his throat. “Um, yes, I’ll be there.”
He gave a small smile and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. Exhaling softly, he whispered, “Damn it.”
