Page 23 of Royal Affair
I forced my hands to relax, rolling my shoulders to release some of the tension that had built up like a coiled spring. The effort it took to maintain my professional mask was exhausting. I'd never had to fight this hard against my own instincts, never had my training war so directly with my emotions.
The scar tissue on my knuckles—souvenirs from Iraq—pulled tight as I flexed my fingers. These hands had done terrible things in the service of my country. They were not designed for someone like Evangeline. But God help me, they wanted to be.
I'd heard enough. I stepped out of the shadows and approached them, moving with purpose. Several nearby conversations stopped as people noticed me.
This was the moment I'd been dreading since that first day in the barn. When my professional duty and my personal feelings collided so violently that something had to give.
Protocol demanded that I step back, allow the interaction, and monitor from a distance. Frederick, a known quantity and diplomatic contact, was hardly the physical threat I had been hired to neutralize, so Evangeline was perfectly safe with him.
But the primitive part of my brain that had kept me alive through three tours in Iraq was screaming warnings. This man was a threat—not to her physical safety, but to something more profound. Something that mattered more than I was ready to admit.
I'd spent weeks building walls between us, maintaining a professional distance, reminding myself that this assignment had an expiration date. I'd be back in London in a few weeks, and she'd be nothing more than another successfully completed contract.
Watching her smile at Frederick, watching how he looked at her like she was already his, I realised I'd been lying to myself. This wasn't just about professional boundaries anymore. This wasn't about protocol, careers, or the impossible gap between our social classes.
This was about the fact that somewhere along the way, Princess Evangeline Romanov had stopped being just another client and had become the woman I'd kill to protect. The woman I'd die to possess. The woman who was going to annihilate me, and I was going to let her do it.
"Your Highness." I kept my voice professional but with enough authority to interrupt them. "I apologise for the interruption, but a matter that requires your immediate attention has arisen."
I maintained my neutral expression despite wanting to deck the bastard for how he was speaking to her. Frederick's eyes narrowed as he looked at me over, clearly irritated by the interruption. He stepped slightly in front of Evangeline, trying to block her from me, which only pissed me off more.
"We're in the middle of something here," he bit out, his tone dismissive. When his fingers tightened around her arm, I had to fight the urge to break his hand for touching her like that.
I ignored him completely and looked directly at Evangeline.
"Princess?" I asked quietly, making it clear the decision was hers.
Her eyes met mine, and I saw relief in her expression. That small sign was all I needed to know I'd made the right call.
"Of course, Mr. Banks." Her voice was calm, with a hint of gratitude. She pulled her arm from Frederick's grip and stepped toward me without looking back at him. "Please excuse me, Frederick."
The cold politeness in her voice made me smile inside. I placed my hand lightly on the small of her back to guide her away—not exactly professional, but I didn't care who saw. Let them think whatever they want.
I could feel the warmth of her skin through the satin dress, and it took all my concentration to keep my breathing steady and maintain my composure. Part of me wanted to get her somewhere private just to make sure she was okay, to make sure that asshole hadn't upset her.
We stepped outside into the cool night air, where Carl was already waiting with the car. I helped Evangeline into the backseat, trying not to notice as her dress rode up slightly, showing more of her thighs than I needed to see. She quickly adjusted her dress, but the image had already burned into my memory.
I got in beside her, and Carl pulled away from the curb. The silence between us felt heavy with everything we weren't saying. I could feel her watching me, studying me in a way that made me uncomfortable—like she could see right through me.
"There wasn't really an urgent matter, was there?" she asked quietly, breaking the silence.
I met her eyes in the rearview mirror, feeling that familiar tension between us.
"You needed me," I admitted gruffly, knowing I was revealing too much.
I heard her inhale quickly and saw her cheeks flush in the dim light. I wondered how that blush would feel under my fingertips, how warm her skin would be if I touched her face.
I clenched my fist on my thigh, digging my nails into my palm to distract myself. The pain reminded me why this could never happen. My hands had witnessed too much violence and committed too many brutal acts. They would only taint her.
The short drive back to her building felt like torture, with too many unspoken words hanging between us. Her vanilla scent filled the car, reminding me of all the times I'd caught myself staring at her when she wasn't looking, all the thoughts I shouldn't be having about her.
I got out first and checked the area before opening her door. When she stepped out, she came close enough that our bodies almost touched, and I caught another wave of her perfume. Her effect on me was dangerous.
The elevator ride was silent and tense; both of us were aware of the attraction but did not acknowledge it. I stared at the floor numbers, willing them to move faster before I did something stupid like push her against the wall and kiss her until neither of us could breathe.
I walked slightly ahead of her as we approached her door. The hairs on my neck stood up a second before I spotted something out of place in the hallway.
"Stay back!" I threw my arm out instinctively, desperate to spare her the horror, but her sharp gasp told me I was too late.
