Page 30 of Royal Affair
"I've worked events here before," he said, nodding to a burly bouncer. "Jona owes me a favor."
We approached the front of the line. Marcus exchanged a few quiet words with the bouncer, who looked me over once before nodding and unclipping the velvet rope.
"Find your princess," Jona rumbled. "And tell her not to cause trouble in my club."
The fury that had been building crystallized into something colder, more focused. This wasn't just about her disobeying orders. This was about her putting herself at risk when she knew—she fucking knew—someone was targeting her.
Inside, the club was a sensory assault—strobing lights, pounding music, and bodies pressed together. I scanned systematically, sector by sector.
"Security office," I shouted to Marcus over the music, pointing upward.
The second-floor security room was quiet, with monitors showing every corner of the club. A tall man in a tailored suit approached, his posture and alert eyes indicating that he had been military-trained.
"Banks? Anton Keller. Harrison sent me." His English was perfect except for a trace of a German accent. "I have eyes on your princess."
He led me to a monitor showing the main bar area. Even with the silver mask covering the upper half of her face, I'd know her anywhere—the graceful way she held herself, the slight tilt of her head when she laughed. She was at the bar with her friends, a champagne glass in hand.
"She's been there fifteen minutes," Anton reported. "A man with devil horns approached her table almost immediately after she arrived. He was already here, waiting."
I studied the man on screen—tall, dark-haired, expensively dressed. Something about his focused attention on Evangeline set off warning bells.
"Background check?" I asked.
"Running it now. Nothing yet."
I turned to Marcus. "Stay here, monitor all exits. If she moves, I want to know." Then to Anton: "With me. Your job is to get her friends out safely if things go sideways."
Both men nodded, and Anton and I headed for the stairs. The music hit me like a physical wall as we descended. I fixed my eyes on where I'd seen Evangeline, pushing through the crowd.
As we approached, I saw the man leaning close to her, speaking into her ear. Her body language was relaxed—too relaxed—and my instincts screamed danger.
Something about the man's posture nagged at me - the way he scanned the crowd while appearing to focus on Evangeline, the calculated positioning. The pieces clicked into place when my phone vibrated with Marcus's text.
"Devil Horns = Nikolai Voss. Confirmed."
"Change of plans," I muttered to Anton. "He's dangerous. We will extract her now."
When Anton and I reached the main floor and pushed through the crowd to within twenty feet of them, I could see something was wrong. Evangeline swayed slightly, her hand reaching for support. Nikolai smoothly took her elbow, guiding her toward a side exit. Her movements were uncoordinated, her head bobbing slightly. Drugged.
The sight of her in distress triggered something primal in me that went far beyond professional duty. This wasn't just about protecting a client anymore—it was about protecting the woman who'd gotten under my skin despite every wall I'd built, the woman who made me forget my training with just a look, the woman I was falling for, whether or not I wanted to admit it.
"Go," I ordered Anton, no longer concerned with subtlety. We pushed forcefully through the crowd, but they were gone when we reached the side exit.
"Marcus," I barked into my phone. "East exit camera. Now."
"I see them," came the immediate response. "Black SUV waiting. No plates."
I swore under my breath. This wasn't some opportunistic creep; someone planned this. Professional.
We burst through the exit into the alley just in time to see the SUV's taillights disappearing. I memorized the make and model.
"Keys," I demanded from Anton, who immediately tossed me his car keys.
"Black Audi, south lot," he said. "I'll coordinate with local authorities."
I didn't wait for more, sprinting toward the parking area. Every second counted.
My phone rang—Harrison.
