Page 106 of Royal Affair
"What do you want, Evangeline?" he asked softly, I looked at him—really looked at him—taking in the man beneath the professional facade. The exhaustion, the carefully controlled emotion, the way he was fighting not to reach for me. This wasn't the cold, calculating bodyguard who'd dismissed me six months ago. This was someone who'd been suffering just as much as I had, who'd made an impossible choice and lived with the consequences every day since.
"I want to know what happens next," I said finally. "Not the official plan, not the security protocols. What happens between us?"
He was quiet for a long moment, studying my face as if trying to memorize every detail. "That depends entirely on whether you can forgive me for the choice I made six months ago."
"And if I can't?"
"Then I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you're safe and happy, even if it's from a distance."
The simple certainty in his voice nearly undid me. "And if I can?"
Something vulnerable and hopeful flickered in his eyes before he could hide it. "Then we could try to rebuild what I destroyed. If you're willing to take that risk."
Before I could answer, the door opened and Dr. Harrison returned, Mother behind him looking frailer than I'd seen her in years. She took in the scene—my tear-stained face, James's obvious emotional turmoil, the charged atmosphere between us—and sighed heavily.
"I see you've told her about the photographs," she said to James.
"We were discussing the situation," he replied carefully, professional mask sliding back into place.
"I wasn't talking about just the photographs," Mother said quietly, settling into a chair as if the weight of secrets had finally become too much to bear. "I was talking about why you really left six months ago."
I looked between them, understanding dawn like a cold sunrise. "You knew. You knew he was lying when he said those things to me."
Mother's composure finally cracked completely. "I asked Evangeline. I convinced him it was the only way to protect you from a scandal that would have destroyed your ability to rule effectively."
The betrayal was complete now, total and devastating. Not only had James lied to me, but Mother had orchestrated the entire thing. Had sat by and watched me break apart over a man who'd never stopped loving me.
"Both of you," I whispered, rage and heartbreak warring in my chest. "Both of you decided what was best for me without giving me any choice in the matter."
And somewhere in Bellavista, Dmitri Volkov was waiting for an answer to his proposal, backed by photographs that could destroy my reputation and a criminal network that wanted to control the crown through marriage.
The web of lies and manipulation was complete. The only question now was whether I was strong enough to break free from it—and whether the man who'd broken my heart to save my reputation was worth the risk of loving again.
Chapter Thirty-Six
James
The Dorchester ballroom glittered with enough diamonds and political power to fund a small country's defence budget. I adjusted my cufflinks and surveyed the room with professional assessment—exits mapped, security positions noted, potential threats catalogued. Tonight, I was here as director of Banks Security Solutions, attending London's premier charity gala in my official capacity.
The fact that I was about to destroy the Kozlov family was simply business.
She stood across the room beside her mother, midnight blue silk catching the chandelier light. Even from this distance, I could read the tension in her shoulders, the careful mask she wore when performing royal duties. We'd barely spoken during the car ride here, her anger from this afternoon's revelations still crackling between us.
"Brooding again?" Spencer appeared at my elbow, looking every inch the Prime Minister in perfectly tailored evening wear. "You're making the diplomats nervous."
"They should be nervous."
"Christ, you're cheerful tonight." He accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter. "Remind me why I attend these things?"
"Political necessity. Same reason I'm here—business connections."
Spencer's eyes swept the room with practiced ease. "Speaking of which, an interesting guest list tonight. Half the European intelligence community is here."
"Coincidence."
"Right." He took a sip of champagne. "And I suppose the Kozlov family's prominent placement at table twelve is also a coincidence?"
I didn't answer, but my jaw tightened slightly. Mikhail Kozlov sat just two tables away from the royal family, close enough to make my security instincts scream warnings. Too close. But the seating arrangements had been finalized weeks ago, and changing them now would only draw attention.
