Page 14 of Royal Affair
Evangeline
Aweek had passed since the party incident, and I was sitting with my two girlfriends in the campus café near the library. The routine James and I had established felt different now—charged with an undercurrent neither acknowledged.
The past week had been a diplomatic minefield. Dara had called emergency meetings, her face grim as she briefed us on the 'incident.' Ambassador Proshkov had chosen not to pursue the matter officially. However, they formally reprimanded James, and the university banned me from all social gatherings for the rest of my time at university.
'Your mother is furious,' Dara had told me bluntly. 'Not about what happened to you, but about the potential diplomatic fallout. You're to maintain the lowest possible profile until this assignment ends.'
The university quietly transferred Vlad to a different one. Good. I never wanted to see his face again.
Sleep had been elusive this past week. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Vlad's hands on me again, heard his disgusting words.The bruises on my arms had faded to a sickly yellow-green, but the memory remained vivid. What disturbed me most wasn't just what he'd tried to do, but how quickly his charming mask had slipped away.
But something else had emerged from that night—a strange sense of empowerment. James had protected me, yes, but I'd also survived. I'd fought back. And now I wanted to push boundaries I'd never dared approach before.
James's presence had become oddly comforting rather than suffocating. I listened for his movements in the morning, taking solace in his quiet competence. He'd increased security without making me feel like a prisoner, somehow being both more protective and less intrusive.
When our eyes met now, I saw a flicker of something deeper before his mask slipped back into place, leaving my heart racing.
"Are you absolutely certain you're all right, Eve? I've been worried sick about you all week. That bastard Vlad..." Octavia's voice was unusually subdued. "Gabi and I have been blaming ourselves. We should never have left you alone with him."
"It wasn't your fault," I assured them, though the guilt in their eyes was obvious. "None of us knew what he was really like."
"Thank God for your bodyguard," Gabi added quietly. "I saw him searching for you, and he looked absolutely murderous. I've never seen anyone move that fast."
"He cares about you," Octavia observed, glancing meaningfully between James and me. "The way he looks at you... it's not just professional, Eve."
I went under the water that night, holding my breath for several seconds, knowing that James was no longer standing outside my door. I didn't expect any of it, and yes, I had been silly. We obviously didn't have a great start—our initial meeting had been tense, full of assumptions on both sides—but Imisjudged him, the same way he misjudged me. Deep down, that man was so caring and warm, but he rarely showed it. I knew I could reach him, but I needed the help of my girlfriends.
"Leave it, Octavia, for now. I have to tell you something more important," I told them, biting my lip and stealing a quick glance at my bodyguard, who just so happened to look up too. Our gaze met and held for several long seconds. The burning desire was there; the heat ravished through me, curling my toes, so then I broke it. Shit, this was bad, so very, bad.
"Blimey, what was that, Eve? What happened yesterday after James took you back to the penthouse?" Gabi suddenly asked.
"Well, nothing outrageous as you think. I thought James was going to be furious, that he would give me a lecture, but he was calm. He prepared me a bath and told me to relax," I said, whispering..
"That's actually quite thoughtful," Gabi said, leaning forward with interest. "Maybe there's more to him than just being your strict bodyguard."
"Did anything else happen?" Octavia pressed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "The way he looks at you... it's like he's cataloguing every breath you take. And just now? The temperature here went up about ten degrees."
I was blushing, and there was nothing I could do about it. The fact was that I had been so affected by him yesterday, and this was so wrong on so many levels. I was embarrassed and shaken at being pulled from that party. I should have been stronger; I should have sensed that Vlad was planning to take advantage of me. I had lowered my guard, something I couldn't afford with the recent threats Queen Sophia had mentioned.
"Shhhh, people are staring. We really should have this conversation somewhere else, but then your bodyguard is always around," Octavia muttered. "Just tell us."
"We just talked, that's all; nothing happened, but James came to my bedroom door and then we spoke through it. I don't know what to tell you. I thought the guy was a machine, a robot. He shows none of his emotions, but yesterday he admitted that if I hadn't stopped him from hurting Vlad, then he would have killed him."
Both of them widened their eyes and then started glancing from me to James, which made it obvious that we were talking about him. Even if he wasn't looking our way, I could tell that he knew.
"That man clearly cares about your safety, Eve," Gabriela said. "But there's something more there. I can see it in the way he watches you when you're not looking."
"You need to help him open up," Octavia suggested. "Sometimes people build walls because they're afraid of being hurt."
"And how are you proposing that we do that?" I asked, not wanting to entangle myself anymore. This whole thing had gone too far already because I was having dreams about him. Last night I also had a few phone calls from Queen Sophia and one unknown number that made my blood chill. The unknown caller had breathed heavily before whispering that 'Royals, should watch their backs.' When I'd told James, his entire body had gone rigid, his eyes turning to steel.
Ever since that call, James had been even more vigilant. I'd noticed him checking exits wherever we went, positioning himself with clearer sightlines. The death threats had changed something fundamental to his approach to my protection.
"So hear me out," Octavia added and started talking quietly, about creating opportunities for James to show his protective instincts, moments where his professional mask might slip. Her plan wasn't about manipulation;instead it was creatingsituations where James might feel comfortable enough to let his guard down.
Later that afternoon, James and I made our way to the library for my usual study session. The conversation with the girls had left me restless, their words echoing in my mind.
Over the past week, our morning routine had become a strange sort of dance between us. James would emerge from his room at precisely six-thirty, already dressed and alert. I'd find coffee waiting for me, prepared exactly as I liked it—another minor consideration that felt more personal than professional.
