Page 39 of Royal Affair
It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "Yes."
The finality of that single syllable made my chest ache in a way I hadn't anticipated. After all, this arrangement had always been in place—temporary protection until someone could vet and assign a permanent replacement. Jake's injuries had made his return uncertain at best. James Banks was never supposed to stay in my life permanently.
So why did the thought of his departure feel like losing something essential?
The plane descended through the clouds, and the familiar landscape of Bellavista appeared below—rolling hills, dense forests, and the palace gleaming white in the distance. Home, supposedly. However, it had never really felt that way to me.
"I'm sorry," I said suddenly, the words tumbling out before I could reconsider. "For sneaking out. For putting myself in danger. You were right—it was reckless and selfish."
James's eyes met mine, his expression unreadable. "Yes, it was."
I waited for more—perhaps forgiveness or at least acknowledgement of my apology. Instead, he simply unbuckled his seatbelt as we touched down, already focused on the following security protocol.
Despite the early hour, my mother was waiting as promised, impeccably dressed in a burgundy coat. As we descended the plane's steps, I saw her eyes sharpen, taking in my appearance with that uncanny ability to detect anything amiss.
"Evangeline," she greeted me, her voice warm even as her eyes assessed. She embraced me briefly, then turned to James. "Mr. Banks. I understand there was an incident."
"An attempted kidnapping, Your Majesty," he replied formally. "The princess is unharmed. Luxembourg authorities are investigating."
The Queen's face remained composed, but I knew her well enough to see the flicker of alarm. "We will discussthis privately," she said, guiding me towards the waiting car. "Unfortunately we can not delay the Christmas preparations."
As James followed at a respectful distance, I felt the weight of Bellavista settle around me again—the endless obligations, constant scrutiny, and suffocating expectations. After Luxembourg, with its relative freedom and simple routines, the palace felt more constraining than ever.
In the car, my mother waited until someone raised the privacy screen before turning to me.
I hesitated, weighing how much to share. "I evaded my security detail. It was stupid. A man approached me at a nightclub and drugged my drink. If James hadn't found me..."
"This isn't like you," she said, studying my face. "Not anymore. Not since..."
She didn't finish the sentence—she never did. Our family might as well have labeled five years ago "the unmentionable period."
"I know," I whispered. "It was a momentary lapse of judgement."
"Did this man say anything to you? Make any demands?"
My heart rate quickened. Did she somehow know? "No specifics. Just ransom demands."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but her gaze remained penetrating. "Your sister arrives tomorrow for the holidays. I don't want her troubled by this. The official story is that you had a minor security concern, nothing more."
The official story, always. The protection of the public's appearance is always paramount. I nodded automatically.
"And Mr. Banks?" she asked, glancing towards the front of the car. "I understand his replacement arrives tomorrow as well."
"Yes, Roger Halliwell."
"Good." She straightened her already perfect posture. "Having your original security assignment back on track will help normalise things."
If only she knew how little I wanted things to "normalise"—to return to the careful artifice of royal life, to pretend the past few months with James had never happened.
At the palace, I excused myself as quickly as propriety allowed, retreating to my suite. James accompanied me to the door, his duty taking precedence over our contention.
"I'll be stationed in the south wing," he said. "If you need anything, call."
"Will I see you at dinner?" I was suddenly desperate to keep him from walking away.
"I'll be briefing Roger Halliwell when he arrives. I've already coordinated with Dara to ensure proper coverage for this evening—Marcus will be on duty. He assisted during the Luxembourg incident and proved reliable."
Another dismissal. Another reminder that he was counting the hours until he could leave Bellavista—leave me—behind.
