Page 42 of Royal Affair
"Because," he said, his voice rough with restraint, "you deserve someone who can stay. Someone who can give you more than stolen moments between assignments." His eyes were pained now. "You're not some traumatised victim looking for comfort—you're stronger than that. But I'm not the right man for you, regardless."
The rejection stung more than I'd anticipated. "That's not what this is."
"Isn't it?" His eyes were almost gentle despite his harsh words. "You've been through a traumatic experience. You're looking for comfort, for control. I understand that. But I won't take advantage of you."
"James! This isn’t a trauma response….I want US to be together, if only for tonight," I insisted.
He shook his head. "Get some rest, Princess. I'll see you tomorrow to complete the handover with Halliwell."
As he walked away, head high and shoulders rigid, I felt both humiliation and a strange sort of respect burning through me. He'd rejected me not out of disinterest—I'd seen the want in his eyes, felt the tension in his body when I'd touched him. He'd rejected me out of principle, out of some misguided notion that he wasn't good enough, or that I was too fragile to know my mind.
It should have been the end of it. But as I watched him disappear down the corridor, I realised something: James Banks had spent months protecting me from external threats. Now he was trying to protect me from himself.
But what if I didn't want his protection? What if I wanted his surrender instead?
This wasn't over. Roger Halliwell might take over tomorrow, but James Banks wasn't gone yet. And I had one more day to make him understand that what was between us had nothing to do with trauma or desperation, and everything to do with the man he was—the only man who'd ever seen past the princess to the woman beneath.
Chapter Eighteen
James
"Roger Halliwell is not qualified for this assignment."
My voice echoed off the stone walls of Dara's office. She sat behind her desk, unfazed by my outburst, her fingers steepled as she regarded me with practised patience.
The conversation occurred the morning after Halliwell's unexpected interruption in the armoury. His presumptuous arrival had only confirmed my worst fears about his suitability for the role—and had shattered the fragile moment between Evangeline and me.
"Mr. Banks, I appreciate your concern, but the American Security Service highly recommends Mr. Halliwell. His credentials are impeccable."
I leaned forward, planting my palms on her desk. "Credentials don't mean shit if the man has the situational awareness of a golden retriever. Have you seen him operate? He's all show, no substance."
Dara sighed, leaning back in her chair. The head of palace security had weathered enough storms to remain unruffled by my anger, but I could see a flicker of doubt cross her face.
"Mr Halliwell was the only candidate available on such short notice. You clearly stated that you wanted to conclude your assignment as quickly as possible."
The accusation stung because it contained a kernel of truth. I had been desperate to leave—to put distance between myself and Evangeline before I did something I'd regret. Now that departure seemed like a betrayal.
"I'm not leaving her safety in the hands of that arrogant prick," I growled, straightening up.
"He walks around like he's starring in his action movie. He spent fifteen minutes telling the princess about his 'heroic' rescue of some tech billionaire in Silicon Valley last night."
"Mr. Banks," Dara's voice took on an edge of steel.
"May I remind you that the selection process was thrust upon us when Jake Richards informed us he wouldn't return? He's taken an assignment closer to his soon-to-be fiancée."
I clenched my fists. Fucking Jake. First, a climbing accident forced me into this assignment, and now this. Since I'd been stuck here in Belavista, I couldn't personally vet replacements back in London.
"You should have consulted me," I growled. "I could have arranged someone from my team."
"With all due respect, Mr. Banks, we needed someone immediately. The princess's schedule cannot accommodate delays whilst you interview candidates from across Europe." Dara met my glare unflinchingly. "I understand you've developed a... professional attachment to Princess Evangeline. It's natural after what you've been through together. But questioning our commitment to her safety is out of line."
I stepped back from the desk, jaw clenched so tight I could hear my teeth grinding. Professional attachment. If only she knew how inadequate those words were to describe what I felt for Evangeline.
"I'm requesting to stay on for an additional week," I said. "To properly evaluate Halliwell's competence in the field."
"That won't be necessary." Dara shuffled some papers on her desk, an apparent dismissal. "The handover period is three days. After that, your contract concludes."
Three days. Seventy-two hours, and then I'd be on a plane back to London, back to my life of empty flats and business meetings, away from Evangeline forever.
