Page 50 of Royal Affair
"James, I need confirmation you'll be at Sunday dinner," my brother's voice came through, skipping pleasantries as usual. "Mum's planning a full spread, and she'll have my head if you don't show."
"I'm busy," I replied automatically. The last thing I needed was my family's scrutiny. They'd take one look at me and know something was wrong.
"You're always busy. Cancel your plans," Spencer countered. "Everyone will be there. Even Rupert is flying back from Thailand with Veronica. Andrew's bringing Apolonia."
"Who?"
"His assistant. The girl he doesn't realise he's in love with yet," Spencer explained with the weariness of an older brother who's seen it all. "Look, I don't ask for much, but I need you to be there. Dad's been asking about you."
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Fine. I'll be there."
"Good. Now what's wrong with you?"
The question caught me off guard. "Nothing's wrong."
"Bollocks. You sound like someone ran over your dog."
"I don't have a dog."
"That's not the—" Spencer cut himself off with a frustrated sigh. "Is it the princess? Something was in your voice when you deflected those questions at dinner."
My blood ran cold. "There's nothing to discuss."
"So that's a yes," Spencer said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
"I knew it. Call it brotherly intuition, but you've been different since you returned. More... brooding than usual, if that's even possible."
"There's nothing to discuss," I said firmly, though my free hand had clenched into a fist. "The assignment is over. She has her life; I have mine."
"If you say so," Spencer replied, clearly unconvinced.
"Just be at dinner on Sunday. Three o'clock sharp."
After hanging up, I turned back to the window. Rain continued to batter the glass, the sky was a dull grey that matched my mood perfectly. Nothing had felt right since I'd returned. Food had no taste, sleep offered no rest, and work—the one thing that had always centred me—felt hollow and meaningless.
My phone buzzed with a text message from Melissa, a corporate lawyer I'd met at a security consultation. After hearing through mutual contacts that I was back in London, she hadreached out yesterday, suggesting dinner at some overpriced restaurant in Mayfair.
Looking forward to tomorrow night. Should I wear the red dress or the black?. x
I stared at the message, trying to summon even a flicker of interest. Melissa was beautiful, intelligent, and uncomplicated. Any normal man would count the hours until their date.
But all I could think was: She's not Evangeline.
I didn't bother responding. What could I say? Sorry, I'm hopelessly fixated on a princess from a country most people can't find on a map? Sorry, I've become the worst cliché in the security handbook—the bodyguard who falls for his principal?
Falls for. The words sent a jolt of panic through me.
No. It wasn't like that. It was attraction, chemistry, maybe even obsession, but not... that. I'd never believed in that kind of emotional surrender, and I wasn't about to start now.
Yet I couldn't stop wondering what she was doing right now. Was she safe? Was that incompetent Halliwell keeping a proper watch? Did she think about our night together, or had she already filed it away as a momentary lapse in judgment?
The thought of returning to Bellavista had crossed my mind more times than I cared to admit. I could create some excuse—a security consultation, a check-in on Halliwell's performance. But what then? Beg for her attention? Become her dirty secret, hidden away from the royal court?
No, I had my pride, my professionalism. It was better this way—a clean break, a return to my ordered life in London.
Even if that life suddenly felt like a prison sentence.
Sunday arrived with unseasonable sunshine, as if the universe were mocking my dark mood. I drove to my parents' home in Surrey with a sense of dread. For generations, my father's family had owned the family estate, a sprawling Georgian manor tucked away behind iron gates. Growing up, I'd always felt most at home in the stables or the wooded grounds, away from the main house with its strict rules and expectations.
