“Every damn time...” Rhys groans and presses his lips to my forehead, sending a wave of dizzying heat down to the very tips of my toes. “Someone had better be dead, Vaughn,” he growls,actually growls. And wow, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger.
“No sir. But we were informed that there is a photographer outside. I wasn’t sure how you’d like us to handle him. I didn’t think we’d want to expose Ms. Wilder to that.” Rhys’s security officer isn’t how I’d imagine a protection officer for the crown prince of Mornea. Always dressed in a pristinely fitted black suit and starched white shirt, he’s maybe an inch shorter than Rhys and slightly leaner too. I’d guess he’s in his mid-forties, but what he lacks in stature, he more than makes up for with the look in his eyes. This man never appears happy. He’s barely looked at me and hasn’t spoken to me. Not that I’m upset about that. He kind of scares me.
“Handle him, Vaughn. I do not want him out there when Ms. Wilder and I disembark. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Vaughn nods and walks out.
Okay then. A man of few words.
I slip my feet back in my shoes and tug my gauzy cardigan on over my sundress. I hadn’t exactly packed for Mornea in December. Something Rhys must realize because he pulls his jacket from the back of the leather sofa and tucks it over my shoulders. “Wouldn’t want you catching a cold, love.”
Oh, this man is so hard to resist.
Not that I’ve decided whether I want to resist him yet.
Who am I kidding?
I wouldn’t be here, in his country, if I wanted to resist him.
“How will you deal with the photographer? Throw him in the dungeon?” I attempt to low-key sniff the lapel of his coat, but I’m pretty sure he knows exactly what I’m doing. Luckily, he’s too much of a gentleman to say anything.
Rhys shakes his head and pulls the front of the coat closed before leaning down and stopping inches from my face. “I can think of a few things I’d like to do to you in the dungeons, little bee.”
“Promises. Promises.” My voice sounds shaky as I press my hands to his chest. “How about you feed me before you punish me.” It’s a weak attempt to tease, but the heat in his eyes makes my knees weak.
“As you wish.” He presses his hand to my back and guides me down the stairs onto the tarmac and into a waiting black Mercedes Benz G-Class.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asks as Rhys slides in next to me, and Vaughn closes the door behind us.
“Lilihill House, Jensen.” Rhys looks at me with a devious grin that warms me from the inside out. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Rhys
Ipull an unusually quiet Bellamy close for the quick drive from the private airstrip back to the palace grounds and enjoy an unexpected moment of peace before the storm I have no doubt is coming once word gets around court that I’ve asked her to stay with me.
She sits up and points beyond the window. “Ummm... that’s a castle.”
“That’s Rosenhall Palace, love.”
“It’s beautiful.” The awe in her voice is one I’m unfamiliar with. When you’ve grown up here, it’s easy to take its beauty for granted. “I thought we were going to your house?”
“We are. Rosenhall Palace is the official residence of the king. Lilihill House sits on the grounds, along with quite a few other residences for family and staff.”
I check the time on my phone to make sure I’ll be on time for my meeting and am notified of an incoming text.
Atticus
Who’s the strumpet you brought home, and are you bringing her back to Lilihill or to your condo in the city?
Rhys
Call her a strumpet again and see what happens, wanker.
Atticus
Well now. It’s like that, is it? Does that mean I need to put on pants?
