I am sorely tempted to punch him, but he would block me and dish it right back. “We need to work on your ability to keep things to yourself,” I grumble before blocking Freya’s way out the door. “You should have been asleep an hour ago, Rapunzel.”
Her nose wrinkles at the name I started calling her earlier today. It isn’t especially apt right now, with her hair twisted up and out of her way, but I like the way the name ruffles her. It’s a small form of payback for the way she ruffled me when she put her hand on my knee on the bus. “As I said, you were keeping me up.”
“Sander came in less than five minutes ago,” I argue.
Freya steps forward and rises up on her toes, mere inches from me because I stand my ground. She looks both irritated and amused, which is an intriguing look for her. “In case it hasn’t caught your notice, you are a giant of a man, Elliot Reid, and your steps are far from light. The next time you choose to pace, perhaps you could do it somewhere that isn’t the room next to mine.”
“Two contractions in one go,” is the response that comes out of my mouth when it’s one I should hold back. I purse my lips as her smug expression turns fiery, and then I shake my head. “Proud as I am that you’re learning, I still won’t let you go down and talk to Grimstad.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need to figure out why he’s following us, and I can’t do that if you’re distracting me.”
She lifts a delicate eyebrow as her eyes trace my face. She looks…different. She’s not wearing her usual makeup, so she looks younger than normal. Softer. But she’s as beautiful as ever. “Distracting you?” she asks, her voice low and husky. “How am I a distraction when I am already the focus of your job?”
That’s a good question and a clear sign that I can’t do any more solo outings with the princess if I want to have the brain power to stay alert. I’m too tired for this nonsense. I should have Sander send Grimstad away. But the determination in the princess’s gaze says she’ll find a way to get down there with or without me, and I groan.
“Fine.”
Freya crows in triumph and shoves me out of her way, which works only because I wasn’t expecting her warm hands on my chest. I stumble back but manage to grab her arm before she gets very far.
“Hold up,” I growl.
She turns to me with wary eyes. “What now?”
I nod at her silk pajamas at the same time Sander snickers. “Maybe you should change first.”
“Oh! Yes.” With no sign of embarrassment—surprising—she hurries back into her room and shuts the door.
Groaning again, I run a hand down my face as Sander starts full-on laughing now. “She’s going to be the death of me.”
“It’s nice to see her coming into her own again,” Sander replies. “She was getting a little too subdued for a bit there.” Is he trying to tell me that the stubborn, obstinate, and reckless woman I started working for was thesubduedversion of her? There must be horror on my face because Sander’s laughter grows louder. “Oh, you’re in forit now,” he says, then heads for the lobby, ideally to prep a room for us to have this discussion with Grimstad that we shouldn’t be having.
Freya appears back at her door in only a couple of minutes, now wearing a pair of jeans and a soft-looking navy sweater that makes her eyes look gray. “Is this more appropriate?” she asks, her words full of derision. She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, instead leading the way down the hall.
I glance at the two guards, both of whom have been trying not to laugh this whole time, and sigh. “Come on,” I tell them, and the three of us follow the princess to what I am sure is going to be an interesting conversation.
Chapter Fourteen
Freya
ThisisnothowI intended to converse with Markham Grimstad, but I was not about to waste this opportunity. Still, as I stand with the other guards while Elliot makes sure the room where Grimstad is waiting is safe, I wonder if I made the wrong decision and should follow Sander upstairs to go to bed.
Elliot looks tired. He was with me most of the day, only leaving my side when I retired for the evening, and I did not make things easy for him today. When talking to people in the street, I let them crowd around me, which meant Elliot had to keep an eye on many people at once while watching the buildings around us as well, as if expecting threats from every angle. I was not worried—as I have told him before, Candora is incredibly safe—and he was remarkably professional, but I could see the strain I put on him.
I might have expected him to say something or force me to the car sooner, but I think he recognized the moment for what it was. People weretalking to me. The circumstance was not planned or managed, and I said very little. Simply listened. That seemed to make an impact.
Unfortunately, it also brought Elliot to the forefront of the tabloids, which is its own beast.
Elliot steps out of the conference room and nods at me, which I assume means I can proceed, and he follows me inside. “You’re going to keep this short, Grimstad.”
Like the first time I saw him, Grimstad is not how I expect him to be as he stands upon my arrival and bows. He looks more like his government photo today, polished and trim, though his clothes are on the casual side. He seems to be straddling two worlds now.
“Your Highness.” He takes a step toward me.
Elliot clears his throat. “Do I need to remind you of the rules?”
Rules? I scowl at the bodyguard behind me, but his focus is on the man on the other side of the room. “Elliot, you are not—”
