A few other times, they’d given up and ordered takeaway.
Once, the Kensington security staff had inquired whether they should call the fire department or poison control.
Those had been good times.
Maybe the oven fire had been a little scary. Kensington Palace didn’t have the best sprinkler system.
Flicka continued,“Most of the time, I bring home something from the casino’s restaurants because employees get seventy percent off the menu prices. It’s cheaper than pasta. We might need that money in case we do need to go to ground for a week or two or if Alina gets sick or something.”
“That’s true,” he allowed, still uneasy, still hating it every time an unknown person walked into the casino near Flicka.
“And if we don’t need the money by the time we’re done, maybe I can get the Laurel Tiara back from that pawn shop.” She shrugged. “It’s stupid, I know. It’s just metal and shiny rocks, but it’s almost two hundred and fifty years old. It belongs to Wulfie and Rae and their kid, someday. It belongs to the Hannover kingdom and to history, and it shouldn’t be in a damned Las Vegas pawn shop.”
Dieterwas cut off from his own past and history, but he had hung around Wulfram and Flicka von Hannover long enough to understand their complicated relationship with their ancestors, even the dead ones. The exorbitant wealth was inadequate compensation for that burden. “Okay.”
“I’ll get online at the rental office tomorrow and take a look. Maybe Indrani has heard that someone is hiring. I’ll have anew job by lunchtime.”
He wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “We’ll do that.”
Under his arm, Flicka went stiff, and she sucked in a hard breath.
He turned, looking at her.
Her elfin face had gone rigid, and her emerald eyes were larger than normal. Dots of sweat bubbled near her blond hair on her forehead. Her throat moved as she swallowed hard.
Dieter retracted his arm. “I thought youwere—”
She shrank away from him, back to the other end of the couch. “I thought so, too. I mean, in the closet this afternoon, I was fine. It was great. It was really,really great.”
Dieter’s face warmed. He’d been so eager to get his hands on her that he’d been selfish and stupid. Pierre’s Secret Service men could have broken the door down while he’d been screwing his principal protection targetagainst the wall.
But at least he hadn’t been a lousy lover, too.
She said, “But now,my skin hurts.”
Dieter pushed off the cushions and leaned back in the opposite corner of the couch. “You know I would never hurt you.”
“If I thought you would, I’d run out of here screaming,” she said, panting. She wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist. “It’s not you. It’s just—touching.”
Dieter’shands rose in front of him, and he forced them down to his knees. When they had been together in London, he had been able to make any anxiety go away by holding her in his arms.
Damnthat Pierre Grimaldi. If Dieter ever got within sniping distance of Pierre, he was going toendthat guy.
However, maybe working was good for her.
It must be better than stewing in an empty apartment, alone.
