Maxence laughed and cradled her to his chest. “Yes. Dammit, it’s crazy.”
His heart was fibrillating a million miles an hour next to Dree’s ear, and she pressed her face against his shoulder.
He whispered to her, “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “You? Did those asswipes hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” Maxence said. “But if you hadn’t climbed Marie-Therese and dragged her down by her hair right that very second, some of them might have decided to follow her instructions.”
Some semblance of sanity returned to Dree’s head, and she realizedshe was a nursein the middle of a near-mass shooting where several gunshots had gone off. “Is anybody hurt? Does anybody need medical attention? Put me down. I have tohelp.”
“I think everyone’s fine,” Max said.
Dree looked around from her perch in Maxence’s arms.
White plaster dust floated in the air, reflecting light from the enormous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling far above.
The Rogue Security guys she recognized were pointing handguns, mostly Berettas, at Marie-Therese’s mercenaries, who were kneeling with their hands behind their heads.
Dree approved of their use of handguns. Pistols were a much better weapon in close quarters than HK416 assault rifles, and Berettas were always a solid choice.
The nobles were sitting on the floor in groups, holding onto each other.
Casimir was unwinding himself from a guy he’d pinned to the wall while a Rogue Security operator pointed a handgun at him. Arthur was covering two terrorists lying on the floor with an assault rifle that he’d evidently taken away from one of them.
Over in a corner, Alexandre was holding Duchess Georgie under one arm and his sister, Christine, under his other and was rocking them back and forth. Georgie’s eyes were huge and dry as she surveyed the scene. Christine was sobbing on his shoulder. Alex wasn’t blinking quite enough as he surveyed the room.
Lady Valentina was scowling while her French friend was patting her arm.
Magnus Jensen and the guy with military-short black hair and a beard, Aaron Savoie, stood with their weapons pointed at Marie-Therese, who kneeled in the middle of the floor with her fingers interlaced behind her head. She glared at Dree through narrowed eyes like she would’ve shot Dree with laser beams if she could have.
The blond Irish guy from Rogue Security, Eian Summerhays, stood evenly balanced and held his weapon pointed at Marie-Therese’s father, Jules Grimaldi, where he sat cross-legged on the floor with his hands also behind his head.
Magnus Jensen didn’t look away from Marie-Therese when he said, “I have been informed by my liaison with the Directorate of Public Safety that police officers should arrive within moments to arrest and take custody of the prisoners.”
Maxence said, “Thank you, Mr. Jensen.”
Magnus Jensen growled, “My pleasure, sir.”
Maxence sat down on the edge of the dais with Dree still cradled in his arms. She handed his phone back to him, and he held her more tightly.
Within minutes, the police arrived and arrested Marie-Therese, Jules, and the mercenaries on Maxence’s instructions. They took quick notes from the shell-shocked nobles and handed out reminder cards for appointments later in the evening to make more complete statements.
Dree watched the sunlight refracting through the enormous diamond on her engagement ring while Maxence informed the police what had happened and in what order. She disagreed with his estimation of, “Miss Andrea Clark subdued Marie-Therese Grimaldi and thwarted the attempted coup and likely mass murder.”
That was overstating it.
Shivers ran up and down her arms.
She managed to mutter to the officer, “Prince Maxence kept them busy by talking to them and got them to lower their guns so I could make my way over to Marie-Therese. If he hadn’t kept his head and made them doubt they should be here, anything I did wouldn’t have mattered. One of them would have pulled me off of her and shot me. Maxence won their minds.”
An hour later, the police left, and the throne room was clear except for the nobles again, minus a few palace coup plotters.
Dree had slid off of Maxence’s lap and huddled against his side as they sat on the edge of the dais.
Alexandre appeared in front of Max. “Are we going to finish this?”
“I beg your pardon?” Maxence asked, squinting up at him.
