“It is real,” Zeke says softly. “You’re real, Benedict. Not the image they created, not the headlines. Just you. And that’s more than enough.”
I feel a lump forming in my throat. “Even with all this baggage?”
Zeke smiles, reaching out to take my hand. “Especially with the baggage. It’s part of what makes you…you.”
For a moment, we just sit there, hands clasped, the weight of my revelation hanging between us. And for the first time since seeing that damned newspaper, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m not facing this alone.
Zeke’s thumb traces gentle circles on my hand, and I focus on that small point of contact, anchoring myself in the present.
“Listen, Benedict,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”
I want to believe him. God, I want to. But the cynic in me, the part that’s been burned before, can’t help but push back.
“You say that now, but…” I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Zeke, this could cost you your job. Your entire career. I can’t ask you to risk that for me.”
His brow furrows, a flash of worry crossing his face. “I won’t lie, the security breach is…concerning. You’re in the media, and I’m a royal guard. There will be consequences.” He takes a deep breath. “But what we have is special too.”
What we have. The words echo in my mind, and I feel a surge of panic. It’s too much, too fast. I can already see the headlines, the scrutiny, the loss of the quiet life I’ve built here in Lydovia. I’m not even meant to still be here, but the peace I feel in this country has fueled my creativity.
“I—I need some air,” I stammer, pulling my hand away and standing abruptly. The room feels too small, too confining. “I’m sorry, I just…need a minute.”
I don’t wait for his response, just hurry to the balcony doors and step outside. The warm air hits my face, and it feels stifling.
“Benedict?” Zeke’s voice is soft, tentative. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate. “I know this is overwhelming. But please, don’t shut me out.”
I close my eyes, willing the panic to subside. “I’m not…I’m not trying to,” I manage. “It’s just… It’s a reflex at this point.”
Zeke comes to stand beside me, close but not touching. I can feel the warmth radiating from him, and it takes everything in me not to lean into it.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says gently. “Even if it’s messy or doesn’t make sense. I want to understand.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “You might regret asking that.” But I face him, forcing myself to meet those kind blue eyes. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking I’m terrified. I want to run and hide and never come out again. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to face all of this.”
Zeke nods, his expression serious. “Those are valid feelings, Benedict. But you don’t have to be strong alone. That’s what I’m trying to tell you—we can face this together.”
“But at what cost to you?” I counter, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Your career, your reputation… I’ve been through this before, Zeke. It’s not just headlines and gossip. It’s relentless. It changes everything.”
He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I don’t, he takes my hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my skin. “Maybe it does,” he admits. “But some changes are worth it.”
I stare at our joined hands, torn between the urge to cling tighter and the instinct to pull away. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper. “I need to be alone. I’m sorry.”
6
ZEKE
I stare at the mess of papers on my desk, but the words blur together like alphabet soup. My mind keeps replaying the words in that article over and over: Royal Guard’s Secret Tryst with American Media Heir. God, could they have made it sound any sleazier? I run a hand through my hair for the millionth time today. I probably look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket.
My stomach churns at the thought of Benedict packing his bags, fleeing back to the States because he’s scared. But a week later, even though there haven’t been any more headlines, I’m still not sure how to protect him.
I try to focus on the incident report in front of me, but the letters might as well be hieroglyphics. “Suspect was observed…blah, blah, blah.” Come on, Zeke, get it together. You’re on duty, for crying out loud.
The door suddenly swings open and I practically levitate out of my chair, knocking over my World’s Okayest Guard mug in the process.
“Your Highness!” I stammer, hastily trying to look like I wasn’t just having an existential crisis at my desk. “How may I assist you today?”
Prince Charlie stands in the doorway, one eyebrow raised as he takes in my disheveled state. Great. Nothing says competent royal protection like looking like you just rolled out of bed after a three-day bender.
“At ease, Zeke,” Charlie says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Everything all right?”
