“You wouldn’t need to leave if you’d just move in with me.”
Before she could counter, the doorbell rang.
“Saved by the bell,” she quipped, hoping to nudge the moment back toward lightness.
He muttered something under his breath and moved toward the kitchen with an easy stride.“Tom answers the door for security reasons.What do you want for breakfast?”
Natalie tugged on a stretchy red top, grateful for the way it disguised the bruises along her arm.“Frittata,” she said, her tone making it a dare more than a request.
One of his brows lifted, the faintest ghost of a smirk curving his mouth.“Thirty minutes.”He turned to go, tossing over his shoulder, “And leave your hair down.”
She snorted, grabbing an elastic anyway and twisting her hair into a loose bun.He’d pull it free the moment he saw it—he always did—but a delicious little thrill curled through her at the thought.
Makeup finished, she padded downstairs, ready to either lend a hand or sip coffee while he cooked.But she stopped short at the sight waiting in the kitchen.Two tall men stood by the island—both immaculately dressed, both radiating a quiet authority that seemed to settle over the room like a pressure drop before a storm.
Rylan looked up from the stove, and his face softened the moment he saw her.“You’re late,” he teased, warmth threading through the words.Turning off the burner, he came around the island and took her hand in his, the gesture casual on the surface but carrying an unmistakable undercurrent: she was his.
“Dad, Uncle Khal, this is Natalie Gibbons.”
Natalie froze.One of the men looked faintly familiar, and then it clicked.Her jaw dropped.“Your Highness!”she blurted before she could stop herself.
She tried to slip her hand from Rylan’s, but his fingers tightened, lacing with hers in a subtle lock that told her she wasn’t going anywhere.
Her bare feet suddenly felt too conspicuous.She could imagine exactly what she looked like—coming down the stairs, hair pinned up in defiance of his request, wearing clothes that had clearly come from a hastily packed overnight bag.Heat climbed up her neck.
Khal’s sharp gaze flicked over her, assessing.Rylan’s father studied her with a measured calm that was somehow more unnerving.The silence stretched, weighted, until Rylan’s father inclined his head slightly.
“Ms.Gibbons,” Sheik Amit el Sandir said in a deep, even voice.“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Natalie swallowed.“The pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”
Her eyes darted between the two men—both tall, both striking—but Rylan still edged them out in height.And in muscle.And in… well, every other category she wasn’t about to admit out loud.
“Dad, stop,” Rylan said, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her back against his chest.His tone was easy, but the hold was firm, a quiet anchor in the unfamiliar tension.“They’re not usually this obnoxious.”
“Is she the one?”Uncle Khal’s voice cut through the low hum of the kitchen—calm, but with the kind of weight that made the question feel like it had already been answered.
“Yep,” Rylan said without hesitation, as if there was nothing to discuss.
Natalie’s heart skipped.The one?Her lips parted, but under the combined weight of three very different but equally commanding presences, she shut them again.
“When are you going to tell your mother?”Khal asked, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at his mouth, though his eyes stayed sharp.
“Soon.Not today,” Rylan replied smoothly.His gaze dipped to Natalie, softening for her in contrast to the knife-edge tone he used with the other two.“And never, if you two don’t stop trying to intimidate her.”
Natalie felt a flicker of gratitude at his protective tone, but it didn’t erase the weight of the moment.Rylan kissed the top of her head, a warm gesture that did little to shield her from the scrutiny of the two men.
“Why don’t you get some coffee?”he murmured, guiding her toward the counter before crossing to a closet.He pulled out a carefully wrapped rectangular object and returned to the men.“This is what you came for, I suspect.”
“A father can’t come to visit his son?”Sheik Amit asked mildly, though the razor-sharp glint in his eyes made Natalie’s pulse kick.He didn’t just look at people—he assessed them, as if measuring how they might be used… or discarded.
Rylan rolled his eyes, but Natalie could feel the tension under the casual gesture.“I would have thought you’d be too busy with your new grandson to drop by unannounced,” he said, tone light on the surface but with an edge that suggested a history of clashes.
He returned to her side, his hand on her shoulder—steady, but subtly steering her farther from the two men.She didn’t miss the slight pressure in his grip, as if reminding her to keep calm.
“Is she the one who got rid of that awful sofa?”Sheik Khal asked suddenly, his deep voice breaking the silence.There was humor there, but it was the kind that could disappear in an instant—like the glint of a blade catching the light.
Rylan chuckled, a brief crack in the tension.“Yeah.We were supposed to head out a few days ago to replace it, but someone attacked Natalie that morning.”
