I clock their security officers. Pierce and Charlotte have their own security team, but when they travel—not on formal royal duties—my company steps in for security at their own cost.
With a trip to the states for a family wedding—a cousin of Sean and Pierce’s—we’ve been on high alert. Travel details have been under lock and key, with no information being disclosed to the press.
“No. Pierce here said you wanted to talk more about it.”
Charlotte drops a kiss on his forehead.
To think that all those years ago Pierce was as single as I am. And now he’s married to the princess.
“My sweet husband is more worried than I am.” She turns a warm smile on me. “I trust you have everything figured out.”
“Glad someone trusts me,” I mumble.
“It’s the first time traveling with two kids. You’ve met Jane. Never met a stranger.”
“Guess she takes after her mum,” I tell Pierce.
“I’ll make sure Pierce isn’t worried.”
“I’m heading out next week to make sure everything is in place out there.” Standing, I clap Pierce on the shoulder.
“Make sure not to ruffle Gramps’s feathers.”
“I’m not a feather ruffler.”
“Sure you’re not.” Pierce laughs.
“No, that’s your job.” He jumps up, looking like he’s ready for a fight, as much as two friends can. “Listen, I’ll let you two get going.”
“We’re not worried,” Charlotte whispers as she leans up to hug me.
I smile down at her. Her face is makeup-free and happy. “I know. I’ll send along the last of the briefs to make sure Pierce knows that too.”
The two of them leave, hand in hand.
It’s never bothered me before that I don’t have anyone in my life. I didn’t exactly have the best role model for love growing up.
Maybe I should let them set me up. Not that it’s worked in the past.
I’m fine with life how it is. I don’t need anyone to complete it.
Work comes first.
And until I meet someone, my eyes are set on Dixon. Everything else can wait.
ChapterThree
LAYLA
“Did you pull the permit requests?” I ask my assistant over Bluetooth. “I have to talk with Brad later this week about the open building.”
“You’re still going to try and get it?” Erica asks, shuffling papers around on her end.
“I’m not going to let that old bat Mrs. Bush walk all over me.”
Erica snorts over the phone. “It’d be pretty hard to do since she’s about five inches shorter than you and weighs ninety pounds soaking wet.”
“It’s the disdain that kills me. God forbid a woman sell lingerie.”
