“Good afternoon, Your Highness. I’m Secret Service Special Agent Basil Puller, but most people call me Bash.”
Bash. Even his nickname was devastatingly appealing.
“Er, yes, hello,” I managed, grateful that my voice came out mostly steady. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Special Agent Puller.”
“Bash is fine, Your Highness,” he said with what might have been the hint of a smile. “After all, we’ll have to sell our cover of being roommates.”
Roommates.The word sent an entirely inappropriate thrill through me. “Yes, of course.” I swallowed. “So we can leave out the formalities of my title as well. Please call me Eddie.”
“Eddie it is,” he said, and something about the way my assumed name sounded in his Southern drawl made my stomach flutter in a thoroughly alarming manner.
“Special Agent Puller, thank you for joining us,” Rebecca said. She’d spoken to him before, of course, having interviewed him for the job, and she’d assured me he was highly qualified.
He was twenty-seven years old—though he looked younger, which was one of the reasons he’d been hired since he’d have to pose as a college student—and had spent six years in the Marines, followed by a position as deputy sheriff while getting his bachelor’s degree in criminology. He’d been hired by the Secret Service before he even graduated and had worked there for a year now. By all standards, he was qualified for the job and came highly recommended.
I forced myself to focus on Rebecca’s voice as she began outlining the security arrangements, but my attention kept drifting back to Bash’s face on the screen. He was listening intently, occasionally asking pointed questions about campus layout, emergency protocols, and communication procedures. Professional. Competent. And unfortunately for my peace of mind, absolutely gorgeous.
“Now, regarding your cover identity, Your Highness,” Rebecca was saying, “We’ve created a complete background for you as Eddie York with a wealthy British family, international business connections, and a private school education. Nothing too far from the truth, but sufficient to hide your real identity.”
Eddie York. It felt strange to hear my assumed name spoken aloud, but there was something liberating about it as well. Eddie could be anyone. Eddie could make mistakes, could explore, could perhaps even be honest about his attraction to men without bringing shame upon the Crown.
Perhaps.
Bash met my eyes through the camera. “The key is to keep things as normal as possible. I’ll be your roommate, we’ll both be students, and my job is to keep you safe while making sure nobody suspects anything unusual about the arrangement.”
“Quite right,” I agreed, then immediately winced at my own phrasing. “That is to say, yes, maintaining the appearance of normality will be essential.”
Something flickered in Bash’s expression, but his voice remained professional. “I’ve reviewed the campus layout and your class schedule. The classes look interesting enough, even for someone who’s never studied International Relations.”
I appreciated his attempt at normality. “I hope you won’t find them too boring.”
He gave a warm smile. “I look forward to broadening my knowledge.”
When Rebecca started talking about the logistics, something she said caught my attention.
“Excuse me, I didn’t quite catch that.”
“The most secure housing on campus are apartments that are for couples only, so on paper, you and Special Agent Puller will be posing as a couple. This is just so no one else, especially fellow students, will get suspicious.”
Posing as a couple? With this man?
I was absolutely, thoroughly, and utterly buggered.
I fought to keep my face blank, however. Bash’s expression was neutral as well when he said, “That’s good to know.”
That’s good to know? That was all he had to say about it? Then again, what else could he say? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice either.
When the call finally ended, I sat staring at my laptop screen long after everyone had disconnected. Bash’s face lingered in my mind with those warm brown eyes, the way his voice had softened slightly when he’d agreed to call me Eddie, the professional competence that somehow made him even more attractive.
On impulse, I rang Floris. He would not only understand, but his direct, level-headed advice often got through my panic.
“Well?” he demanded immediately. “How did it go? Please tell me your bodyguard isn’t some enormous, intimidating brute who’ll spend the year glowering at anyone who tries to talk to you.”
“I’m doomed, Floris,” I said, letting my head fall back against the chair. “Absolutely doomed.”
A beat of silence. Then, much softer, “Oh no. He’s attractive, isn’t he?”
“Attractive doesn’t begin to cover it.” I groaned. “He’s… He’s perfect. Young, competent, kind eyes, this lovely Southern accent, and I have to spend an entire year living with him while pretending I’m not having completely inappropriate thoughts about my bodyguard.”
