Chapter 10 The Waltz
THE WALTZ
DOMINIC
The palace looked different at night when it wasn't filled with wedding crowds.
I stood near the east entrance watching guests filter through security checkpoints Viktor and I had designed that afternoon, cataloguing faces, checking posture, identifying who moved like threats versus who just thought they did.
Diplomatic reception. Smaller than the royal wedding but still packed with people who wielded power through chequebooks and connections rather than violence.
My job tonight was simple: make sure nobody died, nothing got stolen, and Sebastian didn't have to deal with any unpleasantness that would make tomorrow's headlines awkward.
Viktor handled close protection. I managed the perimeter and the exit strategies nobody wanted to think about until they needed them.
“East corridor is clear,” Viktor's voice came through my earpiece, accented and clipped. “West side has bottleneck at champagne station. Too many bodies.”
“I'll handle it.” I moved through the ballroom with practised efficiency, nodding at guests who tried to make eye contact, avoiding conversations that would slow me down.
I was halfway to the west champagne station when I saw him.
Cal walked through the main entrance wearing a suit that fit like sin and looked like money.
Dark grey, nearly black. No tie. First button undone just enough to show the hollow of his throat.
Hair pushed back from his face in a way that made him look older, more polished.
Those mismatched eyes swept the room with casual interest that I recognised immediately as professional assessment.
He looked like he belonged here.
What the bloody hell was he doing here?
I crossed the ballroom in eight strides, intercepted him before he could disappear into the crowd. Kept my voice low. “What are you doing here?”
He turned those eyes on me. No surprise. No guilt. Just that particular expression that meant he'd planned this and was pleased I'd noticed. “Working.”
“This isn't your case.”
“Everything's potentially my case.” He scanned the room again, already dismissing me. “Guest list includes people worth observing. That's not coincidence.”
“You can't just walk into a palace event.”
“Clearly I can. I'm standing here.” His attention came back to me. “Relax. I didn't break in. I have credentials.”
“What credentials?”
“The kind that got me through your security without issue.” He straightened his cuffs. “Now if you're done hovering, I should mingle. Standing here arguing with security makes me look suspicious.”
He started to move past me. I caught his arm. “You don't wander alone here.”
He looked at my hand on his arm. Didn't try to pull away. Just met my eyes with something that might have been amusement. “Careful. People are watching.”
“Let them watch.”
“Either escort me properly or let go. This looks bad for both of us.” His voice stayed quiet but carried steel underneath. “Your choice.”
He was right. I hated that he was right.
I released his arm, stepped to his side. “Stay visible. And if I tell you to move, you move.”
“I'll take it under advisement.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only one you're getting.” He adjusted his jacket. “Now, are you going to introduce me to your prince, or should I introduce myself?”
Viktor's voice came through my earpiece. “Dom. Need you at north entrance. Sebastian wants introduction to new arrival.”
Perfect. Of course Sebastian had noticed Cal immediately.
“Come with me,” I said.
“Is that a request or a command?”
“It's me keeping you from getting arrested.”
“How thoughtful.” But he fell into step beside me, moving with quiet confidence through the crowd. “You look tense. Worried I'll embarrass you?”
“Worried you'll do something that makes my job harder.”
“Everything I do makes someone's job harder. That's sort of the point.”
Sebastian and Viktor stood near the portrait gallery entrance.
Sebastian saw us approaching and smiled, the kind that meant he'd already clocked something interesting and was deciding whether to be amused or concerned.
Viktor's expression stayed blank, but his eyes tracked our approach with professional assessment.
Cal extended his hand to Sebastian with exactly the right amount of respect and confidence. “Your Highness. Ken Hartley. Financial consultant. I apologise for the late addition to your guest list—administrative oversight on my end.”
Sebastian shook his hand, studying Cal with that particular attention he gave people who interested him. “Mr Hartley. How lovely to meet you. I wasn't aware we'd expanded tonight's attendance.”
“Last-minute circumstances. I hope it's not an inconvenience.”
“Not at all, though I'm curious what circumstances warrant infiltrating a palace function.” Sebastian's smile stayed pleasant. “And how you know our Head of Security well enough to warrant his immediate attention.”
Cal's mouth curved slightly. “Overlapping professional interests. Dom's been consulting on certain matters requiring discretion.”
Viktor made a sound that might have been amusement. “Discretion. Da. Dominic is very good at discretion.”
I shot him a look. He ignored it completely, too busy studying Cal with that intensity he usually reserved for actual threats.
“Well, Mr Hartley, welcome,” Sebastian said. “Do enjoy the evening. And do try not to wander into restricted areas. Security can be rather firm about boundaries.”
“I'll keep that in mind, Your Highness.” Cal's tone stayed perfectly respectful. “Though boundaries do tend to be flexible depending on context.”
Something flickered in Sebastian's expression. Recognition maybe. “How philosophical. Dominic, might I have a word?”
Viktor moved to stand beside Cal, proximity and posture making it clear Cal wasn't going anywhere unsupervised. I followed Sebastian three steps away, just far enough for privacy.
“He's trouble,” Sebastian said quietly.
“I know.”
“Do you? Because he walked in here like he owns the place and you looked at him like you weren't certain whether to throw him out or keep him close.” Sebastian's expression stayed pleasant for anyone watching. “What's really going on?”
“Nothing is going on.”
“Just be careful. Palace events attract attention. The kind that might complicate whatever this is.”
“Noted.”
“Good.” He touched my arm briefly. “Now go make sure your consultant doesn't accidentally cause an international incident.”
I returned to find Viktor and Cal in what looked like a silent standoff.
“He does not blink enough,” Viktor observed, still watching Cal. “Is suspicious.”
“I blink fine. You're just trying to intimidate me.” Cal's voice stayed level. “It's not working.”
Viktor's mouth twitched. “Brave. Or stupid.”
“Why not both?”
“Is good combination for short life.” But Viktor stepped back slightly. “Do not wander, Mr Hartley. Palace has many ways to make problems disappear.”
He left. Cal waited until Viktor was out of earshot before speaking. “Your friends are intense.”
“They're protective.”
“Of you or the prince?”
“Both.” I scanned the room, checking positions. The crowd had thickened near the west side. Too many bodies, not enough sight lines. “Stay where I can see you.”
“I always do.” But his attention was already moving past me, tracking faces, cataloguing connections. “Now stop hovering. You're making us both look suspicious.”
He moved into the crowd before I could stop him, and I was left watching him disappear among diplomats and prosecutors like he'd been attending palace functions his entire life.
Viktor found me ten minutes later near the bar, ostensibly monitoring the ballroom but actually tracking Cal's movement through the crowd.
“West terrace needs checking,” Viktor said. “Two guests arguing about trade policy. Voices rising.”
“Mm.”
“Dom.”
“I'm listening.”
“You are watching him.” Viktor's tone carried amusement. “Has been fifteen minutes. You have not looked at security monitors once.”
“I'm monitoring a potential risk.”
“Da. Very dangerous man who discusses wine pairings with ambassador's wife.” Viktor moved to stand beside me. “He is good at this. Better than you expected, I think.”
Cal was currently making a prosecutor laugh with some observation I couldn't hear from this distance. His body language was perfect—engaged but not overeager, confident but not arrogant. Every interaction looked effortless.
“Dom,” Viktor said again.
“What?”
“I said west terrace needs checking. Arguments escalating.”
“You handle it.”
“I am handling close protection.” Viktor's comm crackled. He listened, then swore quietly in Russian. “Is getting louder. Ambassador from Germany, very drunk, very angry about sanctions. Need to remove before becomes scene.”
“Fine. Go.”
Viktor didn't move. “You did not hear anything I just said.”
“I heard all of it. German ambassador. Drunk. Sanctions. Handle it.”
“I said French ambassador. Not drunk. Angry about fishing rights.” Viktor's expression stayed neutral but something amused flickered behind his eyes. “You are distracted.”
“I'm focused.”
“On him. Not on job.” But Viktor's tone had gone gentler. “He fits here. You did not expect that.”
I didn't answer. Couldn't, really, because Viktor was right. I'd expected Cal to stand out, to be obviously out of place. Instead he moved through the crowd like he belonged, and that bothered me more than it should have.
“Is making you nervous,” Viktor continued. “Because he does not need you to navigate this. He is managing fine alone.”
“I'm not nervous.”
“You are very nervous. Is why you have not blinked in thirty seconds while watching him talk to that judge.” Viktor's comm crackled again. He listened, expression shifting. “Blyad. French ambassador now throwing wine. Must go. You stay. Watch your investigator. Try not to be obvious about it.”