Chapter 21 #2
There’s something raw in his voice that cuts through all my professional defenses.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself with the commissioner’s daughter.”
Fuck. It appears I’ve failed to keep the jealousy from my tone.
Nicholas’s eyes flash, something dangerous and alive coming into his expression. “Do I? I must be a better actor than I thought.”
“She certainly seemed interested.”
“She’s interested in my title, not me.” His mouth twists into a bitter smile. “Though that hardly matters for a one-night diversion, does it?”
The casual way he dismisses it makes something hot and primitive surge through me. The heat spirals low in my stomach, mixing fury with desire in a cocktail that makes my hands shake with the effort to keep them at my sides.
“Is that what you’re looking for? A diversion?”
His ability to turn even this into a game of strategy is something I should find infuriating. Instead, it’s like watching fire burn. Dangerous, mesmerizing, impossible to look away from even when you know you’ll get burned.
Every gesture of his is calculated, every glance a move on a chessboard I never agreed to play.
But I’m not conceding the game now.
He steps close enough that I can smell his cologne, see the way his pulse jumps at the base of his throat. “She’s beautiful, intelligent, eager. Perfect distraction from—” He cuts himself off, jaw clenching.
Then he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What the hell is stopping me from taking her home and showing her a great time?” he finally continues.
Before I can think better of it, I close the distance between us until we’re nearly touching. “Because you’ll be thinking about me the whole time,” I growl in his ear. “And that’s not fair on anyone.”
Nicholas’s face drains of color. He stares at me, shocked into silence, his lips parting slightly.
For a heartbeat, we stand frozen, staring at each other.
Then he takes a careful step back.
“I should return to the reception,” he says, his voice strained. “Before anyone notices my absence.”
“Of course,” I reply.
He moves past me toward the door but pauses with his hand on the handle. “The car leaves in twenty minutes,” he says, not looking back. “I don’t believe you’re on duty tonight, but I have some questions about my security that require your presence in my suite.”
It’s not a question. The implication hangs in the air between us.
He’s right. I’m not scheduled on rotation tonight, but no one will question me entering his suite if he requests my presence to answer any questions he has—not after Darwin. Hell, Cavendish would probably commend my thoroughness.
The perfect cover for what we both know has nothing to do with discussing threats and everything to do with the threat we pose to each other.
My jaw aches from clenching it too tight.
It’s been so long since I’ve taken anything for myself.
My whole fucking life has been triage—Da drinks himself to death, so I become the responsible son.
The building collapses, injuring Malachy, so I become a responsible brother.
I become a cop so I can pay Malachy’s bills and fight the system that let it happen.
I’ve measured my life in other people’s outcomes. Cases closed, criminals caught, Malachy’s medical bills paid.
I’ve got so good at swallowing my own desires that I forgot what hunger felt like.
Until him.
And maybe that’s why Nicholas terrifies me. Because he makes me want things that have nothing to do with anyone else’s needs. Makes me want to be reckless and selfish and human in ways I’ve trained myself to forget.
Because I’m beginning to realize that whatever flash fire was ignited in that maintenance shed, it won’t be extinguished by good intentions and professional distance.
This constant war between what I want and what I should do is bleeding me dry. Every time he gets close, my control fractures a little more.
“Understood,” I answer.
Nicholas gives a short nod before returning to the reception.
I’m left alone in the garden, my heart pounding and my body humming with tension.
What the fuck did I just do?
The remaining twenty minutes of the reception pass in a blur.
I maintain my position, going through the motions of surveillance while hyperaware of Nicholas’s every movement.
He doesn’t approach the commissioner’s daughter again, instead engaging with various dignitaries with perfect royal courtesy.
Occasionally, his eyes find mine across the room.
Each glance from him is like a physical touch.
By the time we reach the car, I’m wound so tight I feel like I might snap. Nicholas sits silently in the back seat, staring out the window as Auckland’s lights blur past.
At the hotel, Nicholas acknowledges the night staff with his usual charm, but I can see the strain around his eyes, the too-rigid set of his shoulders beneath that perfect dinner jacket.
In the lift, it’s just the two of us. The small space feels impossibly confined, his cologne filling my lungs with each breath. Neither of us speaks.
When the doors open on his floor, Nicholas steps out first, walking toward his suite with measured strides.
I follow, automatically scanning the corridor for threats even though I know MacLeod’s already on duty. She’s standing at her post outside the presidential suite, alert despite the late hour.
“MacLeod,” I acknowledge with a nod.
“O’Connell.” She straightens slightly. “All quiet. No issues to report.”
Nicholas pauses with his key card, then turns to me. “O’Connell, I’m slightly concerned about those protesters we saw when we were leaving Government House. Can I have a quick chat about how I should respond if the protesters get too close at tomorrow’s events?”
It’s a reasonable request. MacLeod won’t question why Nicholas wants an additional perspective on security concerns.
“Of course, sir.”
MacLeod steps aside as Nicholas opens the door. I follow him in, the door closing behind us with a soft click.
The presidential suite offers spectacular views of Auckland Harbor. The city lights reflect off the dark water, but I barely register any of it.
I make a show of checking the main living area, a habit I can’t break. Nicholas watches me, setting his phone on the side table with deliberate calm.
When I complete my brief circuit, Nicholas has removed his dinner jacket and stands by the windows, his back to me. Christ, he’s beautiful like this—those shoulders I’ve felt beneath my hands, the graceful curve of his spine, the way his trousers cling to his perfect arse.
“So, you wanted to talk about how to respond to protesters.” I keep my voice at a normal conversation level. Playing the part.
Nicholas turns slowly to face me. He’s loosened his bow tie, the black silk hanging undone around his collar. The top button of his shirt is open, revealing a sliver of skin. It draws my gaze like a magnet.
When I raise my gaze to his, his eyes are cool and assessing.
“I know there are professional boundaries. Ethical considerations. Rules.” The last word drips with contempt. “But that doesn’t seem to change the fact that you keep looking at me like you’re starving and I’m a feast you can’t touch.”
My pulse hammers in my throat. “Prince—”
“And I’m sick of pretending I don’t want you.”
The bald admission hits me like a punch to my gut. “Nicholas—”
“I think we need to do this once, get it out of our systems because it’s unbearable for us to keep circling each other like this.” His voice drops lower. “I can’t take it anymore, Eoin. Can you?”
Hearing my name on his lips has my skin pricking with sudden heat. I stand there like a man carved from stone, though inside, I’m pure fire.
My breath catches painfully in my throat. Each inhale brings more of his cologne. More of him.