6. “Queen” - Loren Gray
“Queen” - Loren Gray
“We don’t know for sure that Henry was the one who changed the security protocol. It could have been someone—”
“It was him,” I say, blotting my crimson lipstick.
Maisie paces the length of my bedroom while I put the finishing touches on my makeup. “Even if it was, do you really think this is a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“If he’s as stubborn as you say he is, I’m not sure how much good it will do.”
I meet her gaze in the mirror. “You forget I can be stubborn, too.”
“Oh no, I’m reminded of it frequently. Especially when you choose to ignore your better judgment.” She waves a hand at my dress, which is definitely not modest enough for a state function. “Case in point.”
I shrug. “Henry needs to understand who’s in charge.”
After several beats, she asks, “And who is that?”
I glare at her reflection. “It sure as hell isn’t him.”
“I don’t like it. You’re not as strong as you were before the accident.”
“I’m perfectly fine.” I feel frustration rise in my chest. “Your attempts to coddle me like a small child will only make it worse.”
“Why can’t you just email him?”
“Emailing Henry would be as effective as attempting to break into a vault with only your fists.”
Her brows knit together. “Your doctor said you should wait a month before resuming your normal duties.”
I stand up from the vanity and grab my handbag. “Then rest assured. This is anything but a normal duty.”
My limo has been replaced with a revolving series of SUVs, all identical, and the one I ride in changes each time so that would-be assassins won’t know if I’m in the third car or the fourth, although everyone knows it’s never the first or last car.
The fumes from this eight-vehicle motorcade might be solely responsible for the thawing of the Arctic, not to mention the draining of the last bit of cash in the Privy Purse.
What better way to let everyone in sight know that the queen is on the move than with an entire city block of cars bearing the Wesbourne flag?
I’d be safer in a Toyota Camry I was driving myself.
The procession pulls into the underground garage at the Atlantis, which Maisie discovered houses the headquarters of all of Henry’s businesses, as well as Henry himself.
The garage looks more like an Italian ballroom than a place to park.
The floor is brick, and the walls are a gleaming white tile.
Giant chandeliers hang from the ceiling, giving off a soft glow.
My car pulls up beside a set of glass doors leading to a bank of lifts.
Several of the PPOs exit to speak to the armed guards standing at the doors.
After a few moments, they line up to create a barricaded tunnel for me to walk through, in spite of the fact that we waited fifteen minutes for them to do a full sweep of the space before we entered.
I can’t wait to give Henry a piece of my mind.
The lift door opens immediately. I try to calm my nerves, but my pulse is a runaway horse with its tail on fire. This seemed like a good idea back at the palace, but now that I’m moments away from seeing Henry, I’m beginning to question the sanity of the whole thing.
The elevator slows to a stop, then opens into a lounge area, complete with sofas, a TV, and a kitchenette.
Several security personnel are standing about.
After a brief and hushed conversation between them and my guys, I’m ushered to a set of double doors on the other side of the room.
A member of Henry’s security team gives me a stiff bow and opens them for me.
I step through to the flat on the other side, and my breath rushes from my mouth.
Opposite me, a wall of glass overlooks Wesbourne City, the lake in full view and the streetlights just starting to blink on. The ceiling soars above us, and even after living in the palace for months, the sight of this much luxury nearly makes my jaw swing on its hinges.
Music floats on the air, a peaceful, lilting melody that stands in contrast to the stark, cold feel of the modern furnishings.
Groups of streamlined sofas and chairs are clustered in front of the giant windows, their sharp silhouettes softened by the glow from the lamps scattered around the room.
The grand piano in the center looks ordinary rather than grand in this massive space.
“Her Majesty the Queen, sir,” says the PPO who escorted me inside.
I turn in surprise. I didn’t notice anyone during my gawking. The music stops, and Henry steps out from behind the piano, easily lost in the large surroundings.
My heart rate kicks into full gear, as if the band has just stepped onto the stage. Taking a deep breath, I order the weird hum surging through me to stop. It does not obey.
“Thank you, Roberts,” Henry says, keeping his eyes on me.
The PPO nods and leaves the room.
Henry studies me through narrowed eyes. I wonder if he suspects why I’m here. “Celia.” He motions to the sofa behind him. “Have a seat. I’ll get us some drinks.”
Instead of obliging, I opt to stroll through the room. Everywhere my eyes land, there’s chrome, glass, and squint-inducing white. Sharp lines and harsh edges define every single object, and there isn’t any decoration that even hints at the approaching holiday.
I manage to find the one item in the whole room that looks out of place. It’s a small wooden frame on a round table tucked into a corner. I move closer to see it better. As recognition dawns on me, so does regret.
The picture is of Henry and me twelve or thirteen years ago. We’re sun-tanned and grinning at the camera. My arms are thrown around his neck as he gives me a piggyback ride, and his hand is resting on my arm. A woven friendship bracelet dangles from his wrist.
“One of my favorites.”
I jump at the sound of Henry’s voice and turn to find him standing a few feet away, holding two glasses of wine.
He hands me one, and an electric current rushes up my arm as his fingers brush mine.
I move back to the sofa and take a seat.
It’s softer than it appears, and I allow myself to sink into it just a little. He settles in across from me.
I sip the wine and try to get my bearings. Being here has completely thrown me off my game. This is Henry’s home, the place he spends his time, where he lives his life. This is what he chose instead of me.
Something hard and achy forms in my chest.
He’s wearing a long-sleeved Henley and soft blue jeans.
The buttons of his shirt are undone, and his hair is a disheveled mess.
My body wants nothing more than to curl up in his arms, inhale that scent that I am missing so much it hurts, and listen to the steady beat of his heart.
My head, on the other hand, reminds me that he will never be mine.
I should have settled for an email.
I manage to find my voice in spite of the tightness in my throat. “Do you always play piano before receiving visitors?”
“Only when it’s you.”
I sip my wine to hide my discomfort. “This place is impressive. You’ve got your own castle in the sky.”
“It has the best security in Wesbourne,” he says.
“Not surprising, considering it’s also home to the most elite security company in the country.”
His left eye twitches. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Henry. You’re not the only one with crafty people in your employ.” I slowly cross my legs and enjoy the look of momentary stupefaction that crosses his face. “Imagine my surprise when I found out who owns Eastport Allied.”
His features have pulled into an expressionless mask, but I know I’ve shaken him. He thought he was safe behind his wall of shell companies. Maisie needs a raise.
I take another sip of wine and rest my arm on the back of the sofa, aware that it highlights my body in the best possible way. The movement attracts his eyes. When he looks back at me, he seems to be holding back a smile.
“And you’re here because . . . ?” he says.
“You promised you wouldn’t complicate things for me.”
“I did.”
“Well, you failed to keep that promise the day you increased my security detail.”
He narrows his eyes. “I guess Mr. Jameson will be looking for a new position.”
Leaning forward, I set my glass on the table. “Don’t you dare fire him. He didn’t say a word, even when I threatened him.”
“You threatened him? With what, your Louboutins?” Henry smirks into his wine.
I shoot him the filthiest glare I can muster. “Has there been a breach of security recently?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?”
“The risk analysis team doesn’t have any conclusive results yet,” he says.
“So you’ll let Mr. Jameson know the new protocol isn’t necessary after all?”
“Uh, no.” Henry drags the word out.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean the security protocol stays.”
“But there isn’t even a threat!”
He crosses his arms. “I feel the need for increased protection.”
“Then increase your own damn security!”
“I meant protection for you.”
“Bloody hell, Henry! I am perfectly capable of making those kinds of decisions for myself.”
He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his wine glass dangling from his fingers. “I disagree. The fact that you’re here to argue with me over this proves my point. You should be grateful for the extra security, not resenting it.”
I gnaw on the inside of my lip, hoping the right words will present themselves. “We can’t afford the extra security. We can’t even afford the normal routine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that when your father was king, the royal household was almost entirely funded by his private income, of which I have next to none.
The Privy Purse is empty. I’m scrambling to find a way to pay the salaries of all of my staff.
Increasing the security detail is out of the question, I’m afraid. ”
Henry’s brows pull into a dark V. “What about the Civil List?”
“Not up for reconsideration for another four years. And nowhere close to being enough.”
“What about—”
“Henry, please.” I swallow the desperation creeping into my voice. “I’m not here to discuss financial matters. Just agree to drop the extra security, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
He shakes his head and sets his glass on the table. “Absolutely not.”
“I just told you I can’t afford—”
“We’ll do it at no extra charge.”
“I—” I am aware my mouth has fallen open, but it refuses to listen to orders to close. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever I like. It’s my company.”
“I appreciate the offer,” I say, “but I would feel better if we just dropped the whole thing. My staff is getting uncomfortable.”
“Celia, this isn’t about comfort. We’re talking about your life.” His voice has grown lethal.
“Since when has my life been in jeopardy?”
Standing abruptly, Henry walks to the window. The city lights glimmer like stars in the growing darkness. “You were just in an accident,” he says quietly.
“Exactly. It was an accident. Enhanced security wouldn’t have prevented it.”
“We haven’t confirmed that it wasn’t something else.”
“That’s nothing but a conspiracy theory.”
He turns to face me. “Until we can completely rule it out, I’m not about to gamble with your life.”
“It’s not your decision to make.”
“Actually, as the final word on palace security, it is.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides as I stand. “You lost the privilege to influence my decisions the day you walked out on me. And you certainly lost the right to interfere with my life.”
He lowers his head and rakes a hand through his hair. “I know. But it’s not going to stop me.”
Is he serious? That isn’t the way this works. “You promised you’d stay away. Making decisions like this behind my back, against my wishes, is the opposite of staying away.”
He stalks over, stopping right in front of me. “Then get used to it. Because this is how it’s going to be until I can confirm there isn’t a threat.”
His scent permeates my senses, begging me to give up, to melt into him. But that way madness lies. I blink to clear the fog that’s creeping in.
“What qualifies you to know what’s best for me?” I ask.
He gives me an amused smile. “Well, there isn’t a thing I don’t know about you.”
Except how easy it would be for me to spiral again. My mouth is full of sand, and all I can do is whisper, “Prove it.”
His eyes search mine. “I know that every nerve ending in your body is on fire right now. If I so much as touch you, you’ll combust on the spot. I know that kissing that spot behind your ear lobe makes you whimper. And I know that you’d rather die than admit it when you’re scared.”
I will also die before I let him see the effect he has on me. “You cocky bastard.”
“It’s all true, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you, Henry.”
He grabs my chin in his hand. “Fuck me all you want, baby. The security stays.”
It’s like he’s touched me with a branding iron, my skin seared by his claim. I jerk away from him and stumble backward. “I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?”
He shakes his head, and another small smile plays on his lips—lips I can still taste when I close my eyes. “You won’t get anywhere with Mr. Jameson, no matter how short your skirt is.”
My mouth drops open again. I snap it shut. “You are positively abhorrent.” Is there anything the man doesn’t know?
“So you’ve told me, on more than one occasion. It doesn’t change the fact that your safety is more important than your comfort.”
“You don’t even know that I’m in danger!”
Henry props his hands on his hips, and I can almost feel the tension leaking from his body.
“Your car lost a wheel, C. The only way that could have happened is if the lug nuts were loose. The cars are inspected before they leave the palace, so either there’s an employee who will be lucky to be alive after I get my hands on him, or someone intentionally sabotaged the car while you were gone. ”
“Lug nuts can loosen over time, can’t they?”
“No,” he snaps. “Not like that.”
“Think about all of the extra work this will require of the security team because of something you don’t even know was intentional.”
He scoffs as if I’m a ridiculous child. “Like I would risk your life to keep up company morale.”
“Too bad you didn’t show the same consideration for my heart,” I say bitterly.
“C.” His voice breaks.
I look away from the hurt in his eyes. “Just leave me alone, Henry. Please.”