Chapter 6
Back to Work
Ididn’t think this day would come, even though I know better than to hope that it wouldn’t.
Perhaps Rhys was lulling me into a false sense of security or really, he was handling me—manipulating me—into the role that he wants me in when I’m still so unsure.
While I was recovering, he left me alone with Dahlia or my kitten during the days but at night, I was all his, it was like nothing had changed. The king was handling me with kid gloves as he went about winning me back, all while not giving me any of the things that I had asked for.
But the bones have healed, and the bruises have faded. I no longer walk hunched over and with a decent concealer, you’d never know that the purple marks on my face had faded to an alarming shade of chartreuse.
Now I’m being sent back to work. Not at a bookshop in the states—no, that would have been too good to be true—and my heart pangs for my friends who own the little shop where I used to work. I miss them so much. No, I’m being set out on royal assignment.
Dahlia refers to the advisors, whomever they may be, as the men in black—which always makes me snicker a bit thinking of Tommy Lee Jones, Will Smith, and a bunch of aliens.
I wonder if Rhys has ever seen that movie, or any silly movie for that matter.
Maybe it’s too common an activity for royals.
I want to ask him when I see him next; part of me wants to ask him to watch it with me if he hasn’t and the other part wants to use the advantage to widen the chasm between us and our lives.
Either way, the advisors feel I may not be fully ready for an outing of my own…
Or they’re afraid I’ll do something wildly scandalous and very American.
Little do they know, I’ve never done a scandalous thing in my life.
I’m too terrified to even consider it. But I’m thankful they don’t have that knowledge because I’m being sent on assignment with Dahlia and in the last few weeks I’ve not only come to adore Dahlia, I’ve come to depend on her.
She just might be the only person here who sees me for me and the predicament I’m in.
She’s real and honest and doesn’t just tell me to suck it up and fall in line for the good of the crown. She’s become my friend.
Dahlia is being sent to christen a new ship.
Apparently, she’s been given the royal navy circuit.
I’m also learning that we all have our own thing, as in specific charities, causes, or branches of the military.
Thankfully, I didn’t get handed an army or anything. I’m not ready, not that I ever will be.
The former queen has the arts and flowers. Gripping, I’m sure. Dahlia has just been given the navy. Taylor has the army. And if I’m very good at shadowing Dahlia, I might get my own and I know exactly what I want.
When Craig and Rhys asked what I would like to act as benefactor for, I answered honestly: books and cats.
My two favorite things, so clearly literacy and animal sanctuaries it is.
But only if I’m good. So I have to do exactly that.
I have to find a way to make this life my own in case I don’t find another way out.
I may have lived the quiet life of a scared little mouse, but it was my life, I owned it and I loved it.
And while this life is nothing like that, I have to find a way to make peace with it.
I have to find a way to enjoy this life with my cat, my budding friendships with Dahlia and Leo, and the bits and pieces of Rhys’s time that he can give me.
Besides, the last time I tried to escape, someone died.
He was a young man just doing his job and he got in the crossfires of something bigger than all of us.
I had no idea then but I do now, and I can’t live with any more blood on my hands.
I’m struggling with the weight of the guilt that I carry as it is.
My dark hair has been curled in soft waves and small sections from each side have been pulled back with a dark sea-green pillbox cap pinned to the back of my head.
My face has been made up in the soft browns and pinks they’ve chosen for me with more than a fair share of spackle-like concealer layered over the last of my bruising.
Dahlia picked my outfit this time with a sound blessing and a smile from Maeve.
I’ve been dressed in a cream sheath dress under a dark sea-green coat dress with a stand up collar and wisps of cream colored olive branches hand embroidered over the chest. My legs are covered in nude stockings, cream colored pumps on my feet.
My gold heart-shaped earrings and emerald ring round out the look and I have to admit, I look legit even if I feel like I’m trapped in someone else’s life.
I pull in a deep, fortifying breath and pull open the door to my room.
Leo is waiting for me. He didn’t have to return to work so soon, but he told Rhys and I that he knew his work wasn’t done and he couldn’t abandon his post. We walk down the hall, him two steps behind me and to the side as we run into Dahlia.
She’s wearing a navy blue coat dress with two rows of gold buttons linked by chains, giving her dress a military feel.
Her hair and makeup look a lot like mine, complete with her own navy blue pillbox hat and delicate sapphire jewelry.
I kind of want to laugh. We look like we’re something out of a 1950s fashion magazine but also eerily contemporary. It’s both strange and beautiful, just like the two of us.
“Didn’t I tell you?” she cries when she gets a good look at me.
“Don’t hurt yourself patting yourself on the back so hard,” I mutter.
Leo doesn’t allow himself to laugh but he does smile.
“Admit it,” she crows. “I was right?”
“You were right,” I parrot with a smile on my face.
“I know! You look like a million bucks! Isn’t that what the Americans say?”
“Yes.” I laugh. “And so do you.”
“Brilliant. Now let’s go christen this boat!”
We walk down the hall, side by side, toward the doors that will lead us to the waiting car.
Dahlia’s protection officer quietly pops out from around a corner as we pass and falls in line with Leo.
I make no reaction as he approaches and then follows us down the corridor, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s one of the good guys or the bad.
I hate that the veil has come off and now I see danger everywhere I go.
I hate that I don’t know who I can trust and who I shouldn’t.
And what I hate most of all is that I’m not even sure that I can trust Rhys or my own uncles—who, if the dossier is to be believed, aren’t my uncles at all.
In fact, they were my own protection officers as my father was the younger brother to the crown prince of San Juan de Baptiste, murdered for some reason or another.
I don’t know the details and I’m not sure I ever will.
I grew up thinking my parents had died in a plane crash, but now I don’t know for sure that it wasn’t planned… like my car accident.
Truthfully, I don’t know anything about Gabe, Dahlia’s protection officer.
Unlike, my protection officer, Leo, who she fancies herself halfway in love with him.
When I watch them closely enough, I spot the little glances, here and there between them.
There’s clearly an attraction there, one she has every intention of acting on and one he has no intention of going anywhere near.
If he’s a bad guy, then I’m thankful he won’t engage in an affair or more.
But if he’s to be trusted… then I can’t help but feel a little sad for them both.
Missing out on love, or any joy this life might bring, because of some misplaced sense of duty, just seems so wrong.
But then again, it’s that same misplaced sense of duty that holds me here, plucked from my quiet life for a greater purpose.
A picture and name in a dossier, one in a handful of appropriate royal wives that Rhys was told to choose from, kind of like the Lands’ End catalog of brides.
If I let myself think about it too long, I become angry and bitter, and I’m determined not to end up like the dowager queen if I can help it.
My goal is to stay alive long enough to find freedom.
You know, the power of positive thinking and all that.
An attendant whisks open the doors to the private circular drive where a dark town car waits for us.
Leo pulls open the door and Dahlia slides in before me.
Just as he moves to close the door, I thank him with a smile that he returns.
He and Gabe are following in the car behind us to provide more security for the King’s fiancée and the Princess Royal.
As the car begins to move, Dahlia and I pull practiced smiles so that we look as happy as we should. Truthfully, it’s easy in her company. We wave to those standing outside of the gates, for whom watching royal movements is akin to religion, and then travel down the winding hill toward the harbor.
“I wonder if there will be any cute sailors about,” she says quietly.
“Oh my gosh.” I laugh. “Don’t you dare. We’ll both be punished for sure if you go back to your old ways.”
“Not all of us are getting a good shagging on the regular.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.” My face burns bright red.
“Even if it is my brother giving it to you.” She winces through a laugh. “You’re positively glowing. It makes me wonder what you’ll look like when you’re pregnant.”
The harsh reminder that my future is not currently my own to decide wipes the levity and embarrassment from my face all at once. It also steals the breath from my lungs. Dahlia misreads the look on my face and her eyes go wide.
“You’re not knocked up, are you?” she whispers.
“N-no,” I answer. “I’m not.”