Chapter 16 #2
"I can't," she said, but her body was saying something else entirely. She was leaning toward me, her face tilted and lips parted.
"You can," I murmured, my free hand coming up to cup her face. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together."
For one perfect, terrible moment, I thought she would kiss me. Her eyes dropped to my mouth, and I could feel the pull of the physical force between us. But then something shuttered in her expression, and she turned away.
"No," she said, her voice stronger now. "Some battles have to be fought alone."
She reached behind her for the door handle, but I didn't step back. Couldn't step back.
"Not this one," I said fiercely. "Not when someone's hunting you. Not when they know your secrets and are using them as weapons."
She looked up at me then, and the pain in her eyes nearly brought me to my knees.
"What if the weapon is the truth itself, James? What if some secrets are too ugly to survive the light?"
Before I could answer, she turned the handle and slipped inside, leaving me standing in the hallway with my hand still pressed against her door.
I stayed there for a long moment, listening to the silence from her room, fighting the urge to follow her inside and demand answers. Or simply to hold her until whatever demons were chasing her finally let her rest.
Instead, I pressed my forehead against the cool wood and whispered, ‘Nothing could be ugly enough to make me stop caring about you’.
I didn't know if she heard me. But her door closed with a quiet click that somehow held more finality than if she'd slammed it.
I stood motionless in the hallway, my hand still flat against her door. On the other side, I could hear her moving around—the soft sound of her footsteps, the whisper of fabric as she changed clothes. Then silence.
Part of me wanted to follow her, to demand answers until she finally trusted me with the truth. Another part recognised that she'd been through a traumatic experience and needed space.
But there was a third part—the professional security expert who knew that secrets could be deadly. And that part couldn't afford to respect her privacy, not when those secrets had nearly gotten her killed.
After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, I finally pushed away from her door and walked back to the living room.
I pulled out my phone and texted Colonel Harrison: Need everything you can find on Viktor Kozlov. Connection to the Bellavista royal family. Urgent.
His reply came seconds later: Looking into it. Stay alert. This goes deeper than you know.
The next three days passed in tense silence.
Evangeline barely left her bedroom except for brief appearances in the kitchen. I maintained a vigilant watch, checking and rechecking security, communicating with police about the investigation, and arranging for her meals when she wouldn't emerge to prepare her own.
When we spoke, it was in clipped, formal exchanges.
"The detective would like to show you some photographs. Potential suspects."
"Tell him I'll be out in twenty minutes."
"Your mother called. I said you were resting."
"Thank you."
No mention of Viktor Kozlov. No discussion of the kidnapping beyond what was necessary for the police investigation.
The warm, playful woman who had cooked me dinner and challenged me to movie nights had vanished, replaced by a distant, guarded princess who seemed determined to keep me at arm's length.
I tried to match her coolness with my professionalism, though every instinct screamed to break down her walls. The woman I'd nearly lost was shutting me out, and it was killing me. But I couldn't force it if she wouldn't trust me with the truth. Still, I wouldn't pretend that everything was normal.
By the third day, Harrison had sent what little information his contacts could find on Viktor Kozlov—a Russian businessman with connections to several Eastern European investment firms. Most records were classified or deliberately obscured.
Nothing explained his connection to the princess, and nothing justified the fear in her eyes at the mention of his name.
I was reviewing the file for the tenth time when my phone buzzed with a notification.
The Luxembourg police had sent additional background information on Nikolai Voss, including more details about his criminal network and potential accomplices.
They were still searching for connections to Kozlov but found nothing definitive.
Evangeline's bedroom door opened, and she emerged looking more like herself than she had since the kidnapping. She'd styled her hair, applied light makeup, and changed into a simple but elegant sweater and jeans.
"Mr. Banks," she said formally. "I've received an email from the palace. I'm expected back in Bellavista tomorrow for the autumn state functions and preparation for the Christmas season."
I looked up from my phone. "I'm aware. Dara copied me on the correspondence."
"Oh." Her fingers fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater. "Then you know I'll be leaving tomorrow morning."
"We will leave tomorrow morning," I corrected. "My replacement hasn't arrived yet, and given recent events, I won't be handing over your security until I've thoroughly vetted whoever they've selected."
Something flashed across her face—relief? Disappointment? It was gone too quickly to identify.
"I see." She hesitated, then took a step toward me. "James, I—"
My phone rang, interrupting whatever she'd been about to say. Harrison's number.
"I need to take this," I said, rising from the sofa.
She nodded, retreating toward her room. "Of course."
I answered as I walked to the window, keeping my voice low. "Banks."
"James." Harrison's tone was grim. "I've found something about Kozlov you need to know. He had connections to the Bellavista royal family. Disappeared about a year ago under suspicious circumstances."
My grip tightened on the phone. "What connections?"
"Unclear. Most records are heavily classified or redacted. But there's a pattern of visits to the palace around five years ago, then nothing. Interestingly, the timing coincides with the scandal the palace hushed up."
Five years ago. The same timeframe the kidnapper had referenced.
"Any idea what he wanted with the royal family?"
"Nothing concrete. But whatever it was, it was important enough for someone to bury the records." He paused. "And now his cousin Nikolai Voss shows up and kidnaps the princess? This isn't random, James."
"I'm telling you to watch your back," Harrison continued. "Someone's stirring up whatever happened five years ago, and they're willing to go to extreme lengths."
I ended the call and turned to find Evangeline standing in the doorway of her bedroom, watching me with an unreadable expression.
"Is everything alright?" she asked.
I studied her face, searching for any sign of the secrets she was keeping. What connection did she have to Kozlov? What happened five years ago that someone was now using against her?
"Pack your things," I said, my voice carefully neutral. "We leave for Bellavista at 0800."
She held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "As you wish, Mr. Banks."
As her door closed again, I stared at the phone in my hand, Harrison's words echoing in my mind. The woman I'd nearly lost was still slipping away, and now I understood why. Whatever Viktor Kozlov had done to her five years ago was still haunting her—and someone was using it as a weapon.
Whatever happened five years ago, someone's decided it's time for the truth to come out.
And I had a sinking feeling that nothing would ever be the same when it did.