Chapter 27 #2
"The security team did a thorough sweep this morning," I informed her as we toured the space.
"Additional personnel stationed discreetly around the perimeter, two guards on rotation at the main access points, full surveillance system, panic buttons in each room.
" I pointed out a discreet panel near the main bedroom door.
"This will alert me immediately if you press it, no matter where I am on the property. "
She nodded, running her fingers lightly over the panel. "And where will you be staying?"
"Adjacent room," I replied, indicating a door to the right of hers. "An internal door connects the rooms, and you can lock it from your side."
Our eyes met for a moment, the implications hanging unspoken between us. One door, easily opened. One step across a threshold, and everything would change again.
"I think I'll change and go down to the beach," she said, breaking the charged silence. "It seems a shame to waste the sunshine."
I nodded, forcing my mind back to security protocols. "I'll do a perimeter check first. The cove is private, but I want to ensure there are no boats nearby or unexpected visitors."
While she unpacked, I swept the grounds methodically, checking sight lines, access points, potential weaknesses in our security setup. The location was naturally defensible—rocky cliffs on three sides, limited beach access, clear views of approaching vessels.
Still, I left nothing to chance, particularly with the news from Bellavista and its implications for Evangeline's future.
When I returned to the house, I found her on the terrace, ready for the beach.
And every carefully constructed barrier I'd built threatened to crumble instantly.
She wore a simple white bikini, a sheer cover-up doing little to conceal the curves beneath. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, her skin already glowing in the Mediterranean sun. She looked younger somehow—more the young woman she was than the princess she had to be.
"All clear?" She asked, seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on me.
I cleared my throat and forced my eyes to remain on her face. "Yes. The beach area is secure for you, Your Highness."
"You're not changing?" She gestured to my tactical pants and button-down shirt, entirely inappropriate for the beach.
"I'm on duty," I reminded her, my voice perhaps sharper than intended.
She shrugged, turning toward the stone steps that led down to the cove. "Suit yourself."
I followed, keeping a professional distance despite the way her hips moved, inspiring and dominating completely unprofessional thoughts. This was going to be the hardest assignment of my career—not because of external threats, but because of the internal war between duty and desire.
At the beach, Evangeline spread a towel on the sand and settled down with a book.
I positioned myself several yards away, close enough to protect her if needed but far enough to maintain my sanity.
From this vantage point, I could scan the horizon for approaching boats while also monitoring the path from the house—the only land approach to the cove.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Rupert, checking in as promised.
"How's Sicily, brother?" he asked when I answered, his voice cheerful. "Enjoying the Mediterranean sunshine with your princess?"
"She's not my princess," I replied automatically, glancing toward where Evangeline had now stretched out on her stomach, the book forgotten as she dozed in the sun. " Everything is strictly professional."
"Right," Rupert drawled, the smirk obvious in his voice. "That's why you sound like you're slowly being tortured."
I turned away, lowering my voice. "It's a job, Rupert. Nothing more! "
"Keep telling yourself that." He paused. "Spencer's been asking about you. Says you haven't returned his calls."
"I've been busy. Security arrangements for this trip were complex."
"Complex enough to avoid talking to your own brother? The Prime Minister of Britain, I might add."
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "What does he want?"
"To know if you're bringing your princess to the charity gala next month. He knows you went back to her after the news broke about Viktor Kozlov. Apparently, having royalty attend would boost the profile considerably."
"She's not attending any galas," I said firmly. "She's here to work at a veterinary practice, not for social engagements." My collar was gathering heat, not the result of being out in the sun or on the beach.
"That's not what I asked, though, is it?" Rupert's voice turned serious. "I asked if you're bringing her. As in, are you together? Because from where I'm standing, you sound like a man who's fallen hard and is fighting like hell against it."
I glanced back at Evangeline, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the way sunlight glinted off the small of her back. "I haven't fallen for her."
"Liar."
"It's complicated, Rupert."
"Only because you're making it complicated. You want her. From what you've told me, she wants you. What's the problem?"
The problem was everything—her royal status, my position as her security, the limited time before she returned to Bellavista to become queen. The problem was that I'd already crossed that line once and barely survived the aftermath.
"I will not sleep with her again," I said firmly, the declaration as much for myself as for Rupert. "It was a mistake the first time. It would be an even bigger mistake now."
Silence on the other end of the line, then a soft whistle. "Again? You didn't mention there'd already been a first time."
I cursed under my breath, realising my slip. "It was in Belavista. Before Alexandra's funeral. It was a moment of weakness that won't be repeated."
"Why the hell not!" Rupert demanded. "Life's too short for this noble suffering bullshit, James. If you want her—"
"It's not about what I want!," My jaw clenched, the words erupting like a shout, each syllable a furious demand for what she was owed.
"It's about her safety, her future. In three months, she returns to Bellavista to become queen.
My job is to ensure she gets there safely, not to complicate her life with an impossible relationship. "
"Since when has anything worth having not been complicated?" Rupert challenged. "Look at Spencer and Laura. Look at me and Veronica. None of it was simple, but we figured it out."
"This is different."
"Is it? Or are you just scared?"
The question hit too close to home. Was I scared? Not of physical danger—I'd faced that all my life. But of the emotional vulnerability Evangeline inspired? Of the possibility that what I felt for her was more than desire, more than protective instinct?
"I have to go," I said, unwilling to continue this line of conversation. "Security check."
"Run away, then," Rupert sighed. "But remember what Dad always say’s—a man who denies what he truly wants ends up with nothing at all."
I ended the call, shoving the phone back into my pocket with more force than necessary.
On the beach, Evangeline had rolled onto her back, one arm flung above her head, the picture of relaxed beauty.
The sight of her—golden and perfect in the Mediterranean light—tightened something in my chest that had nothing to do with security concerns.
Living with her in paradise for three months. Three months of morning self-defense lessons, shared meals, and witnessing her live, work, and radiate in the warm Sicilian sun. Unending temptation for three months.
I straightened my shoulders, resolve hardening. I would not give in again. Would not cross that line. Would not risk her safety or future for my own selfish desires.
"I will not sleep with her again," I murmured to myself, the promise feeling both like armor and chains. "Not now. Not ever."
On the beach, Evangeline stirred, sitting up to look toward me.
When our eyes met across the distance, she smiled—the slow, warm curve of her lips that threatened to undo all my careful promises in an instant.
Visions of evangeline on her knees, those plump soft full lips wrapped around my cock, begging for relase as her cheeks hollowed out taking me fully. Infiltrated my head once again
Three months in Sicily. With her.
God help me. But he appears to be ignoring my calls.