Chapter 19
It’s Okay, I Won’t Let You Fall
Our plane lands in Ottawa and it’s the same as our previous stop. Taxi-stairs and carpet-smile and wave-shake hands.
Rinse and repeat.
I’m literally a show pony.
We’re dressed to the nines and being escorted into the city to have a formal dinner with the Prime Minister of Canada.
This time I’m wearing a hunter green, long-sleeved dress that’s fitted to my hips before dropping to the floor in a long skirt that swirls around my legs.
I wear my royal family sash across my body and Rhys’s family ribbon over my heart, and the emerald and diamond tiara on my head.
I can’t remember the title of the man escorting me into dinner as names and positions start to blur.
As we near the dining room, we’re informed that we’ll move to opposite sides of the long dining room to take our seats.
The table arrangement is mixed partners for interesting conversation.
I love that for me. Don’t these people know I’d rather be in a dark room with a big book downloaded to my e-reader? Obviously not.
When we reach the door, I expect my escort to drop his arm, allowing me to pass so I can take my seat.
Instead, he stiffens and rigidly holds his arm to his side, locking my forearm against his body, capturing me and putting me at his mercy.
I can’t rip my arm away without making an obvious move that would embarrass the room at large and possibly endanger us all.
The air in my lungs stalls as panic begins to set in.
In a hushed tone that suggests the opposite was the goal, my escort says, “I see you made it safely from Mexico.”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good,” he says. “See that the same outcome is repeated here and, in the U.S.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just watch your step…”
He drops my arm and turns to walk to the far end of the long dining room without a backward glance, leaving me reeling.
I suck in a deep breath and move toward my seat but, now shaken, I’m leery of everything and everyone around me. Was someone supposed to kill me in Mexico? And if so, where? I suppose it would have been easy to push me down those ancient stone steps, but no one did.
The dinner attendees are all lined up around the tables by the time Rhys and the Prime Minister walk in, and I manage to clap with a loving smile on my face, only for my husband.
I’m pretty proud of myself. Six months ago, I would still have been in the doorway looking for the best direction to run, like a scared little mouse.
Now, I stoically stand in wait for the snake to find me.
I behave as if I’m invincible. Or at least as if my husband is and that he’ll protect me.
Little does the outside world know, if someone wants me dead, they can do their best. But, well, sometimes that’s just not enough.
For now, I’m unstoppable.
“Please be seated,” the Prime Minister says and the gentlemen in the room pull the chairs out for the ladies.
“Thank you,” I reply to the man who assisted me.
“Any time, Your Majesty.” The man leans in from my right to whisper softly, “You’re a friend.”
“Of course,” I answer. “The Aisle of Saints is a friend of Canada.”
“You misunderstand,” he says. “I am friend to you and your husband. To your late parents and the late king…” He lets those words hang in the air, subtly shifting his hand to highlight the gold ring with a perfect circle etched on top that he wears on his last finger.
It’s well-worn and appears to have been passed down by someone.
“What a lovely ring,” I whisper.
“Thank you,” he says, making a fist as if it was unconsciously done. Then he adds, “It was my father’s.”
“I see.”
“I figured you would. I’d heard you’re very clever,” he says.
“Not clever enough to have just been advised someone wants me to meet an untimely end on this trip.”
“Isn’t that every day for you?” he jokes.
“Practically.”
We settle into our places for the speeches and then for dinner to be served.
It’s going to be a long night. I hear this Prime Minister is as long winded as he is old.
Which is fine, I can be as lovely as I need to be, even if it’s while pushing my food around my plate, afraid that it’s somehow poisoned.
At the end of Rhys’s speech, the room rises to their feet to clap for him.
I do as well, smiling proudly at him. We share a look of relief over the success when his eyes lock with mine, softening as they do just for me. The woman seated next to me turns to me and says, “Your husband is amazing.”
I just smile my acknowledgement to her because well, what else am I going to say to that because he is.
· · ·
The following morning I sleep in while Rhys handles state business, easing into a quiet morning.
I dress leisurely in a simple pair of wide legged slacks and a matching blouse to tour the gardens.
I smile for pictures and shake hands with everyone I can before taking the tour.
It’s beautiful and a mellow start to the day.
I’m showed the greenhouses, instructed on different ways the soil is checked, which plants grow best together, and which do not. It’s probably the most normal day I’ve had in ages. I love it.
In the afternoon, I have tea with the Prime Minister’s wife and other important ladies from the area. Forced politeness isn’t my forte but I do my best.
At least no one has hinted at another attempt at my life.
I’m afraid I’m becoming a little desensitized to the way these people move in their natural environments.
Enough so, that it worries me. Am I beginning to just shake off death threats like it’s no big deal?
That should be terrifying, but I have to believe Leo and his team will keep me safe.
After tea, I’m driven back to the hotel and escorted upstairs for a rest, which was nice because the jet lag is killer.
I used to live on this side of the world.
I should be able to handle it, but I can’t hang at all.
When I’m finally alone in my hotel room, I strip off my clothes and fall into bed.
The result is what may be one of the best naps I’ve ever had in my entire life.
When I wake, I take a hot bath and soak longer than I have any right to. After forcing myself to step out of the tub, I dry off and pull on a robe to get ready for an evening out. I curl my hair in soft waves, apply my makeup in smoky browns for a casual date night look.
We’re being hosted at a hockey game tonight and then tomorrow we start our journey back to the U.S. It feels almost symbolic that the country I grew up thinking of as my homeland is the last stop on this trip that’s purpose is to present me to the world as a queen. It’s so surreal.
I check the clock to make sure I’m still on time.
Rhys should be back from the last of his meetings soon so we can grab a quiet dinner before heading to the game.
Even in my old life, I never went to a professional hockey game.
They’re loud and wild and that is absolutely not me.
But now, I’m kind of excited to experience it with Rhys.
I pull open the drawers holding our neatly folded clothes and pull on a matching bra and panty set before dressing in skinny jeans and a fitted long-sleeved white tee with a scoop neck.
I complete the look with a designer leather belt with the exclusive logo on the buckle before pulling on socks and knee-high leather boots.
The arena will be cold, but I want to look nice because I know the players’ wives and girlfriends often dress up in a big way.
I layer necklaces and slip my gold heart-shaped earrings into place before swiping a light gloss on my lips just in time to hear the main door of the suite open.
Rhys walks through the bedroom door and stops in the entryway, taking me in. I bite my lip because I can’t tell what he’s thinking. But whatever it is, it doesn’t look bad.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Better now.”
“Do you need to change before we leave?” I ask, wondering what has that look in his eyes at a time like this.
“Aye.” He answers but he doesn’t move.
“Well, hop to it, my guy.” I laugh and wave my hands toward him. “We’re still going to dinner before the game, right?”
“I don’t know,” he replies gruffly. “The way your ass looks in those jeans and boots has me never wanting to leave the room again.”
“Eep.”
“Aye.”
“You need to get moving or we’ll be late,” I tell him.
“Then you need to come over here and kiss your husband.”
“Oh.” Oh.
He holds his arms out as I move toward him and they instantly close around me. I snuggle up to him and tip my head back to press my lips to his. Rhys takes over and proceeds to kiss me stupid.
He leans back and smiles down at me. “Hello, wife.”
“Hello, husband,” I reply, repeating my earlier question. “How was your day?”
“Productive,” he replies. It’s then that he moves us further into the bedroom, letting the door close behind him as his hands roam over me, mapping each dip and curve.
“That’s good.”
“Aye.”
“We don’t have time for any funny business,” I warn him.
“When I fuck you, hen, I assure you, there’s nothing funny about it,” he replies. “Although, I lament to agree that there isn’t time to properly fuck you.”
“Rhys—”
“Or even a quick romp.” He sounds devastated and I roll my eyes. “So, I’ll shower instead.”
“Good plan.”
“But later…” he says with a heated look on his face. He heads into the bathroom and I shiver a little as I turn to reapply my lip gloss because in that short time, we managed to get it all over his handsome face.
I walk over to the club chair and sit down, kicking up my feet on the ottoman while I wait for Rhys to get ready.
I scoop up my kindle and open up the book I’ve been reading on this trip.
If the press had details on what I read, they’d be scandalized.
Who knew the world was in need of a mafia retelling of Winnie the Pooh? They were right, we sure did.