Royal Distraction Lucy McConnell (ebook reader online TXT) 📖

“Ah,” was all Tatum could say. He understood what the prince was saying, and yet he wondered what took the man so long to figure things out. Perhaps he’d been blinded by her advisor. Neese had ducked away from Marius pretty quickly—much to Tatum’s benefit. He doubted the prince knew the part he played removing Neese from the ball. That was probably for the best. And since the prince was now interested in the princess, everything had worked out for the best.

Tatum asked the driver to take them to the side door of the building. He’d arranged to have a host meet them there instead of at the front. Sometimes, a simple change could foil an assassin’s first attempt. Tatum liked his chances inside the private dining room much better than on the street.

The host showed them to their dining room. Soft music played over speakers strategically hidden in the walls. Classical tunes meant to soothe and create a feeling of romance floated through the air and were absorbed by the heavy red and gold drapes along the south and west walls. A circular table with two chairs took the middle of the room.

A server stood next to a small bar, his hands behind his back and his tux tails brushing the backs of his knees. He had dark skin and darker eyes, hooded by a heavy brow. Tatum looked long enough to commit his face to memory and then continued to inspect the room. He checked behind the curtains and found nothing but cream-colored walls. Several palms filled two corners of the room and he checked them too, finding nothing. His gaze finally lifted to the crystal chandelier dangling above the table.

The prince paced the room, tugging on his lower lip.

At five minutes to seven, Tatum was in position against the wall near the door, his face trained into a neutral expression. No matter what happened between the prince and his date, Tatum would remain as impassive as a statue. It wasn’t his job to pass judgment on his clients’ love lives, and he’d stepped well out of his role with his earlier comment. His hand hung at his side, ready to grab any one of the knives tucked into hidden places on his person or the gun that wasn’t as hidden in the shoulder holster.

He also wore a bulletproof vest.

When he’d first put it on, it weighed more than he remembered. Not that the six-pound vest had gained weight. Logically, it weighed the same. Though this vest was new because his old one had a giant bloodstain on it.

He’d worn protective gear through dust storms and heat waves and pelting rain and while forging rivers. The weeks away from active duty had made him soft. That’s what his buddies would call it—soft. Tatum didn’t exactly see the changes that way. Was he softer because his thoughts centered around a beautiful woman? Was he softer for wanting to be the reason she smiled in the early morning light? He ran his hand down his face, knowing he’d just answered his own questions.

He’d gone soft.

Soft wasn’t something he could afford tonight. Not with another person’s life in his hands. And so, he’d taken all his thoughts and desires for Neese, tucked them against his chest, and smothered them under the vest. With his gear in place and his work face on, he was ready for just about anything.

Anything—except Neese walking through the door wearing a dress that made his tongue go dry. His eyes traveled from the peek-a-boo black sandals with an impossibly thin heel, up the silky black fabric wrapped and draped around every curve, to the shell necklace bright against her dark skin, and the shine on her ebony hair. He took all of her in, drank in her beauty like a man lost in the desert who’d found a well of clear water.

Atop her head sat a small gold tiara with three points. The breath caught in his chest and he felt as if he were falling out of an airplane, spiraling out of control.

She was the princess. Neese was the princess of Zimrada. The princess he’d spent the week trying to meet. He’d kissed her.

And she’d lied to him.

His breath came back with ragged vengeance.

She hadn’t seen him yet, had no reason to when Marius was smiling his pearly whites her direction.

The corners of her mouth turned down. She wasn’t happy.

And her eyes were dull. She was bored but determined.

She entered so quietly, her thin sandals, studded with jewels, didn’t make noise on the plush carpet.

He stared for far too long to be professional and her gaze drifted his direction. Their eyes met and a small gasp escaped her perfect pink mouth. She dropped her clutch and it bounced to his feet. He bent to retrieve it and held it out for her. Their eyes met and a storm of communication passed between them. She was shocked to see him there. Then pleased and warm inside. Then worried and ashamed for having lied to him. “Princess,” he said, hardly believing the word as it slipped out.

“Thank you,” she rasped, taking the clutch, her fingertips brushing his and sending fire up his hand and across his chest.

“You’re welcome, Princess.” The ice in his voice lay thick over the fire between them. The burning desire to hold her should have died under that much frost; it didn’t, and he knew there was much more to his feelings for Neese than a crush and a fun date.

Sadness tinted her eyes and Tatum had the strange sensation that he’d taken something precious from her, although what that could be he had no idea. If anything, she’d taken something from him.

A princess? For. The. Love.

She’d lied to him. A lie by omission was still a lie. Strangely, he wasn’t upset about being deceived. He should have been. On one level he knew he had the right to demand answers. But on another level, he understood the