During our morning breakfasts, I'd started noticing the small things—how his jaw tightened when I mentioned my dreams, how his fingers paused over his coffee cup when I laughed, how he'd started asking subtle questions about how I'd slept. He was still the same professional James, but there were cracks in his armour that hadn't been there before Vlad.
I'd chatter about my classes, my reading, anything to fill the quiet, whilst he'd respond with careful nods and the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. But I'd started noticing the way his attention never truly left me, how his eyes tracked my movements, how he leaned almost imperceptibly closer when I spoke.
By the time we reached the library that afternoon, the weight of all these unacknowledged moments had become almost unbearable. We were in the library's basement section—the basement level had become James's preferred location for my study sessions: less access points, controlled environment, and he could position himself with a clear view of all approaches. The occasional turn of a page or the soft tap of his fingers on his keyboard punctuated the silence.
He was, as usual, on his computer whilst I opened several books that I had to read for next week's debate. I pulled out my phone as a genuine text message appeared from my sisterAlexandra asking about my studies. But seeing her message made me think about relationships, about the men in my past, and suddenly an idea formed.
When James had threatened to kill Vlad, when he'd prepared that bath for me, when he'd apologised—was that professional duty talking, or something more personal? I needed to know if what I'd seen in his eyes that night, the way he'd cared for me after, meant something more than professional duty. Because if I was falling for my bodyguard, I needed to know if there was any possibility he might feel the same. This confused longing I felt for him was becoming impossible to ignore.
Sitting there, watching him try so hard to maintain his professional distance while his body language betrayed him completely, I felt a surge of feminine power I'd never experienced before.
"You know, I was thinking about Frederick earlier," I said casually, watching James's reaction carefully. "My ex-boyfriend. We dated for about eight months before I started university—ended things two years ago when he became too focused on his business ventures."
Part of me knew I was being selfish, testing him like this, but I needed to know if the man who'd held me while I cried was the same one sitting across from me now.
James's typing stopped. His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.
"I've been wondering lately if I gave up on that relationship too easily. He was kind, you know, and he understood the pressures of my world. His father being an ambassador meant he knew about protocol, about duty..."
I let my voice trail off, studying James's profile. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
"You know, I dated someone before coming to university. Frederick was his name—his father is the ambassador to Spain.At first, Queen Sophia thought we would be a good match." I twirled a strand of hair around my finger, watching James from beneath my lashes. "We went to official dinners together, and we were often so bored. Everyone was staring at us, so one night when we were just about to leave for another tedious function, Frederick took my hand and before I knew it, he had called us a taxi."
I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice. "We went to a nightclub in the city. The music was so loud I could feel it in my chest. Frederick pulled me close on the dance floor..." I paused deliberately. This time James didn't lift his head, but his fingers froze over the keyboard. His shoulders bunched under his tailored suit jacket, a muscle in his jaw jumping visibly. The pen beside his laptop rolled to the floor, but he didn't move to pick it up. The air between us thickened, charged with something dangerous and electric.
"We dated for almost a year. it fell apart; he was always at business meetings, always travelling. Being a successful businessman took precedence over everything else…including me." I added, observing James. His jaw clenched slightly, and I could see the muscles working beneath his skin.
"Anyway, I just wanted you to know about my dating history, because I had some good times with Frederick. He was kind, adventurous, and he looked after me well—at least in the beginning," I added, then continued with my fabricated plan. "Perhaps I should ring him. See if he's still interested. It might be nice to have someone who understands, especially after everything that's happened recently."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I needed to see his reaction. I needed to know whether this tension between us was real or just my imagination.
I kept scrolling through my phone, waiting for James to say something to me, and when he didn't, I glanced up, seeing thathe was no longer paying attention to his computer as he was looking directly at me.
"What's the matter, Mr. Banks?" I asked innocently, my heart racing as his eyes locked onto mine. A storm brewed in those grey depths, turning them almost black. His knuckles whitened around his pen, and though his face remained composed, his breathing had changed—deeper, more measured, as though he was fighting for control.
"Listen, Princess," he growled, rising from his chair in one fluid motion. His laptop snapped shut—abandoning his security monitoring for the first time I'd ever seen — he moved around the table towards me, each step deliberate and predatory.
I remained seated, forcing myself to appear calm even as my pulse quickened. "I'm listening, Mr. Banks."
He leaned down, gripping the edges of my chair, effectively trapping me. The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something uniquely masculine—occupied my senses. "I know exactly what you're doing."
"And what exactly am I doing?" I challenged, tilting my chin up to meet his intense stare.
"Testing me." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his face inches from mine. "Playing games to see how I'll react."
"Is that what you think this is? A game?" I kept my voice steady despite the way my heart was hammering.
"Isn't it?" His grey eyes searched mine. For a moment, something raw and unguarded flickered across his features—a man warring with his training, his duty, his desires. "You mention your ex-boyfriend, watch for my reaction, then push a little harder to see what happens."
Heat flooded my cheeks—he'd seen right through me. "And if I was testing you?"
"Then you've got your answer, haven't you?" His voice was velvet over steel. "Because if some diplomat's son showed up atyour door right now, I'd make sure he understood exactly why that would be a very bad idea."
My breath caught. "Jealous?" I whispered, watching his pupils dilate.
The muscles in his jaw jumped. "Concerned. Professionally."
"Is that what we're calling it now?" I arched an eyebrow, finding my confidence. "Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like you might be a little... possessive."
